Chapter thirty-seven: Moving Pictures
31st July 1887
"Has love in earnest never stirred your breast?/
With women one should never dare to jest." Goethe's Faust
It was insane. Insane, insane! He was nothing like my former lovers. Our union was a mere partnership of convenience. We had nothing, absolutely nothing in common! And still, when I recalled the events of the evening, I longed to belie all these considerations.
How he looked at me!
He was probably figuring out some smudge on your cheek, silly.
But he went out of his way to please me! He brought my favourite flowers!
Poppycock. He was just trying to be nice.
What does it even matter? I love him! I love him!
Why had I not realized it before? All these last days, whenever he had been absent, I had missed his quiet, unobtrusive company. I felt, at this moment, that I would gladly trade all those lazy afternoons with Mary for another such walk with him. However did that happen?
I knew I had always liked him; that was not the question. I also had to admit to myself that I had desired him physically for some time now. But up to this point, the thought of love had never taken shape in my mind. And – oh dear! It was no lucky thing, perhaps. The object of my love was married to me, so technically there was no problem. Practically, however, I only knew too well how he felt about the softer passions. He took care not to let me forget this for one moment.
I stooped and grabbed a fistful of sand, letting it run through my fingers pensively. It was the amount of time I spent with him. Yes, it surely was. Without that, none of this confusion would ever have come to pass. Time had got me closer to him. It had done nothing, however, in getting him closer to me. And I had tried, had I not, to approach him more personally.
With a deep sigh, I tossed away the rest of the sand and slowly ascended the stairs to the garden. There were too many obstacles. Better try and forget about it. But even as I went up to the house and saw light being turned up in Holmes' room, the occupant himself briefly passing the open balcony door, I knew deep inside that any attempt to ignore what I felt so distinctly would be doomed to futility.
oooOOOooo
1st August 1887
"Kitty! Hello-o! Sleeping again?"
I blinked and turned my head so that it came to rest on the other cheek, proving Mary's accusation unjustified. "Whatsamatter?"
We were lying on two parallel benches on my balcony, only dressed in our bathing bottoms, so that the Swedish masseuses had access to our tense backs. Mary restively shifted on her stomach like a stranded fish. "You are quite a bore today. And you have no right to be! You did not stay up till dawn, dancing your feet sore!"
"No." I smiled in an attempt at apology for my absent-mindedness. "But I'm glad you 'ad yer fun."
"I certainly did! Lucky you that I wasn't too tipsy to have your things fetched for you before I departed. Did you really walk back all the way in those shoes?"
"I took them off. Mr. 'olmes an' I walked along the beach…" I ceased, glancing over at Mary, who appeared to expect hearing something more. Could I dare to…?
"Baah!" She suddenly yawned, idly tugging on her earlobe. "You know what Kitty, I think it's about time I returned to London. I'm getting quite weary of this place. And then, there's John to consider…"
"But I thought you find it so amusing down 'ere?"
"So it is – too amusing. People start to unnerve me. I mean, can you imagine what it's like having Mrs. Ragland and Colonel Kincaid as next-doors? And then there's that ghastly woman Lavelle…and that unpleasantness over Mr. Youghal…"
"Oh!" I pricked up my ears. "Had 'e gone 'ome after all, yesterday?"
"He had not. I detected him, quite blatantly staring at me, when the Colonel and I were back on the floor. To think that tonight, I'll have to face him again…! You know. Whist in Mrs. Ragland's suite", she reminded me.
"Yes, well – I'm sorry I can't be there to support you as I meant to. There's tha' garden party invitation…"
"Quite right. I guess you have drawn the more desirable lot", Mary sighed. "Oh dear, I'm really looking forward to being in town again. Parties in abundance sometimes further ennui rather than fighting it."
I propped myself up on my elbow as the masseuse started to assiduously work on the small of my back. "An' what's there to do in London, pray? Apart from pampering yer hubby, that is?"
"I'm up to plenty of things. First of I'll have to survey the restoration works of the building we are having lessons in. We do have sufficient funds, but are short of helping hands. Then a substitute has to be found for our language teacher, who's going to have a baby, for we mean to resume courses by the beginning of September. I'd fill in myself, but…"
Suddenly she looked at me, and her blue eyes began to sparkle. "Kitty – that is the idea! I mean you told me you were looking for a commitment, so why not let me fill in the vacancy, and you take charge of the things I normally do?"
"I dunno", I drawled, my uncertainty clearly seeping through. "I ain't sure I can do that…"
"What is there to do but teach some stupid girls how to sew and stitch? You are the most accomplished person with a needle I've ever seen. No, I'm serious. There's also music to consider, but I can find someone else for that. Oh please say yes, Kitty! Whatever's the problem with the way you talk? You're not supposed to teach grammar lessons. And why should you have experience in advance? It's not a paid service, so nobody will expect anything of you. Experience will come in time. Why are you wavering, Kitty? Why do you keep shaking your head?"
She cocked her own head to the side and regarded me sharply. "Are you afraid Mr. Holmes might refuse giving his permission?"
"Refuse his permission?" I laughed bitterly. "He'll consider it the best joke in years!"
Mary narrowed her eyes and hissed like an angry cat. "Stupid men! John was the same way when first I started this, only less blatant. Well, I taught him to belittle me! Nowadays you'll hear nothing but praise from his mouth."
"I can imagine." I chuckled quietly. "Alright then, I'll do't. But on one condition only!"
She raised her brows. "Namely which?"
"You must admit my little niece, Fanny. I'm afraid if I leave her education to my sister entirely, she'll end up a perfect brute."
"Done!" Mary extended her arm to halfway bridge the interspace between her and me, and with some straining and stretching, I managed to shake on it.
oooOOOooo
Mary broached the subject that same evening already. We were at dinner, seated in the hotel hall among other guests, when quite bluntly she declared: "There's news for you, Mr. Holmes. Your wife decided today to enter the world of professional life."
He gave her an extremely confused look, and she elaborated: "As you know, I am looking for someone to take on the job of a teacher in the Street Girl's Mission. I think Kitty will be perfect for it, and she kindly agreed to accommodate me with her services."
Holmes had just wanted to raise his wine glass to his lips, but set it back with a derisive snort. "My dear Mrs. Watson, I think you must have lost your head. Did you just describe Kitty as perfectly suited to teaching in a school? Why, the girl can hardly spell her own name!"
"Now that is a crass exaggeration, Mr. 'olmes!" I vapoured, in my indignation neglecting to call him by his first name as I usually did in Mary's presence.
Mary gave me a sign to be silent, and calmly continued: "The question is about communicating the basics of needlework. Surely you won't find this overcharges Kitty's abilities?"
"Why – perhaps not – but still – this is preposterous", he stammered. "Do what you will, but don't blame me if she loses her temper and starts smashing your equipment!"
Mary, smiling smugly, placed her chin on her enlaced hands. "Mr. Holmes, is it possible you are just the tiniest bit anxious one of the male teachers might carry her off?"
"Ridiculous", he huffed. "Nobody'd dream of doing such a thing. I mean to say, not that Kitty weren't as agreeable as any other, of course, but there's that married woman look virtually stamped on her. Oh, it is not a safeguard against the pursuit of admirers in the case of every wife, to be sure", he told her maliciously, but Mary was not to be discomfited.
Perfectly at her ease, she sipped on her marsala, suddenly fixing her eyes on some point at the far end of the room. Straightening on her chair and lightly raising a greeting hand, she exclaimed: "Lord Cantlemere! Hello!"
Holmes spun round in his seat, with a speed that would have seemed quite mortifying, had it not been for Mary's sudden outburst of hearty laughter which finally infected us both.
oooOOOooo
We parted at half past eight. Mary saw us on our way before joining her party in the drawing room, and so Mr. Holmes and I surprisingly reached our destination on time. It was a modest house quite out of town, neither great nor small, but situated within a vast garden. The tall trees, already darkening after sunset, were lit with some hundred Chinese lampions, distributed in the branches. Between two of the trees, a broad thin screen was stretched with a curious apparatus set up in some distance from it, an unwieldy box with a crank handle and a round lens.
Our hostess, Mrs. Helena Friese-Greene, received us gracefully, but her husband, a restless mind covered by a large fluffy tuft of hair, only got to shaking our hands quite some while later.
"Why'd ye think 'e's so nervous?" I asked Mr. Holmes when Mr. Friese-William had scuttled away distraught. "There ain't no need, at least not because o' us. 'e don't even know us. An' I talked to an acquaintance, the lady o'er there, an' she don't know 'im personally, either."
"I expect he just wishes his invention to be a success. See whether it is attractive to the audience. Did you ever attend the public broadcast of photographs?"
"S'ppose I did. Yeah, once they had a slide show with pictures of a farm in Rhodesia at the music hall. It was real stunning."
"Then you ought to be interested in this, I wager. But I can't exactly tell what awaits us. For further information, I suggest you seek our Mr. Vance", and he indicated the heavily bearded gentleman that had appeared by the technical apparatus and now started to reel up a lissome silvery-black band on a spool.
"Good evening, sir." I warily approached, placing my hands on the box tentatively.
"Good evening, good evening", the optician replied busily, never so much as looking up from his occupation.
"Pray, what is this contraption?" I wanted to know, moving around to inspect every inch of it. "Is it a camera obscura, like the one at yer 'ouse? Or something different?"
"Quite different, madam. Ah, Mr. Holmes!" For the detective had stepped up behind me in his usual, noiseless fashion.
"Good evening, Mr. Vance. I perceive the work of technic is ready to unwind its miracles in front of our eyes?"
"Yes, yes, I think everything ought to work. The projector is in place, the tape, the lens…"
"Kitty", Holmes said, and I felt my hand, about to finger the lens protruding from the box, being gently withdrawn. "Pray do not touch it. You might leave marks on the glass."
"Yes – yes", I stuttered, dropping my hands as quick as gravitation would permit. In every one of the five spots where his fingertips had brushed the back of my hand, the skin seemed to be scorched, burning red hot. I felt incredibly stupid and clumsy, and for one instant thought Mr. Holmes justified in supposing that I was too inept even to hold a needle in my hand. "Um – what does the box do, then, other than projectin' photographs?" I enquired quickly, just to override my confusion.
"You're going to see in the course of the evening, my dear lady, so exercise yourself in patience." Mr. Vance stooped over his dubious gadget again, and I realized Holmes had already walked on, strolling deeper into the dusky garden.
I interchanged some words with our hostess, and a family I knew from the beach, but my attention would not really focus on them. Instead, I felt my mind wonder inexorably to the spot in the gloom which was typically indicated by the glow of the cigarette. When Mrs. Friese-Greene announced it was dark enough now for the showing to start in short time, I finally had a pretext under which to go after him.
The glow had extinguished, but the irritated rattling of the empty cigarette case on a on a stony table top lead my way. I found the excessive smoker in an arbour a little offside, stuffing his pipe for which the tobacco had not run out as yet. Sitting down a little apart from him, and folding my hands in my lap, I waited for him to consummate the ceremony he held so dear. He did not let himself be disturbed, and only after the critical first draught observed casually:
"Well well Kitty. I perceive you have been dispatched to inform me of the present beginning of the presentation. Keen as my interest is in all matters technical, I would prefer to finish my pipe quietly, so you are well advised to refrain from pushing me. We can walk back slowly, and you can tell me how you occupied your little self all day as I smoke."
"Why are ya always talking ter me like that", I returned plaintively, following him as he stepped out of the arbour and steered his pace back at the assembly in front of the screen. "You're makin' me feel more obtuse than I actually am. Perhaps yer undertakings are more significant and demanding than I can measure, but that don't mean I can do nothing at all!"
He gave himself a very surprised air. "I never thought there weren't things you could do Kitty! Ah – you are talking about what I said this evening at dinner, aren't you? "
I nodded mutely and he groaned, his tolerance wearing thin. "How often do I have to repeat it? I sometimes let myself be carried away in a debate, and say things I do not mean exactly. Your experience of such utterances is extensive, so stop taking it to heart."
"It is easily said", I complained. "Why did you insult me so, in front of Mary, too? It is hurtful to hear such things being said about oneself."
He halted and made a sweeping movement with his arm, as if to take everything back. "I very sincerely regret any unpleasantness I may have caused you. Believe me, it was not directed at your person, but rather intended to silence Mrs. Watson. Much as I appreciate her good nature, she can be damned cocksure sometimes. That joke at my expense was certainly not in the best of taste."
"Well, I couldn't guess whom you were trying to argue, could I?" I reciprocated with some asperity, angry that he could dish out so much and take so little. "It was most recalcitrant, most regardless and most insensitive on your part, I find."
He tilted his head with a crooked smile. "Am I pardoned, nevertheless?"
And my heart melted in torrents. It seemed inconceivable how a mean, cynical man of six feet two should have retained so much of the little boy's charm, but there we were, in the darkness, and I was enchanted because he had asked my pardon for his indolence. Cold he was, cold! Probably he even knew the effect his lop-sided smile had on me, the shadows his lashes cast on the hollow cheeks; he enwrapped me in his beautiful brunette snare, and left me weak-legged, melted, insubstantial, dissolved.
Moved by fear and craving, I watched him, fear for the frail tiny moment to end, craving for it to continue. His impassive smile stirred up a thousand questions that coursed my brain. Had this heart ever loved, had these lips ever kissed? If so, what would it be like to be loved, to be kissed by him? Could he love? Had he a heart? Had he? Had he?
Too late did I realize that while my thoughts and feelings had dwelled on the moment, his had long moved on, unwitting of what was going on inside of me, he had turned away and taken position at the margin of the group, just close enough to have the screen in view. Beside myself with unwarranted emotion, I went to stand beside him, to be the woman by his side, if not in private, then at least in public.
Mr. Vance's fumbling seemed to finally have an effect, for white light started to flicker across the screen, and when I turned around to see the projector, it cast its beams so bright that I had to avert my eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen", Mr. Friese-Greene was to be heard from somewhere near the apparatus, "I am proud to present this fruit of my research, the very first motion picture not to be interrupted by blackouts and overexposure. It took me, my wife and my honoured colleagues five years to extrivate the chemicals necessary therefore, and to develop the film in such a way as to make it presentable as it has been recorded – in one sequence. I ask you for your utmost attention!"
I had been searching the surroundings for the speaker with my eyes, but had to give up when again, the light began to hurt them. Instead, I turned back to have a look at the screen, and issued a shrill cry of surprise. But it was not the only one.
Oh well, the first movies were quite funny in all their absurdity. I recently watched "The voyage to the moon" in a technics museum, it was hilarious! Basically only gesticulating men in front of changing backgrounds.
But oh-oh! I think a time of suffering has dawned on Kitty. Perhaps she had better confided in the resourceful Mary? But what could even that have effected? Lord Cantlemere can't always come walking in conveniently!
Love, Mrs.F