Chapter Eleven:

Kathryn…

When she heard they were arriving in Ireland, Kathryn quickly ushered Sawyer out of her room and changed into her costume. She was to pose as a maid in the household of Monsieur Debienne, a retired French gentleman, once a manager of the Opera in the Rue Le Peletier. It had been rumoured that he had been terrorizing the poor ladies of Bray, Wicklow with tales of the Opera Ghost of said Opera. Once having scared the ladies out of their wits with the stories, he would dress as the Opera Ghost and proceed to scare whatever was left in the poor ladies with an act of pure malevolence and lewdness. These rumours had been confirmed to Kathryn when she found one of the victimised ladies on her front porch, begging for sanctuary from the horridly behaved French gentleman. The begrieved woman asked for Kathryn's help to rid the ladies of this male terror and suddenly died from fright after hearing Kathryn's promise to lend her aid.

Therefore, Kathryn felt it was her duty to rid the town of Monsieur Debienne, however gentlemanlike he may seem for all outward appearances.

When the Nautilus surfaced, Kathryn, followed by the rest of the League, disembarked and went promptly to her old home, with several of her tools and peculiar chemicals in a small rucksack. Once inside the tiny building, Kathryn went straight to the study and sorted through what she had. She tucked the bread knife, with it's poison, into her apron pocket, and hid away a vial of Atropa belladonna, or Deadly Nightshade, and another of Conium Maculatum, or Poison Hemlock, in the folds of her dress, just in case. The poison in the knife's vial was Colchicum autumnale, also called Meadow Saffron. It was considered too poisonous by medieval and ancient writers to be used in herbal medicine. Which is exactly why Kathryn decided it was her poison of choice.

She left her house and journeyed the short distance to Monsieur Debienne's manor, with Jekyll in tow. Entering the house through the servant door, she hissed to him, "Stay alert. I can't have anyone knowing what I'm up to. And if you ask me a question, I won't answer; here, I'm a mute kitchen maid who works part time."

"What will I be?" he asked, examining his own apparel.

"My fiancé," she said shortly. "You've accompanied me this evening to make sure I get home safely. Don't worry; it'll be easy." She led Jekyll into the kitchen and silently greeted the other workers there. She took the bread out to the table and set it beside Monsieur Debienne.

"But who is this, Monsieur?" a man said, directly across the table from Kathryn. "I don't believe I've seen her around your manor before." She looked up and straight into the eyes of Mr. Holmes. She felt her blood chill instantly.

"I believe she said her name was Lydia," Monsieur Debienne said. "But she doesn't speak. And she only works here a few days a week. Miss Lydia, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He's assisting me with a trouble."

Kathryn nodded and returned to the kitchen. "Gods… oh, gods…" she whispered, hastily pulling the vials of Deadly Nightshade and Poison Hemlock out of the folds of her dress. "This isn't happening… This is not happening to me!"

Jekyll walked over to her quickly. "What's wrong?" he asked, seeding the distress in her eyes.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes is joining Monsieur Debienne for supper tonight!" she whispered, pulling a device out of her white mop cap. It looked like a filter. What it did was release whatever poison she placed into the chamber into wine as she poured it from the bottle. It would be inserted into the neck of the wine bottle, positioned just so, giving her the ability to control where the poison went and when it stopped releasing it. "I can't use the knife. Here, take it." She shoved the bread knife into Jekyll's hands. "I can't poison Mr. Holmes. I swore to him I would never do that. C'mon!" she muttered to the device. She was hastily trying to fill it with Poison Hemlock. The powdered plant would kill Monsieur Debienne as he slept that night, causing respiratory failure. She had hoped to continue using Meadow Saffron, causing heart failure, but she didn't have any powdered with her. It was on the Nautilus. When the device was ready, she grabbed the nearest bottle of wine and inserted it in the bottleneck. "All right. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Jekyll whispered as she returned to the dining room.

Kathryn silently offered the wine to Mr. Holmes. He declined, saying, "No thank you, Miss Lydia. But, you seem familiar. Have we met before?" She shook her head. But she knew he knew who she was. There was no concealing it from him. She continued to pour the wine into Monsieur Debienne's glass, using the device effectively, as Mr. Holmes said, "Miss Lydia, perhaps you've heard. M Debienne believes he may be getting poisoned. He's called on my help in the matter. Do you think he's being poisoned?" She shook her head. "More's the pity," Mr. Holmes said, giving her a look that she knew to mean, don't do it, Kathryn. But she smiled demurely and shrugged, slightly indicating the bottle. Mr. Holmes gave a start. "The wine?" he mouthed to her. She nodded, then pointed to Monsieur Debienne, who was drinking the wine earnestly. "Monsieur, I recommend that you discontinue to drink the wine."

Monsieur Debienne set his glass on the table. "Why?" he asked cautiously.

Kathryn took the moment to leave the dining room as she heard Mr. Holmes say, "I believe it to be poisoned. If you continue to drink the rest of the bottle, it could kill you." Kathryn took the device from within the wine bottle and slipped it into the folds of her dress. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Monsieur. I'll return before evening tea." She heard Mr. Holmes' chair scrape against the wood flooring, then his quick footsteps heading towards the kitchen.

She ran to Jekyll and hissed, "We have to go. Now." Then, grabbing his wrist, she ran from the manor house, pulling Jekyll with her. "Mr. Holmes, I do believe, knows exactly what I've done, and is now in pursuit." She opened the door to her house and entered, Jekyll following her.

"Miss Kathryn," Jekyll was saying as they entered the house. "You don't honestly believe that Mr. Holmes will be able to prove anything, do you?"

Kathryn turned abruptly to Jekyll and said, "Do you honestly believe he won't? The man is a genius, Dr. Jekyll. A genius. He's not stupid."

"Kate," Sawyer said. "What's going on?"

She hesitated to answer. "Well…" she began, but never finished, for at that moment, the door opened quickly. Standing in the doorway, looking rather dashing with the light silhouetting him, was Mr. Sherlock Holmes himself. "Mr. Holmes! What a pleasant surprise!" She quickly entered the bedroom and closed the door. She swiftly changed out of the maid costume, then re-entered the kitchen. "What, may I ask, brings you to my humble abode?"

"You do," he said calmly. "And you know why."

"Mr. Holmes, I would be lying if I said I understood your meaning," she said, slowly walking towards what appeared to be an empty chair. Judging by the impressions in the cushioning, Skinner was sitting there. So she carefully sat on the chair's arm. "Now, without any word from you, I would like to introduce to you my comrades. The gentleman on your left is Special Agent Sawyer, of the American Secret Service. The lovely lady next to him is Mrs. Mina Harker, a Chemist, like yourself. To her left, Captain Nemo, the Captain of the Nautilus. The gentleman in this chair, whom you cannot see, is Mr. Rodney Skinner. I spoke to you about him once."

"Yes, you did," Mr. Holmes said, giving her a slight look of disbelief. "And this gentleman?" He indicated to Jekyll.

"Dr. Jekyll," she said. "He was kind enough to help me in my task tonight." She held her hand out for the bread knife, which Jekyll gave her with all too clear eagerness. He seemed glad to be rid of the item. "Gentlemen, Mrs. Harker, this is the renowned Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

She felt Skinner give a start. "Holmes?" he asked. "Inn't he the one who found you out, Kathryn?"

"I believe you're right, Mr. Skinner," she answered, amused at the odd look on Mr. Holmes face. "But, as I recall, we have some unfinished business to attend to. Am I correct, Mr. Holmes?" He nodded. "Well, then. Captain, if you would be so kind as to escort the League to the Nautilus, I will be along in about an hour. Thank you." The rest of the League, but Skinner left the small building. "Mr. Skinner, I would appreciate it if you returned to the ship with them," Kathryn said, her hand on his shoulder.

"All right, then," he said, getting out of his chair. The door opened and closed, seemingly of its own accord.

"He stole the invisibility process from the scientist who called himself 'The Hollow Man,'" she explained to Mr. Holmes. "He's gone; I can't hear him beating about in here anymore." She sat in the chair. "Now, why are you here?"

Mr. Holmes drew up a chair and sat. "For exactly what I told you in M Debienne's dining room," he said. "He believed he was being poisoned and sent for me, pressing the urgency. I came and watched him for a day and believed he seemed to be poisoned with a bit of Meadow Saffron. Then you came into the dining room and I knew for certain he was being poisoned." He leaned back and held his fingertips together. "Why did you do it?"

"Did he tell you how he has been terrorising the ladies of Bray?" she asked the detective. He shook his head. "You remember some time ago, there was a story in all the papers of Europe about an Opera Ghost who had been terrorizing an Opera house in Paris, I'm sure. Monsieur Debienne was once a manager of that Opera, and he knew the story of the Opera Ghost better than anyone in Ireland. He would visit unsuspecting, unmarried young ladies and tell them the story, full of such gruesome detail that you could hardly imagine possible. Then, once he had the young ladies afraid to leave their houses after dark, he would dress as the Opera Ghost and terrorize them outside their bedroom windows."

"How do you know this is true?" Mr. Holmes asked, examining her carefully.

She paused, collecting her thoughts. "There had always been rumours of it happening," she explained. "But I didn't know for certain if they were true until two weeks ago, when one of his victims appeared on my doorstep in the dead of night, begging for my help. I swore to her that I would put an end to his terrorism in any possible way I could. Upon spying on Monsieur Debienne, I discovered that the only way to stop him would be to poison him."

"So you killed him," he said flatly. "Miss Bennet, what makes you think for even a moment that killing someone, even for the betterment of another, is acceptable?"

"What made you think, even for a moment, that it would be acceptable if I disposed of Professor Moriarty for chemical supplies?" Kathryn countered. "You don't remember, do you?"

"I remember," he said. "I'm not proud of that letter I sent you. But, in all honesty, I believed you to be a gentleman Chemist who had never even killed a rat in his scientific experiments. Never would I dream of sending such a letter to a young lady who was desperate to continue her studies. When I first met you, over the case of your fiancé's death, I never would have predicted you would become who you are today, Miss Bennet. Never."

"Really," she said, examining him carefully in her turn. He was still very handsome. He was tall, nearly six feet high, lean, but still physically fit. He was just handsome. There was no way Kathryn could find to describe him. She had, at one point, thought herself to be in love with him, but that proved to be incorrect as time taught her that he could never love any woman as much as he loved his work. When she first met him, Mr. Holmes was too scientific for her tastes—it approached to cold-bloodedness. She could imagine his giving a friend a little pinch if the latest vegetable alkaloid, not out of malevolence, but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in order to have an accurate idea of the effects. To do him justice, she thought that he would take it himself with the same readiness. He appeared to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge. And seemed to still have it. "And why is that?"

Mr. Holmes thought for a moment. "You seemed too sweet," he said finally. "Too simple to bring yourself to violence. When I discovered it was you to whom I sent the letter, you cannot know how shocked I was."

"I saw it in your eyes, Mr. Holmes," she said. "I had been following you since I received the letter. I followed you in all your activities, Mr. Holmes. Everywhere. Even to the Falls. You aren't the easiest man to follow. Did you realise?"

"I should hope so," he said. "It was at that point that I didn't wish to be followed… Yet, I must give credit where credit is due. I didn't expect a young lady such as yourself to make that trek unaccompanied."

"There's more to me than meets the eye, Mr. Holmes," Kathryn said simply. "Now, what are you really doing here?"

He sighed. "Do you recall an offer I extended to you several years ago, while we both still lived on Baker Street?" he asked. Kathryn nodded silently. "I came to ask you to reconsider your decision. Your life is still in danger from British justice."

"That I know," she said, almost tartly, standing. She slowly walked around the room as she spoke. "Mr. Holmes, there are a million and three reasons why I denied you. Do not ask me to reconsider. My answer will remain the same."

"Kate—" he began, standing and crossing to her.

She cut him off. "No!" she said, almost shrilly. "Mr. Holmes, please. It wouldn't work. I still have my life to live. I cannot be tied down to a man who would never allow me to continue my research. I will not stop researching until I know all there is to know about my subject. No man will keep me from that. Ever."

"You are still in danger of being discovered," he said. "Not all my records left Baker Street, Miss Bennet. Mrs. Hudson tends to them, but there could be, at any time, a burglary in which the records from your case and crimes could go missing. Then, someone would have leverage to bend you to their will… What do you hope to accomplish by working with this odd assortment of people? What good will it do?"

"I mean to undo the flaws of my character," Kathryn said quietly. "If I cooperate with them, I will receive amnesty from the British Crown."

"So you have been found out," Mr. Holmes said softly. "Interesting."

"I didn't pack up and leave for no apparent reason, Mr. Holmes," she said bitterly. "That morning, I had been informed by my sister that someone knew and they were going to Scotland Yard with their knowledge. I had no time. I hardly had time to speak with you that night."

"Who was it?" he asked, interested. "Do you know?"

"No, of course not," she said. "Don't be ridiculous."

There was a brief pause during which the two Chemists regarded each other. Finally, Mr. Holmes said, "Tell me about Charles Milverton. What do you know?"

Kathryn shot him a look. "Mr. Charles Augustus Milverton," she said. "He was the most talented blackmailer I've ever come across. You regarded him as the worst man in London. As I recall, he was murdered."

Mr. Holmes gave her a curious look. "Murdered?" he repeated. "Do you know by whom?"

"The police suspected it to be a man," she replied lightly. "A man with a description equal to Dr. Watson. Why?"

Mr. Holmes didn't answer her right away. Instead, he studied her face. He looked deep into her eyes and asked, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Arrange for his murder," he said. "How in the world did you do that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "There are undertakings in this world that few can comprehend, Mr. Holmes," she said. "Then there are some that only a few know of. This is one of those. And I shan't tell you how I arranged for his murder. Suffice it to say, I arranged it, it was carried out, and Dr. Watson was blamed inadvertently for it."

"You would let your past husband pay for the crime you organised?" he asked as she walked away from him.

Kathryn spun around to look at him. "Hear this now: I never loved him," she said, coldly. "There are few men in this world that I ever thought of loving. Dr. Watson was not one of them. I only married him to get closer to you. I figured that if I could get close enough to you, I could more easily continue my research."

Mr. Holmes seemed almost shocked. "Who are the few men you ever thought of loving?" he asked her softly. "Miss Bennet… tell me."

"Gods above," she muttered. "That is none of your business."

"Who are they?" he pressed, his hand in his coat pocket.

"It is a dangerous habit to finger loaded firearms in the pocket of one's coat, Mr. Holmes," she said. "And don't threaten me with a gun."

Mr. Holmes sighed and removed his pistol from his coat pocket. He set it on the table. "Miss Bennet, my patience is wearing thin," he said. "Answer my question."

"What difference does it make to you who I ever thought was possible for me to love?" she cried, almost shrieking. Her patience had met its breaking point. "What difference does it make to you if told you that I was in love once with Mr. Zephyr? Or possibly Mr. Skinner? Or possibly even you? Why do you bloody care?" She broke out in furious tears. She kicked the nearest door and covered her face with her hands. The last things she wanted was to cry in front of Mr. Holmes. She knew that he was hard-pressed for compassion and could give little to no comfort.

But she heard his quick footsteps cross the room, and felt him pull her into a hug. "Kate, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter anyways," she said. "I once thought myself in love with you, Mr. Holmes. But…"

"But, what, Kathryn?" he asked gently.

She drew a shaky breath. "But, Time is a teacher, and Time taught me well," she said. "I learned that you distrusted women in general and could hardly dare to love any of them."

"And yet," he murmured. "I still asked for your hand. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Because you're strange," she replied, wiping at her salt tears. Then she whispered, "You're strange, and so you seemed to care, too."

Mr. Holmes lifted Kathryn's chin to look into her eyes. "Kate," he said softly. "Never allow anyone to make you feel inferior. You, no matter what you've done, are a remarkable woman. Remember that." Then he kissed her.