Methinks the lady absent – Part 2

Sherlock:

We made our way towards the station's cloakroom to retrieve the missing lady's suitcase. Other than one might assume, Lady Penelope's suitcase was anything but large and I have to admit that I was quite astonished to see the rather tiny piece of luggage that was handed to us without much hesitation. As Miss Jenkins had predicted, it was firmly locked and while Harriet, in a fairly unobtrusive way, tried to pick the lock of it, I quickly went and got our own train-tickets.

When I returned, my wife had managed to pry the lock open and with a puzzled expression stood before the open suitcase, clearly not expecting what met her eyes. I, on the other hand, was little surprised to see that the small leather-portmanteau contained barely anything aside from obviously discarded clothes. A torn petticoat, a shift in dire need of repair and a pair of threadbare stockings were all the items within, safe for a couple of clearly used towels and an old blanket wrapped around a brick, both of which were clearly meant to deter anyone who lifted the thing from its virtual emptiness, while it was easy to assume that the other items were meant to stop the stone from moving around too much.

"But..." the young teacher stammered, looking confused from my wife to me and back, "What is the meaning of this?"

"We will soon find out," I replied, though by then I had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

That Harriet guessed as much was pretty obvious, for she looked at me sideways with a questioningly raised eyebrow, to avoid an explanation at this point I only shook my head very slightly and she left it at that – for now. I was pretty certain that once we sat safely in the train, that an interrogation would follow. Well, I was prepared.

"Did Lady Penelope carry any hand-luggage?"

"Only a small handbag in which she carried her book, handkerchief and money."

"And was it not somewhat unusual that she only brought such a small suitcase?"

"No, she had hardly brought any clothes with her to school and what she had there was mainly pain and practical, nothing she could have worn to her father's wedding. So aside from her undergarments, there was no need to bring anything else," the desolate young teacher replied.

"One more question, Miss Jenkins, was the table up all the way, or did you only put it up when you came back with the tea?"

"It was up all the way, for I used the time to write some letters. Lady Penelope was not in a talkative mood, and spent most of the journey reading."

"Did she still read when you left her?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, that was most enlightening. - Will will go and catch our own train now, and see you tonight then." I bowed, subconsciously rubbing my hands, which earned me another inquisitive glance from my wife.

The young woman, with the intention to find a room for herself, left us behind, though only after having been reassured that we would inform Lord Bentham about his daughter. Now, whether it would be wise to tell him at this point that she had been abducted, I dared to doubt and so all I did, was send him a telegram informing him that there had been a delay and that his daughter would not arrive today as planned, though keeping well in mind that it might become necessary to speak to his Lordship as well. Clearly, there had been some issues within the family if a lady that had been introduced into society was sent back to school at the age of twenty. Moreover, it was most unusual to do so, and the feeling that her disappearance was a consequence of whatever was going on at home increased every moment.

xxx

At last, we Hattie and I sat comfortably in yet another first-class compartment, armed with a little picnic-basked which we had acquired at the station, for it would not do, that Harriet in her condition neglected to eat something – well, aside from that she usually got sick if she did not eat frequently anyway. And so, munching on a cheese sandwich, my dearest began questioning me.

"I can see that you have already formed a theory, Sherlock, though I have to admit that with the little evidence we have, it is beyond me to what conclusion you could have possibly come."

"Ah, my dear, that is because you have not yet learned that the lack of evidence is evidence in itself," I replied smiling, lighting my pipe.

"But seriously, Sherlock, there was nothing there: no sign of a fight, though, of course, they might have surprised her while she was reading and then pressed the chloroformed handkerchief to her mouth before she had time to react. But..."

"Yes, but!", I sighed, pulling out the said handkerchief which I had pocketed earlier, I handed it to her alongside my trusted magnifying glass. "Have a closer look at it, my dear and tell me what you see."

Wiping her fingers on one of the provided napkins she took the delicate cloth and the lens and did as I had bid her. Frowning she handed both back to me after a couple of minutes in which she had been very minute in her examination.

"I fear I still see nothing. Aside from the stench of chloroform, it looks almost pristine."

"That, Hattie, is the point. Not only does it look pristine, it is. It is so because it was never used in the lady's 'abduction'."

"But then why was it there?"

"As a ruse," I replied, smiling at the baffled face my wife now displayed. "Now, do me a favour and lean back in your seat and pretend to read, let us see, how this crime is supposed to have happened."

Without questioning me, Harriet followed my instructions and leaned back comfortably in her seat, her hands holding an imaginary book, while I got up and left the compartment, closing the door behind me. Counting down to ten, I re-opened the door with the usual fairly annoying rattle that doors on a train seemed to emit no matter whether it is in third or first class, and consequently, my wife looked up, just as I had anticipated. Pulling my own handkerchief from my pocket, I tried to reach her by rounding the table first and was, as I also had expected severely hampered by it, unable to approach her without any difficulty and had the lady been only half as hearty as my own dear wife, I was sure that a feisty kick in the groin would have been the result of such an approach. Even had the lady initially been engrossed in her book, by now she must have come to realise that she was in trouble, and that was exactly how my wife acted now, pressing herself further into the corner of the compartment, subconsciously preparing to fend me off exactly how I had just imagined she would. Well, it was certainly better to retreat a bit, lest she should get carried away.

"Now, my dear, if you were thus assaulted, what would be your next step?" I asked smiling, taking a step back and out of the danger zone.

Without hesitation, Harriet answered: "I would scream for help."

"Of course you would, my dear. Everyone would unless they don't want to be helped."

At last my implications seemed to dawn on her and it took a moment till she was able to stammer: "Do you mean to say that she wanted to be abducted?"

"Yes," I replied. "If you can even call it an abduction..."

"But what if she was just too shocked to react? Or her attacker came from the other side?"

"Alright, let's play this out even further and remove all doubt, shall we?" I grinned, certain that I was right in my deductions.

After all, this would not be the first case in which a person had staged their own kidnapping. Actually, several cases came to mind even without much thinking, though Harriet, of course, could not know them.

Lunging at her across the table this time, with my arms outstretched, I tried to reach her – but the gap between us was too wide and ducking Harriet managed to escape towards the door, which exactly at that moment flew open to reveal a young gentleman staring at me with an angry face, obviously ready to beat me to a pulp.

"What do you think you are doing with this lady?" he asked threateningly, for a short moment perplexing me as to what had caused this reaction, till I realised how our little play-acting must appear to an outsider.

Harriet, at first having sported the same confused expression suddenly started to laugh, and the stranger stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

But when he began to reach out to pull her from the compartment and into what he seemed to deem safety, she stopped him and with a last chuckle began to explain: „No, sir, we are not out of our minds. Actually quite the reverse – and I am in no danger at all, I can assure you."

"But...?"

"We were just trying to solve a mystery, and looking at my husband's smug face, I think he has done so."

"Husband?"

"Yes, this gentleman is my husband, and let me assure you, he is by no means dangerous. What you have come across is indeed nothing more than the recreation of a crime that has been committed earlier today and which presently we try to solve."

"Oh! - So you are trying to play detective?" the man mockingly inquired.

"That kind of sums it up pretty well I'd say -so, yes," Harriet grinned at me. „May I introduce us? This here is Mr Sherlock Holmes and I am..."

"Oh come now, don't tell me you are Dr Watson..."now the man seemed positively amused, the corners of his mouth twitching, that he did not take us very seriously now was not hard to make out.

„No, I am not Dr Watson – what a silly notion – though the title is actually correct, for I am Dr Holmes, or simply Mrs Holmes if you will."

"And you are sure you are not in any danger?" the stranger inquired again.

"Yes, very sure."

Suddenly something occurred to me and I could not help but ask: "Sir, was it by coincidence that you chanced to look through the glass of the door?"

"No, it sounded like someone was fighting in here – I occupy the compartment next to yours and could hear shuffling and banging and was wondering what it was."

"Thank you, you have helped us a great deal, though differently from what you must have imagined, I presume,"I smiled, holding out my hand, which hesitantly he took, casting yet another concerned glance at Harriet, who calmly poured each of us a cup of tea and with that removing the last doubt the man might have held about her safety.

When he had left, I took the cup and then began to explain, seeing that otherwise, my wife would burst at the seams from sheer curiosity.

"As said, my dear, the absence of evidence can be just as telling as an abundance of them – perhaps even more so, because one does not need to sift through the important and unimportant and determine which is which. In this instance, as we have just seen, the crime cannot have taken place without any trace of a fight, look how you have rumpled the cushions, smudged the window with your hands and cheek, and how your boots left dark marks on the polished floor. - And besides, it is near impossible, with the table folded up, that the attacker could have reached his supposed victim without her being able to escape."

"What if there was another man blocking the door?"

"That, of course, is a possibility, but why then did she not scream? No, my love, there is blackmail in it, but that is the only crime that has been committed."

"So you mean to tell me that Lady Penelope has staged her own abduction?"

"Yes. It is pretty obvious, is it not? Just think about the odd assemblage of things in her suitcase, the actually unused chloroformed handkerchief, the lack of struggle and the fact that not only the lady is missing, but also her purse and book and all without anyone hearing anything, when the most obvious step to take for a woman in peril would have been to scream at the top of her lungs. - Considering that I have yet to come across a compartment-door which does not rattle and/or squeak, it is unlikely that she was surprised, and at the very latest when they tried to get at her, she must have realised what was going on and could have called for help. This thing, as handy as it is, is anything but when one wants to abduct a person."

"Now that admittedly is true. But why? And how was it that she was not discovered? She could not have gotten off the train, surely?"

"No, she left the train in London. - Ah, but I see we have arrived at our destination. There is Northampton."

"Sherlock!" she wagged a warning finger at me.

Grinning I shrugged my shoulders, putting my coat back on and then helping Harriet into hers.

"You know you are impossible, don't you?"

"Yes, my wife tells me so frequently, and I fear she is right. But come now, how would you have done it? How would you have managed to disappear into thin air?"

A.N.: Sorry, I know, cliffhangers are quite frustrating, but sometimes an author just loves to tease, and I was quite in the mood for it. So, keep your fingers crossed that I manage to type in the next chapter fairly quickly, and remember, a little motivation never goes amiss ;)

Thank you for all your support, I hoped you liked the update.

Love

Nic