Chapter fifty-three: Awakening
29th August 1887
"My child I've drowned! It is true!/
Was it not given to me and you?" Goethe's Faust
Despite that first, relatively unstrained evening we spent together, the subsequent days saw a strange, awkward sort of shyness settling between Holmes and me. Perhaps it was the fact that I did many jobs usually done by Mrs. Hudson that reminded him of my basic function as a paid domestic. It was the way he sharply called me "Catherine!" when once cleaning, I broke some vial or test tube which made me feel like a better sort of housemaid – if better were then to mean bearing the master's child.
The incident left me more confused and daunted than it probably it should have, albeit he honestly tried to make up for it by means of particular kindness and attention. But though he was considerate and had assumed a habit of giving me costly little niceties rather than money, I could not ignore the sense of distance, of a significant difference he made between him and me, and it left me miserable. As a consequence, we sought to avoid one another, we left the house in turn and came back only when the coast was likely to be clear.
No doubt it was quite a sad and hideous comedy, but also very crucial. We could no longer be in one room together without something definite to do. It was alright to dine, and possibly have a little banter over my cookery, but as soon as I had cleared the table and perceived his fingers fiddling with his smokables, a sentiment of the most acute nervousness started to take possession of me, and I believed he experienced something similar. More than once had I excused myself under the flimsy pretense of a headache, and had left for a bed in which I could find no sleep.
I hated myself for casting away such god given opportunities of getting him to talk a little about himself, of getting closer to him, but I could not help myself, I was afraid. Of what, I knew not exactly. Perhaps I feared he might detect how intense my love for him was, how keen my desire to please him – but of course he had long done so, being who he was.
Or had he?
There was the baby, too. I could hardly bear his anxious enquiries after my condition, his admonishments for me not to drive myself too hard, for I knew exactly all this concern was not meant for me. His whole being and feeling had focused on the embryo, he was thinking of it incessantly. I could tell that by his furtive glances every time I happened to brush my stomach, even if it was in the most accidental fashion, and his frequent dreamy abstraction. The child which I had hoped to reinforce our bonds had in fact alienated us more than ever. As much as his thoughts dwelled on the kernel, they did not ever on the shell.
Or did they?
But it was not only he whose mind turned around the unborn babe. Mine did as well, though not in so cheerful a fashion as one might have expected. To tell the truth, I felt outright bad about it. It was not right that I should have it. A child ought to be born to parents devoted to it and to each other. That was how it was supposed to be. Of course, there were many children born to parents that had no great love for each other – but there was always a chance for the baby to be loved, to prosper; to grow in peace and felicity.
My child, however, was destined to something else. There were immense expectations and responsibilities awaiting it already, the entire weight of overweening hopes Holmes was projecting on it. The thought depressed me and gave me a feeling of inconceivable guilt. How would the little one ever be able to lead its own life? Would it not be owing to my fault if it were to become the failed existence I feared it would?
oooOOOooo
You may now think my feelings, or my expression thereof, exaggerated and slightly ludicrous. They were not. My apprehension was justified on Friday morning, when Holmes had gone out again in order to prepare himself for the lethal attack (at least this was what he purported), and I had taken down the washing I had dried in the kitchen, to protect it from the torrential rainfall.
Having ironed and laid everything, I returned Holmes' share of the washing to his closet. Just as I opened the metallized wing door, a sheet of paper fluttered down to the floor and I picked it up. I would hope to possess enough delicacy to have refrained from reading it – though I'm not quite sure on that point – but at any rate, the content was evident at first glance and of such a nature that I could not help running it over.
It went thus:
Sheridan Holmes – no limits
Year
First term
Second term
1
Raising awareness of the senses according to the de Lueur method. They constitute the detective's most important tools.
Enhancement of training + evaluation of success.
2
Raising awareness of the logical faculties. My own method developed on the basis of empiric data.
Combination of logic + sensual reception, for example for the distinction of different substances, smells etc.
3
Faculty of communication is now developing. First experiments on observation (select subjects of archetypical characteristics).
4
Observation expanded to exercises in logical inference.
5
Faculty of motion and speech now fairly well developed. First lessons in acting- important skill.
Rhetoric exercise, disguise & the art of dissimulation.
6
First lessons in self-defensive sports- vital skill. Study in the lay-out of London and the key figures of its underworld.
7
The same + courses in modern languages (always useful).
8
+ natural sciences and geography & their practical application.
9
+ criminology, with the help of case studies and the annals of crime.
10
+ jurisprudence.
On the very bottom of the sheet, he had written: Discipline and no nonsense!
This curriculum left me more disturbed than formerly. My anguish had not then been a chimera of the mind. I briefly wondered whether I could protest against this, whether my husband would hear me out if I ventured to object to his plan. But coward that I was, I just returned the draft to its depository and resolved not to mention it to Holmes. I was unlikely to get the better of him.
He had, after all, not even consulted me about the name.
oooOOOooo
"…an' then I got those from the shop in Ba'er Street, jus' because it was on the way ya knows, but if they don't fit or ya should not like 'em, I can go into town an' get different 'uns, and doin' so I could look in on Cardinal&Hardford and find a new carpet ter cover the floor with, since yer not goin' ter do anything about it yerself an' ya'll catch a cold goin' barfoot an' – Natasha! What did I jus' say?"
With a great sigh, I put down the picture frames on my lap and strictly looked at Natasha's vacant profile, until she realized it and coloured slightly. "Oh, pardon me Kitty, I was lost in thought…"
"Yes, I can see that. Yer thoughts wouldn't concern a certain young neurologist in Shepard's Bush, by any chance?"
"I confess you are right." She got up restlessly, clasped her hands in front of her skirt and passed through the room, just to come back in a second. "Oh Kitty, you have met Dr. Levhin. Do you not think him a very serious, trustworthy young man? Did he not strike you as possessing a perfectly honest air?"
"Well, I hain't seen him fer long, but 'e's certainly charming, an' damned good-looking, too."
"He is, I know that. What I meant to ask you was: Does he not appear very respectable to you? Didn't you feel he was very decent and honourable?"
I sighed again. "Natasha, every man is not Baron Gruner. You need not be afraid o' formin' a new attachment jus' because you were unlucky once. What 'as 'appened, tell me? 'as 'e asked for yer hand in marriage?"
She tittered excitedly, twisting her fingers. "No, no. We are not so very intimate as you may imagine – at least not yet."
"Aha?" I cocked an eyebrow, signifying her to continue.
"Well I – I went into his study yesterday to say good bye, and he – he asked me to accept him as my suitor."
"Oh, excellent!" I clapped my hands together in my delight. "And did ya? Accept him, I mean?"
"I – yes, I confess that I did." Smiling modestly with her eyes averted, she reached out for my hands, in her subdues exhilaration twisting my fingers also.
"Oh, Natasha…."
"It doesn't mean much, of course. It's just a courtship."
"It means a lot!" I made her sit down with me, glad to have my hands restored to me. "This will change your whole life, an' it will change fer the best. 'e shall propose soon, I am quite sure!"
"We shall see." She retained her demure smile. "But what about you, Kitty? How are things for you at the moment?"
Her question confirmed my impression of great exultation. It is only utter bliss that makes an egocentric like Natasha interest herself in the life of others.
"The baby, ya means? Oh, it is quite awright up to now", I half-lied. " No trouble of any sort. An' confinement is still so far away, I can hardly contemplate it as something that's really goin' ter happen. No, I admit what makes me far more apprehensive is that after the weekend, I shall 'ave me first day at the Street Girls Mission. In fact, it makes me quite sick ter think o' it, anxious as I am not ter disappoint Mary."
"You won't, I'm sure", Natasha said with the full confidence of someone who has never found herself in a comparable situation. "I shall wish you good luck, and everything's going to go smooth. Monday, is it?"
"Yeah. Mary's goin' ter stay wiv me fer the first lesson, but nonetheless." Nervously, I patted my knees with my palms.
"You can do that, I know you can. When you did so many other and more difficult things – for me", Natasha said softly. "You've been so kind to me Kitty – no sister could be better. All the trouble you went through…"
"Don't mention it." I waved her away. "I'm jus' glad I 'ave ya livin' close by, only a stone's throw away from Baker Street. It'll save us lots o' time an' inconvenience. An' now ya can come easily ter visit. I'd very much like ter present ya to Mr.'olmes."
I must own this idea was not born from the sheer desire of having Natasha get out of her flat and among people. It would be more sincere to say that I wished for a third presence to take away our ill ease, which was an issue particularly in the evening. If Natasha were to come and dine with us sometimes, it would mean an immense relief for me.
But the girl looked doubtful suddenly. "I don't – I'm not sure I'm ready to go out as I used to, Kitty…"
"You're goin' out wiv Dr. Levhin."
"True. But this is quite different. I know Dr. Levhin so well but the idea of meeting someone entirely new is still…discomfiting. Please don't take offense, Kitty."
"I wouldn't." I patted her hand comfortingly. "Jus' take yer time honey, an' tell me when ye're ready."
Boah, Holmes you sicko! Leave your family alone! Honestly, make any child submit to all of this and it's going to be burnt out at the age of six, or so…
Kitty shall have to scrape her guts together and try to do something about it. Otherwise, she'll be left with two psycho cases, an adult and a wee one. Gawd. I'm sorry to do this to her. But then – the story must go on! ;-)
