The Adventure of Hecate House
Chapter 11: My Lord and Lady
What Watson did not know was the sacrifice I required of him, which a perusal of Mycroft's telegram told me would be essential. He was smoking in the armchair by the fire, and making an obviously distracted attempt to read a medical journal. He sat up eagerly on my return, wishing information.
"Holmes! Have you safely bestowed Mrs Rangaford? Have you decided upon a course of action yet? What are you intending to tell Miss Meredith Rangaford?"
"One question at a time, old fellow", I upbraided him, smiling. "I take it you wish to play a part in delivering a comeuppance to this villain."
"I have never wished anything more!" he exclaimed, his bristling moustache helping to express his fury. "The man is obviously dung from the devil's own herd, and deserves to be lashed behind the cart."
"If that is indeed the case, I shall speak to Nancy in the morning about visiting the beast in his lair."
"I would be delighted."
"There is just one thing..."
"Oh, I know that tone Holmes. Don't raise your eyebrows, you know very well what I mean. The wheedling tone. What more is it you require of me?"
I had to throw back my head and laugh. "Watson, indeed you are becoming too percipient for me! You are quite correct, I do require a further sacrifice. You recall my mentioning I felt the man would be a fool if he did not investigate the credentials of his illustrious clients?"
"Yees."
"Well, brother Mycroft has turned up trumps. He has found an ideal identity for you. You shall be Sir Hamish Gosford and Lady Maria Gosford, a wealthy young baronet and his wife from near Carlisle. Sir Hamish is one of Mycroft's particular pets; Mycroft is grooming him for a highly useful career. He and his wife are childless, but this is probably because the nature of his work for the government precludes him embarking on the project of breeding with the requisite application. They are to travel in cognito to Belgium next week, to look into some small financial irregularities at the consulate, and in the meantime are very willing that their identities may be borrowed for a good cause."
"That sounds perfect, Holmes. What is the catch?"
"Sir Hamish is a dark haired, clean shaven man."
"Surely I do not need to resemble him in all particulars?"
"Perhaps not, but if I were Dr Raddison, I should send an employee to Little Orton whence his client hails, who would drink at the local hostelry and ask a few questions regarding the squire. He may be suspicious if he receives an accurate report, then greets a sandy haired, moustachioed gentleman instead of the dark, hairless one he was expecting."
"Oh, very well. I suppose it is in the best of causes. The moustache must go, and I suppose you will be attacking me with a vile smelling concoction to dye my hair?"
"Watson, you shall be welcomed in Heaven. Such self sacrificing behaviour!"
"Humph! I suppose there will be no cause for you to shave your head?"
"Not at present."
"I can but hope. Male-pattern baldness, back of the pate first."
"If I must ever adopt a tonsure, you may wield the razor."
"Generous of you. Ah well, if it were to be done, 'twere best it be done quickly. I shall bid farewell to the moustache forthwith. Will you also dye me tonight?"
"If you are willing. I have a suitable agent in the house."
"Your hair is black, Holmes. Why do you have black hair dye?"
"One must be prepared for various eventualities. Besides, it is more of a very dark brown."
I must confess, although I train myself to observe the underlying features of my fellow-men, rather than simply their trimmings, I was still taken aback by how comprehensively Watson's appearance was changed by his altered colouring and loss of facial hair. I had to dye his face somewhat with walnut oil to remove the pale patch under where his moustache had been, and as I regarded him later that night, I could almost believe myself to be beholding a stranger.
"It suits you, Watson."
"Thank you, Holmes. I shall have to take care to remain clean shaven. A light beard may be something of a giveaway."
"I would expect nothing less from a man of your fastidiousness."
"If you are finished with me, I would appreciate some sleep. I daresay I shall be meeting our friend Raddison tomorrow."
"Yes, we shall have to ask Miss Meredith to introduce you – you can be a friend of a friend. I expect she will like the brooding dark good looks. Very Mr Darcy, is it not?"
"Oh, do shut up, Holmes. Good night."
"Good night."
So far, this case was furnishing plenty of interest, and plenty of scope for action, but despite the myriad of possibilities as to this fiend's activities, there was little requiring active thought that would benefit from an all night sitting. I found myself unsettled and restless, however, and did not feel like sleep. It was by now very late (or, more accurately, very early), so I felt I should not practice the violin, in case I woke up the infant no doubt slumbering next door at 219B and incurred similar wrath to the last time I committed this heinous offense. I settled with prowling the streets, the watery gaslight shimmering upon the pavements, in the guise of a loafer, observing my fellow men as the late night revellers overlapped with, then gave way to, the early morning workers. I returned to snatch an hour's sleep upon the sofa before performing my ablutions and setting out to visit Nancy Harrison.
I rather like the idea of a crossbreed Dr Watson and Mr Darcy. I think Dr Raddison should start to be worried - a lot of opposition is gathering for his schemes. What will Nancy Harrison add? Find out it the next chapter - and, as always PLEASE R&R!
