Holmes led Celeste into the empty library with a gentle hand on her shoulder. His words, however, were less than gentle. "I hope your theatrics with the carriage this morning have helped to improve your attitude."
She only set her jaw and stared at the opposite wall in response. His annoyingly sardonic voice continued.
"And if you are going to continue your petulance and spare me of your voice, I will use that advantage to inform you of the shortcomings in your choice of accomplices. The Staunton twins will become distracted if you leave them unchecked, and do not expect them to be discreet about your intentions. Ms. Bouvril will become resentful if you are not careful to regard her intelligence, and she might withhold information as a result. Mrs. Ponce will try to control the social dynamic and steal Lela's trust. She's a middle-aged mother and social climber, it is her way. Your rank will not impress her when she holds age in higher esteem. And concerning Lady Weatherby, if you are not careful, you will grow aloof and distant from her, and she will lose all confidence in you and turn to another. You depend far too much upon the competence of others in your investigation, Miss Lefay."
"Have you finished?" Asked Celeste, her voice devoid of the slightest emotion.
He shifted his weight, and Celeste warily glanced his direction. "I can scarcely begin now," said Holmes, more to himself than her. "Now that everything has changed." His grey eyes met her violet, a slight accusation in his gaze commanding her attention. "Thanks to you."
"Perhaps you should think of today as an admonition for the future," came Celeste's icy response. With a feral twitch, she freed herself of Holmes' grasp and stormed out of the room.
Celeste could have exsanguinated Sherlock Holmes.
Far too enraged to tolerate any company, Celeste bypassed the salon and stomped upstairs to her room to change for dinner, fuming over her rival the entire way. How that arrogant, contemptuous lamppost of a so-called detective had the presumption to tell her how to do her job must surely be a death wish. The way he had to lord himself over her and dictate the situation was infuriating enough.
But did he have to be completely right?
Celeste was equally angry at herself for her carelessness. She could maintain her mask of ambiguity, but her compatriots had their personalities on full display during her garden exhibition. Every hole in her web that gnawed at the edge of her mind had been ripped open and thrown in her face by the spindly hands of Sherlock Holmes. Now Celeste would have to work twice as hard if she wanted to maintain the investigative edge she normally preferred. She would have to work twice as hard to protect her allies from themselves as well as their enemies. And most pressingly, she would have to work twice as hard to control that violent impulse toward the detective.
As Sherlock Holmes followed the other gentlemen into the dining room, he was pleased to observe Miss Lefay sitting quietly in her seat while the other women were happily chatting. His reproof that afternoon seemed to have effectively quieted her. Before he could enjoy his victory however, Holmes looked over to see her glaring at him for a fraction of a second. That haughty face and the twisted snarl on her lips belied a thinly controlled temper and a considerable sense of superiority.
But with the entrance of the first course, the girl pulled her intense nature behind the refined façade. Both Officer and detective devolved into non-entities for most of the meal, allowing the conversation to whorl and eddy around them like the sea around Gibraltar. It was nearing dessert when Mr. Ponce, aided in his confidence by three glasses of port, broke their silence.
"After this morning, I bet you'll be looking at things differently, Mr. Holmes. From what I read in the papers,you are a bit of a skeptic. Hard to explain away Miss Lefay's excellent display of this morning."
Idly twirling his fork around his long fingers, Holmes paused a moment before answering, "I must confess that, for good or ill, benevolence or destruction, there is far more of the extraordinary in this world than I had earlier perceived."
His eyes rested on Celeste as he finished, and how she took those words and what opinions she held of them, he could not tell.
"Mr. Holmes," Interjected Constable Clifton. "I find it difficult to believe you've done such wondrous work in London without ever coming across Fae magic."
"London is a big place, Constable. I have barely begun to acquaint myself with the full depth of the Great City's human side, much less the magical one. And, like most minority populations in large cities, they rarely seek the help of a member of the majority. In social matters, they keep to themselves. And for any matters of law, there is, of course, the Office."
While Holmes purposefully did not look at Miss Lefay for that statement, he did notice her exhale slowly in his periphery, as if she were expecting him to say more. He had to keep from rolling his eyes at her histrionics. Even if her motives were as obvious as the color of the tablecloth, Holmes knew a disguise when he saw one. As superfluous as he found her presence, he had the intelligence not to risk the exposure of her occupation.
"Maybe after your visit, that can change," spouted Clifton with an eager smile. "Then the Office can come asking for your help, like Scotland Yard does. After all, there is much opportunity for humans to learn in the field of magic."
Assorted Fae eyebrows shot skyward. "Nonsense," said Ms. Bouvril sternly. "Fae are the ones most genetically compatible with magic. For a human to attempt such things would not only be dangerous, but a perversion of nature."
Cutcliffe laughed incredulously. "I would think perversion is a rather harsh way to put it."
"Not necessarily," Celeste interjected casually. "Historically, when a human obtained unbidden magical power, they have grown to use it to the detriment of those around them. Even if they could physically withstand it, its use increases the potential for tyranny, malice, and criminality." With the last word she cut a glance at the studiously attentive Holmes.
"After such a blistering description of magic, are we to trust Fae blindly with the same abilities?" Holmes said, meeting her gaze and holding it. "Or is it just because magic is foreign to humanity? In which case, I suggest keeping gunpowder and trains away from Fae hands, for their own good of course. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, my dear, and if I've learned anything in my work, it is that criminality is a disease that infects all populations, regardless of their technologies."
Any further rebuttals Celeste had would have been extremely unladylike, so she merely stared daggers at her opponent. Lady Weatherby furrowed her brow in thought. "But this is your realm, not our Faerie, and humanity and Fae are not equal opposing factions. We have a smaller population, with no nation to call our own on this side of the veil. Don't you think it's disingenuous to judge our kind by the standards of a system in which we took no part in making?"
"I say wouldn't exactly that, Dearest," said Lord Weatherby. "We must consider both sides of the issue. There is a touch of unfairness when the person standing next to you has the same chance at life, but possesses powers from which you yourself are barred…"
"David, this is not another one of your labor disputes. You know it's different." Interrupted Lady Weatherby with surprising emotion.
"Fine, Lila. That's enough," he snapped back.
A painful silence followed. Most guests pretended to be fascinated with the flatware, while Holmes and Lefay fervently wished to return to their previous invisibility. Holmes looked disparagingly over at the harridan worrying the knuckle of her index finger between her teeth. It was their- no, her- penchant for picking fights which had widened a rift in the two people most at risk in this case. The exact two people who had given them their trust. Holmes resolved, hopefully permanently, that if the little viper wanted to snap at him, she would have to wait.
The case was far more important.
