Chapter 3
I repeat my disclaimer.
Josie regained consciousness to find herself bound in the woods. Whether she was near of far from the estate she could not tell. The air was thick and terrible-smelling. A pillar of smoke was rising from not too far away.
"What the-?" Josie heard a voice say. "What are you doing here, lassie?" The man had a Scottish accent, his face was grubby. "Let's get you untied and cleaned up."
He cut her bonds.
"M'name's Gordon. Gordon MacIllroy. I'm the gardener of the Longfellows." "Lonfellows?" Josie sat in the man's small shack sipping tea and rubbing her sores from the cruel ropes.
"Yes'm. They live a-tween the Jacobs and the Kensingtons. By the by, you heard what happened to Mr. Kensington's daughter? Terrible. Terrible thing it was."
"Wait. You said Kensingtons?"
"Yes."
"So, I'm not too far from there, then?"
"Only about ten miles."
Josie looked at him. "Is there any way that you can bring me back there?"
Gordon started. "I- uh- Yes."
Ten minutes later, they were going at a fine clip down the country road in a small cart.
"There, t'is, Ms. Josie- The Kensington's estate."
So it was.
"Ms. Marsh! Oh thank goodness! Where have you been?" a maid ran out to her, her pudgy sides heaving. "We were getting worried."
"I was just having a look about."
It was back to business, but Josie swore to herself that she would not be captured again. She could have been raped or murdered. She had been infinitely fortunate that Gordon had felt like walking that day.
Josie had walked about the estate a few times pondering. There were tracks yes, but they were so mingled with one another that it was purely impossible to tell which ones went where.
She was expecting a package for her. Any day, hopefully. That knife with the ivory handle was to be in it. Possibly then, she could get some answers. "What's this?" Josie exclaimed. She kneeled upon the ground, examining some fresh foot prints on the earth. "Hmmm. Could be a new lead. Then again, it might just be the gardener."
Carefully, Josie walked beside them. There was no excuse to destroying evidence if it couldn't be helped.
"Ms. Marsh! Ms. Marsh!" the servant of the house cried. "Please come at once!" He was excited over something, though Josie could not see what.
"Please, sir. Not now." She followed the prints through the bramble. It was difficult, but manageable.
"Miss, please. Mr. Holmes is here, and he dearly wishes to speak with you as you have been on the estate quite a bit longer than he.
Josie whirled with a startled snarl. "Holmes? You sent for HOLMES?!!!?" The servant cringed. "W-well, yes. ac-actually."
"Thinking I couldn't handle it on my OWN? That no task could be completed without a MAN!?!?!?!?" Josie shouted furiously.
"N-no. No."
"Well, Mr. Holmes can WAIT TILL HELL FREEZES OVER! GOD DAMN THIS MASCULINE SOCIETY!!!!!!"
The servant scampered back towards the house, leaving Josie to boil in her frustration, hurt-pride, and hate.
Holmes was looking about, his eye straying into corners and keyholes. "This house is hiding something, Watson." He remarked to me.
A servant rushed in. "M-M-Mister Kensington, sh-she is not in the best of s-s-sorts at the moment, and I'm af-afraid that she takes th-this as an in-insult."
"Oh, dear." Mr. Kesington put his hand to his forehead.
"Possibly, I should speak with her." Holmes offered.
"No, sir." Mr. Kensington replied wearily. "She's a pistol- that one is- once she's lost her temper, she'll have to cool down before reasoning."
"I appreciate such an energy." Holmes, nonetheless, did as Mr. Kensington advised.
As for my own part, I sat down in a warm armchair and watched Holmes scourge the room's secrets. Later, I would ask him of his deductions.
Ms. Josie Marsh entered the room quite ill-humored. The door slammed heavily behind her. Like fire, her hazel eyes were as they stared out from her jet hair. A scowl so incredibly bitter removed any feminine qualities from her face.
"Ah, Ms. Marsh." Holmes stood from his chair. "Pray, come join us."
"Frankly, Mr. Holmes, I'd rather not. My business is much too important, you see, so I must be on my way."
I watched as Mr. Holmes smiled. "Yes, but you see, we are here on common business. Therefore, I would appreciate any information you could give me."
"Find it out for yourself, if you're so great!" With that, Ms. Marsh whirled about and slammed the door upon her exiting.
Holmes paused for a moment. "Come, Watson!" he called to me. "She's on to something!"
"You approve of her then?"
"Of course. Her mind works like a mousetrap."
We followed her sprinting figure through the trees to an old, decrepit barn.
"Indeed, Watson. She was on to something, and if I'm not mistaken," he looked at the tracks on the ground "she has been here before."
Steathily we followed her though the hay and down a steep ladder. Whereupon, she paused.
She began muttering to herself. "No. No. Not much here. I'm wasting time."
Her head was bent in thought. I could nearly see the gears of her mind grinding furiously. "Gordon. It couldn't have been mere coincidence. He must know something." She started right towards us.
Holmes stepped in front of her. "First, Ms. Josie, I'd like to know your mind."
I repeat my disclaimer.
Josie regained consciousness to find herself bound in the woods. Whether she was near of far from the estate she could not tell. The air was thick and terrible-smelling. A pillar of smoke was rising from not too far away.
"What the-?" Josie heard a voice say. "What are you doing here, lassie?" The man had a Scottish accent, his face was grubby. "Let's get you untied and cleaned up."
He cut her bonds.
"M'name's Gordon. Gordon MacIllroy. I'm the gardener of the Longfellows." "Lonfellows?" Josie sat in the man's small shack sipping tea and rubbing her sores from the cruel ropes.
"Yes'm. They live a-tween the Jacobs and the Kensingtons. By the by, you heard what happened to Mr. Kensington's daughter? Terrible. Terrible thing it was."
"Wait. You said Kensingtons?"
"Yes."
"So, I'm not too far from there, then?"
"Only about ten miles."
Josie looked at him. "Is there any way that you can bring me back there?"
Gordon started. "I- uh- Yes."
Ten minutes later, they were going at a fine clip down the country road in a small cart.
"There, t'is, Ms. Josie- The Kensington's estate."
So it was.
"Ms. Marsh! Oh thank goodness! Where have you been?" a maid ran out to her, her pudgy sides heaving. "We were getting worried."
"I was just having a look about."
It was back to business, but Josie swore to herself that she would not be captured again. She could have been raped or murdered. She had been infinitely fortunate that Gordon had felt like walking that day.
Josie had walked about the estate a few times pondering. There were tracks yes, but they were so mingled with one another that it was purely impossible to tell which ones went where.
She was expecting a package for her. Any day, hopefully. That knife with the ivory handle was to be in it. Possibly then, she could get some answers. "What's this?" Josie exclaimed. She kneeled upon the ground, examining some fresh foot prints on the earth. "Hmmm. Could be a new lead. Then again, it might just be the gardener."
Carefully, Josie walked beside them. There was no excuse to destroying evidence if it couldn't be helped.
"Ms. Marsh! Ms. Marsh!" the servant of the house cried. "Please come at once!" He was excited over something, though Josie could not see what.
"Please, sir. Not now." She followed the prints through the bramble. It was difficult, but manageable.
"Miss, please. Mr. Holmes is here, and he dearly wishes to speak with you as you have been on the estate quite a bit longer than he.
Josie whirled with a startled snarl. "Holmes? You sent for HOLMES?!!!?" The servant cringed. "W-well, yes. ac-actually."
"Thinking I couldn't handle it on my OWN? That no task could be completed without a MAN!?!?!?!?" Josie shouted furiously.
"N-no. No."
"Well, Mr. Holmes can WAIT TILL HELL FREEZES OVER! GOD DAMN THIS MASCULINE SOCIETY!!!!!!"
The servant scampered back towards the house, leaving Josie to boil in her frustration, hurt-pride, and hate.
Holmes was looking about, his eye straying into corners and keyholes. "This house is hiding something, Watson." He remarked to me.
A servant rushed in. "M-M-Mister Kensington, sh-she is not in the best of s-s-sorts at the moment, and I'm af-afraid that she takes th-this as an in-insult."
"Oh, dear." Mr. Kesington put his hand to his forehead.
"Possibly, I should speak with her." Holmes offered.
"No, sir." Mr. Kensington replied wearily. "She's a pistol- that one is- once she's lost her temper, she'll have to cool down before reasoning."
"I appreciate such an energy." Holmes, nonetheless, did as Mr. Kensington advised.
As for my own part, I sat down in a warm armchair and watched Holmes scourge the room's secrets. Later, I would ask him of his deductions.
Ms. Josie Marsh entered the room quite ill-humored. The door slammed heavily behind her. Like fire, her hazel eyes were as they stared out from her jet hair. A scowl so incredibly bitter removed any feminine qualities from her face.
"Ah, Ms. Marsh." Holmes stood from his chair. "Pray, come join us."
"Frankly, Mr. Holmes, I'd rather not. My business is much too important, you see, so I must be on my way."
I watched as Mr. Holmes smiled. "Yes, but you see, we are here on common business. Therefore, I would appreciate any information you could give me."
"Find it out for yourself, if you're so great!" With that, Ms. Marsh whirled about and slammed the door upon her exiting.
Holmes paused for a moment. "Come, Watson!" he called to me. "She's on to something!"
"You approve of her then?"
"Of course. Her mind works like a mousetrap."
We followed her sprinting figure through the trees to an old, decrepit barn.
"Indeed, Watson. She was on to something, and if I'm not mistaken," he looked at the tracks on the ground "she has been here before."
Steathily we followed her though the hay and down a steep ladder. Whereupon, she paused.
She began muttering to herself. "No. No. Not much here. I'm wasting time."
Her head was bent in thought. I could nearly see the gears of her mind grinding furiously. "Gordon. It couldn't have been mere coincidence. He must know something." She started right towards us.
Holmes stepped in front of her. "First, Ms. Josie, I'd like to know your mind."