Prompt from Wordwielder – Holmes reveals a key detail.
Found in a Tin Dispatch-box
18 December 1899
I will likely use this entry as nothing more than a note, perhaps to be referred to in another account of my friend's remarkable career. It will be filed away in my old tin dispatch-box with many other such notes until I feel it is time to record the much more significant case revolving around a most odious creature, to which this incident is related.
While it was by no means rare for Mr. Sherlock Holmes to decline to aid an individual, I found it remarkable that he would do so in the instance of Mrs. Penelope Anderville. She called upon my friend this morning around ten. Tall, fortyish, dark haired with streaks of grey and rheumy blue eyes shielded behind a white lace veil, she was neither attractive nor repulsive. A particularly average-looking woman, so I thought when I opened the door in answer to Mrs. Hudson's knock.
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" she inquired of me as Mrs. Hudson departed to fetch tea.
"No, madam, I am his friend, Dr. John Watson," said I, assisting her with her coat and gloves. I invited her to take a seat and went to Holmes' door to alert him to the lady's arrival. He emerged into our sitting room a few minutes later adjusting his tie, looking much healthier than he had the day before. Holmes had endured a cold, the result of an all-night vigil at a warehouse in East London that resulted in the capture of David Burke and Edward Hardwicke. (See notes 7 Dec. 1899.)
"Good morning, madam," said Holmes, giving her a brief bow. "I am Sherlock Holmes. Dr. Watson says you asked for me."
"Indeed," said the lady. "My name is Penelope Anderville. My husband was the late Elias Anderville. You may recall him."
Holmes, his expression thoughtful, took his seat beside the fire.
"I fear, madam, I do not recall the gentleman," he said.
"Oh." Mrs. Anderville's expression fell and she fidgeted with her clutch. My impression was that she was accustomed to some level of notoriety. "Well, Elias held a prominent position as a junior partner with Dunwoody, Prescott and Davis. He was a solicitor with a good reputation. Had he lived, I am sure his name would have been added to the firm's."
"Dunwoody, Prescott and Davis?" mused Holmes. "I am aware of that firm, madam. Notable for their defense of the Barstow Corporation and that unpleasant insurance fraud case involving the S.S. Barwell."
"Yes," she said, seeming pleased Holmes knew something of the firm. "My husband oversaw the Barwell case."
"Indeed?" said Holmes. "Well, what is it I can do for you, Mrs. Anderville?"
"I need you to find someone for me, Mr. Holmes," she said. "I confess this is a rather delicate case."
"In what way?" he asked.
"I found letters," she said and dropped her gaze as if embarrassed.
"From or to your husband?" he asked gently with a reassuring smile.
"Both, I am afraid." Mrs. Anderville opened her clutch and brought out two envelopes. These were wrinkled, the corners worn and the paper discolored with age. (Foxed, not browned.) She showed them to Holmes but did not hand them to him.
"What is the nature of their contents?" Holmes asked, eyeing the envelopes.
"It is a difficult thing to say, sir, but it seems my husband was unfaithful," she said. "There may be a child. I am all but convinced there is."
Holmes steepled his fingers on his breast and was thoughtfully silent.
"I wish no harm to come to the woman or the child, if that is what you are thinking, Mr. Holmes," she said and her expression was one of sincere imploring. "The woman was but a girl at the time she served in our household. Perhaps twenty. No more than twenty-two. Her name is Gayle Hunnicutt. She was our downstairs maid. A very helpful girl. I recall she liked to sing while she worked."
"You do not know where she is now?" Holmes asked.
"I do not," Mrs. Anderville said. "She left our service June or July of 1883. My husband died in January 1886."
"How and when did you come by these letters?" he asked.
"I found them in his desk in the study," she said. "You understand, I left his things as they were after he died. Sentimentality. Nothing more than that. Well, I felt lonely, I suppose. I missed Elias. It was our anniversary in June and I went into his study. It was so unchanged. Almost as if he just stepped out for a moment and would be returning. I sat behind his desk and out of curiosity; I opened some of his drawers to see what he kept in them. I found a box of old letters." She paused here, enfolding the two envelopes to her breast and bowing her head in what appeared to be an affectionate, bittersweet expression. "There were so many, Mr. Holmes. Letters I had written to him before we were married. Some were just notes on foolscap. The sort of silly things young people in love write to each other. Among them were these two and a few more like them."
"You read all of the letters?" Holmes asked.
"No," she said. "I read four of them. I suppose I felt too much like a voyeur. At first, I was confused why Elias would correspond with a former maid. Then I was outraged."
"Forgive my bluntness, but was there an admission of infidelity?" asked Holmes.
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
"You inferred such?" he asked gently.
"It became obvious," she said. "A wife knows, Mr. Holmes. I believe Gayle left our service because she discovered she was with child."
"I see." Holmes pondered a moment, then asked, "Mrs. Anderville, what is your aim in this? What result do you wish?"
"I wish," she began but paused. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, as if preparing to face some unpleasant thing. "I need to know if there is a child, Mr. Holmes. As I said, I am convinced there is."
"And what after?" Holmes asked.
"If there is a child, I feel I must see to it that the child is well cared for," she said. "I know any such child would be illegitimate. Even so, it would be Elias' child. A part of him. I want to be sure that child has opportunities it would not have as the child of a serving girl."
"May I see those letters, Mrs. Anderville?" Holmes asked, holding out his hand.
She recoiled, pressing the letters to her bosom.
"Why?" she demanded a little sharply.
Her reaction confused me, but Holmes took it in stride.
"I would like to see the addresses and examine the contents," he explained.
"There is no need for you to read them." She put the envelopes back into her clutch. "The girl's name is Gayle Hunnicutt. I should think that is enough for you to begin."
"In that case, madam, I can save you a considerable sum of money," Holmes said, easing back into his chair and retrieving his pipe from the little end table beside him. He reached up and got a large pinch of tobacco from the old Persian slipper and began loading his bowl. "I recommend that you place an advertisement in the agony columns of several of the more popular newspapers saying something to the effect that you wish to contact this Gayle Hunnicutt implying there is some news of importance or perhaps some kind of inheritance to paid to her."
"You will not help me?" Mrs. Anderville asked, sounding astonished.
"If the advertisements fail, return here and we shall devise some other way to find this young woman," he said and rose. "I bid you good day, madam."
I was a little surprised at my friend's cool disposition and abrupt dismissal of our guest. Mrs. Anderville remained seated for a moment as if in disbelief. She looked to me. In answer to her unspoken question, I could only shake my head. When Holmes struck his match, the lady rose and strode stiffly to our door where I helped her on with her coat and bade her a pleasant day as she left.
Holmes crossed to the shelf behind his desk and drew out one of his commonplace volumes, stuffed with loose notes and clippings from newspapers.
"Before you berate my rudeness, Watson, I have my reasons," said he, laying the volume upon his desk.
"I realized that, Holmes," I replied, joining him at the desk. "What are your reasons?"
"Chiefly, that was not Mrs. Anderville," he said. Turning to a particular page, he unfolded one of the many clips. Printed there was a photograph of a couple and under it were the names: Mr. and Mrs. Anderville. "Not a particularly clear image. Note, though, that Mrs. Anderville has blonde hair and that she is quite a handsome woman. In her youth, I dare say, she would have been a beauty."
"And this imposter is not," I observed. "You concealed your knowledge of her. You suspected immediately?"
"Not immediately," he admitted. "I did not recall what the real Mrs. Anderville looked like. This woman seemed familiar to me, though. I could not place her, but I knew I had seen her somewhere."
"Indeed?" I asked.
"You undoubtedly recall that despicable fellow, Milverton." Holmes pronounced the name with the same expression I have seen on too many patients when I administer one of my bitterest powders. He pursed his lips and drew on his pipe before going on. "The woman that just departed was his chambermaid. Mrs. Scofield, I believe."
"Good Lord!" I exclaimed.
"Not until she mentioned Dunwoody, Prescott and Davis was I sure, Watson." Holmes held up a letter. "Mr. Anderville communicated with me regarding that insurance fraud business. I gave him some advice and a few people he might interview. He thanked me and paid my customary fee without complaint. That was when I knew for certain who she was impersonating."
"You say you did not recall what Mrs. Anderville looked like, though," I said.
"True," he said, nodding. "I wondered about those letters, Watson. How was she able to get letters from her husband to Gayle Hunnicutt? It made no sense. Letters to Mr. Anderville from Miss Hunnicutt made perfect sense. Not the other way round, though."
"Yes," I said, seeing the course of my friend's logic. "How could he have any letters to the young woman if he had mailed them to her? This woman was obviously lying."
"Just so, Watson."
"Do you think this Scofield woman is attempting blackmail?" I asked.
"Yes." Holmes opened his top drawer and took out a few sheets of letterhead. "I will write to Mrs. Anderville…" He stopped and frowned. "No, Watson. That will not do. I must warn her somehow, but there is too great a chance Mrs. Scofield will intercept my letter."
"I suppose it would be just as bad if I wrote to her," I said, considering the problem.
"Mr. Prescott, I believe, might write to her without raising suspicion," Holmes mused. "Or, he may know someone who could. Dash it all! We must act quickly. There is a danger this woman will slip away or do irrevocable damage."
Holmes and I debated options and possibilities for a quarter of an hour before he sent a message to Mr. Prescott requesting an interview. The reply came and this afternoon Holmes will meet with Mr. Prescott. No further information at this time.
20 December 1899
Addendum.
This morning Holmes and I met with Mrs. Anderville regarding her maid, Sofia Scofield. We explained the situation and Mrs. Scofield no longer works in the Anderville household. We have insufficient evidence to prosecute the woman. Mrs. Anderville thanked us profusely and assures us that Sofia Scofield will find it impossible to gain a situation anywhere in England. Holmes mistrusts this. I agree. It is far too simple for any person to give a false name and to forge references. Also, she might find a situation outside of England and try her hand at blackmail again. I wish all such creatures could be dealt with as Milverton was dealt with in the end.