Chapter 9
Author's Notes: It's getting more difficult to write these chapters, especially after the overwhelming success of chapter 8. Thank you to sailor-fussion, mierin-lanfear and Haley Macrae for reviewing. My question as to your opinions about Holmes' activities in the Great Hiatus still stands, although I am getting some ideas myself. Edgar Smith is named in tribute to the early twentieth-century Sherlockian who pronounced that the Great Hiatus was "a figment." Holmes keeps calling Miss Bassano a "little woman," but in fact, she is about average for women of that era. Of course, compared to his 6-foot frame, five-foot-two in a corset is probably puny. This chapter took a long time to write because it is important, and therefore long. I agonised over every detail, but there's no going back now...
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As he and Miss Bassano walked back down the winding medieval streets towards the waiting carriage, Holmes was filled with an unpleasant sense of uncertainty. He realised now how dependent he was on the continuing good will of this little woman, however changeable her feminine temperament might prove. He glanced down at her; she must have caught his movement out of the corner of her eye, because she returned his look.
"I suppose you want to know something about my uncle," she said.
"Something of the sort crossed my mind," he demurred.
She furrowed her brow, obviously gathering her thoughts. As they turned back into the Via Panzani, she gave a deep sigh, and shook her head. "My uncle will likely tell you everything you need to know." Her mouth was set in finality, but she avoided meeting his gaze.
They levelled at last with the carriage, and Miss Bassano gave instructions to the driver. Slowly rattling on the cobblestone streets, they turned into the Via de Rondinelli, exiting at last onto the elegant Via de Tornabuoni. At the end of the lively thoroughfare, filled with cafes, florists, and shops, the carriage stopped. They disembarked, and Holmes looked up to see the four-storey stone façade of the Palazzo Feroni.
It looked like a medieval fortress. The rusticated walls gave way to yawning arches, which towered, storey by storey, until at last they ended with the crenelated battlements on the roof. They had to turn the corner into the Piazza S. Trinita to find the entrance, and Holmes was once again faced with the power and might of the ancient Florentine Republic.
Inside, however, there remained no sign of the merchant clan that had once had to thus immure themselves. Miss Bassano led him down the stairs, where a clerk waved them into a room filled with books. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls and another rack stood in the middle. There was a counter, roughly hexagonal, and made of dark wood, behind which stood a moustached chief clerk and a gaunt young clerk. The side of the counter was plastered with newspaper strips and playbills.
The chief clerk nodded towards Miss Bassano with acknowledgement, and ducked into another room, bringing out with him a small, elderly man, who smiled in greeting. Miss Bassano smiled in return.
"Eugenio, how do you do?" She turned to Holmes, "Eugenio is the grandson of Giovan Pietro Viesseux, who established this place. The Gabinetto Scientifico-Letterario is the centre of intellectual life of Florence.
The elderly man waved his hands in mock protest. "You flatter me! It is only a modest library. I have no pretensions to being a centre!" But he was pleased nevertheless, and waved them to a table piled with newspapers. "Such interesting events, no doubt you have heard... The Etruscan graves at Vetulonia? And the codexes of Sant'antonio al Monte? Our ministry is sending a committee Professor Villari – you know the Professor, Miss Bassano – he has told me... But you must know all these things!"
"I have been rather occupied, but I will be very interested to read about the things you mention. Codexes, you say?"
"Yes, 500 volumes, and 69 codexes! The latest from the Cinquecenti!"
"Fascinating," she smiled.
"There is a new book, Observations on Latin Paleography in the Middle Ages, by Cesare Paoli. He writes so well! It will interest you, no doubt!"
"Well, as I say, I have been rather pre-occupied with the visit of my friend," she gestured towards Holmes. "Eugenio, could you tell me if Mr Smith is here?"
"Of course, I will tell him you are here. I think he was perhaps speaking with someone. I will check for you." The elderly proprietor bustled off with the energy of a much younger man.
Miss Bassano sighed. "I worry about his health. He isn't young anymore. It would be sad to lose him. He is so charmingly enthusiastic, don't you think?" She shook her head, as if to rid herself of the thought. "Would you like to see the best view in the city?"
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Standing on the parapets of the Renaissance castle, Holmes had to admit to himself that the view was spectacular. The dome of the cathedral dominated the skyline, thrusting its head far above all the other buildings in the city. A slight cough alerted him to the presence of another person on the rooftop.
Holmes turned to see a man perhaps in his fifties, with a sharp widow's peak in his greying brown hair. His eyes were small and suspicious, and he had the impatient mouth of one who is accustomed to giving orders. He wore the grey frock coat of the English civil servant.
Miss Bassano walked to meet him. "Uncle! It is nice to see you." The pair exchanged a brief embrace, and Holmes could observe no physical similarity between them. "Uncle, this is Mycroft's brother, Sherlock Holmes. He is in need of your assistance. I have been caring for him while he was in ill health, but he will need your help now. Mr Holmes, this is my Uncle, Sir Edgar Smith. He will be able to aid you in your troubles."
Sir Smith's handshake was firm, and his glance penetrating. "Your brother tells me you have been instrumental in the capture of the Moriarty gang, Holmes?"
"Yes, but I believe that some of them may still be at large."
"And you believe yourself to be in some danger, then?"
"Yes. My own brother was attacked by a ruffian but a few days ago."
Sir Smith laughed mirthlessly. "I daresay a man who attacks someone of your brothers proportions in broad daylight, and in the centre of government cannot be much of an adversary."
"That may be true," Holmes nodded "but I am of the opinion that it was but a warning. Those criminals of whom I speak will not stop at disturbing my brother at work. They will not rest until they have found me."
Miss Bassano cut in. "Mr Holmes may need a new identity, Uncle," she suggested.
"Indeed, my girl." Sir Smith narrowed his eyes at Holmes. "Your brother says that you have had some experience with delicate matters of state."
Holmes glanced at Miss Bassano, but she merely raised her eyebrow, waiting for him to answer. "I have had the privilege of assisting certain personages with matters of some delicacy. The cases are, of course, confidential." He looked pointedly at Miss Bassano again, but was ignored by both her and her uncle.
"I will see what I can do in arranging for new papers. You will not, I think be opposed to providing services for your own country?"
"Uncle, no!" Miss Bassano protested. "Surely, you could just give him new papers, not force him into espionage!"
"But he could be so useful," Sir Smith spread his lips in a predatory smile. "You will, won't you, Mr Holmes?"
Startled by the vehemence of Miss Bassano's reaction, Holmes nevertheless nodded. "It would be an honour." He saw that her lips were now set in an angry thin line and her eyebrows knotted in mute fury.
Sir Smith held out his hand, and Holmes shook it. "I will call at Il Tatti within the next few days. Good day."
As they watched him leave, Miss Bassano stamped her foot a little. "Rule Britannia," she frowned.