Chapter Ten: The Graham Ball
Christine leaned back in the carriage as it jostled its way down one of the many streets on the way to the Graham Ball. Mr. Holmes kept repeating the same instructions that he'd told her many times already, so she was only half-listening.
Her thoughts were mostly elsewhere, and more and more as the ride went on. The closer they came to the location of the ball, the worse Christine felt. There were so many butterflies in her stomach that a jumbo-sized net wouldn't be able to catch them all should they escape.
She couldn't keep her thoughts off Jason. She kept seeing his eyes, narrowed and leering at her. She was really frightened of him now…frightened of what may happen should he corner her somewhere.
He was a normally calm and collected man, but his temper could flare up quickly – she'd seen it the day he'd yelled at her in her office, demanding information about the time machine. His eyes had turned into balls of icy fire, his fists pounding on the wood of her desk.
As much as that scared her, however, it was nothing like the chill she felt when she'd first met him. Even then, she knew there was something wrong about him. She remembered looking at him curiously, as he leaned against a wall near an office door, talking to his board member friend. He'd been twirling something idly in his fingers, as one might with a pencil…. It was only when she was introduced that she saw that it was a scalpel.
She'd dismissed it as eccentricity then.
But now? She thought, staring out of the carriage window, Now I'm sure that it's one of his torture devices. What if he has a scalpel on him tonight? Or some other weapon? What if he hurts me? What if he hurts Mr. Holmes or Dr. Watson? The thought made her absolutely sick. She twisted her hands in the folds of her coat, and then, biting her lip, turned to the detective.
He was still going on, now speaking about his own role and Watson's. They'd established where she'd grown up in London, where "Dr. Edward Burke" had lived, who her parents were, etcetera.
"…remember, Watson, you received your niece three weeks ago from France."
"Yes, Holmes."
"And you remember where you live?"
"Yes."
"And –"
""Mr. Holmes," the detective heard Christine say, and he turned to face her.
She'd gone rather pale, and when she raised her eyes to his, they had fear behind them. "I…I don't think I can do this, Mr. Holmes."
Holmes had been so recently intent on his own part to play in this affair that he had somewhat overlooked her. She was afraid – afraid of making an error, afraid of letting him down, but most of all, afraid of Lanaghan.
"Miss Andrews," he said gently, taking her hands. "We are going to succeed, and you will be quite safe. Watson will be accompanying you, and there will be large crowds of people there. Mr. Lanaghan will not be able to touch you."
"But what if he gets me out of the room – or out of the building somehow?"
"I will not allow him to do anything of the sort," he said, and Christine saw a fire light up behind his eyes. "I will not let you out of my sight."
"Promise?" Christine asked, her voice quiet.
"You have my word." His voice sounded so strong, so confident and so reassuring that Christine felt a great relief wash over her. She nodded, and as she did so, the carriage rolled to a stop.
Holmes placed a hand briefly on Watson's shoulder.
"Good luck," the doctor said.
"Bonne chance," Christine likewise said, and Holmes flashed her a grin.
"Merci." With that one word, he jumped out of the other door of the carriage and was gone.
Just as Holmes' door closed, their door opened.
A top-hatted man in an elegant red coat with shining brass buttons stood there, holding out a white-gloved hand to Christine.
Here we go, Christine. "Thank you," she said softly, and stepped down.
Watson stepped down, pulling on his own gloves, and gallantly offered his arm to Christine. She took it with a smile, and they made their way up a grand set of steps, past a doorway of tall white Corinthian columns and into the building.
Christine had to consciously keep herself from staring at the women that they passed: elegant dresses of every design and color, flurries of fur coats and muffs, white gloves and the prettiest up-dos she had ever seen filled her vision.
She suddenly felt self-conscious about her own attire, and lowered her eyes, thereby unintentionally lowering her head.
"Chin up, Miss Hudson," Watson whispered.
"They're all so beautiful," she whispered back, lifting her head.
"So are you," Watson returned, and reddened slightly as a result.
She too blushed, very attractively in Watson's eyes, and said softly, "Thank you."
"Here is the ladies' dressing room," he said quietly. "I'll leave you in the maid's care, but I'll be back shortly."
"This way, miss," a female voice said, and Christine turned to see a maid in a starch white apron gesturing to a door.
Christine glanced once at Watson, then at the maid's kind smile, followed her. "Allow me to take your cloak, miss."
"Thank you," Christine said as the maid helped her out of her evening cloak and took it away. Another maid gestured inside the door, and led her inside.
Inside was a room full of bustling ladies, laughing and smiling. Many were fixing their hair with help of maids, peering into looking glasses and fussing with their curls. Christine took a quick look in a mirror as a maid held one up for her, adjusted one curl, and then nodded. "Thank you very much."
"Of course, miss. The dressing room is that way, if you wish to wait for your gentleman friend."
"Thank you." Christine made her way out the door again and loitered in the area. She saw several gentlemen look her way, many women gesture to her dress and nod their heads, and at last saw the familiar – and yet unfamiliar face of Dr. Watson.
"Everything all right?" he asked, offering his arm.
She nodded. "I almost didn't recognize you with that beard." She took his arm, and he led her towards another stair. As they approached this downward-heading stair case, a dull roar met their ears.
"Mr. and Mrs. Williams," a butler, standing at the top of the stairs said loudly. As he called their names out, the couple standing near him made their way down the stairs.
A couple after them whispered to the butler, and he announced, "Lord and Lady Brette."
As Christine and Dr. Watson approached him, Christine saw down past the stairs and into the ball room.
In a word, it was grand.
The tiled floor, strewn with guests, sparkled in the gaslight and the light of a magnificent crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Gowns of every colour, intermittent with the glossy black of tuxedos, caused the room to glow. Skirts swirled to a lively waltz in the middle of the room; as the song came to a close, the dancers and those surrounding the edges of the dance floor clapped politely with gloved hands. Impeccably dressed butlers in their red coats could be seen serving champagne in certain parts of the crowd.
"Dr. Edward Burke and Miss Ellen Hudson," the butler announced loudly, startling her.
Gathering her skirt in one hand, she lifted it the most minimal height above her ankle and, with her arm in Dr. Watson's, composedly descended the staircase.
"Good evening!" they heard a loud female voice say as they reached the bottom of the stair. A plump, cheery woman and dark-haired handsome man dressed in a decorated soldier's uniform were coming towards them.
"Good evening," Watson replied, bowing slightly.
Christine curtsied, lowering her head.
"What a pleasure to have you with us. I do not believe that we have met. I am Lady Graham. This is my brother, Colonel Hinds."
"I'm afraid we haven't had the pleasure, madam. Dr. Edward Burke, at your service. And may I present my niece, Miss Ellen Hudson."
"How do you do, Miss Hudson."
"How do you do, madam."
"Oh, it is my pleasure. My absolute pleasure." Lady Graham smiled so widely that her eyes were nearly lost. "Oh, there is Lady Heaton. Come along, Rufus." With a nod of her head to both of them, she bustled away.
Colonel Hinds bowed to Dr. Watson and then Christine. But before he went on his way, he asked, "Miss Hudson. If I may request the honor of dancing with you at the next set?"
She smiled at him and bowed her head. "It would give me pleasure, Colonel."
He smiled briefly and followed after his sister.
"Would you like some champagne, sir?"
"Yes, thank you." Watson turned to a butler holding out a tray. "Would you care for some, Miss Hudson?"
"Please."
"Here you are."
Christine took the small glass from him, removing her arm from his. She sipped at it delicately, turning as the butler on the stair announced, "Monsieur Edmond Lemaire."
Had she not known it was Mr. Holmes, she would never, ever have guessed at his true identity. She watched as the disguised detective came down the steps, walking in a fluid, arrogant fashion. His head was held high, his eyes half-lidded, eyebrows permanently raised. A slight smirk remained upon his lips as he surveyed the room with a sort of conceited air. His eyes roved over her and Watson, and there was a momentary spark that told her that he had in fact seen them.
As he began to head in the opposite direction, she saw that he was stopped by Lady Graham and her brother. She smiled softly, then turned back to Watson, who was making his way towards the edge of the dance floor.
The dancers were performing what looked like a sort of polka. Whatever it was, it was very lively and all seemed to be enjoying themselves exceedingly.
"Look," Watson said quietly to her, "There is Langdale Pike – Holmes went to see him a day or two after you arrived."
Christine followed his gaze until she saw a tall, reedy sort of man with a thick moustache and sharp, darting eyes.
"Do you see anyone else you know?"
"Not at the moment…but I'll be sure to point them out if I do." He smiled widely at her, and she did the same.
As she looked around, making sure she didn't stare at any one person for too long, the music came to a stop. She realized Colonel Hinds would be coming to dance with her, and began to keep an eye out for him.
Suddenly a flash of red hair to the left caught her attention, and her heart leapt into her throat. Jason?
But it was not him. It was a man with great bushy eyebrows and a red nose. She let out a shaky breath and took another sip of her champagne.
"Miss Hudson?"
"Oh!" She turned in surprise to see the Colonel standing there, next to Dr. Watson.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you."
"Oh, not at all. I'm sorry I didn't see you. "
"Here, let me take your glass, Miss Hudson," Watson said.
"Thank you, Uncle."
Colonel Hinds nodded to the doctor, then offered his arm to Christine. She took it, butterflies beginning to stir in her stomach again. Please let it be a waltz or something I know!
To her comfort, it was the quadrille. The dance consisted of sixteen couples, in groups of four couples at each corner of the floor. The music started, a catchy animated tune, and all of the couples bowed and curtsied to each other. The two couples opposite the square that made up Christine and Colonel Hinds and the other couple began the dance while they waited their turn.
"It is a pleasant evening for a dance," the Colonel remarked as they watched the others.
"Oh yes," Christine replied. "Very pleasant."
He nodded, and grew quiet again.
I hate small talk, Christine thought. It's so awkward. What should I say? "It was very kind of your family to host this ball."
"Yes…Lord Graham holds it every year. More on my sister's insistence, I think, than his own wishes," he added quietly, a touch of impatience in his voice. He glanced at her. "Have you attended before? I don't believe I've ever seen you."
"No, I've never been. My uncle recently received me from France. I've been there for the last few years."
"Oh? For educational purposes, I presume?"
"Yes."
"Did you get a chance to visit – oh, it's our turn." Their conversation was cut short as they carried out the steps of the quadrille. It was just like at Baker Street, but easier. The steps came more naturally with the tempo of the music to help Christine along, and the butterflies soon melted away. She smiled as the dance progressed; she was actually enjoying herself.
She was rather disappointed when the dance ended and Colonel Hinds began to lead her back to Dr. Watson.
"You were asking me a question, before we started the dance, Colonel?"
"Oh yes. I was wondering if you had a chance to visit Eiffel's Tower."
"I did. It was an experience never to be forgotten."
"I'm sure of that. I haven't seen it yet myself, but Lord Graham was there when it was still being assembled."
"Was he? What a marvelous thing, to see the tower in the midst of its construction."
"Indeed." In these short moments, they had made their way back to Dr. Watson. Colonel Hinds bowed to her. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Hudson."
She curtsied. "Thank you, Colonel."
When he was out of sight, Watson said, "Well done, Miss Hudson. You performed the quadrille very well."
"Thank you. It's only because of your help, you know."
He laughed quietly.
Throughout the next half hour, two more gentlemen, a Mr. Brian Finney and a Mr. Ethan Binder, asked her to dance. After this, she stood by and watched while Dr. Watson danced with a woman whose name she did not catch.
As she stood there, she looked around the ball room some more. As she did so, she unintentionally caught the eye of a man who was looking at her. He was an older man, with a larger hawk like nose, and he smiled at her, eyes glinting strangely.
She smiled momentarily in return, then looked away, but saw out of the corner of her eye that he was making his way towards her. I can't introduce myself, and my escort is dancing. What do I do?
But just as she finished this thought, someone moved quickly past her, knocking into her shoulder.
"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle! Please, forgive me."
"It's alright, monsieur," she said, and looked up wonderingly into the familiar eyes of Mr. Holmes.
The song ended suddenly, and Dr. Watson came off the floor, passing his partner off onto a group of ladies after bowing to her.
"Good evening, monsieur," Mr. Holmes greeted his friend.
"Good evening," the doctor returned.
"I am Monsieur Edmond Lemaire," he said, bowing his head slightly.
"Dr. Edward Burke. Pleasure to meet you. This is my niece, Miss Ellen Hudson."
"We have already met, but not introduced. I made the unfortunate mistake of bumping into your niece, monsieur." The detective turned to Christine. "Good evening, and again, my apologies, Mademoiselle Hudson."
"That's quite all right, Monsieur. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Mr. Holmes looked out at the dance floor for a moment. "Would you grant me the pleasure of this dance, Mademoiselle?"
"Oui, Monsieur."
As they made their way out onto the floor, she gave him a strange look and quietly spoke to him. "I thought you didn't like to dance. And what happened back there?"
"I do not like to dance," he answered. "And as for bumping into you, I had to prevent you meeting that rake, if you'll forgive the expression, Mademoiselle."
"Rake? Who?"
"The man who was coming towards you. Edward Sanford. He's a notorious cad, and I wouldn't have you associate with him."
"Oh. Merci, monsieur."
Mr. Holmes nodded. "How are you holding up, Miss Hudson?"
"Fine. Have…have you seen Jason yet?"
"No."
"Neither have I…."
They passed the rest of the dance mostly in silence, then after the song was done, the detective escorted her back to Watson, and satisfied that Edward Sanford was no longer in sight, vanished again into the crowd.
Christine danced once more dance with a young man named Mr. John Hector McFarlane, then decided to take a breather and watch Dr. Watson dance again.
He danced very well, and looked as if he were enjoying himself very much. Christine nodded her head slightly in time to the music, smiling as she watched him turn and spin his partner.
"Hello, Christine."
The sudden voice behind her sent icy fingers playing down her spine. If she still had her champagne glass, she would have surely dropped it in her surprise. Jason!
A/N
AHHHHHH! Here we go!
Guests: These people are all my tributes to the fine actors and actresses from the much-beloved Granada series. Mr. and Mrs. Williams are a tribute to actress Rosalie Williams, who played Mrs. Hudson. Lord and Lady Brette, of course is my homage to Jeremy Brett. And we can't forget Dr. Edward Burke, a fusion of the two Watsons, Edward Hardwicke and David Burke.
Colonel Rufus Hinds: Colonel, from "Colonel Brandon" from Sense & Sensibility; Rufus from "Rufus Sewell," a favourite actor of mine; and Hinds from "Ciaran Hinds" another favourite actor.
Monsieur Edmond Lemaire: Edmond, named after "Edmond Dantes," main character of The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas; Lemaire sounds like "le Mayor" – from a line from Les Miserables, one of my absolute favourite plays.
John Hector McFarlane: Hey! It's that guy from the Norwood Builder!
Edward Sanford: Edward as in "Edward Fox," actor who played that creepy lecherous villain, Sir Mulberry Hawk, in Nicholas Nickleby and Sanford, a rake type of a character in Hannah Foster's "The Coquette."
Jason Lanaghan's eyes: I'm not sure if I've established this or not yet (forgive me if I have), but I can't describe Jason's eyes as being anything other than "cold" and "icy." I based them off the eyes of actor Charles Dance. If you google him and get a good picture of his face, you'll know what I'm talking about.