Young Sherlock Holmes_ Death Cloud - Andrew Lane [52]
Sherlock didn’t feel hungry. He stared at the door for a few moments, trying to will himself to eat something just to keep his strength up, but he couldn’t face it. He turned round and began to head across to the library to see if he could find any books about bees or beekeeping.
Halfway across the hall, he noticed a letter on the silver platter on the side table. Had it not been there before, or had he just not noticed it? For a moment he thought it might be another letter from Mycroft, so he picked it up. His name was on the front, along with the address of the manor house, but it wasn’t Mycroft’s writing. It was more rounded. More . . . feminine. How could that be?
Sherlock looked around, half-convinced that he would find Mrs Eglantine standing in the shadows, watching, but the hall was empty apart from him. He took the letter, opened the front door and stood in the early evening sunlight but still in the doorway so that he couldn’t be accused of leaving the house.
There was a single sheet of paper inside. It was a pale lavender in colour. On it, below his name and address, was written:
Sherlock,
There is a fair being held on the meadow below the grounds. Meet me there tomorrow at nine o’clock in the morning – if you dare!
Come alone.
Virginia
He felt dizzy for a moment, and took a deep breath. Virginia wanted to see him? But why? On the two occasions they’d met up he’d got the impression that she didn’t like him that much. They certainly hadn’t said very much to each other. And yet, now she wanted to meet him – alone?
But he couldn’t go! He’d been forbidden to leave the house!
His thoughts raced, trying to come up with a justification that would allow him out of the house the next morning without getting into trouble. Surely there had to be a logical argument that he could construct that would stand up to scrutiny by Uncle Sherrinford. Virginia had asked him to meet her. From what little he knew about her, he could tell that she was more independent than English girls of her age. She could ride a horse – properly, not just side-saddle – and she was perfectly capable of going off on her own. But if she had been English, she wouldn’t have been going to the fair if she wasn’t with her family. And that meant it would be reasonable for Sherlock to interpret the letter as being an invitation to meet her and her father, which meant he could leave the house without violating the terms of his agreement with his uncle. Sherrinford would not believe that a girl could arrange to meet a boy without her family being present. Sherlock knew better, but if challenged he wouldn’t let on.
A momentary thought threw him – what if someone from Holmes Manor were at the fair? – but a further thought persuaded him that neither his uncle, his aunt or Mrs Eglantine were likely to be there, and if any of the maids or cooks or workers were there they probably wouldn’t even recognize him.
He spent the rest of the evening and much of the night alternately convincing himself that he should go next morning and that he shouldn’t. By the morning he still wasn’t sure, but as he came down the stairs for breakfast he found himself thinking about Virginia’s face, and he decided that he would. He really would.
He checked the time on the grandfather clock. It was a little after eight o’clock. If he started now, and used the bicycle, he could just about get there in time. He knew where the castle was – perched on a hill above the town – and he guessed that the common was a patch of meadow a short distance below the castle.
Should he leave a note? After recent events, he thought it might be wise, so he dashed off a quick explanation on the back of the envelope, saying that he was off to see Amyus Crowe, and left it on the silver platter, then half-walked and half-ran to where he had left the bicycle, ducking beneath the windows as he passed them and staying behind walls wherever possible.
His head was whirling with thoughts