When I opened my eyes later that afternoon, the sun that was shining just a few hours before, had disappeared behind the thick gray clouds that were full of rain. I couldn't exactly recall what happened between the boat ride and now, it was all a bit of a blur, although I did remember getting into the carriage and trying to recover from a nausea spell, just as I thought I was actually going to survive this trip. I won't go into full detail because I don't think you want to read a whole chapter of me retching and all that at this particular moment. I am actually drinking some tea and having one of my mother's biscuits, so I know I don't want to write about it, anyhow, what was I talking about?
I needed to blink a couple of times so that my eyes could adjust to the blinding white light of the sky. I was resting my chin on my hand, but it was starting to fall asleep, so I slowly sat up, put my hands on my lap and looked around. We were riding in a horse-drawn carriage through the glorious French countryside, miles and miles of grassy hills overlooking the river. It was quite peaceful. Jane was awake, too. I looked over and I could tell she was painting a mental picture of the scenery in her mind so that she could sketch it as soon as we got home.
Every summer when Jane and I were children, my family and I would go to the country and have a picnic. The sun would be shining and the grass would be greener than you would believe. Those memories came back to me now. I may have already mentioned this before, but I will say it again, I would love to settle down in the countryside one day, away from the hectic, crowded city. I'd always pictured living in a nice little cottage near the river and watching my children grow up. As I looked around, I could actually see myself living right here.
We kept riding until we reached the outskirts of a small camp and were greeted by a small crowd, and I could only assume that they were the gypsies we were looking for. Watson stopped the carriage and turned to Holmes, who had placed his forehead against his fingers, possibly asleep or deep in thought, one or the other.
"Wake up, we're here," he whispered, nudging him gently.
"Brace yourselves, we're about to be violated," Holmes warned us. It seemed my mother wasn't the only one who was skeptical.
"Don't be so cynical," I said in a low voice and looked at the people around us, they seemed pretty harmless. They didn't look like they were carrying weapons or anything, unlike us. I insisted that if my sister and I were to come along on this suicide mission, we would need a way to defend ourselves if it was absolutely necessary. Oh, I could picture my mother's face as Watson gave us the gun.
I smiled and turned to the young gentlemen, asking in what little Romani I knew, about Madame Simza, they nodded and took us through the forest with another group of gypsies surrounding us.
"They're taking my luggage," Watson said as one of them took his suitcase from him and carried it with him as they walked.
"Laugh them away, Watson," Holmes said. "Besides I have her bag." He handed the huge pink bag to one of the gypsies and said, "This is her bag." And the man took it and walked away.
"You had her bag," Watson said just as a man came up and took his coat. "Now they have my coat." He was annoyed. I didn't think they meant any harm. Maybe they were just curious as to why a group of foreigners would be visiting their camp, speaking a language that was different from their own. It was a little bit warmer here than back in London, most likely due to the campfires that were set up at multiple stations, so I was actually relieved when one of the gentlemen took off my coat. I only wish I could conveniently remove two of the three other layers of clothing, and that's not counting my petticoat and bloomers.
A couple of people pulled Holmes and I away from Watson, who continued to ask about Madame Simza and where she is. One man laughed and pointed at a goose that was sitting on the lap of a sleeping old man with a hat over his eyes and said, "That is Simza." He laughed again as Watson looked over at Holmes with a tight smile. I could tell his patience was quickly wearing thin, held by a thread.
"Sim is a goose." Everyone started gathering around us and chuckled.
The man standing in front of Watson pointed at himself. "I'm Sim."
I didn't know what was so funny, and neither did Watson, but their cheerful nature was contagious, so I couldn't help but smile, too.
"Nice scarf," The man said and he pulled the scarf off of Watson and wrapped it around his neck. "I like." That made Watson snap like an elastic band and he punched the man right across the face, making the man fall down to the ground. At that moment, it was dead silent. Everyone stopped smiling and a couple of people stopped playing the violin as they all stared at Watson.
Holmes began to laugh as Watson looked around him, uncomfortably, and perhaps a bit embarrassed, and wrapped my hand around the hidden gun in his pocket, ready for anything to go horribly wrong. Jane and I also looked around awkwardly. It was an involuntary action, he was a soldier after all. I looked down at my feet, taking a brief moment to admire the boots I was wearing. They were a bit muddy and in need of a good cleaning, but they served me well in this unfamiliar terrain.
"It is about her brother," Holmes said to them in Romani and sure enough, Simza pushed her way through the crowd, her bag returned in her hand.
"You hungry?" She asked us.
"Famished," Holmes replied, quickly.
"Do you by any chance happen to have a change of clothes?" asked Jane. I looked over at her and noticed that she was sitting on the ground with a sour look on her face and that her dress and boots were covered in mud. I stared at her in shock and walked over to her as two of the gentlemen helped her to her feet and a young woman looked over at her with concern. When she managed to compose herself, she muttered under her breath, "Don't ask." I assumed that she must have slipped and fell.
Thankfully, Simza nodded and led us inside a tent where a pile of clothes were just lying around. "There are some clothes here, they should do for the time being."
I sighed, leaning over the pile with my hands on my hips, when finally I just decided to pick something random. I found a white shirt with long sleeves and brown trousers. There were dresses, but I figured that we would be doing a lot of running and possibly climbing so I needed something that would allow for more movement and dresses were much too confining.
Later, we sat in Simza's tent, dressed in fresh clean clothes that allowed more flexibility, and eating a bowl of what was called hedgehog goulash and I think you can guess the main ingredient. I was trying really hard not to think about it as I chewed it gingerly and swallowed it down. Simza seemed to take the hint and whispered to me that I didn't have to finish it, that of which I was grateful. To tell you the truth, I had a hard time with exotic foods, I tended to stick to the more traditional soups, salads, breads and all that.
Jane, however, didn't seem to have any trouble gobbling it down like a hungry wolf. I was even more surprised when she asked for a second helping. For someone who was so proper, she was sure letting out her adventurous side.
"Slow down," I said to her, laughing softly, "you're going to make yourself sick eating like that, and then what will you do?"
"At least I would have eaten at least one good meal before I go out on a wild goose chase, while you will be running around with your stomach growling, wishing that you'd eaten something," she said. Now she was starting to sound like Mother, sometimes I swear that she somehow put some of her soul into Jane. I looked at the table in front of us and lo and behold, there was a bowl of fresh fruits which I decided to help myself to. I started peeling an orange and looked back at Jane with a childish grin.
"Madam, this is a glorious hedgehog goulash. I can't remember ever having had better," Holmes praised as Watson and I stared at him.
"Do tell us...when was the last time that you had hedgehog goulash?" I asked him, curious. I had never even heard tell of the dish until now, and something told me that he hadn't either.
"I told you, dear, I can't remember," he replied, not meeting my eyes.
"Perhaps you repressed it," Watson whispered to him, making Jane chuckle.
"That's where we differ, unlike you, I repress nothing." Holmes said matter-of-factly. I smiled as Watson said, "Perfectly normal." And he set his bowl down next to mine.
"How dare you be rude to this woman who's invited us into her tent?" said Holmes.
"Says the man who throws women from trains," Watson remarked.
Holmes stopped and stared at Watson for a few seconds until Simza spoke up, "Who are you?"
"Concerned citizens," Holmes replied.
"Why did someone try to kill me?" She asked, with a hint of controlled anxiety in her voice.
"Your brother has become involved with a very dangerous man. He clearly believes that Rene has told you something you shouldn't know," I replied gently while disposing of the orange peels.
She sighed and said, plainly, "I don't know anything. I've been looking for him for over a year. That was why I was in London. It was the last place anyone saw him."
"It's clear that your brother loves you...so he would never send you a message that would put you in harm's way any information therefore would be by default...unintentional." Holmes said.
"Has he sent you anything else?" Watson asked her.
She looked off to the side for a moment then replied, "Just a few drawings."
"Let's see what they have to tell us," Holmes said.
She pulled out a stack of paper and handed it to the man, who took Watson's scarf, next to her and handed them to him who handed it to Holmes.
"Unusual choice of paper." He remarked as he looked through the drawing which were of buildings and a lighthouse. "Thicker gauge design for a printing press." He said as he handed each of us a drawing to look at.
"The same stock as the letter," Watson added.
I lifted one paper to my nose and sniffed it. "They smell musty," I said. "Must be been store somewhere cold and damp." I looked over and saw Holmes holding up a paper with a red stain on the corner of the paper.
"What's that? Blood?" Jane asked as she too saw the stain. Holmes ran his finger of the stain then raised it to his mouth and licked it.
"Wine. So a wine cellar located near a printing press. That should narrow it down."
Simza looked at him for a moment then turns to the man standing next to her. "He said he would never go back," The man said to her.
"There is a wine cellar used by the anarchist group, La Pavert'. Rene was close to their leader," she replied.
"Who are they?" I asked.
"A bomb maker," Watson stated.
"Claude Ravache," Holmes said. "We sampled someone his work last week," he added with a smile at Simza.
"I was part of the movement so was Rene until it became too extreme for us. Ravache knows me. If my brother's back there, he will see us. He will send a message," She said and she turned to the man, whose name, I found out was Tamas. He spoke in Romani once again and walked out of the tent. She turned to us and translated, "He says he will set the meeting with Ravache." She grabbed a bottle of wine and drank from it. Holmes sat up and whispered to us, "Whatever you do, don't let these gypsies make you drink." He stretched his hand out and I shrugged as Simza handed him the bottle. He took a long swig and Simza glanced over at the four of us.
"You dance?"
Holmes looked over at Watson. "For God's sake, don't dance. It will be the death of you." He took another drink from the bottle and then held it out to me but I shook my head.
"None for me, thanks, besides, someone has to have a clear head if we're going to be speaking to this Claude fellow."
"I always have a clear head," he defended, still holding it out to me while I remained motionless. "Going once, going twice..."
"Alright, fine, just one sip." I took the bottle from him and drank two mouthfuls, at first it was like fire, but that feeling only lasted for a minute before it settled in my stomach. I placed it down before I was tempted to drink anymore of the stuff, then Simza offered her hands to Watson and I and led us outside as we heard music being played. Jane followed close behind.
"You know what happens when you dance!" Holmes shouted after him, but Watson was already too far away to hear him.
Watson, Jane and I danced around with the gypsies. I couldn't dance to save my life, but I was having too much fun to care. I had to admit I felt pretty relaxed for once. I felt good. With this feeling everything seemed a little easier. My cheeks were warm and my hair was flying everywhere. Jane was also having a great time, though she was a much better dancer than I was.
Watson was being lifted onto another man's shoulders and being spun around.
I was so lost in the music, that I didn't hear Holmes walking up behind me. I turned around and looked up him. He looked around for a moment then raised his hand out towards me. "Might I have this dance?" He asked.
I laughed and took his hand and the two of us began to dance. He wrapped his arm around my waist while the other hand held my right hand and I placed your left hand on his shoulder as we started dancing, slowly at first, but faster as the music sped up.
It was nice to just forget about everything else for a moment. To forget about being a proper lady, to know what it truly felt like to be a part of this world. To be completely oblivious to the danger that we were about to get ourselves into.
The music stopped and everyone was catching their breath, laughing and smiling. I was so dizzy that everything was spinning and I was having a hard time keeping my balance. I couldn't remember the last time I danced like this, I leaned over, hands on my knees, trying to recover myself. My entire body was covered in sweat and the wind was blowing my now untamed hair into my face. I removed the pins and stuffed them into the pocket of the trousers I had been given. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had this much fun.
Just then I heard someone calling my name. "Charlotte?" I turned around and saw Aunt Daisy running toward me. She was dressed in brown and her curly blond hair was hanging over her shoulders. "Charlotte, is that you?"
"Aunt Daisy? What are you doing here? I thought you were at your mansion." I said, dusting my hands off on my trouser and hugged her as she pulled me into her arms.
When she released me, she put her arm around me and we sat down on a log, it was moist, since it rained the night before we arrived here. "We were just taking the children out for a while to visit some friends, thought we would stop here for a bit," she said watching as Arthur and Margaret joined some of the gypsy children chasing a little white goat who was running around and bleating cheerfully. I looked over at Anne, the only one who wasn't chasing the goat, instead, she stood beside her mother. She was the oldest and undoubtedly the most mature of the three of them. Her auburn hair was styled into two French braids, that were pinned up on top of her head to look like a headband. She was of the shy type, quiet and liked to keep to herself, which was completely fine with me, but she did give me a quick greeting before sitting on the log across from us.
"We were supposed to leave early though so that we would be home by the time you got there, but turns out you're here anyway." Arthur and Alice must have seen us, too, because they stopped chasing the goat and ran over to me.
"Charlie!" Alice cheered, throwing her arms around me. Arthur did the same.
"Hello! You've both grown so much since the last time I saw you, I can't believe it." While Arthur went back to keep playing with the other children, I held the little girl on my lap and Daisy smiled, her eyes shifting to the campfire behind us before she looked back at me.
"So, who's the handsome gentleman you were frolicking about with?" Aunt Daisy nodded behind me and I followed her gaze.
"Which one?" I asked nonchalantly, glancing around at some of our new friends who were speaking with the others near a campfire, well, except for Jane, she had spotted Aunt Daisy and she ran over to us, too. "There were plenty of men that I was dancing with."
"That one," she said, pointing him out to me. "The one with the beautiful head of black curls."
"Oh, you won't believe me when I tell you, but that's Sherlock Holmes," Jane said, sitting on the other side of me and leaning forward to speak with Aunt Daisy who looked at me oddly, like she was asking me if this was true. I was right when I said that there wasn't a single person who hadn't heard of the detective and his partner in...solving crimes. "I'll tell you, he's more dreamy in person than in the stories." She fanned herself with her hand. I had a feeling she was just trying to get a reaction out of me, but it wasn't working, I kept looking this way and that, hearing people laughing and chatting loudly amongst themselves.
She didn't get to finish as we heard someone approaching us.
"You ladies wouldn't happen to be talking about me, would you?"
Saved by the bell! Sort of.
Aunt Daisy's eyes widened as said man came and stood beside me. His hair wasn't as tame as it was before, it was almost wild, but it was the good kind, the kind that I wanted to run my fingers through.
Thanks a lot, Jane. Now look what you did!
Aunt Daisy was about to say something, but Jane didn't give her a chance.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, Charlotte here was just telling our Aunt Daisy about what a wonderful dancer you were." She put my arm around me and now I could really tell she was just trying to annoy me. Aunt Daisy and I both turned to her, and she smirked at me. I shook my head and turned my attention to Margaret who was looking at the man in front of her curiously.
"You're pretty," she said, sliding off my lap and walking over to Holmes. He smiled down at the little girl and he picked her up, holding her close to him.
"I'm glad you think so, seems Charlotte isn't the only one." His eyes shifted over to me and he grinned, obviously flattered. I shrugged, I couldn't deny that that was exactly what I was thinking about at this particular moment. He set her down on the ground again and she went over to Arthur. Good news is, they weren't bothering the poor goat anymore.
"Well, I-" I began, but Jane interrupted me.
"She was also telling me how handsome and brave you are and how she told me-." I didn't give her a chance to finish, I stood up and put my arm around hers.
"Don't mind her, she's had a bit too much to drink." I forced a smile and took her aside.
Why can't I trade her in for Anne? Just for a little while. Is it mean of me to want to exchange siblings?
"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed, putting my hands on her shoulders. "You're embarrassing me."
"What? It's not like you've been subtle about it," she replied innocently. "Simza told me how happy you two looked when you were together, she said there was a spark that went off between you."
"I don't know what you mean," I looked down at the ground, then back up again.
"I think you do," Jane was grinning triumphantly, as though she just made a great discovery.
"Charlotte? Jane? We should get going," said Watson, as he walked over to us, putting on his jacket. Simza joined us and we went to find Holmes," he added with a chuckle. I ran back to the log and sure enough I saw him talking with my aunt and Anne, who were both practically falling off the log laughing.
"Well, I hate to interrupt but we best be heading out," I said, and Aunt Daisy and Anne recovered themselves, stood up and stepped toward me.
"Be careful, alright?" Aunt Daisy said, hugging me.
"Alright. You'll tell Mother and Father that we're safe, won't you?"
"Of course I will," she smiled as she let go of me and Anne waved once before joining Arthur and Alice and we started walking away from the camp.
As much as we would have wanted to stay longer, we had more important matters to attend to.