'So let me get this straight,' said Ida, plonking herself onto the edge of Clarence's bed, and plucking distractedly at the quilt, 'two weeks ago, back in July, your brother…who was still in Oxford…'

'…yes, his term had ended, but he was staying behind to work on something or other…though between you and me, I suspect decidedly more drinking than working…'

'…yes, alright, so he was still in Oxford, and he wrote you a letter, with a rather odd request…'

'…odd, indeed, odd is the word, but Miss Greene, I fail to see how…'

'…he wanted you to send him some copies you had made of several ammonites which your father had recently purchased…'

'Yes.'

'Clarence, didn't you wonder why on earth…?'

'Well…he said that he'd told one of his tutors about my skill, and that they were impressed and wanted to see…'

'…and you believed that?'

Clarence's eyes widened,

'Shouldn't I have?'

Ida bit her lip, wondering what to say

'Oh!' exclaimed Clarence, flinging himself backwards onto the bed again, making the mattress vibrate, 'I'm such a fool!'

'No, no,' said Ida, trying to sound convincing, 'you're not a fool, of course not…Um…'

'Ida…May I call you Ida, Miss Greene?'

'Yes,'

'Ida…are you suggesting that Horace was…somehow…using the replica fossils for…nefarious purposes…?' his voice dropped to a low whisper

Stifling a giggle, Ida replied

'I fear so…'

At this Clarence groaned again,

'What have I done?'

Exasperated, Ida rose from the bed and went to the window again, wondering how on earth she was going to get Clarence to focus on the immediate task of freeing Grimshaw.

'Oh!' came another cry of despair. Ida did not turn round, 'Oh, and I suppose the bones he asked for were also…'

'…bones?' Ida spun on her heel

'Yes, Horace asked me to mock up some fossil bones, only 5 days ago…'

'Bones now?'

'Yes, the funny thing about those was that there was no real specimen for me to work from, just some specifications on length, width, curvature…'

'…right, I see…'

'Ida, have you any notion what might be happening here?'

Ida did, in fact, have the first inklings of the shape of what had been happening, but the details were still very blurred

'I'm sorry, Clarence, I don't think I…'

There was a sharp rap at the door. Clarence sat up on the bed, rigid with fear,

'What are we going to do?' he hissed

Ida opened the door of the thankfully large wardrobe, catching a glimpse of herself in the looking glass on the inside of the door and sighing to see the state of her hair after the boat escapade.

The knock came again

'Open it, then…' hissed Ida, climbing inside the wardrobe and shutting the door.

……….

In the pitch darkness, the scent of mothballs almost choking her, and with one of Clarence's suits tickling the back of her neck, Ida pressed her ear to the wooden door, which was thin enough for her to hear what was happening fairly well. She heard Clarence's footsteps drag their way reluctantly across the floor, then the faint creak of the door opening,

'Oh! I thought I heard voices,' came the penetrating tones of Horace Fortescue, 'are you alone?'

'I…of course! What are you suggesting, Horace! That I was keeping someone locked up in my room? Hah! What a suggestion indeed!'

Damn, damn, damn! thought Ida, willing Clarence to keep quiet

'Steady, old chap,' said Horace, without a trace of actual concern, 'I thought you were going fishing, anyway…'

'…oh, I'm sorry about that, did you end up taking the rods and…'

'…No, I sent the stable boy in the end, it doesn't matter.'

Doesn't matter fumed Ida, of course, I bet the stable boy has no other tasks to do in a day except go on wasted errands for rich idiots like you two…

'How's Mortimer?' asked Clarence, far too quickly, 'where is he?'

'I don't know exactly,' came the measured reply, 'I'm sure he's about the place somewhere, why?'

'No reason, no reason,' said Clarence, in a sterling performance worthy of the 'worst actor in the world' competition, Ida only prayed that his face was betraying less than his voice…

'Perhaps he's downstairs with father and his guests.'

'Guests?'

'Yes, another bloody fossil collector's turned up out of the blue.'

'Really?'

'A Dr Smythe, this time. Funny hour to call, don't you think? Father's showing him his study.'

'And who else?'

'What?'

'You said guests…'

'Oh right, well, this chap's in a wheelchair. Got a man to push him around, don't know his name.'

'I see…'

'...why don't you head down there, if you're so interested?'

'…I…um….'

'I was thinking of going down myself, actually. Care to come?'

'I…I…'

'Not as if you're doing much here, Clarence old chap…'

'…as a matter of fact, I…'

'You're looking very red, Clarence, got a girl hidden in the wardrobe, have you?'

Ida froze,

'Ha ha! The idea! Of course not!' said Clarence, far too loudly, 'I'll come down with you right now, got no plans at all for today…'

'Just as you like.'

Ida heard the door close. She waited a good minute, then slowly opened the wardrobe a crack and peeked out. The room was empty. Clambering out, her joints made a cracking sound as she stretched her cramped limbs. What was she going to do now?

………

Squeezed between a large potted plant and an umbrella stand, Ida cursed her own stupidity for the umpteenth time that day. Upon leaving Clarence's room, she had tried the doors of several other rooms along the same corridor, hoping to locate Grimshaw, but had found them to be locked or empty. She had been making her way back to Clarence's room, intending to wait for him there, when she had caught sight of a housemaid at the other end of the corridor. Terrified that the girl had seen her, Ida had run in the other direction, and found herself at the top of the grand staircase which swept up from the entrance hall to the first floor. The only hiding place obvious through her blind panic was the plant and umbrella stand next to the front door itself, and it was to those she had sprinted, nearly slipping on the highly polished tiles of the entrance hall. Only once there, did she scan her surroundings properly, and realise that there was a much better place on the other side of the hall, between a grandfather clock and an antique cabinet. The shadows there were really deep, and the space looked bigger than this prickly one… Ida was just wondering whether to make a dash for it, when she heard voices and the squeaking of wheels

'You have a fine collection, sir,' came a reedy voice, 'and we would be delighted to accept your invitation to return this evening…'

'…you must stay for dinner, of course,'

'…you are very kind…'

Ida realised she must be listening to Lord William Fortescue, and his guest Dr Smythe

'How do you like Keswick?'

'Oh, very much…' came another man's voice. He spoke with a Scottish accent, but something didn't quite fit…Ida couldn't exactly place it, but…

The men came into view: first Horace and a rather uncomfortable looking Clarence who kept looking at his watch; then Lord Fortescue, a white haired, portlier version of Horace; then someone whom Ida supposed had to be Dr Smythe. He was an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair - a tartan blanket over his knees completely concealing his legs - who sported a shock of unruly grey hair and a hugely bushy grey beard. The wheelchair was pushed by a man who must have been the other one to speak…a tall ish man with a moustache and… but it couldn't be…

The man looked straight at her.

'Don't forget your umbrella, Donald,' said Dr Smythe

'Right,' said the man, heading straight towards her. He bent over the umbrella stand…

'Miss Greene,' whispered Dr Watson, 'stay very very still.'

Ida stifled a gasp,

'We will create a diversion and you must slip out of the front door. We will meet you on the lane back to Keswick.'

He straightened his back, and spoke, in the – frankly appalling – Scottish accent again,

'I don't think I brought an umbrella with me after all.'

'Oh,' said Dr Smythe…or…as Ida stared at him…Mr Holmes? 'well, it is a beautiful day. Oh!' He pointed a trembling finger up the stairs,

'What?' exclaimed Lord Fortescue

'Someone just ran past the landing!'

'Oh, I don't think…'

'A young man, it looked like…'

Horace dashed for the stairs

'Horace?' shouted Lord Fortescue, 'what the devil?'

'I'll catch him, father!' shouted Horace

'Catch who? I didn't see anyone!'

Realisation suddenly flashed in Clarence's face, and he charged after Horace

'Boys!' shouted Lord Fortescue, 'what are you playing at?'

Ida suddenly realised that this was her diversion, as Lord Fortescue himself headed towards the foot of the stairs, craning his neck to see his sons as they raced along the first floor corridor. She slipped out from behind the umbrella stand, and slid back the bolts on the front door, which were thankfully well oiled. Then it was the work of a second to undo the latch and slip outside, with a grateful look back at Holmes and Watson, before she sprinted up the drive.

………

It was a shamefaced Ida who greeted Holmes and Watson, still disguised as Dr Smythe and Donald, on the path into town.

'I realise how wrong I was to go back to the house…but you must understand, Clarence practically kidnapped me…'

Holmes made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat

'I can't tell you how grateful I am! How did you know…'

'When Watson saw you run off this morning, it didn't take much reasoning to work out where you were going to end up. But don't flatter yourself Miss Greene, your safety was a concern, but of equal concern to us was damage limitation. We needed to know how much you had derailed the investigation this time…'

'…Steady on Holmes,' said Watson, 'that's a bit harsh…'

'…and?' said Ida, insolently, 'how much have I derailed the investigation?'

'Miraculously,' said Holmes, 'not all that much, I was surprised. Clarence is a nervous wreck, but from the way his brother and father acted I suspect that is not far from his normal demeanour at the best of times. And our tour of Lord Fortescue's study was most informative…'

'Really?' asked Watson, 'what did you pick up on, Holmes? I must confess that I was at a loss as to…'

'…there is a highly skilled forger at work, Watson. Most of Lord Fortescue's collection, in fact…'

'….Oh,' said Ida 'I know about that! Clarence told me how he makes replicas of the collection so that his father can have them on display, and keep the real ones locked up safely…'

Holmes flashed her a look which, for the first time that day, was not edged with disdain, 'Indeed?' he said. 'As I was about to say, most of Lord Fortescue's collection is in replica form, but I did not know that Clarence was involved…'

'Oh, but he's not involved,' said Ida, quickly, 'it's all Horace's doing. Horace asked him to send him copies to Oxford, Horace asked him to make some fake bones…'

'…and we are supposed to believe that Clarence is unaware of Horace's intentions…'

'Yes! Come to that, I'm unaware…'

Holmes stared levelly at her, as if weighing up several alternatives in his head. Then

'Right,' he said, 'back to Keswick.'

'Are you coming back to the boarding house?' asked Ida

'No,' said Holmes, quickly, 'there are a few things we need to pick up in town. You go on ahead.'

A/N: Thankyou so much to everyone who's been reviewing, I'm really enjoying writing this story...am hoping to finish it before my lectures start up again with the new term, hence the quicker updating, hope this new chapter doesn't disappoint!