A/N: When I listened to this story as an audiobook earlier this year, it stayed with me. How dare Mr. Sherlock Holmes not give his client a word of warning about the situation she was in? I couldn't stop thinking about what *might* have happened next, and so I decided to give Mary Sutherland a happier ending.
Recognizable characters belong to their original creator, and I have just borrowed them for fun. Happy reading!
Though I had been longing to read it, the volume of Charles Dickens' Great Expectation in my hand failed to hold my attention for more than a few moments. I frequently found myself staring out the window at the dark street. How long would it be before Mr. Holmes found my Hosmer Angel?
I'd heard Mr. Holmes could solve a mystery in minutes, though of course, I couldn't expect such immediate results this time. Still, it had been a day already and I was eager to hear what had become of my beloved Hosmer Angel. What had taken my husband-to-be away from me? When would he return?
"Mary Elizabeth Sutherland, must you keep sighing?" my mother said from across the room. "It really is grating on one's nerves."
"Sorry, Mother," I said, glancing over my shoulder. She had forbidden me to speak my love's name, so I quickly sought some reason to explain my mood. "Do you know when Father intends to return? Will we have to keep back supper for him?"
Mother glanced at the clock in some surprise, as though she hadn't noticed the hour. It was nearly seven o'clock, and usually, Father was home by six. "I'm sure he will be here soon enough," she said, her tone uncertain. "He mentioned he had an appointment to keep this evening."
With a nod, I returned my gaze back to the book. Though I had no idea what the words had contained, I turned the page. Though Mr. James Windibank was not my real father, I'd called him such at the behest of my mother. He was not many years older than me, but he made my mother happy so who was I to object? Stranger things had happened.
Earlier I'd had my work as a typist to distract me and keep me from thinking too much. Now, though, nothing seemed to be able to keep my thoughts from going around and around. Was my Hosmer unharmed? Was he thinking of me as I was of him?
Our romance had been a whirlwind and nothing I had expected to have in my life. Attending the gasfitters ball, despite my stepfather's disapproval, had been the best thing I'd ever done. Mr. Hosmer Angel's gentleness and quiet manners had appealed to me from the beginning, and it hadn't taken long for me to lose my heart to him.
"Mary!" Mother exclaimed. "You are sighing again. Do you have something on your mind that you wish to share?"
I wished I could tell her the truth; that I had spoken to Mr. Holmes and had entrusted the mystery to him. She had been so vehement about never hearing the name Hosmer Angel, though, I didn't dare. Instead, I simply said, "I'm hungry, Mother. It has been a long day."
Not for the first time did I wish for a friend, a confidante I could trust with my thoughts. My father, my real father, had always seemed to understand me, and of late, I had felt the lack of a listening ear.
My own isolated upbringing had kept me from making friends as I grew up. I had no friends my age, which was my own fault. Even though I learned to type, I'd never been a clever person and had often felt as though those more intelligent than I looked down on my meager talents.
"If your typing is so exhausting, perhaps you should consider giving it up," Mother said, her tone unsympathetic.
The idea of giving up my hobby made my heart skip a beat. I enjoyed the feeling of independence and knowing I could provide for myself if I needed to do so. But, I had my inheritance now, so perhaps my mother was right.
"You may be right," I said thoughtfully. "My inheritance can provide me anything I could possibly need."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother stiffen. "What could you need?" she asked. "You have clothes enough and books to read. I hope you do not intend to spend the funds frivolously as some young ladies might."
"Of course not," I said, offended she would even think I would do such a thing.
"Dearest, your father and I know best what to do with the interest from your inheritance," Mother said, her tone becoming soothing. "Leave it to us, and we will take care of it all."
"And in the meantime, I will continue typing," I said decisively. "I like to be able to buy whatever bauble strikes my fancy."
Mother shook her head but didn't say anything. I turned another page of the book, knowing I would have to go back and reread to understand what was happening. My eyes feeling tired, I took a moment to remove my spectacles and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
It had been one of the first things Mr. Sherlock Holmes had noticed about me. How had he known? All he said was that it was his business to know things when I'd asked. After a day, I still wasn't sure how he'd known such detail about me. Was it the dent on my nose from the spectacles? Had I squinted?
Mr. Holmes' eye for detail was what had convinced me he was the only one capable of finding my fiance.
"I do believe that is James at last," Mother said, standing up. "Will you please make sure the table is set and let Mary know we will have our meal now."
Grateful to have something to do, I set aside my book and stood up. While Mother hurried to meet Father at the door, I went to the dining room. Our maid had already set the table, as I'd expected her to have done, so I made my way to the kitchen where our cook, Mrs. Winters was standing over the stove.
"Mr. Windibank has arrived," I announced, getting straight to the point. She'd been left worrying over whether the meal would be edible for long enough. "We will be ready to eat in a few minutes, I am sure."
Mrs. Winter muttered something under her breath, which I'm sure I was better off not hearing. I hurried back up to the dining room, expecting to find Mother and Father there, however, they were nowhere in sight. Puzzled, I went to the hallway.
James Windibanks' eyes landed on me and he broke off whatever he was saying to mother. "You," he said, his tone sharp. Fury shone in his eyes. "What do you think you were about, going to a common charlatan like Sherlock Holmes? To find some Hosmer Angel?"
My heart sank. My stepfather had been dismissive of Hosmer's disappearance, which is why I had taken matters into my own hands. Still, I never would have expected this anger from him. "I-I-," I stammered, trying to find the words to say.
"Oh, Mary," Mother said with a sigh. She shook her head. "You didn't. Have you no shame? Do you wish every and anyone to know you were jilted at the altar?"
Mother's disappointed tone snapped me from my confusion. "I have no reason to be ashamed," I said, straightening my shoulders. "I fell in love with a gentleman who had to go away last minute. I was not jilted. Of course, I went to the best person to solve the mystery. What is so wrong with that?"
"You will have nothing to do with that person," Father spat out, his tone livid. "It is a waste of money. He is a charlatan and you will gain nothing from it. I don't want to hear another word on the matter."
"But I didn't give Mr. Holmes any money," I said defensively. Was he upset about the chance of me wasting money or that I was having Mr. Holmes search for a man I fell in love with while he was away? "And even if I had, it is my money, my inheritance. I can do as I please with it!"
If anything, my stepfather's face flushed even redder. "You impertinent, headstrong girl! Why are you not content to wait and be patient?"
"I-I," I stammered, off-balanced by the verbal attack. "I am worried about Hosmer, of course! I wish to know where he has gone and what has happened to him! My vow to remain true didn't mean I would stand by and do nothing!"
James glanced at Mother, who shook her head again. "Really, Mary, it was a very unladylike decision," Mother said. Her tone was still disappointed. "I thought you would have learned better at school."
"If he were going to return, your Hosmer Angel would have sent word," James said before I could respond to Mother's words. "What do you think that Sherlock Holmes would have done for you besides take your money?"
"He will find me the answers I need to know!" I fired back. "You don't understand, Father. You remember, Mrs. Etherege, whose husband everyone had given for dead. It was Mr. Sherlock Holmes who found him! I knew it would be an easy thing for Mr. Holmes to discover what trouble had taken Hosmer away."
"Foolish child!" Mama exclaimed. "Mrs. Etherege, indeed! As if she is a woman who can be taken at her word! You know how she embellishes and exaggerates everything she says!"
James stepped closer. "You will have no more to do with him, do you understand me?"
"But I must!" I protested. "I am confident Mr. Holmes is just the person who can find Hosmer!"
"Let me be very clear with you. If I ever hear that you went back to that impertinent, stupid man, I will have you thrown in Bedlam." The man's tone became as hard as stone.
My heart skipped a beat. "Bedlam?" I repeated, unwilling to believe what I had just heard. Even just the mention of the word sent a chill down my spine. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would you send me to an insane asylum? I am perfectly sane."
"No sane person would go to a pretender and meddler like that Sherlock Holmes," Father said, sneering. "And for what reason? To find a person who doesn't exist? No daughter of mine will waste money in such a way."
Why was he being so cruel, so unreasonable? What had Mr. Holmes said to him to spark this temper? Shaking my head, I turned to mother. "Mother, tell him," I said, determined to have it out at once. After all, I intended to marry Hosmer Angel as soon as he returned, whatever my stepfather's feelings on the matter.
Mother sent a glance at her husband and hesitated. After a moment, she shook her head. "Calm down, my dear," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "I think we are all over-taxed by the day. Being angry will do no one any good. Surely, you know your father only wants what is best for you."
Dumbfounded, I stared at her. How could she say that after he just threatened to send me to an asylum? "Mother, tell him about Hosmer," I said, uncaring at the desperation in my voice. "You saw his devotion to me. You know nothing but the direst of situations would keep him from me."
She reached over and patted my arm. "Let's speak no more of the matter. I'm sure Mrs. Winter has our meal ready for us. You will feel more yourself once you have eaten. You both will feel better."
What was happening? Why would she not explain? She had met my Hosmer, had chaperoned us on several occasions. All she had to do was explain to her husband. As my mother, she ought to have been the first to defend me even against her own husband's accusations.
"I will have no more wild stories from you, Mary," James Windibank said, his tone harsh. "I knew you would be overset by going about in company, which is why I forbid it. Now that you have disobeyed me, I can see I was right."
His words made no sense. "I have not been overset," I said indignantly. "Indeed, meeting new people and conversing with them was the best thing I'd done since my father died."
Perhaps it was cruel for me to put it so bluntly. Mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "How can you say such a thing?" she asked. "Mary, I'd hoped you would get over this infatuation with a fictional person, but insulting your father to his face when he's taken such care of us?"
James shook his head. "Mary, I understand you are upset, but really, you must be rational." His tone had calmed, though anger still lurked in his brown eyes.
"Rational?" I repeated. "I am being rational. You are the one who is threatening to send me to an insane asylum."
I'd read about the female reporter, Nellie Bly, going undercover in an insane asylum and the horrors she had uncovered. Why would James Windibank threaten me with such a place? Bedlam was not Blackwell Island, true, but it was hardly a place a loving man would send a family member!
"When you act out of the ordinary and refuse to acknowledge it, there would be few men who would say you did not need help," James said firmly.
"Mary, you mustn't argue with your father," Mother said, her tone reproving. "Now, apologize for what you have done so that we can all put this behind us."
I wanted to argue further. I wanted to protest that I had done nothing wrong. I wanted to plead with my mother to explain to her husband...what? That she had met my dear Mr. Angel? That she had seen him? That she believed me?
But, instead, like an obedient daughter, I bowed my head and muttered, "My apologies for disturbing the family. It was not my intentions. I'm sorry."
"Promise you will never contact that charlatan Holmes again," James commanded, his expression implacable.
"Of course, I will not, since it distresses you so." The lie came easily to me. Somehow, I would work out a way to contact Mr. Holmes. He was no charlatan, of that I was certain.
James peered at me and shook his head. "I hope you mean that, Mary, for I would hate for you to learn the consequences of disobeying me."
A chill went down my spine, but I remained silent. "Well, now that we have that settled, let's go in to supper," Mother said, straightening her shoulders. She looped her arm around her husband's. Her tone was cheerful as though it hadn't just been threatened to have me put in an asylum. "Darling, you must tell me about your day."
Stepping aside, I allowed them to pass by me and then I followed them into the dining room. I was an independent young woman now, and if James Windibank thought he was going to control me, he was very much mistaken.