Author's Note: Yay! I updated! Sorry for the wait once again. This time it was school that got in the way, not my procrastination. ;-) I hope you enjoy this chapter; finally the good part begins.
Chapter Five
After a few days, I was beginning to get worried that Mr. Holmes had forgotten about me and my request. Perhaps he had been given a case of extreme importance by some foreign royalty or by some government official, forcing him to put aside all else he was pursuing. I only wished that he would hurry up and bring some news, or at least send a cryptic telegram. That would be far better than waiting in ignorance.
My aunt had changed drastically since the Donleavys had come to call. She had suddenly taken me to the dressmaker's for a fitting telling me only that I could not look like a servant or poor relation, not in front of guests. She had be dressed in terrible flounces and petticoats, lace and corsets. Instead of feeling happy about the new clothes, I was quite miserable since they were not at all comfortable to wear and made me look like an Eastend tart (not that I knew what they looked like, having never been to the Eastend of London). Fortunately, however, she also purchased for me some woolen scarves and warm gloves for my walks upon the Downs (as all my current ones were mostly moth eaten). It had been a surprise at the time, but her logic was that I would not be able to catch a chill since she knew I would go walking even if she forbid me to.
Something in my mind warned me that this was a case of bribery with the target as myself. Either that or she was desperate (for some strange, unknown reason) to make both herself and me presentable to the Donleavys. It was a pleasant difference, since she had not dared hit or insult me, fearing that I may suddenly tell Patricia (who, according to my aunt, was my new friend).
The Donleavy often came to tea or dinner, even more often staying late. I could not understand why they would show such an interest in us, but I felt that it was for some reason I would not care to know. Patricia continued to speak only to me while her mother "listened" (for I had suspicions that she was at least half-deaf) to my aunt's endless gossip and meaningless praise. The evenings that they spent at my house were increasingly boring. I would have preferred to be reading.
When I thought about it, however, I wondered why it was that the Donleavys always came to my home instead of inviting my aunt and I to their lodgings. Not that either my aunt nor myself ever actually knew where exactly the Donleavys resided. For all I knew, they could have lived in a fisherman's shack along the coast.
So after much deliberation and planning, I acted as though I had a painful headache just before they were due to leave. It only took me a few moments to change into men's clothing and climb down the wire I'd affixed to the chimney that was conveniently beside my bedroom window. Once on the ground, I waited behind a hedge for the Donleavys to leave the house. I could hear Patricia telling my aunt to "give Mary my love" and that she hoped I would feel better in the morning. Then the door opened and Patricia appeared, patiently leading her mother down the steps and to the carriage (which happened to be mine, but my aunt allowed the Donleavys to make use of it). As the door to the carriage closed behind them and the driver told the horses to move, I hurried forward and began my pursuit.
The night was cool, but not frigid, and there was a heaviness to the air that told of rain in the foreseeable future, perhaps in the next few hours. The carriage fortunately did not move too quickly over the rough gravel road, most likely because of the pot holes, so I was able to keep up fairly well. The clouds that shaded the moon's light gave me enough cover, as did the stone walls which lined this part of the road. Keeping to the stone wall, I kept about one hundred feet away from the carriage, as I did not trust that Patricia would not be watching for followers. She appeared to be a consummate actress, if her actions towards myself and my aunt were to be taken as such. She seemed too willing to be friends with people she had just barely met. Then there was also the difficulty with her initial arrival at my house.
No, I did not trust her one bit. There had to be a reason for all this and I would find out what it was.
I followed the sound of the horses shoes clomping along; the occupants of the carriage were entirely silent, which was hardly surprising. I seriously doubted that mother and daughter ever spoke much to one another. Their relationship did not seem close nor loving. There had been times when I'd actually wondered whether or not they were related at all. For some reason, there seemed to be a discrepancy in their appearance and actions. Of course, Patricia could have taken on more of her father's aspects than her mothers, but the differences between them were too great in my opinion.
The carriage continued on its way towards Eastbourne. It would make sense that the Donleavys would reside there in a hotel or rooms of some sort. Although it was not a place like London, it still had all the amenities that one would require as well as a certain amount of anonymity that one could not find in the village nearer to my farm.
However, just before the carriage came to the outskirts of Eastbourne, I saw a figure lean out of the window and tell the driver to stop. The driver protested that they were still a distance from the town, but still the door of the carriage opened allowing Patricia and her mother to step out onto the road. Patricia pulled a shilling from her purse and handed it to the driver.
"Don't tell anyone where you've left us," she said curtly, her voice carrying in the growing wind. "Our business is a private matter and not of any importance to you or your mistress. Now please leave us."
At the last moment, I jumped behind a hedge on the side of the road (luckily the stone walls had ceased a mile back) just before the driver turned the carriage, swearing under his breath the entire time. Once he had disappeared over the next hill, I scrambled out to follow the Donleavys, who were not walking very fast because of Mrs. Donleavy's ill health. At least, that is what I believed it to be. The number of petticoats she wore covered any sign of her legs and feet, while she usually kept a veil over her face. For a fanciful moment, I actually wondered if she were a woman at all. It was possible that she could be a man in disguise. But of course I rejected that idea immediately after thinking it. All the number of times she had spoken to my aunt, not once had Mrs. Donleavy's voice sounded anything but female.
They began walking down a path along side the road which soon turned closer to a wooded area. Once within the trees, I knew it would be easier for me to find cover. However, I also knew that the trees and whatever else was in there could also give the Donleavys a chance to escape me. That is, if they knew I was following them in the first place. They certainly did not act as if they thought so.
Lost in my thoughts for a moment, I did not see the stone until my foot collided with it. While I bit my tongue to cover a cry of pain, I was sure I saw Patricia glance back, but when I blinked, she and her mother were walking along, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I continued my pursuit, limping along in the cover of darkness, sometimes leaning on a tree for support. After a few minutes, the path split in two. One path followed a treeless ridge while the other continued along through the brush and trees. Watching the Donleavys take the upper path, I remained below, hoping that the two paths would merge once again. I could hear them above walking silently, the only sound other than their footsteps being Mrs. Donleavy's short and heavy breaths.
As the ridge the upper path was on began to lower in height back towards the lower path, I stopped, waiting behind a shrub for the two of them to appear. I thought I had still heard them above only a moment before, yet no one came down the path. It was as though they had disappeared. After five minutes of waiting, I deftly crept up the ridge, thinking that perhaps they had stopped for a moment to rest. In the far distance I could hear the waves rumbling against the cliffs. The wind was rising and the air felt heavy with a coming rainstorm. No animals were seen or heard anywhere around; the only sound was that of my footsteps crunching on the rotting leaves that made up the ground beneath the trees.
In a sudden flashing moment, I heard movement behind me. Rising from my hiding place, I turned to see a black figure rushing towards me, something large in their raised hand. Then I felt the pain, a sharp crack on the side of my skull. I collapsed to the ground, darkness surrounding my fall.
Once I had made all the arrangements I needed, it was not long until I was on the train to Eastbourne, nearly one week after Miss Russell had first come to me with her request. The fact that she lived with the person she was investigating made it impossible for me to contact her. The telegram office in the village would hold no secrets for anyone and I doubted that Miss Russell would be able to understand any code I used if I did send a telegram. This was not because she was a female, but rather because I had not met her more than once and she would most likely not know my style. Even if she had read Watson's drivel, she could hardly be expected to interpret my telegrams.
The compartment was empty except for myself, which was a nice change from the usual busy London trains, crowded with people. Even though I would not have any interesting specimens of the human species to practice my skills upon, at least it would be quiet. The morning edition of the Times layed on the seat beside me, yet I did not pick it up. Watson would indeed be wondering about my health, or perhaps my sanity, if he saw me ignoring the newspaper, which I had not yet read that day. Then again, Watson often questioned my actions.
The case of Miss Russell's aunt had been profoundly simple. It was merely a matter of misplaced funds that were not deeply hidden. Either the aunt or whoever had assisted her had not thought that Miss Russell would bother investigating the matter. The funds from the mysterious account in New York had still not been traced, but I set that aside for the moment. My sources in New York had come up with nothing on the account nor the person who owned it. It could very well be that the account is perfectly innocent with nothing to do with Miss Russell. Of course assumptions can be dangerous, but I had done as Miss Russell asked me to. To do anymore could appear to show too much interest in Miss Russell. After the affair or Madame Norton, I would not venture to allow myself to show interest in any woman.
After some moments, the train began to slow as it approached Eastbourne. From the station, I had planned to take a carriage to the village Miss Russell had mentioned she lived near, after which I would call upon the young lady and her aunt, making my case. With the evidence I had, the aunt would not be able to make any logical argument whatsoever. It would be then that Miss Russell would take over and propose a treatise, if indeed that was what she devised to do. From what she had related to me during our first meeting, she did not plan on pressing charges against her aunt. Somehow, it would not surprise me if Miss Russell used blackmail to attain her goal, primarily to attend university the coming autumn.
Once in Eastbourne, it did not take long to find a carriage that could take me to Miss Russell's village. The roads were in deplorable condition, most likely because of the heavy spring rains that had plagued the area. Certainly it had rained recently, perhaps the night before. All the potholes were filled with water and the mud along the side of the road made me think twice about asking the driver to let me out at this location. Further along the road, I saw a man walking, or rather hiking, through the thick mud alongside the stone wall that lined the road. He appeared to be drunk from the way that he swaggered and held his head as he walked. As the carriage passed this man, he looked up and I saw wire rim glasses surrounding a pair of slightly unfocussed blue eyes. Immediately I recognized those eyes, though I cannot say exactly how. Perhaps it was in the way that they met mine and a sign of recognition and surprised passed over the figure's face, which was far too soft and feminine to be the face of a man.
Leaning my head out the window, I commanded the driver to stop. Then I opened the door and lent an arm to the person who entered.
"Well, Miss Russell, this is indeed a strange meeting place."
Her only reply was to fall into the seat across from me and groan as the carriage began to continue its journey towards the village. She took off the woolen cap she wore and her hair tumbled down over her shoulders, then she reached up to rub the back of her head.
"Can you explain your presence so far from your home?" I asked.
She managed a small smile. "Surely you can tell me what I was doing?"
Returning her smile, I reclined in my seat and tented my fingers, remembering the details I had noted of Miss Russell's appearance in the last few minutes.
"You left your home last evening before the rain began because you would have worn a heavier coat if you had expected to spend time out of doors during the storm. You walked the entire way, perhaps following someone across country?"
For a moment, she seemed surprised at this statement, then she frowned. "How would you have known about the following part? Why couldn't I have simply taken a walk through the Downs?"
"Would you have kept to the roads had you been walking for pleasure?" I replied. "The state of your boots reveals that you have walking along this road and perhaps others like it for a period of time. No other type of dirt is visible. Why else would you follow the road if you were not following someone? Also, I cannot think of any other reason why anyone would be walking alone at night when there's a danger of a heavy rainstorm."
Her lips were pursed and she absently fiddled with a stray strand of hair. After a short moment, she nodded. "Alright, you're correct about that. But I'm afraid that you went beyond simple deduction in order to reach that answer. If I were a perfect stranger, would you have come to the same conclusion? Most people are not as suspicious of others as I am."
These words had been calmly stated as though she had experienced similar arguments and discussions in the past. She did not speak like the majority of women, who were too often overly-sentimental or exaggerated. Miss Russell's speech was very matter-of-fact, more like my own that I would ever admit.
The carriage suddenly hit a rather large bump in the road and jumped wildly. Miss Russell cringed and held her head, an expression of deep pain crossing her face. Her lips moved but no sound was emitted. Perhaps it was the silent exclamation of an oath. The moment passed, however, and she relaxed, but only slightly.
"I presume that whomever you were following discovered that they were being followed?" I enquired. "Such a pain in the head can hardly be obtained by simply walking."
Her eyes met mine and I could see the fury within them. "I do not need to be reminded of my mistake, Mr. Holmes. Especially in such a manner that some would call rude. Yes, I was hit over the head. By whom, I have no idea. It may not have even been the person I was following. All I know is that it hurts like hell and if you think you can sit there critiquing me like I was a stupid child you can..."
"I don't think it's necessary for you to continue," I interrupted, not wishing to hear the explicative she had in mind for my future actions. Obviously she learned such lamentable language in America. No where else in the world did people speak in such a way. "I fully understand your meaning, and I apologize for my rudeness, especially towards a lady such as yourself."
She began to open her mouth to argue, as I knew she would, but I cut her off once more. "There are more important matters at hand, Miss Russell. For one, I have discovered what you aunt has been doing with your inheritance, which is the reason I have come to Sussex."
Her jaw dropped and I could detect a sudden brightness in her eyes. "You mean you've found her out? Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" She leaned back into the carriage seat, the pain in her head momentarily forgotten. "I'm very grateful to you, sir. It was very kind of you to come in person."
What a tremendous change it was, from the rages of temper to the ecstasy of happiness. Her mood had turned around faster than any London pickpocket can steal a watch. Perhaps she was not as unfeminine as I had lead myself to believe for those few moments. Only a woman could change her mood so quickly and seamlessly.
"It was no trouble at all, Miss Russell," I replied cooly. "I merely did what you asked me to, nothing more."
She smiled, but I could tell that she was not attending me any longer. Most likely she was dreaming about the day she would be leaving for university, whichever one she chose to attend, and the day that her aunt would no longer make trouble in her life. The child-like dreaminess of her eyes made me envious of her, if only for a passing instant. Her life from what she had told me, had fallen apart within the last year, all she knew and loved vanishing before her very eyes. The poor child deserved some happiness, if only for a short time.
Another case appeared to be solved successfully. If only that had been the case.
