A Monstrous Regiment of Women - Laurie R. King [91]
When eventually I rose to dress, I had forgotten about the rip in my arm and brushed painfully against the back of the chair. Holmes insisted on looking at it then. I hesitated, as beneath the dressing gown, I was wearing only my silk underclothing, but then I thought, Don’t be stupid, Russell, he’s seen you in a lot less than this. Still, I submitted to his ministrations with a heightened awareness of his fingers on my arm, although, for his part, he seemed unaware of a change, simply fitting a clean dressing across the rapidly healing cut as if the arm being serviced were his own.
I told myself firmly that I preferred it this way.
Certainly by the time we left the bolt-hole, we were friends again, which counted for a great deal.
The owner of the office building where Holmes had established his refuge was an enlightened employer, and the Saturday half day was so scrupulously observed that the place was all but deserted by two in the afternoon. I put a ladder in my stockings climbing out of the wardrobe (no wonder women got in the habit of allowing themselves to be handed in and out of places, with the sorts of clothing we have been forced to wear).
We returned to the station, where I signed the statement for Inspector Richmond and managed to slip away before he could question me further regarding a death I knew nothing about. That task completed, we strolled along to the nearest Lyons for coffee, a cheery place that struck me as an incongruous setting for Holmes until I thought of its anonymity. Outside on the pavement, he seemed oddly reluctant to part.
“You’ll have that arm looked at in a day or two?”
“I said I would, Holmes.”
“You’re certain you don’t want me to…”
“Holmes, it’s only a week. Six days. Veronica is safe; I’m already entrenched in the Temple. I don’t want you to dress up as a cleaning woman. As soon as I’ve finished with the presentation, I’ll come back to work.”
“I don’t like it,” he burst out.
“Holmes, hands off! You said yourself, this is my investigation—this side of it, at any rate. See what luck you have with solving the two other deaths. That should be a challenge even for you, deaths classified as accidents months ago. I give you a week, and then we can both tackle the Temple in an all-out effort.”
His narrowed eyes followed a brewer’s dray negotiating a turn into a narrow alleyway. He shook his head.
“I’ve never taken orders, from anyone,” he muttered, almost too low to hear.
“High time then, Holmes,” I pronounced with asperity. “I may be in town Tuesday or Wednesday; otherwise, I’ll see you on Saturday morning at the flat.” I turned and walked away.
I had less success with Margery, who had regained what small amount of equanimity she had lost and now dismissed the danger. I reasoned, I pled, and finally I lost my temper and shouted at her, but without the slightest effect. She maintained that the attack had been a fluke and insisted she was in no danger; she would not restrict her movements or hire a bodyguard. I charged to my feet and loomed over her.
“I have not to this point considered you a stupid woman, but I am rapidly changing my mind. You obviously don’t care about your own skin, but what about mine? I could have been killed. A quarter of an inch more and I could have lost the strength of my writing hand. What about next time? Who will be with you then? What will she lose? A pretty coat? Or her life? Margery, ask Inspector Richmond to recommend a bodyguard—only for a week or two, until they solve it. Martyrdom is great for the ego, but I personally have always considered it a waste.”
She sat rigid, debating whether or not to have Marie throw me out, but she did hear my words, and after a while she wilted.
“I will think about it, Mary,” she said quietly, and we finished the evening’s lesson with no further furore.
* * *
SEVENTEEN
Saturday, 22 January-
Tuesday, I February
Nature… paints them to be weak, frail,