The Parting Glass – Part 8

Harriet:

I was surprised to hear my doorbell and even more surprised to find Charles Atwell to be my visitor.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Mrs Holmes, but your landlady at Baker Street was so kind as to give me this address. It is a nice little home." he smiled warmly. "Just right for the little family, I am sure you will soon have."

Puzzled I looked at him. How could he know? Only then it occurred to me that he was merely referring to any potential children Sherlock and I might have in the future, not the one I now knew I was carrying.

"Yes, it is," I answered. "Why don't you come in?"

"I have just come here to thank you. This is perhaps not what I would have chosen for myself, but I have seen only this morning how an affectionate wife can make a man quite content. If my wife ever wrote such a letter to me, as you have written to your husband, I would be the happiest of men, Mrs Holmes. It is not so much your open declarations of your affection for him, but the small remarks, concerns and jokes you are sharing with one another. I might not be in love with Miss Summerly at present, but I am hopeful it will change over time."

"She is very much in love with you, though," I replied, puzzled. "You read the letter?"

"Your husband gave it to me. I think he did not know how to explain the situation and neither would I, had I been in his position. It is a subject most men would not know how to address, I have to say."

I laughed: "Typical, indeed!"

"This letter, more than anything else has made me quite determined to be a good husband myself and to be as happy as I possibly can. Thank you!" he bowed deeply and I felt another onslaught of tears threatening to surface. I had not expected so much integrity and courtesy from him.

"I take it you are on your way up north?" I snivelled, trying to suppress my tears.

"We are. I have just picked her up, thank God she has such a trusted maid – I was really afraid to run into that dragon of a sister - and we are now on our way to catch our train."

Chuckling I glanced over his shoulder to see Miss Summerly sit in the waiting carriage, her face excited though a bit anxious at the same time, when she saw me glancing at her, she lifted her hand and gave a slight wave. That Charles Atwell would act so quickly, I had not expected, but I was glad all the same.

Atwell bowed again and left, a spring in his step that showed what weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and which had me wonder. Not that I thought he had killed his father, but whether Sir Robert in truth had been less amiable than I had thought, while his son, in turn, was more of a decent man than I had taken him to be, despite his abrasiveness.

xxx

Sherlock:

When I, at last, got around talking to Sir James he was nowhere to be found either. Sighing I walked through the house and at last found him in Sir Robert's study where he sat at the desk, some papers in front of him which he studied intensively. When he, at last, looked up he seemed surprised to find me standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Sir Charles asked me to look over the papers," he explained, got up, which with his bulk was not an easy feat, and rounded the massive desk. "I hope this enquiry will not last much longer, Mr Holmes. The family deserves to get some peace at last. What an unpleasant situation! And I have to get back home as well. It is not as if all of us can afford to be idle."

"I do my utmost to find Sir Robert's murderer, I can assure you." I tried to appease him, taking a seat by the fireplace which thankfully had been lit. With a frown, I saw some paper ashes in the grate among the coal.

Sir James' eyes had followed mine and he shrugged: "Some scraps I have got rid off. It is difficult enough to go through a man's papers anyway without having notes amongst them reminding one of stocking the wine cellar or ordering candles, don't you agree?"

He leaned back in his chair and began fidgeting with his signet ring, much as I was in the habit of doing with my wedding band. I did not answer his at any rate rhetorical question, but began with my usual questions, whether something had happened during the evening, if there had been any quarrels he knew about or if Sir Robert had any enemies. To all my questions he replied he knew nothing bad about the man and certainly nothing that could lead to his murder.

"And you have never heard of Sir Robert misusing his position as a magistrate?"

De Clancy looked wary but shook his head decisively.

"No, never, he would never take money to rule in anybody's favour."

He did not realise his mistake and I did not venture to point it out, but it was obvious that he did know about the rumours – or even perhaps whether they were true or not. He had gone through the papers after all and might have come across something. As I began to doubt he really had been asked by Charles Atwell to do so, especially after last night, he could either have attempted to safe what was left of Sir Robert's reputation, hide possible evidence that he had made use of the man's corruption himself or destroy evidence that showed he had a motive to kill the man. I would have to apply to Lady Mary to be allowed to go through the papers myself and soon, did I not want the man to get another chance of destroying anything that might prove to be important.

I had not done so before because I had reason to doubt the dead man had kept any papers of his cases around in his house, as mainly the documents recording a trial were stored at the local courthouse. But what if he had kept some of them here after all?

"So Sir Robert was an upright man?" I asked.

"Through and through, Mr Holmes. Other than his son, I have to say. Really, not wanting to be called Sir Charles!" Sir James huffed, looking indignant. "It is an honour, after all."

He might think so, but Charles Atwell was clearly of a different opinion and I had to agree with him, considering that his father had just been murdered it bordered tastelessness to insist on calling him by his father's title just yet.

"Now if you will excuse me. I need to prepare to leave. I have to be in London by tomorrow afternoon, whether you have caught the murderer or not."

He stalked from the room, leaving me behind. Which was just as well. I rang for the butler and asked whether he could obtain the lady's permission for me to go through the papers and within less than ten minutes my request was granted.

"You have not coincidentally observed something odd?"

"I presume you mean on the night Sir Robert died?" the butler, who had lingered behind, presumably to oversee my work, answered.

"Yes."

"The answer will be 'no', sir. Everything was as always. Everyone was cheerful, most were slightly drunk by around ten, the atmosphere was loose and the humour got a bit more feisty. Sir Robert sang after which everyone was guessing what it had been he had sung and that was that."

"No tension?" I dug deeper.

"Mrs, Summerly and Mr Charles had a bit of a fight, but it was but superficial. I have to admit I did not quite catch what it was about and at any rate, it only lasted for a minute or two, but the lady made it pretty clear she was displeased for another half hour," he replied with a slight grimace.

"I heard Sir Robert could be a quite merciless tease?"

"Yes, he was doubting Musgrave for not having any children yet, joked about Sir Cedric's spinster sister before making fun of Lady Imogene for the choice of colour for her gown and having Sir James on with his signet ring, saying it decidedly made him a 'poof'. Sorry, but that were his words."

"No need to apologise."

"How did they take it?"

"Musgrave was somewhat nettled and his wife looked mortified, but Sir Cedric, good man that, threw in that a man who himself had only managed to produce one child and only after six years of marriage should not judge too hastily after all Sir Reginald only got married little more than a year ago. To this retort Sir Robert replied that with Lady Harriet, that is Sir Cedric's sister, he would be most embarrassed, abrasive and frigid woman she is for not wanting to marry his son. At which Sir Cedric stared at him before laughing heartily and saying that Sir Robert should perhaps consider that it was more the groom and his family his sister objected to, not a general unwillingness to marry as she by now was actually married happily. Sir Robert huffed, and I don't think he believed it, but as he could not disprove it he eventually began to tease Lady Imogene. Her dress was a very vivid green colour, which actually suited her well if I may say so, she just looked him over and said that it would be lucky then she was wearing the dress and not him as she agreed, on him the colour would look ridiculous. Everyone cheered at that and even Sir Robert chuckled. It was sometime later that he began teasing Sir James about the ring. His reaction was an odd one I have to say. He took it very much to heart and got up, went outside, even though it was freezing, and smoked a cigar on the front steps. Only twenty minutes later did he re-appear."

Now, most of these teases were clearly just that, even though clearly intended to belittle the people addressed. I was actually quite irked by the unflattering description of my wife, but could easily imagine that Harriet had acted very coldly towards them – particularly after the unwanted offer of marriage. He was right however, Sir James' reaction was a peculiar one. Was there something in it, perhaps?

"Did you ever have any differences with your late master?" I asked after some moments of contemplation.

"Yes. Mainly work related. He sometimes took advantage of the girls, like so many other masters."

"And personally?" I enquired.

"Only once, sir. Two years back," he admitted, though without hesitating.

"And what was it about?"

Taking a deep breath the butler lifted his chin defiantly before answering with a firm voice: "I had fallen in love with one of the maids and she with me. It was our night off and I had met her for a walk. Sir Robert had been in town and as the weather was nice he had decided to walk half the way home, sending on the carriage. He found us in a fairly compromising situation, sir."

I smiled: "Unlike many others, I am fully aware that even servants are human beings who long for a bit of tenderness. Is the lady still working here?"

"Yes. And the lady is now my wife." an expression of great affection crossed his features.

"So Sir Robert warned you off?"

"No, he came into the servants' hall and with a dirty grin on his face asked if my rod was done prodding the maid for any leaks. Needless to say that after that remark our position was an awkward one. Especially for her. We got married a month later and since then things have quieted down considerably."

"And your wife is still working here?"

"Yes. Her mother lives in the village and she has no-one else in the world."

"You would not know if sir Robert had any enemies?"

"None he took seriously, sir. He was not an easy man, but he was better than many others."

I thanked him for his frankness and continued to go through the papers only to find that there was nothing to indicate a motive.

"You would not happen to know if Sir Robert had a safe somewhere?"

The butler pointed at a rather ugly still life and walking over to it, he opened a hidden compartment in which the safe was hidden.

"And the keys?"

The trusted servant shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea. He never carried them on him but kept hiding them around the house. They could be anywhere from the attic down to the cellar. It could take hours to locate them."

Sighing I took my set of picklocks out and sat to work. Twenty minutes later I had at last managed and the heavy door to the safe swung open only to reveal a set of three locked dispatch boxes. I glanced over to the butler who looked back at me with a wry expression before we both began to laugh.

"Let us hope we don't encounter yet another locked nesting doll..." I mumbled as I began to manipulate one lock after the other till at last all three boxes were opened.

The first one contained nothing but legal papers regarding the estate. I flipped through them and found nothing of importance. The second was a bit more interesting, as it contained bankers drafts, all sporting considerable sums. But unless I found corresponding papers that showed the money was acquired illegally they, too, were of little value for me.

"Could you perhaps write down the names?" I asked my watchdog, who involuntarily had become my accomplice.

If everything else came to nothing I would have to go through the court files. Hopefully, I would not have to resort to such measures.

The butler took the drafts and sat down at his late master's desk making notes while I searched through the third dispatch box.

I had found a treasure trove! The last time I had seen such an impressive assemblage of incriminating papers of this kind, was the night Charles Augustus Milverton had been shot, just that these were notes of observations Sir Robert himself had made and which he seemed to keep for later use, other than Milverton, who had bought his material. It was unfortunate he had used abbreviations, however, and not names. But what I saw was devastating enough and provided a very, very good motive. Now I only had to look for matching initials and see if anything made sense.

I skipped dinner and began with my task straight away, up in the little bedroom I currently inhabited. Cross-legged I sat on the bed digging through the substantial pile.

'17.5.1894: Saw SR enter brothel in Purley Street. Seems his wife is not to his taste after all. Never would have thought it of him, though.' was one of the more harmless ones. A man visiting a brothel was not exactly scandalous. I put it aside, on a pile where I kept the basically harmless stuff.

'29.10.1894: Went to the pub and saw two men kissing behind an upstairs window. -Passionately! The one bloke seemed familiar. Was quite surprised to see SJ descend the stairs half an hour after I had entered. No wonder the one man looked familiar. Who would have thought SJ a sodomite?' This I put on another stack, substantially smaller than the first, fortunately. The pile were all the highly volatile notes ended up. Information people would kill for.

'12.12.1894: PP swapped a document at court. Quite curious as to what it is. 14.12.: He swapped his uncles will it seems. Ts-ts.' With this one, I was undecided as I did not know how much money was involved. But as no-one with the initials PP had been at the party it ended up on the first stack anyway.

This collection of incriminating notes went on and on, spanning a decade of various misdemeanour of the one or other kind, as said mostly harmless but a few indeed highly explosive. There was reason to doubt that Sir Robert used his information for the same reason Milverton had done, but that he intended to use them was clear enough. No-one kept notes of this kind if he did not mean to gain something or other from them. But what? Simple power, perhaps?

Putting the harmless papers back into the dispatch box I once more went through the other pile to sort out those notes which might refer to some of the guests. Only one fit:

'7.9.1887: Got it on good authority that GP killed his wife. And there he is always acting quite the moralist. Ha!'