The Parting Glass – Part 2

Sherlock:

As there was nothing else to be done here, I suggested to go down to Petersfield and as it was the next train was to leave in one and a half hours, which left me enough time to pack my suitcase as I had some doubt that I would return to London before the weekend.

It was to some relief, that Sir Cedric followed me into the bedroom under the pretence of wanting to talk to me about a family matter. - Well, strictly speaking that was what he started with, voicing the same concerns I had.

"Harriet does look pale." he remarked, looking slightly accusingly at me.

"Yes, she does. Last week has been trying and extremely busy and Hattie has worked long hours. I told her she needs to take care so she does not fall ill again."

"Which of course was preaching in vain..." my brother by marriage trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Yes. But it has quieted down now and I am quite sure she claimed needing to go to work only to put Atwell into place."

"Yes, she never liked him. Perhaps I should tell you that two years back he has asked for my consent to marry her. - Which I declined, by the way."

"Does she know about it?"

"No." was his wry answer as he sat down on the bed.

I chuckled while he looked around the crammed little chamber, which since Harriet had entered my life had become so much neater and comfortable than it had been before.

"I thought you had moved to Chiswick."

"We have. And still, sometimes it is more convenient to stay here. And at any rate, this address is too well known to give it up. Besides, I don't want my family home to be invaded by all kinds of shady figures day in and day out."

"You might have a point there. It is not exactly suitable to raise a family."

Ah, I was being scrutinised myself for a change. Fair enough. After all I had married Harriet rather unexpectedly and how was he supposed to know this was more than just a marriage of convenience? He had only seen us together for a day before he had left Winchester again and considering the circumstances back then, he had reacted more than well.

"No, it is not." I thus smiled. "I certainly don't want my children to grow up amidst crime – and chemical experiments..."

"And my sister is happy?"

"That is a question only she can answer, Sir Cedric. What I can tell you however is, that I love her deeply."

This statement seemed to surprise him. At last he said: "You certainly look very comfortable together. Always have."

"We are." I agreed, but then thought it necessary to change the subject back to the case. "Sir Cedric, you nodded, when I asked if Sir Robert had enemies. Who do you have in mind?"

"He told me he has recently received a letter threatening him with bodily harm if he continued to block a certain petition in parliament. He did not seem to take it too serious however, so I thought nothing more of it till you asked."

"What kind of petition?"

"Allowing the general attendance of women at universities. – Even Oxford and Cambridge, believe it or not."

"You know Harriet would have a field day with this, don't you?"

"Oh yes! - At least now I know, after it has been hidden from me for years."

"Does it surprise you?"

"No. I got a bit too involved in politics and in what my chosen party stands for. But Harriet would be proud to hear that I at least suggested an acceptable alternative, suggesting the founding of a couple of universities solely for women instead of them studying alongside the men."

"Admittedly I don't quite see the necessity for it, as your own sister studied at King's College. - Aside, there is an academy for ladies here in London, but it's reputation is rather lowly."

"Hattie had the advantage of growing up with an extremely bossy older brother, Holmes. She knows how to prevail anyhow."

There he certainly had a point. My wife was not of a faint hearted disposition and she certainly knew how to speak up for herself.

"So you think that whoever wrote this letter could have followed through with his – or her threat?" I dug deeper.

"I am not sure. There is after all a difference between a threat, bodily harm and murder." he mused.

"Are there other possibilities?"

"I have heard rumours that he has had some trouble over some money issues, but could not determine whether it was him being in financial troubles or the other party or if he was just the one who had intervened."

"Where have you heard about it?" I enquired, taking my dress suit out of the wardrobe and packed it neatly on top of the rest of my clothes before closing the lid.

"From Musgrave. You should ask him. He is magistrate for West Sussex and as such was often in company with Atwell."

"You would of course have no idea whether he spoke to Sir Reginald about it as a legal matter or a private one?"

"No. He was very vague at any rate, rather asking me as a hypothesis what I would do. That he spoke of Atwell I could only discern by the way he glanced at Sir Robert."

This was indeed very vague and still, it was better than nothing. At least I had something to begin with.

"And Sir Robert quite literally dropped dead?"

"Yes. The evening had been a very cheerful one. The Atwell's are very good hosts and while no-one was actually drunk we admittedly were all a bit tipsy."

"No quarrel? No bad word? Timid glances?"

Cedric Stephrey looked bewildered for a moment before answering: "None that I am aware of. At least not towards Sir Robert."

"But…?" I dug deeper.

"Nothing. I cannot put my finger on it, but there seemed some hostility from Mr. Whitshaw towards Charles Atwell and later, when we all had retired I thought I heard him quarrel with his wife. At any rate, she came to London with us while her husband stayed behind."

"Did she give a reason?"

"No. I have barely spoken to her as she preferred to read a novel instead. Somehow it seemed Mrs. Whitshaw tried to avoid Atwell, there was some hostility I cannot really put my finger on. At the party I saw her talking to Imogen for a while though, perhaps my wife knows more than I."

"Could Atwell have an affair with Mrs. Whitshaw?"

"Possibly."

"Then it might also be possible that it was the son who was supposed to die?"

At that Cedric shrugged his shoulders again.

"What was the last drink Sir Robert had taken? Mr. Atwell said you had been toasting to the man's health, so I take it he must have drunken something right before he died?"

"He had a glass of punch, if I recall it correctly. He stuck to it all evening long."

"And none of the guests had any reaction?"

"No, not of the guests at least. But when the maid cleaned up this morning after the police had left, she too collapsed and the doctor was sent for."

Now this was extremely interesting.

"Where you there when it happened? - I mean the maid collapsing."

"I was in the hall when the butler carried her out of the room."

"Good, then I will talk to him about the incident. This case seems very elusive as yet. But alas, I think it is time to leave."

Glancing at his watch Sir Cedric nodded and got up from the bed, while I took out my notebook and pen and quickly wrote a message for my wife to follow as soon as was convenient for her. Hoping it would be before the end of the week and before my brother in law's own party.

xxx

Harriet:

When I returned to Baker Street it was not much of a surprise to find my husband absent and a note from him instead, informing me he had gone down to Petersfield. Of course he would do so. Sherlock Holmes had been idle for almost two weeks and was beginning to be restless, even though he would not admit to it. Instead he had been very attentive when I came home in the evenings while during the days he had kept himself busy studying in alternation files of old criminal cases and the analysing of fingerprint patterns. I had passed by at St. Anne's to see if everything was in order, told them to call for me should there be any need and then had gone on to get a birthday present for Sherlock. Once more a tricky quest I have to say. Now I was tired and worn and putting up my feet was perfectly resigned to spend an evening reading, when the doorbell rang once again, and two young ladies were admitted into our living room, one of them looking extremely pale, the other rather livid.

"I am afraid my husband is not at home." I began, offering them a seat anyway seeing that the younger one was ready to faint.

"That is very unfortunate, Mrs. Stephens. We have just missed him at the hospital and were so fortunate as to obtain the information we would find him here. My sister is in dire need of some medical advice." The older, annoyed one, spoke, glancing about the room with some confusion.

"If you are looking for medical advice I dare say you are actually looking for me and not my husband."

"We are looking for Dr. Reymond Stephens, who was recommended to us by a Lady Imogen Stephrey. She said this should do to recommend ourselves."

"Yes, this would be me and it does. I use that name to publish. Dr. Harriet Holmes is the actual name. - And Lady Imogen is my sister in law." I introduced myself, stretching out my hand, which the woman took with some surprise showing on her features.

"My name is Mr. John Whitshaw and this is my sister Miss Mary Summerly."

The younger lady just glanced up at me and I noticed that her eyes were red rimmed and she had obviously been crying, the redness the more prominent as she was so very pale. The deduction as to what was wrong with her was an easy one. Ordering some tea and biscuits I settled down myself, suppressing a sigh as I felt extremely tired and even more so as I knew what was to come.

"So, tell me what ails you." I smiled, glancing at the younger of the two.

"I fear I might be..." she stopped, unsure how to voice her concerns.

"Expecting?" I enquired, knowing it was little use beating about the bush.

She nodded timidly, before she started crying again. Her sister got up, put an arm around her and then carried on, her voice firm: "My sister, Doctor Holmes has given in to the persuasions of a man and is now carrying his child. We are here to request you terminate the pregnancy."

I stared at them. As much as I understood their predicament they surely must know that I could not legally do so. What they requested of me was considered manslaughter and on top of that a highly dangerous operation for the mother where infertility was the side effect least to be feared. I told them as much.

"So you would rather have my sister ruined?" Mrs. Whitshaw asked with some annoyance.

"No, of course not. But I will not abort the child either. Instead I will help you find another solution."

"What solution is there? She is to marry in four months."

"And I take it is not her betrothed's child she is carrying." I remarked sternly, suddenly getting quite annoyed be either of the sisters. The one for making such a demand and the other for being so incredibly stupid as to get herself into such a situation in the first place.

"No."

"Could she dissolve the engagement?"

"Father won't let me. He has a title and a lot of money after all." Miss Mary Summerly whispered, tears still streaming down her handsome face now all blotchy and swollen.

"And the father?"

"I rather not speak of him."

At that Tom brought in the tea tray and quickly left again, saving me from replying. Pouring the scalding hot liquid I handed a cup to each of the ladies while wondering about how to proceed. I had anticipated a medical matter, but this was a problem of a different kind.

"When has your bleeding stopped?" I at last asked, taking a sip from my cup.

"About three months ago."

If this was the case there was still some hope she was not pregnant at all but suffering from some kind of medical condition. I said as much and suggested an examination of the lady's abdomen. Locking the door I did what was possible, but there was no use, she was no doubt with child, her uterus was swollen and a faint linea nigra had begun to appear ion her otherwise flawlessly white abdomen.

Sighing I told them of the diagnosis and beckoned the girl to re-dress.

"And aside from the two of you no-one knows about this as yet?"

Both shook their heads.

"I am not quite sure how I can help you, to be honest. Your engagement complicates matters as do your upcoming nuptials in only a few months. Is there no way of postponing the wedding?"

"No, my fiancé insists we are to be married on the 10th of April as it would be his thirtieth birthday and he had always meant to married by then." was the young lady's desolate reply as she buttoned up her waist again, the many tiny buttons giving her some trouble as her hands were shaking.

"Is the father married? Or is he just not of a high enough social standing?" I tried determine whether there might after all be another option as yet.

"He is not married." Miss Summerly answered tonelessly, blinking away yet some more tears. "And he is a noble himself."

"But he would not marry you?"

"Doctor Holmes, one is a lord, a peer of the highest ranks and the other is a mere country baronet." Mrs. Whitshaw remarked coldly.

At that her sister sprang up from her chair, glaring at her sibling with some contempt before hissing: "Only because you don't like Charles does not mean no-one does. I love him! Why can my family – and most of all you – not accept that I love him and that I would willingly leave Lord Banbury for his sake?"

"No sane person can love a man like Charles Atwell!"

Gaping at the two ladies in front of me I was lost for words. This I had not seen coming.