Young Sherlock Holmes: Fire Storm (10 page)

With Matty perched behind him on Philadelphia’s back, Sherlock cantered along the familiar roads towards Holmes Manor.

‘Do you think I could get something to eat when we get there?’ Matty called over Sherlock’s shoulder.

‘I think that can be arranged,’ Sherlock called back.

It took about half an hour to get to the manor house, and when they turned in through the main gate and headed up along the drive to the house Sherlock could feel Matty tensing behind him. Bypassing the front door, he trotted around to the stables and left the horse in the care of one of the grooms.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’m eager to see this matter closed.’

He entered through the main door, Matty behind him. The shadowy hallway seemed empty, but he knew that appearances were deceptive.

‘Mrs Eglantine!’ he called.

A part of the shadows detached itself and stepped forward. The temperature in the hall seemed to drop by ten degrees. ‘Young Master Holmes,’ said a voice in a tone so cold that icicles could have formed. ‘As you seem so determined to use this house as a hotel, coming and going when you please, perhaps you ought to be paying for the privilege of staying here.’

‘I would expect the quality of the housekeeping staff in a hotel to be considerably better than here,’ he rejoined.

The expression on Mrs Eglantine’s face didn’t change, but Sherlock felt the atmosphere in the hallway become even colder.

‘Make your quips, child,’ she hissed. ‘Enjoy them while you can. Your time in this house is limited.’

‘If you are expecting your friend Josh Harkness to do something about me, you are going to be disappointed. Mr Harkness is in custody, and won’t be getting out in a hurry.’

‘You are lying,’ she said through clenched teeth, but Sherlock could tell that she was suddenly on the defensive.

‘I never lie,’ he said simply. ‘I leave that to people like you.’ He paused for a moment, working out his next move. ‘Please tell my aunt and uncle that I wish to talk to them in the dining room.’

‘Tell them yourself,’ she said. Her voice could have cut glass.

‘You are the servant here, not me. Pass on my request. Do it now. Please be so good as to ask Cook for a plate of sandwiches and a jug of lemonade as well. My friend and I are hungry and thirsty.’

The housekeeper stared at him with an expression on her face that indicated that she was re-evaluating him, and didn’t like what she was discovering. She turned and disappeared into the shadows.

‘Come on,’ he said to Matty. ‘Let’s get ready.’

He led the way across the hall to the dining room. It struck him that he could have chosen to have the confrontation in the reception room, where guests were entertained, but he wanted to do this somewhere more formal, less comfortable.

The table in the centre of the dining room was bare apart from two candlesticks and a bowl of fruit. Matty helped himself to a pear while Sherlock sat in a chair on the far side, with the light of the windows behind him. Matty followed him around the table and stood behind him eating the pear.

Sherlock tried to quiet his breathing. He knew what he wanted to achieve over the next few minutes, but he knew that he was dealing with people, not chess pieces, and people sometimes did what you least expected them to do. What if Mrs Eglantine had more influence over his uncle and aunt than just her possession of some incriminating material? Perhaps they would defend Mrs Eglantine, despite what had already gone on in the house. Perhaps the three of them would join forces against him.

The door opened and Sherrinford Holmes entered, with Aunt Anna close behind him.

‘It is unusual for a man who is master in his own house to be summoned by his ward,’ he said mildly.

‘I apologize if Mrs Eglantine gave the impression that I was summoning you,’ Sherlock replied quietly. ‘I merely wanted to talk to you both about something serious.’

‘Is this related to what happened in the library earlier today?’ Sherrinford Holmes asked. ‘If so, I distinctly remember saying that we would speak no more about it.’

‘This concerns a man named Josh Harkness,’ Sherlock said, ‘and his influence on this family.’ He felt that he should ask his aunt and uncle to sit down, but that would have been rude. It was their house and their dining room: he didn’t want to be seen as being arrogant.

Before Sherrinford could reply, Mrs Eglantine entered the dining room. Two maids followed her; one carried a plate of sandwiches while the other held a tray with a jug and four glasses. They put them on the table.

‘Please,’ Sherlock said to Mrs Eglantine as the maids left, ‘stay for a few moments. This concerns you as much as it concerns my aunt and uncle.’

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. She seemed edgy, uncertain. Even scared.

‘You haven’t introduced me to your friend,’ Sherrinford said. He pulled out a seat at the dining table for his wife. She sat, and he followed.

‘This is Matthew Arnatt,’ Sherlock said. ‘He lives in Farnham.’

‘A gypsy,’ Mrs Eglantine said. ‘Of no worth.’

‘I told you before,’ Matty said from behind Sherlock, ‘I ain’t no ’Gyptian.’

Sherrinford Holmes tapped the table briefly. ‘Even if you were,’ he said, ‘not only are the Egyptians a noble and ancient race who are often mentioned in the Bible, but you are also named for one of Jesus Christ’s disciples and the author of one of the four Gospels. You are welcome in my house, Matthew.’

‘Cheers,’ Matty said.

‘Are you hungry?’ Sherlock’s aunt asked. ‘Perhaps you would like a sandwich and a glass of lemonade.’

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ the boy said, and reached over Sherlock’s shoulder to grab a couple of sandwiches.

‘So,’ Sherrinford Holmes said, ‘what is so important that you have convened a family conference, and what does this have to do with the man you mentioned – a man whose name I cannot bring my lips to form.’

Sherlock took a deep breath. ‘Josh Harkness is a blackmailer,’ he said. ‘He collects facts about people – facts that they would rather did not become public – and he threatens to expose them if they don’t pay him money on a regular basis.’

‘Are you implying,’ Sherrinford said, a quiet note of warning in his voice, ‘that this criminal has somehow discovered a secret about this family? I am a respected biblical scholar, and my wife is a pillar of the local community. What secrets could we possibly have that would attract the attention of a villain of this calibre?’

Sherlock shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter what he may or may not have discovered. The important thing is that all of his files – his entire collection of documents and letters – have been destroyed.’

Mrs Eglantine gasped, and brought a hand up to her mouth.

‘Are you sure?’ Sherrinford Holmes asked, leaning forward. ‘ “But the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison.” James, chapter three, verse eight.’

‘Absolutely sure,’ Matty interrupted through a mouthful of sandwich. ‘We did it together.’

‘You saw it?’ Sherrinford asked. ‘You saw it yourself?’

‘I did. The contents of every box have been rendered unreadable.’

Sherrinford Holmes leaned back in his chair and ran his right hand across his brow. With his left hand he reached out and patted his wife’s arm. ‘Then the nightmare is . . . over.’ He sighed.

There was silence in the room for a minute or so. No noise, no movement, but something changed. It was as if a cloud had moved away from the sun. The room seemed lighter and warmer than it had before.

‘You have done this family, and many others, a great service,’ Sherrinford Holmes said. ‘I can see the same mark of character in you that I see in your brother, and also in your father –
my
brother. I am in your debt.’ He turned to face Mrs Eglantine. ‘And I am no longer in thrall to you, evil woman that you are. Whatever you were looking for in this house, you will never find it. Pack your bags. If you are not out of this house within the hour then your possessions will be placed in a pile and I will personally set light to them and then horsewhip you into the bargain. I wish never to see your face or hear your voice for as long as I live. You are
not
welcome here.’

‘I still know what I know!’ Mrs Eglantine proclaimed, stepping forward. ‘You will not get rid of me so easily.’

‘Nobody will believe you,’ Aunt Anna said. She stood up, her diminutive form seemingly towering over the tall housekeeper. ‘England is full of former housekeepers with a grudge. Nobody believes their stories, and for good reason. “Gossiping and lying go hand in hand,” as they say.’

Sherrinford nodded. ‘“Thy voice shall be a rebuke unto the transgressor; and at thy rebuke let the tongue of the slanderer cease its perverseness,”’ he quoted softly. ‘Leave here now, woman, while you still can.’

Mrs Eglantine glared at the four of them – Sherlock, Matty, Uncle Sherrinford and Aunt Anna. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, as if she knew she wanted to say something but she didn’t know what exactly. Then she turned and slipped out of the room like a shadow banished by the opening of a curtain.

‘Can it be that simple?’ Sherrinford asked. He reached out to take his wife’s hand.

‘You’ll have to watch out for her,’ Sherlock replied. ‘She may try to take something. She may even try to slip back into the house when there’s nobody around. There’s something here she wants, and I can’t see her giving it up easily. But it’s going to be a lot more difficult for her now. Her power base has been taken away.’

‘I almost can’t believe it,’ Aunt Anna said. ‘She has been such a malign presence here for so long that I almost cannot imagine life without her.’

‘Do you have any idea what she was looking for?’ Matty asked.

Sherrinford shook his head. ‘She never said. It was some time before I even realized she was searching for anything. She applied for the job of housekeeper three years ago, and since her references were impeccable I gladly gave her the job, but she was sullen and the staff did not take to her. Eventually I asked her to leave, but she revealed that she knew . . . certain facts about this family that I would not wish to be revealed. She forced us to let her stay, and she forced us to make payments to her that she transferred on to that odious man Joshua Harkness.’ He sighed. ‘One day I found her searching our bedroom. I demanded to know what she was doing. She told me to mind my own business. I told her that she was in my house and it was my business to know what she was doing. She laughed scornfully, and said that it was her house now.’

‘We became aware that she was searching every room, one by one,’ Aunt Anna said quietly when it became apparent that Sherrinford wasn’t going to continue. ‘But we never found out what she was looking for. It’s not as if there are many valuables in the house.’

‘She had blueprints of the house,’ Sherlock remembered. ‘They’re in her room, hanging outside the window. You should get them back, before someone else finds them.’

Sherrinford shook his head, and smiled. Sherlock couldn’t remember ever seeing his uncle smile before. ‘I believe that I have a bottle of Madeira which I have been keeping for a special occasion,’ he said. ‘This is probably as close to a special occasion as I will get in my life. I appreciate that you are both barely more than children, but I feel that God and your families would forgive me if I offered you a glass. A small one, of course.’

Sherrinford Holmes peered sideways at his wife and raised an enquiring eyebrow. She nodded, and he went to the sideboard to get a bottle and some glasses.

‘I feel that we owe you an explanation,’ he said as he returned and sat down. ‘Mrs Eglantine has made your life here unpleasant, to put it mildly, and after what you have done for us the least we can do for you is tell you what it was that she knew.’

‘Sherlock shook his head. ‘It’s not necessary,’ he said. ‘All families deserve to have their secrets.’

‘But this secret affects you,’ Sherrinford said. ‘We have kept it from you for long enough.’ He squeezed his wife’s arm, and she patted his hand in reassurance.

Sherlock felt as if the ground beneath his feet was sliding slowly sideways. A secret that involved
him
?

Sherrinford opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. He gazed at Matty, frowning. ‘Perhaps . . .’ he ventured, ‘this should wait until later. When we can discuss things between ourselves.’

Sherlock looked over at Matty. ‘Whatever it is,’ he said firmly, ‘I don’t want to keep it secret any more. Matty is my friend. There isn’t anything I don’t want him to know about me.’

Sherrinford looked unconvinced. ‘Even so, Sherlock, this
is
a family matter. Is it appropriate that others find out? Perhaps your brother should be consulted before we speak in front of others.’

‘Others have already found out.’ Sherlock’s gaze moved from his uncle to his aunt and back again. ‘Look, I once heard Mycroft say that sunlight is the best cleaning agent. I thought he meant it literally at the time, that rooms with the curtains drawn get dusty and cobwebby, but I’ve come to realize that he was speaking figuratively. What he was trying to say was that hiding things away just makes the situation worse. Knowing the truth, letting
everyone
know the truth, is usually the best course of action.’