The Confidential Casebook of Sherlock Holmes (23 page)

The colonel coughed apologetically. “You will have to forgive Count Orlock. He becomes frustrated with the way the grand duke conducts his affairs.”

The baroness spread her fan so she might look over it to the military man. “I have heard rumours of this, that he surrounds himself with women?”

Colonel Gelthelm nodded ruefully. “Our duke has gotten on in years, and claims he will spend what little time remains to him in those pursuits he truly enjoys.”

I might have found this more astonishing if there were not so many things here already beyond belief. Still I felt compelled to ask, “How does any business get done?”

The colonel's expression became even more pained. “The duke will entertain certain matters of importance, so long as they are presented to him by members of the fairer sex.”

“So my information was correct,” Holmes replied softly. For an instant, his tone reflected the detective and not the baroness.

The colonel sighed in agreement. “It is a game—but then, can't the same be said of all politics? But come, I must announce you to the duke.”

He led us further down the hall to a double doorway guarded by a pair of men in grey uniforms similar to the colonel's. They snapped to attention as we approached, then, at a single word from their colonel, they smartly reached forward and swung the two doors open wide.

A grand salon lay beyond, filled with fifty or more finely dressed people. What struck me first about the crowd before us was that it was primarily composed of females; at a cursory glance, women seemed to outnumber men by five or six to one.

“The duke is in his glory.” The colonel spoke to both of us in a low tone. “If you would follow me?”

We boldly followed our guide into the room filled with women. And such women, ranging from their early twenties to perhaps
four times that age; yet all shared such a richness of dress and refinement that even a world-traveled physician such as myself felt close to overwhelmed. The baroness, in her superbly tailored but sensible tweeds, seemed decidedly underdressed in such a company. Still, she glanced neither right nor left as she followed the colonel to our goal, paying no mind to the hushed conversations of the many women we passed, all of whom turned to regard the newcomer as we strode near.

“If you might forgive us, my Duke!” the colonel called out as we approached a tight-knit group before us, with half a dozen women surrounding a white-haired man.

The man looked distractedly away from where one lovely young lass stroked his brow.

“Eh?” he muttered. “How dare you disturb my conversation?”

“I do not mean to disturb you in the least,” the colonel interjected smoothly. “Rather, I wish to bring added interest to your afternoon's socializing.” He motioned to the woman at my side. “May I present the Baroness Von Stuppell?”

“You certainly may.” The duke freed himself from the crowd of women and approached the baroness, his face lit by the brightest of smiles. “It is an honour. You are a distant relative, I hear? It is a problem with royalty. We are all related somehow!”

With that, he glanced at me, his voice shifting quickly from pleasure to disdain. “And who is this?”

“Only my personal physician,” the baroness replied. A lace-covered hand rose to her brow. “Doctor, my salts!”

The baroness swayed back and forth, nearly overcome by her surroundings. I fished in my medical bag and found a small bottle that would look appropriate to the purpose. I handed it to the baroness, who allowed one delicate sniff before returning it to me.

“I am afraid I am quite overwhelmed to be in this place,” the baroness cried, fluttering her fan in our host's direction. “I have so looked forward to being in your presence.”

I feared the baroness might be overeacting, but the duke appeared quite charmed.

“We should give our new arrival a seat!” He shooed away a nearby matron. “Baroness, if you would please?”

She very definitely curtsied this time. “So kind.”

“You are the sort of woman to whom I could act in no other way!” the duke declared.

“I have heard, my good Duke, many tales of your refinement.” She giggled ever-so-slightly as she took her seat. “I must confess, however, that I did not expect to find someone so intelligent. Or so vital.”

The duke puffed out his chest and stroked his medals. “We do not have enough contact with the London gentility. Surely, if more women like you exist beyond these walls, my embassy becomes more like a prison.”

“More like a retreat, I would say, a beautiful place where one might find refinement”—the baroness looked at the duke with a certain directness—“if one only knew where to look.”

Colonel Gelthelm drew me aside.

“The duke, my dear Doctor, is totally smitten. Finally, a cool, continental noblewoman of mature years who can challenge him.”

I was struck speechless. Didn't the colonel know the baroness's secret? What if Holmes had not told him of the deception?

“I can see the wisdom now in the detective's plan,” the colonel continued in a confidential tone. “Perhaps the duke will heed our warning if it should come from such a source.”

What could I do but nod?

I heard a delicate cough near my shoulder. I glanced over to see a much calmer Count Orlock. He nodded pleasantly to both myself and the colonel, perhaps wishing to make up for past improprieties.

“The duke will have a new conquest before the night is done,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

Perhaps, I thought, the baroness was being a bit too successful. I looked back to where she was still engaged in conversation with the duke. She made a small excuse and took a step away. The duke laughed heartily and took a step to close the gap.

“Surely,” the baroness said demurely, “I am taking up far too much of your time.”

But the duke only laughed again. “My time? It is our time now! The only way you shall be free of me is if you disappear from the face of the Earth!”

“You flatter me far too greatly.” The baroness waved her fan. “I am just a poor child of the Continent, adrift in London society.”

“No matter!” the duke rejoined. “With me you shall be very rich!”

The baroness looked away. “A breath of air would be nice. You will excuse me while I take a look at the stars?”

But the duke would give no ground. “The only stars I need,” he purred, “are in your eyes.”

The baroness's fan fluttered faster than ever before. “Doctor! My salts!”

Even her suitor took a step away at that. “A glass of water for the dear baroness!” the duke called.

I thought a little distance might be in order here as well. I purposefully stepped between the duke and the object of his affection. “Water will do her no good if you do not give her air.”

The duke and his entourage dutifully took a few more steps away.

“Thank you, Watson,” the baroness whispered close by my ear. “I'm afraid the duke's attentions can be a bit suffocating. Still, I think we should remain. The assassin might strike at any time!”

A glass of water was thrust into my hand. I glanced up, a bit taken aback by the heavy-set serving women, so different from the delicate nobility all around us. The serving staff had no doubt been recruited from the peasant class back home.

The baroness raised her fan so that she might sip her water in private.

“Ah,” she said at last as she relinquished her glass to one of the servers. “I am better already.” She lowered her fan. “Duke, there is much I would love to ask you about your country.”

The duke smiled at that, stepping close once more. “Surely then, you will stay and join us for dinner.”

But one of the surrounding women spoke up. “You monopolize our new arrival, you naughty duke! Come, Baroness, we will get you some air. Let us go and freshen up!”

My worst fears were realized. We had fallen victim to the habits of women everywhere. The baroness could do nothing but obey! I watched helplessly as the baroness and half a dozen other women moved towards that place where no man might go.

Count Orlock had once again placed his short stature before me. He seemed to want to make small talk about the baroness's habits. I could not truly concentrate on the conversation. Excepting a certain woman in green, Holmes had never seemed to have much use for the fairer sex. How would he fare among the company of women?

The count went on and on. I could do little but nod. Once I had evaded his questions concerning my companion, the small man wanted to talk about nothing but politics!

“I have so little opportunity to explore the English mind. Compared to my home country—pfahh!”

I am afraid that the conversation was getting on my nerves. I snapped a response: “Perhaps you might have more opportunity to explore things if you presented yourself a little less—forcefully.”

The count seemed unfazed by my anger. He simply shook his head and replied, “One must make one's own opportunities, my dear Doctor.”

But the women had returned. And they were laughing, the baroness along with all the rest! A certain young woman at the edge of the group turned to me with great excitement.

“Oh, Doctor!” the young woman related in the most breathless of tones. “Your baroness is a marvel! She is a fountain of information—what she has told us of skirt length and fabrics and the changes in number of petticoats. She knows every variation of dress over the past fifty years! I had no idea that fashion was so fickle!”

I smiled at the news. Holmes would of course lead with his strengths. My worry had been needless once again. Throughout our association, the detective would never cease to surprise me.

I turned back to the baroness, and saw her waving for me with her fan.

“I have gained some useful information as well, Watson,” the baroness confided when I reached her side. “Unless I am very much mistaken, the assassin will not be among the women. Or at least these particular women.”

I longed to ask the detective how or why he had discovered this, but the duke approached again, ending all attempts at conversation.

“I have taken the liberty to have my kitchen prepare some of my country's specialties.” He waved about the room, and I saw that the heavy-set serving women had returned, this time bearing great silver trays piled with foodstuffs.

The duke leaned close to the baroness. “The Breaded Codfish Soaked in Beer is a particular delight!”

The baroness fanned herself. “Indeed?”

The duke discerned her meaning. “Ah.” He leapt forward to snatch something from a passing tray. “Perhaps you would care for something lighter? These pastries are filled with our native berries.”

The count was once again before us. “But Duke! Surely you wish to sample the Fannsnufel!” One of the large serving women was at his side, her tray piled high with some large, puffy white concoction.

“Ah, Count!” The duke swallowed the berry trifle and nodded to the bloated white things. “Fannsnufel is my passion! Well—one of my passions.” For once, both duke and count were all smiles. Only the baroness was frowning.

The count waved away the questing fingers of the duke's entourage from the silver tray. “We should always let the duke sample first. As he said, it is his passion. And I understand that this plate was made specially.”

The duke acted as if he barely even heard the small man, his gaze fixed resolutely on the tall woman in tweed. “These are indeed the pride of my native land. Perhaps we should give some to our honoured guest.”

The count stared at the duke as if the elder man had spoken the unthinkable. “What if they are sour? You know yourself that if the heavy cream, brown sugar and wartroot are not mixed precisely, disaster may result.”

But the duke did not take his eyes from the baroness. “Perhaps, then, we might sample them together. I will feed one to you, and then, perhaps—”

The baroness raised her fan. “As eager as I am to sample the delights of your kitchen, I feel that I must pass, and I suggest that you pass as well.”

“So you suggest I save my appetite for other things?” On a commoner, the look upon the duke's face might have been taken for a leer.

“No,” the baroness replied. “The count appears as if he is much neglected. I suggest that the first taste of Fannsnufel should be his.”

“A capital suggestion from a generous lady!” the duke agreed.

But the count looked pale. “I have no appetite for pastries.”

The baroness stared at him. “Especially none prepared with your sister's recipe?”

The count gasped. “What do you know of my sister?”

“Only that before she left, she hired and supervised the kitchen and serving staffs. She had always felt the position beneath her. Not to mention that she conveniently left just before you arrived.” The baroness smiled slightly in my direction. “It is amazing what you might learn in a private conversation with the women of the court.”

“Ah, that countess,” the duke murmured. “A beautiful woman, but so private. She did not wish to have too much known about her family, I believe. The very existence of Count Orlock here came as a complete surprise!”

“What are you insinuating?” the count demanded, his voice breaking with the emotion.

Colonel Gelthelm stepped to my side.

“Is there some difficulty here?”

“Ah!” the baroness cried. “A wonderful source of information! I pray, Colonel, you may allow me to ask you a few questions of a delicate nature?”

“If the duke does not object, I am your man.”

“You will have to stand in line behind me, Colonel!” the duke rejoined. “But by all means, answer the delightful lady's questions!”

The baroness nodded graciously. “I understand that, besides the count, the embassy staff is very—close knit?”

The colonel cleared his throat. “Ah yes, well, you see, I am a married man. But I have heard that certain of my officers are somewhat—familiar with certain ladies of the court.”