The Moor - Laurie R. King [75]
It was something of a surprise that Ketteridge would even consider the respective suitability of his buyers and their new neighbours, given the amount of money at stake, and I was touched by his thoughtfulness. Not, I reflected, that he would refuse to sell to a rapacious financier with a scheme to knock the house down and replace it with a set of holiday flats to hire out to city dwellers by the week, but he seemed genuinely happy that he had reached a right solution.
"When will the sale take place?" I asked. "Will you be leaving soon?"
"It's not completely settled yet," he hastened to say. "Some questions to hammer out first. Early spring, most likely. By June."
Baring-Gould would have the entertainment of this odd American whom he had befriended, then, until the end. I smiled a bit sadly and drank my wine.
Ketteridge divided the remainder of the bottle between our two glasses (most of it having gone into his) and then rang for Tuptree, who came in and arranged the small table and two chairs before the fire.
"I thought this would be more comfortable, Mrs Holmes. The dining hall is a little formal, and damn—darned cold for someone who's just been swimming on Dartmoor."
"That's very thoughtful of you. Although I have to say the dining hall is a room with a great deal of character. I should like to see it more thoroughly, sometime."
"I'd be happy to give you the tour tonight, if you wish."
"I would like that very much," I said, and sat back to enjoy my meal.
We were served as attentively as we would have been in the formal setting, and the meal was, as before, simple food cooked superbly. I commented on it.
"Is your cook English, Mr Ketteridge, or American?"
"French, would you believe it? It took me three years to convince him that his sauces made me bilious and that the plainer meat and vegetables are, the better they taste."
"How on earth did you convince a French chef of the virtues of simplicity?" I asked, amused.
"I threatened him. Told him the next time he resigned, I'd actually accept it. I pay him more than he could get anywhere else, so he learned to change."
I laughed with him. "How clever of you. I shall keep the technique in mind."
"I don't imagine you'd have much use for it," he said. I kept my face straight, but he instantly realised how ill-mannered such a remark was and tried to cover his lapse. "That is to say, Reverend Gould was telling me the other evening how simply you and your husband live, down in Sussex."
"It's very true," I said, sounding ever-so-slightly regretful. It was only to be expected that Ketteridge would want to prise any Sherlock Holmes gossip he could out of Baring-Gould, but either Baring-Gould or Holmes himself had neglected to mention that our unadorned manner of living had everything to do with choice and nothing with necessity. I toyed for a moment with the idea of making Ketteridge a cash offer on Baskerville Hall, then put it away. Independent wealth did not go well with the picture Ketteridge had formed of the Holmes household, and I decided that, for the present, I should leave the picture undisturbed. Besides which, he might actually accept my offer, and then where would I be?
"Tell me, Mrs Holmes, does your husband still investigate cases, or is he well and truly retired?"
Ah, I thought, Baring-Gould was not indiscreet enough to tell him everything.
"Very occasionally, when something interests him enough. For the most part he writes and conducts his research. We live a quiet life." That Ketteridge did not burst into wild laughter told me all I needed to know about his ignorance of Holmes' very active career. "Why do you ask?"
"I thought perhaps while he was down here I might hire him to look into the mysterious sightings of the Hound of the Baskervilles."
"Oh yes?" Interesting, I thought, that everyone should be confusing the Baskerville hound with the one accompanying Lady Howard's