The Study of Falling

by Lesley C. Johnson

a.k.a. 'the politician, the lighthouse and the trained cormorant'

Chapter 4

Velocity and Stability

The next morning we lay rather late together in bed, relaxing with the sensation of the great ship's gentle rising and falling on the wide ocean swells. Holmes was turning the pages of a slim volume that he had brought for idle moments on the journey. As I watched him I marvelled to myself that he still had no need of reading glasses, only resting the book slightly farther down on his front.

"What are you reading, Holmes?"

"Words, Russell."

I might have been annoyed at this, except for the smile that accompanied it. He turned towards me propped on an elbow and showed me the book.

"The words of Lao Tzu, a wise philosopher of ancient days. This is the "Tao Te Ching," tao-meaning the way of all life, te-meaning the fit use of life by men, and ching-meaning text or canon. I find, Russell, in my advancing years, that the ideas become increasingly meaningful."

"How nice." I said, glancing over the first few pages. I closed the book and handed it back to him.

"I'm hungry, Holmes."

He eyed me for a moment, then rolled back onto the pillow complaisantly and pronounced,

"A student once asked his teacher, 'Master, what is enlightenment?' The master replied, 'When hungry, eat. When tired, sleep. '"

In response to this bit of wisdom I flung off the bedclothes and went to bathe, leaving his quiet chuckle behind me. When I returned to dress, he was still in the bed reading.

"Are you coming up for breakfast?"

"Not just yet. Go and mingle with your collegial chums. Perhaps you'll all enjoy a rousing game of shovelboard."

I threw a slipper at him, which he neatly deflected by holding up his book as a shield, then sat on a chair to put on my shoes.

Holmes lowered the book to watch me, and after a moment said quietly,

"'Her tactful smile charms
Her eyes fine and clear
Beautiful without decoration.'"

My hands stopped in the act of adjusting my shoe as I attempted to comprehend the idea that Holmes had just recited a poem apparently in reference to me.

I slowly lifted my head to look at him. He raised the book in front of his face, but not before I saw the expression in his eyes. He cleared his throat and said,

"However, it is curiously pleasant to see you adorned in female finery, Russ. Are you quite comfortable in all those beads and baubles?"

The disorienting moment now passed, I frowned over at him.

"Comfortable, Holmes? I suppose so -- one must keep up appearances, mustn't one?" I asked, standing and turning my head to check my reflection in the mirror. I was dressed somewhat more elaborately than my usual tastes, owing to the luxury of the setting.

"Why? Do you think this excessive?" It seemed as if I was consulting him on the detail and accuracy of a disguise.

"Not at all, you are scrupulous in matching yourself to the prevailing fauna and flora. A veritable chameleon. I only hope I will be able to find you in these glittering surrounds. Well done."

"Feel free to join us at shovelboard, Holmes." I said, somewhat bemused.

"Russell, I wouldn't dream of it." He sounded shocked at the idea. Then he got out of the bed and strolled in naked splendour towards the bath, saying,

"Your young friends will fully expect me to settle under a rug on a deck chair and doze off in the sun like the sexagenarian I am. I wouldn't wish to disappoint them." Pausing with a hand on the doorframe he added,

"I have said before, Russell, that snort is a most unbecoming noise."

When I had recovered myself I made my way to the dining room where I was invited to join a table of my 'collegial chums' and over breakfast we discussed the day's prospects (some actually were going to play shovelboard).

I found I was almost directly across the table from Caroline who, rather more loudly than necessary, commented on Holmes' absence and asked after him in a concerned way, expressing a hope that his rheumatism had not laid him out. I merely smiled at her, thanked her for her concern and said that was not the case (then held my coffee cup in front of my face as I suppressed a private grin).

However, she was unwilling to drop the subject and, looking into my face she went on with a quiet intensity,

"Well, you must give some concession to his age of course, but I'm sure you are happy with your lot, Mary. Security has its compensations. And your trips to the university allow for... other opportunities of which, I have no doubt, you would take advantage."

I stared at her in some confusion, then felt my cheeks burn as I comprehended the meaning of her implication. Why on earth was she speaking to me like this? Before I could decide how, or if, I should respond, she smiled, rose and joined her brother at the far end of the table. He was standing to go with her when John Kempling stopped them.

Eager in his rôle as unofficial group activity coordinator, Kempling sat with his printed itinerary before him on the table and announced his proposal that we take in the lecture scheduled for half past one. Some half dozen accepted, and Mavis asked me to join them. Still disturbed by Caroline's insinuation I agreed somewhat distractedly. But then I was surprised when, at Mavis' encouragement, Caroline and her brother agreed to join in. Given her attitude towards me I would have thought she would try to avoid my company. I thought I might reconsider my decision to attend.

As we broke up several of us agreed to meet after luncheon at the lecture room. I found myself once again with Mavis and Kempling and we walked together along the passageway. (Being an affianced couple I supposed they might feel they had something in common with me.) Kempling noted in his brochure that there would be a concert featuring a string quartet in the Sun Room in twenty minutes and invited me to join them. I accepted absently and we made our way there.

Mavis sat next to me companionably and repeated, far more civilly, Caroline's earlier question about Holmes. I thought for a moment about how best to answer. Holmes, I felt, had adopted this ruse of playing the doting elder spouse for his own purposes -- perhaps to deflect curiosity about his former (so they might think) professional life -- and so I did not wish to contradict him.

However, I had my own reputation amongst my Oxford peers to think about, and it pricked my pride to be thought of as having settled for a stolid, undemanding marriage of mere economic security. Finally I smiled and said,

"Holmes is perfectly fine Mavis, and while he may seem quiet, he is the personification of the proverbial 'still waters that run deep.'"

Mavis smiled at this and turned her attention to the musicians, while I puzzled over the strange behaviour of Caroline Dunworthy. I remembered that three years ago I had found her to be one of the livelier and more interesting girls in my circle. We had gravitated towards each other with a shared sense of humour and a similar tendency to preserve an independence from the rather thick partisan politics of undergraduate life. I could not precisely recall how or when she had drifted away from the group, but I believed it was when I myself had become occupied with other interests, and so had been only peripherally aware of her absence. It seemed that over the intervening time her temperament had soured somewhat.

After the concert Kempling excused himself to meet with some of the men in the smoking room, and so Mavis and I stayed together through the remainder of the morning. I was not certain where Holmes was, and really I had not brought anything else with which to occupy myself. Mavis was pleasant and had no shortage of conversation, and her topics were not entirely without interest to me.

Eventually it was luncheon time and we made our way together to the Verandah Café. Mavis joined Kempling at the table he occupied while I made my way across the room to where my husband had secured a table for the two of us.

Holmes told me he had attended a meeting of camera enthusiasts, but that he had found it unproductive as he had more knowledge himself on the subject of photographic development techniques than the speaker. However he acknowledged that on the topics of artistic composition, pictorial mood and pretty lighting effects the speaker was by far his superior. Unfortunately, he commented drily, these rarely came up in his own forensic applications of the science.

We ordered and I told him of my plans to meet the others to hear the lecture. The speaker's subject held no interest for him and so he assured me that he would be capable of finding some other occupation to pass the afternoon.

Then he remarked on my close association with Mavis Smithfield.

"Yes, she is rather shadowing me. But at least she gives me a means to keep Caroline at bay. That woman is most aggravating, and I cannot think why she should be so offensive in her conversation. Honestly, one would think I had done her some injury." I said as I picked up my fork.

Holmes regarded me with a curious expression until I looked up from my plate and under his gaze I reviewed what I had just said.

"Well, Holmes, really I don't think... or at least, I can't imagine that I --."

I paused and then my shoulders drooped. "Oh." (Why had I not seen this before?) "No, don't say it Holmes. I will look into it."

I made a close examination of the decorative emblem on my teacup.

When Holmes spoke he did not sound quite so casual as I had hoped he might.

"Russell, apart from whatever may have transpired between you and Miss Dunworthy in the past, what is the relationship between the two women? Do you know the extent of their friendship -- how long they have known each other?"

"Actually -- no. I never thought to ask." I felt myself colouring.

Holmes made a visible effort to conceal his exasperation and said reasonably,

"I have often been accused of having a suspicious turn of mind, Russell. And certainly I would not wish to encourage an unjustified paranoia regarding one's acquaintances, but it seems to me that you have some grounds, in this case, both for exercising caution and for making some inquiries."

"Yes. I will look into it. I'm sorry."

I had acknowledged my failing, but he waved this off.

"Miss Dunworthy's manner may be entirely insignificant, Russell, but it is never advisable to ignore the possibility of an unexplained grievance. These things have a way of reappearing at an inconvenient moment."

Outside the doors of the lecture room I stood with Mavis and, with some little feeling of anxiety, watched for Caroline. She eventually appeared on the arm of her brother, who stood with her amongst the waiting crowd. I steeled my nerves and moved in beside her as we began to file into the room.

"Caroline, shall we all sit together? There are places just here on the side." I met her gaze openly if coolly, while Mavis and Kempling followed us up the aisle. Caroline's brother frowned at me as if I had uttered some impertinence. My nerve faltered as Caroline said,

"No, thank-you Mary, we will be more comfortable over here."

Rather at a loss, I turned to Kempling who smiled in an uncomprehending but sympathetic way and led me over to where he and Mavis were to sit. Before taking my seat I noticed George Kennington two rows behind us and he seemed to be watching me with some curiosity. After a moment I again looked questioningly at Kempling, but he seemed oblivious. Mavis simply smiled and shrugged. I decided to regroup and try again later, perhaps in a less public setting.

The lecture concluded and a few of us went into the lounge and sat with our coffee discussing it. Caroline and her brother did not join us, so in an effort to gather some insight into the matter I took Mavis to one side and asked her directly what she knew of Caroline Dunworthy's apparent grievance against me. Mavis looked rather startled.

"Oh, Mary, honestly I don't know... could it be some academic rivalry?"

I frowned,

"I don't see how it could be, we're in different departments... and I have no ambition to seek a position at the university as yet. No, I think it's something more personal, Mavis. You've heard her remarks...?"

"Yes, I have. She... has difficulty around the topic of marriage, it seems...?"

"So it seems. How long have you known Caroline?"

"Well, I came up to Oxford just two years ago, and she had been there for a year before me, I believe. I suppose I met her in Hilary Term of my first year."

"Do you know if she was ever engaged to someone... or attached to someone at the university?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, Mary. But my goodness, there were so many tragic engagements during the war and even after...it's just not wise to enquire..."

That was as far as we got before we were called back into the general conversation. Kennington had joined us and I noted that he seemed much more agreeable since his encounter with Holmes. In fact he was a very pleasant addition to the group, for a change.

When we all broke up I told Mavis that I was going to look for Caroline and try to talk to her. Mavis insisted on accompanying me, saying it might seem less confrontational than if I met her alone. This seemed reasonable, and as I was a little apprehensive we set off together to search for her.

We had no luck on the Promenade, in the Café, the Library or any of the lounges. I found my resolve to deal with the woman weakening as we walked from room to room on the various decks. By the time we had returned to the Promenade level my apprehension had faded to a secret sense of relief that we had not been able to find her. I was almost ready to give up the idea altogether.

As Mavis and I entered the spacious saloon I stopped short when I saw Holmes apparently pinned in a far corner by two ladies. His posture was one of polite attentiveness but the expression on his face was of obvious discomfiture. The two women were talking to him with very earnest intent and the whole scene formed an intriguing tableau. Forgetting my present task, I thought I would watch to see how the situation played out.

I turned to Mavis and, feigning fatigue, said that I would like to rest for a little while, then carefully ushered her over to a grouping of chairs. These were surrounded by an array of potted palms and aspidistras that allowed me to observe Holmes over her shoulder and at such a distance that he could not easily notice or signal me. Mavis talked on about her dear Johnny's career plans, and I made noises of acknowledgement, but all my attention was on Holmes and his two companions.

The ladies appeared to be genteel creatures of another era, slightly old-fashioned in their dress, but eminently respectable. One was a handsome, slender woman on the farther side of fifty, with hair that had faded from a deep chestnut colour and a softly freckled face with very bright lively eyes. The other was somewhat younger, smaller and quieter in manner, but both had the air of women who had made their own way in life.

Holmes' level of discomfort seemed to be increasing as the taller of the two ladies now insisted on shaking his hand and then held on to it in a gesture of gratitude and appreciation. With his right hand thus imprisoned and his left gallantly holding his hat to his breast, he could only cast his eyes about the room searching for some means of escape.

But at last the women released him, standing aside to give him egress. He bowed formally as if to depart, but then apparently reconsidered. He indicated with his hand a nearby circle of chairs and sat with them in quiet conversation. Their talk continued for another fifteen minutes or so, and then Holmes took his leave of them and walked out of the room.

It had been a curious incident. The two ladies had crossed the room in Holmes' wake as if reluctant to lose sight of him and they now stood close to our position, talking together with an air of quiet excitement. They sat down again in chairs just behind Mavis and myself. Amidst Mavis' chatter I could make out some of their discussion.

"Oh, Violet, what a wonderful chance for you to have been able to speak to him after all these years!"

"I hope I was not too forward, Sarah, but truly I could not let the opportunity slip through my hands. To be able to thank him for what he has done for me! Though I could see he did not like to have it acknowledged. I was never more surprised in my life than when he asked us to sit down to continue our conversation!"

After a pause and some effort at collecting herself, she continued,

"You remember me telling you of when his friend Doctor Watson contacted me to seek my permission to publish the case? I had asked him most particularly to try to persuade Mr. Holmes to allow the truth of his generosity to be included in the account. But Dr. Watson said he would not agree to it, and had nearly insisted the story not be put before the public at all.

"He said his friend abhorred any sort of attention in these matters. When the story was published, Sarah, I had to have the credit of achieving Headmistress of my school without the proper acknowledgement being given to Mr. Holmes and his great generosity.

"I did write to him on several occasions, Sarah, only to tell him how I got on, but never received a reply. So for all these years I have respected his privacy, and I determined that my best means of thanking him was to make the greatest success of the opportunity he had provided me."

"He is a fine looking man, is he not, Violet?"

However I did not hear Violet's assessment of my husband's physical qualities as Mavis had at last noticed that my responses had become less than meaningful. She touched my arm to get my attention, and with an effort I focused on her.

"Mary, are you quite well? I'm certain we will find Caroline before the day is out, and then you will be able to put that worry behind you. "

"Oh no, Mavis, I'm fine. Yes, I'm sure we will find Caroline. I was just trying to remember something... I'm sorry, what were you saying about Johnny's sister?" This was sufficient prompting for her to continue, and so with an outward air of attention, I began searching my memory for the particular story to which Violet had alluded.

Dr.Watson had written up several of Holmes' cases that involved distressed young women -- he found these brought him an even wider audience than those that centred on a mysterious crime or an intellectual puzzle. (Much to Holmes' dismay, he had once told me, after the publication of each one of these stories the volume of mail he received at his Baker Street address containing scented letters written in a delicate feminine hand would increase alarmingly.)

Which one of these cases it was that featured a woman named Violet -- if Watson had even used her real name -- I could not just then recall. But clearly more developments had resulted from this one than were generally known.

The two women eventually walked out of the room and so I heard no more. Mavis and I went in search of the men and parted after she found Kempling in the Library. I wandered to the outside deck and found my husband, much to my astonishment, in a quiet spot actually resting on a deckchair in the late afternoon sun.

Holmes reclined on the deck chair with his hat tipped down over his eyes, his ankles crossed comfortably and his fingers laced together over his waistcoat. I approached and sat down on the side of the chair next to his. Without looking at me he said,

"Well, Russell, don't you wish to satisfy your curiosity as to the substance of my conversation with the two ladies in the saloon?"

"Oh... so you did notice us in the room, Holmes?"

"There really was not sufficient vegetation to conceal you entirely from view, Russell."

"You needn't be quite so condescending. Very well, who were the ladies with whom you were so earnestly engaged, Holmes?"

He smiled (condescendingly I thought) as he removed his hat and looked at me.

"A former client of some years ago, and her colleague. The taller woman is Miss Violet Hunter, whose story Watson published under the title The Copper Beeches, after the house at which the events occurred."

"Oh yes, I remember... Uncle John rather played up the suggestion that you had shown a particular gallant interest in her, but then he was disapp --." His raised brow and delicate manner of looking away stopped me.

"Oh. Or perhaps he had not exaggerated..." I trailed off in some confusion.

Holmes intently studied the mechanism of the lifeboat davit that stood some twelve feet away at the railing as he continued.

"Miss Hunter was a very bright and capable young woman and, through no fault of her own, was left in an unfortunate situation at the end of that business. In fact, she was quite alone in the world, with no relations, and had brought the case to me as if asking the advice of a brother.

"As such I..." his quick glance defied me to comment, "...felt some duty towards her and did what was in my power at the time to assist her. This was simply to look into the possibility of enrollment at a small teachers' college. She was agreeable to accepting this opportunity and has apparently proved herself every bit as competent in the profession as one might have expected from such a clear-thinking young person.

"As for the published account, I had long ago made it clear to Watson that any actions of mine occurring after the conclusion of a case were really none of the public's business. A practice he would have been well advised to follow himself, particularly in his references to his own private life, which seem to have confused his readers no end.

"In this instance, however, he took the opportunity, deliberately I believe -- he did not need to say anything -- to reinforce my public image as a heartless thinking machine."

I put aside my amazement at this new revelation and asked seriously,

"Really, Holmes? I wouldn't have thought Uncle John capable of that sort of malice."

"Not malice at all, Russell, just a rather hasty temper at times. He sent the manuscript off to Conan Doyle and then found it was already in the hands of the printer when he had second thoughts about the unnecessary remark at the end."

"...That you showed no further interest in Miss Hunter 'once she had ceased to be the centre of one of your problems'... wasn't that it?"

Holmes stared at me,

"Really, Russell, haven't you better things to keep in your head than Watson's scribblings? ...But yes, it was something to that effect."

Then softening somewhat, he added,

"However, I hope you can imagine that that was not always the case, Russell."

I answered quietly, "Holmes, it has been some years since I first began to suspect that you might have a heart."

Then I turned in my chair and lay back as well and closed my eyes. After a moment I said casually,

"These deckchairs are very comfortable, Holmes. Perhaps we might purchase something like them for the terrace at home."

In a sideways glance I saw his amused smile as he replaced his hat over his eyes.

"Indeed, Russell."