Hey guys! Sorry I'm going so slow this time...computer/car/sleep/editing problems have bombarded me from all side as of late. I'm still not particularly satisfied with this chapter, so if anyone has any suggestions for the last part I would really appreciate it. It all seems rather...rushed, to me. Anyway, I don't usually reply to reviews on the chapters but since I took so long I thought I'd better.

Susicar: Yes, Miss Moore is indeed singular, isn't she? Even a bit eccentric. :)

MoonlitPuddle: Well, you know our dear Watson, he's always been one to take note of a trim ankle! I shall do my utmost to 'tread carefully'. hehe

ChewingGum: My dear heiress is not so very tolerant of suitors. rlol Especially persistent ones. The poor Duke...:)

Igiveup: Yep, he's a stalker. And most likely a total fruitcake. lol I hope I end up getting all the clues right throughout the next few chapters, so if you spot any discrepancies, please let me know!

music97: So glad you're enjoying it!

Amelia McDermid: hehe Yes, she's a bit volatile at times. Glad you like her though!


"The Case of the Discerning Heiress"

Chapter Three: Moore Hall

The next day dawned bright and clear, and true to our word, Holmes and I arrived at Moore Hall at precisely ten.

As we stepped from our cab onto the stone pavement, the view literally took my breath away. The hall was enormous. The late Phillip Moore had certainly outdone himself building a home of such grandeur. From the outside it looked to have at least five floors. A large balcony ran around the third, supported by huge, white marble columns. The hall itself, made of a striking red brick, fairly glowed in the brilliant early sunlight. The grounds were immaculately well kept. Luscious green grass swayed in the mornings' breeze for at least a mile round. Behind the building parts of an exquisite garden could be seen. Two large stables stood off to the left, with an expansive adjoining arena. There was no other settlement as far as the eye could see. It was indeed a most beautiful, and ideal place.

Our lovely client standing in the doorway of her home, gave the view an ethereal sense with her modest white dress, and black hair wafting about. When we reached her I could not resist kissing her hand in greeting.

"Miss Moore, you have a lovely home."

She rewarded me with a kind smile. "Thank you Doctor. Mr. Holmes, what is it you wish to see first?"

"I believe our foremost course of action should be to look over any correspondence you have from this Carmichael fellow."

"Unfortunately, I do not still have the correspondence in its entirety. I'm afraid I discarded all the letters until I became concerned about the matter, but I will gladly show you what remains."

We left our hats near the door, and followed her down a wide marble hallway into an exquisitely furnished parlor with a vaulted ceiling. I noted the butlers' conspicuous absence, or any other person in the house at all. It seemed completely deserted except for ourselves.

Handing Holmes a large, unadorned wooden box, Miss Moore excused herself momentarily.

Holmes sat in a chair by the fire, opened the box and began rifling through it. I went to peer over his shoulder at the contents. There were at least twenty letters, written in a very masculine, though legible, hand. Holmes took the first one and 'examined' it. He held it at arms length, then no more than two centimeters from his nose.

"Yes, this man has definitely spent quite a bit of time in Africa." he said.

Then in answer to my puzzled look, "The origin of his cigars is one of the northern regions I should say Most likely Don Lino. Their scent is quite different from the southern. I should like to learn more about Phillip Moore's' past, as well as that of his daughter. While I look over these, you might draw the lady into such conversation, Watson. You seem to have quite a way with the woman."

Before I could give him any reply, Miss Moore returned with a tray of tea and scones. Again, I noticed the lack of hired help. As I debated whether or not I should comment on this, she said, "I presume Doctor, that you are immensely curious as to where my butler have disappeared to, am I correct?"

"Entirely madam."

"I've found it rather foolish to keep one on hand as a visitor at my door is a rare occasion indeed. Truthfully, I have only two household servants, and a dear lady who sometimes does the cooking. I am not so very good in the kitchen, but I attempt to, more often than not, fend for myself."

"How very enterprising of you, Miss Moore."

"Merely conservative, Doctor."

Catching a meaningful look from my friend, I strolled casually over to a large bay window over looking the gardens. "Your gardens are exquisite...how large are they?"

She came to stand at my side. "Oh, I believe they cover no less than an acre or two."

"And how much land do you own?"

"Nearly two hundred acres. My father spent a great part of his life in America, he always said that he could never quite become re-accustomed to such confining spaces. Perhaps at a later date I will show you the extent of my properties. If Mr. Holmes deems it necessary, of course."

"Your father once lived in America, you say?"

"Yes. He left England as a young man to travel to the 'Land of Opportunity' in order to seek his fortune. Though came back to London with rather more than he had expected...my mother. I was told that my grandparents were none too pleased when years later Father returned with a Native American wife that scarcely knew a word of English."

I laughed with her. "Did Mrs. Moore never wish to return to her homeland? I should think it would be a most shocking transition."

"I think she missed her home occasionally, but she was happy here as well. It was actually en route to the states that my parents were both killed. My father had planned it as a surprise trip for their anniversary. Their ship hit a terrible storm and was lost. There were no survivors. I was but seventeen at the time."

Miss Moore turned away from me and gazed out the window. It was quite obvious to me that she and her parents had been exceedingly close. And as far as I knew, they had been her only living relations. With their tragic deaths she had been left utterly alone.

I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I am deeply sorry, Miss Moore."

"Do not be. It was their time, that is all." She turned abruptly. "What else might you need to know, Doctor?"

"Did Phillip Moore indeed make his fortune in America?" Holmes answered suddenly, giving us both quite a start.

"Yes sir, a portion of it at least. He began in the cattle business, but soon changed his profession to that of coal mining. With all the railways being built in America, coal was a near priceless commodity. I currently have coal mines in not only America, but Europe, Africa, and India as well. I must admit that it's quite an expansive undertaking. Occasionally I regret not having been given siblings, or any close relatives, so as not to be the sole carrier of such a burden."

I laughed quietly. "Burden, you say? Why, I know quite a few folk who give anything for such a 'burden'."

"Not if they knew what a weight it truly is. No, if Providence had given them an ounce of sense they should flee. I do not pretend that wealth does not offer a measure of comfort, as I would surely be a fool. Yet it brings with its' small comfort a far greater amount of difficulty. For wealth, incorrectly used, has the capabilities of being a living hell."

Once again Holmes spoke. "Have you used yours' incorrectly then, Miss Moore?"

"Not as of yet, but who can know what the future may bring save the Creator of it. It is the uncertainty of life, which I dread most. 'Your riches are corrupted.', so it is written. My constant fear: have I used my gifts wisely? Do I accomplish my purposes? Shall I weigh worthy when the time comes?"

She walked away from the large window in a rather listless manner, and stood before the fire. My friend rose and stood directly behind her.

"You shall." He said so quietly that I nearly missed the words.

She turned to face him. "Why do you say this?" She asked, her bright eyes searching his for proof of his words.

"You've not failed. You've strived to follow the truth. You've not sought further gain, but given no thought to future deficiency. You have used all you've been given wisely, and have done your utmost to let it ensnare no one. But you cannot stop fools from rushing to their own folly, Miss Moore. It is not of your doing, it is they that make the choice. Holding yourself responsible changes nothing."

"What then sir, am I to do?"

"Naught but that which you do at present. We are given this life to use well; still we can but try. God requires no more."

My friends' words appeared to have a reassuring effect, for she gave a small nod, and turned her face again to the dying flames.

Holmes reverted to the letters, and the matter at hand.

"What we have, is not a simple, infatuated fool, nor a madman, but an intelligent fellow bent on getting what he wants. And I suspect that you, Miss Moore, are not his sole desire."

"I agree with you Mr. Holmes, though I fail to see for what he is seeking." She replied.

"Ah that, my dear lady, requires further information in order to be fully illuminated."

We continued to look through the documents. From them I saw our culprit as a passionate man of great cunning. He was also a fair writer. Though his 'love letters' seemed to lack the authenticity of true devotion. One of the latest ran thus:

My dear Marian,

"I have for some time now been attempting to guide you toward the light. I regret to inform you that time is running out. I grow tired of waiting for you to see reason. I am the only man to whom you can relinquish your hand. I alone have pursued you regardless of the met resistance. For I only, know of the hidden beauty that you possess. I alone know the truth. I know you better than you know yourself, and love you entirely. You are the jewel I long to cherish. You shall acquiesce in the end, I know it. You must cease this ridiculously stubborn refusal! It must end! There can be no other outcome. We fit as the setting does the stone. I await your acceptance. Please tarry no longer, if not for me, then for those poor souls to whom you deal so great an amount of suffering. Farewell, and believe me to be,

Yours entirely,
L. Carmichael"

The man appeared to me to be mad as a hatter, no matter what Holmes claimed. I told my companions of my findings, but no sooner had the words left my mouth, that a stone the size of a maul crashed through the large bay window, covering us with shards of glass. Instinctively, we went to inspect the object as a package of sorts but attached to it, but Holmes stopped us and stepped forward alone.

On the top of the parcel, in large letters was scrawled,

"DID I NOT WARN YOU?"

Holmes stiffened suddenly, and taking his cane made an abrupt stab at the package. Before I had an opportunity to question his actions, the bundle jerked of it's own volition, and out of it struggled the largest snake I have ever seen, and ever hope to see.

It was jet black and looked to be nearly six feet in length, as it rose upward. The jostling had aroused its' temper.

The snake stood nearly as tall as my friend, its' head flattened out like a saucer, looking as if prepared to strike its' assailants.

"Get back!" Holmes cried suddenly. "It's a spitting cobra!"

As if to confirm his statement, the snake spewed venom, spraying Holmes' back as he ducked away. Tearing off his coat, Holmes hung it on the end of his stick, and held it out to the side, drawing it close to the thing, so as to divide its' attention. The cobra appeared to be slightly confused at this, but focused on the closer foe, spitting all the while. Holmes maneuvered the coat downward, drawing the snake with it. It struck suddenly at the cloth, appearing frustrated that its' attacks warranted no effect.

While the beast was thus distracted, Holmes somehow managed to get behind it, and rapidly stepped down on the head, trapping it against the rug. Yet I knew that he could not maintain this position for long, as the other five or so feet of body were whipping about in an act of fierce defence. The floor was covered with deadly venom.

"Watson, quick!" Holmes suddenly shouted.

I instinctively reached for my revolver only to discover that I'd failed to retrieve it before leaving Baker Street. Not knowing what else to do, I rushed forward and took hold of the wildly thrashing creature, in a near futile attempt to control it. I knew it was only a matter of moments before the slippery beast escaped our feeble hold.

"Holmes! What-"

"A knife, man! A knife!"

Just as I began frantically searching for a nearby weapon, Miss Moore snatched up the knife from the tea tray, knelt and severed the snakes' head from its' body.

It all took place so rapidly, I scarcely had time to think. Recalling the note, I leapt through the shattered window in search of its' author. I was just in time to see a figure on horseback tearing down the drive. Soon both had vanished completely from sight. I returned to the parlor to find all as I'd left it.

Lifting the still wriggling body from the floor, I tossed it outside through the window. I turned to Miss Moore, whose hands, clothes, and even her face was streaked with blood. The poor woman was horribly pale. Taking the hem of her sullied dress, she wiped the knife clean and set it upon the tea tray.

" I hope that you do not think me rude, Mr. Holmes, for not reacting more swiftly. I must admit to being slightly..shaken at first." She said quietly.

"Not at all Miss Moore, you've proved quite efficient." He handed her his handkerchief, motioning to her bloodied hands. She accepted the cloth with a slight smile and put it to good use.

Holmes lifted his coat from the poison soaked floor. He looked at it a moment, then dropped it into the fireplace.

"I'm afraid it cannot be salvaged after so great a drenching. The venom would never fully be removed...it is of no consequence."

Our hostess called a maid to assist her in cleaning the room. Once our offer of assistance was politely refused, Holmes deigned it the appropriate time to make our exit. He turned once more to the lady before leaving.

"Miss Moore, I believe this to be a most serious matter. I do not doubt your capability to look after yourself, but as you live alone, I should prefer that you get one or two of your stable hands to remain inside the house at night, with the bolts in place."

"I do not foolishly claim more strength than I possess, there is wisdom in what you say. I shall comply with your wishes."

He gave her an odd look. "I presumed that you disliked being ordered about."

" I requested your advice sir, and would be quite a fool not to make use of it." Our client answered with a smile.

He gave her a nod of approval, promised to return soon, and we said goodbye.

My friend seemed in a contemplative mood throughout the lengthy journey home, thus not until we were back at Baker Street, and we had both changed into clean attire did I deem it the proper time to speak.

"What does it all mean, Holmes? Surely we are dealing with a lunatic!"

No Watson, the man is far from mad. I believe him to be after something of which we are oblivious."

"And why do you say that? There are plenty of reasons for his determination that are crystal clear, why a hidden one?"

"Throughout those ludicrous and pathetic letters of his, there is a running theme to be found by the observant reader. I have heard the name of Lewis Carmichael before, associated with rather disreputable circles. Therefore, I suspected that there was more to his 'proposal' than that which could be readily seen. The correspondence in its' entirety seems to convey but a single message: 'I know what you have, and will possess it.' I believe Miss Moore would, no doubt, have discerned this herself, had she not been distracted by the distastefulness of the situation. This suitor is quite different. His request is far more obscure than any other. He wants more than her hand in marriage. Nay, even her properties are not his complete object, I think. We must get to the bottom of it, and quickly."

With that he lifted his hat from the rack, but turned back to me before leaving. "How very astute of her to make use of the knife, was it not?"


Anyone ever battled a six foot cobra?? I was a little lost at how to do that one. hehe

I've battled a five foot chicken snake before...though I'd already severed his head from his body before I touched him...I suppose that doesn't quite count does it??