Young Sherlock Holmes_ Fire Storm - Andrew Lane [16]
‘To you,’ she replied, ‘I am Mrs Eglantine. Never take the liberty of calling me by my first name.’ She seemed to thaw slightly, reaching out to touch his arm. ‘I’m near to finding it, Josh – I know I am. I just need a little more time.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And I need that interfering brat Sherlock out of my way. Can you do that for me?’
‘I’ll get some of my lads on it,’ he promised. ‘You got time for a bite to eat?’
She shook her head. ‘That damned family are expecting their evening meal. I swear, Josh, there are times when I just feel like poisoning the lot of them and watching as they writhe in agony on the dining-room carpet. But not just yet. I need to get back.’
‘Stay in touch.’ He laughed. ‘Let me know if you find them golden plates you keep on about.’
‘I will.’ She turned away, then turned back. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. I found this in the room of one of the maids.’ She reached into a hidden fold of her crinoline skirt and withdrew a letter. ‘It is a note from a boy who claims to love her.’
‘I ain’t interested in tittle-tattle,’ Harkness said.
‘You would be if you knew that the boy in question is the eldest son of the Mayor of Farnham.’
Harkness cocked his head to one side in sudden interest. ‘The Mayor’s son, seeing some little hussy of a housemaid? That ought to be good for a few quid. The Mayor’s very particular about the company he keeps. He tells everyone that his son is going to marry into the nobility. He’ll want to keep this one very quiet.’ He frowned. ‘The letter’s in the boy’s own handwriting? And he’s signed it?’
‘With love and kisses.’
Harkness grinned. ‘People never learn, do they? I never commit anything to writing, just in case.’ He reached out and took the letter from Mrs Eglantine. ‘Thanks for this. You want cash now, or shall I add it to the account?’
‘Pay me later. Just make sure you remember.’
‘Oh, I’ll remember. My memory’s razor sharp.’
They parted, Mrs Eglantine heading off in one direction and Josh Harkness in the other. Sherlock almost expected the man to try to kiss her on the cheek, based on that momentary final flash of friendship, but if the thought crossed his mind he didn’t act on it.
Sherlock’s gaze flickered uncertainly between the two of them. Should he follow Mrs Eglantine, or Josh Harkness? It occurred to him that he didn’t have to follow either of them – he could just go and find Matty and spend the rest of the day in Farnham – but he knew that he couldn’t let this thing go. There was more at stake here than he had realized – not just his own safety, but the future of his family. He had to find out what was going on, and stop it. If he could.
After a few seconds he decided that he should follow the greasy-haired man. Mrs Eglantine was heading back to the house – she had said so herself. He knew where she would be and pretty much what she was going to be doing. The man was the uncertain quantity here, and Sherlock needed to find out much more about him. That was the direction that any immediate threat to Sherlock would be coming from.
Harkness now had something incriminating on one of the housemaids in Holmes Manor. Sherlock wondered which one it was. He didn’t know any of them by name, and rarely said anything to them, but they all seemed pleasant enough, and good at their jobs. If one of them had found happiness with a boy who was from a different social class, then what of it? Sherlock didn’t see why either of them should be punished for the fact, let alone the boy’s father.
Not for the first time, it occurred to him that the British system of working class, middle class and upper class people was not only pointless and archaic, but damaging to the very fabric of society.
Checking to see that Mrs Eglantine hadn’t turned around to come back for some reason, Sherlock slipped through the crowd after her friend.
Sherlock stayed well back, just in case Harkness looked over his shoulder. He probably didn’t know what Sherlock looked like,