Russell's Young Man

Part 6: Several Conversations

by Brains and Spirit

The next morning dawned sunny and fine. I woke to find a carafe of cool water and a glass on the bedside table next to my spectacles. Someone, likely Mrs. Hudson, had also tucked the comforter around me while I slept.

I fell thirstily on the water and then reluctantly sallied forth from the featherbed in search of clothing. My first stop was Holmes' chest of drawers, where I helped myself to an old -fashioned collarless shirt, worn into delicious softness, and a pair of thick socks. A visit to the guest bedroom revealed that I had left a few items behind during my convalescence here last year. I was pleased to find a pair of my father's trousers, and folded inside them, -mirabile dictu- some plain, serviceable, cotton underclothes. I couldn't have put the previous night's torn silks and lace back on at any price. This business of being a woman was proving extremely problematic, and I had had quite enough complications for the time being.

I slipped into the bathroom to wash up, dress, and think. I had to acknowledge that I felt some disquiet at the thought of facing Holmes this morning. I had invested a great deal in proving myself to him as a competent adult, fit to be trusted with the responsibilities of partnership; and here I had spent the better part of the previous evening practically in the man's lap. Crying, to boot. I certainly didn't want him to start thinking of me as some silly, weak, sniveling girl, in need of masculine protection from the rough-and-tumble of life. I was also, truth be told, more than a little unsettled by the side of Holmes I had seen last night. Holmes, I knew, was a multifaceted man, with some aspects I had seen only briefly and some, I was sure, that I had yet to discover. But I still found it difficult to fathom how the Holmes I usually saw, the Holmes I thought I knew, and the man who had held me in his arms and comforted me with such -there was no other word for it- tenderness, could be one and the same.

My own reactions to all this disturbed me as well. I hadn't gotten off the sofa or moved away from Holmes because, frankly, I hadn't wanted to. I had enjoyed resting warm in the circle of his arm; listening to his heartbeat, feeling safe and-cherished. Yes, that too was mot just. I had been treated not as a fragile being, but as a valuable one, and I had, well, rather liked it. My bruises and cuts were superficial, but the blows to my trust and my tentative sense of womanhood had gone deep. I might not have lost my virginity, but something important had still been wrested from me, with force and ugly words. Holmes, who sometimes knew me better than I knew myself, had likely understood this. Hw also had surprisingly accurate emotional judgment. Perhaps Holmes knew that a man's touch that asked nothing of me, and gave only reassurance and comfort, could give me back what another man's violent hands had stolen. Which, I thought suddenly, was likely why he'd behaved toward me as he had. That additional factors may have been involved did not occur to me for some time.

Well, I assured myself, we had seen one another at low ebb before, and the partnership had survived it. As I braided my hair into the long plaits I'd worn as a girl, I concluded that Holmes would not mention any of the previous evening's events unless I did. And I had no intention of bringing them up today. I found that I wanted more than anything to spend the rest of the day with Holmes, the linchpin of my turning world, on our old comfortable footing. Anything else could wait. I gave my hair a final tug and headed for the kitchen; feeling much better and quite ravenous for the breakfast I smelt being prepared.

Mrs. Hudson turned from the stove and hugged me. "Oh Mary, my dear," she said softly but did not otherwise comment on my presence or irregular appearance. She waved me out to the terrace, where Holmes was sitting at the table by the copper beech. He half rose and, mouth full, lifted one hand in greeting. One I saw the table; I concluded rapidly that Mrs. Hudson was aware of at least some aspects of my unfortunate experience. She tended to relieve her feelings by cooking, and Holmes and I sat down to a breakfast that could have easily fed a crew of hungry farm hands at haying time. There were kippers for me, and bacon for Holmes, toast and eggs, scones, and muffins. There was a bowl of Mrs. Hudson's raspberry jam, honey from Holmes' hives, and cup after cup of steaming delicious tea. I must confess that it is difficult to feel awkward in someone's company when one of you is (regrettably) eyeing her second scone, and both of you have honey on your fingers. Holmes and I were soon sitting back, cups in hand, in something very like our usual companionship. I was immeasurably relieved.

This cosy domestic scene was spoilt by the arrival of a motorcar, pulling up next to my Morris in the upper drive. Out of the car stepped the erect figure of a man, carrying a valise that I recognised as mine. He was silhouetted in the morning sun, but I rather thought this was the elder Bonham Pryce, since his figure was stockier than his taller, thinner son's.

My stomach curled with dread. Life with my Aunt would give any sensible person an utter loathing for temper, hysterics, and melodramatic scenes of any kind. I reflected with no very good cheer that another one seemed to be approaching me now.

Holmes reached over, covered my hand briefly with his and spoke calmly. "Steady on, Russ. That will be our good Major. I took the liberty of telephoning last night to assure him of your safe arrival here."

I started to bristle, and he saw it. "Russell," he said, low and urgent, "I would have consulted you had you been awake, but time was of the essence. I judged it imperative that the police not become involved once your absence was discovered, and that any onus for..ah misconduct fall squarely on the perpetrator's shoulders, not on yours. Something may yet be salvaged from this if we can prevent any hint of scandal from attaching itself to your good name. Will you allow me to help you?" I nodded.

Holmes went to meet Major Bonham-Pryce in the driveway, shook his hand formally, and ushered him to the terrace. This was accompanied by as virtuoso a performance as I had ever seen Holmes give. In his plummiest upper class tones, without telling a single untruth, Holmes smoothly led the major completely astray as to my status and our relationship. First Holmes expressed the hope that his guest would overlook my appearance. He regretted to say that the household of a childless bachelor naturally lacked various items necessary to outfit a young lady. My frock, he added severely, hadn't been fit to be seen, much less stood up in. He thanked the major for bringing my valise and he trusted that the other item he had mentioned had been found. My portmanteau could be sent back to Oxford, could it not? Yes, he was by way of being a neighbor of the family. My late parents had owned property adjoining his for a number of years, and my family used to spend summers here. My father had been a fine man, and my mother, a remarkable woman. He had known me since I was quite young. It was probably fortunate that I had turned down his drive instead of my own, as my aunt was from home just now and I had been in no condition to be left alone. In any case, a maiden lady of certain years undoubtedly lacked the savoir-faire that two men of the world could bring to resolve this delicate matter.. Did the Major not agree?

Flummoxed and disarmed, Major Bonham Pryce arrived at our breakfast table. That, I thought, made two of us.

Holmes did not offer the major a chair. He turned a face of pure flint toward our visitor and said, "Major. Miss Russell is an unusual young lady, but a lady nonetheless. As a guest in my home she is entitled to any protection she will allow me to give her. It is her decision and hers alone if she wishes to speak with you. I shall be glad to withdraw if she wishes it. Do I we understand one another, sir?" The Major nodded stiffly.

Since I'd clearly been cast as the Old Friend's Daughter in Distressing Circumstances, I took my cue, rose, and held out my hand "I'd be pleased to speak with you, sir. And do please stay, Mr. Holmes. I should be glad of your presence."

Looking rather green, Major Bonham Pryce looked at us both and drew himself up to a species of parade rest. "Mr. Holmes, Miss Russell." he said. "I have a daughter myself. I am appalled by what seems to have taken place under my roof last night. What you said happened, Mr. Holmes, is so unlike my son that I can scarcely credit it I -I have no explanation and can offer no excuse. I must confess that I was most relieved when you telephoned; no one had seen Miss Russell and David could give no coherent account of himself. I was on the brink of summoning the police when I spoke with you. You must be a wizard, sir. I cannot conceive of how you could describe the scene in my house so accurately without ever having been there. In any case, Miss Russell, I have recovered your mother's diamond earrings and wish to return them to you with my most profound apologies for the insult you were offered in my home. My son sends this note, which he begs you will find it in your heart to read. Apart from that, anything my family or I can do to make this right is entirely at your disposal."

I remembered why I had like David's parents and even Holmes' manner softened at this handsome speech. "Well spoken, sir," he said. "By God, well spoken. Now pray sit down. I press no claim to wizardry; this is simply not the first matter of this kind where I've been called upon to intervene. Naturally, my good friend Dr. Watson is too much of a gentleman to include such details in his memoirs. Miss Russell's appearance, the little she told me, as well as what she did not say, all had their own tale to tell. It was a relatively simple matter to reconstruct a probable sequence of events."

"Quite," said the Major faintly.

Holmes continued. "Now tell me, sir how matters stand since our conversation of last night. I trust the captain has suffered no" -his mouth quirked just slightly- "lasting injury? And has anyone else in your household become aware of the situation? Servants, perhaps, or other guests? "

"My son has suffered a slight concussion, he will be confined to bed for a few days but should recover. The physician who attended him is the son of the man who delivered both children, I think we may rely on his discretion. As for the rest, all I can say is God watches over fools and children, Mr. Holmes. My daughter Alexandra went looking for Miss Russell around dinner time and found her bedroom door locked. I'm afraid, Miss Russell, that Alix made a rather unfortunate, and need I say inaccurate, assumption at this point."

"Quite," said Holmes icily. I had the grace to blush.

"While our other guests were arriving she obtained a key from the housekeeper's cupboard and went to, she thought, warn you both that you were expected downstairs. When she discovered David, she had the presence of mind to discreetly summon my wife, and continued looking for you without alarming the servants. Since you were nowhere to be found, she took it upon herself to construct some plausible explanation for your absence. She bids me tell you that she informed another young lady in strictest confidence that you had quarreled with David, refused his proposal of marriage, and stormed out of the house. David was said to be locked in his room in one of his fits of despondency. Knowing the girl in question, I can assure you both that this story will be the talk of the countryside by this afternoon at the very latest."

'My congratulations to Miss Alexandra," murmured Holmes. "Miss Russell seems to have chosen a friend with the same sang-froid and quick wits that she herself possesses. Pray tell your daughter that Sherlock Holmes himself could not have done better."

"She'll be pleased, Mr. Holmes. If there is anything to be pleased about in this shabby business."

David's father leaned forward and rested his eyes in his hands. the straight-backed soldier and paterfamilias suddenly a tired, troubled, ageing man. "I do so regret this, my dear," he said to me. "Marianne and I liked you so much and David -David was almost his old self when he spoke of you. And then to meet you...we began to cherish the foolish hope that you had brought our son back to us, and with him the hope of a family to come. But it is not to be."

"Perhaps not," said Holmes.

"I am so very sorry," I offered hesitantly.

I began to realise that I was not the only person present who'd had a long night. And I'd had Holmes to care for me. Who had consoled these decent people, faced with such trouble not of their making? I hoped someone had.

"This is not the first trouble of this kind you have had, is it" said Holmes. It was a statement, not a question. "I would venture to surmise that your son had a very bad War, did he not?"

"They're all, bad, sir," said the Major. And I'm hardly telling you anything you don't know, am I? (David's father, I reflected, was no fool.). "But yes, David's was quite bad. He lost his brother and two of his oldest friends, as well as most of the men in his first command. He was even held for a time behind enemy lines. He does not speak of his experiences, not even to me. But I know they are with him still."

"Tragic all around," said Holmes "For the men who came back to Blighty as much as for those who lie in Flanders. I daresay, Major, that you're not the only father in England who sees a stranger looking out of his son's eyes and answering to his name, and who wonders if that brave bright lad who boarded the troopship will ever really come home."

Something passed between the two men in that moment, a kinship no less real for being unacknowledged, a shared grief, father to father. The Major rose, and Holmes clasped his proffered hand.

"Perhaps," Holmes continued, "this not yet so bad that it cannot be mended. My immediate goals have been met here- Miss Russell has recovered her dead mother's earrings and her reputation appears be intact. Now, I have an acquaintance, shall we say, at the War Office who gave me the name of a medical man who specialises in shell shock. Perhaps a consultation with him might be of use? I think I can offer you something stronger than tea while we discuss it, if you would care to join me indoors. No doubt Miss Russell will wish to change and read her letter in privacy."

I too, rose to shake the Major's hand, then impulsively leaned forward to kiss his cheek as though he were Uncle John. "I'm sorry, sir, for all this. I, too, liked you very much, and I wish you well. Give Alix my best and thank her for me. And tell David I wish him well too, won't you?"

He nodded and turned into the house with Holmes.

When the door closed, I picked to my note, examining the paper automatically as Holmes had taught me. Thick cream-colored stock from an exclusive stationer in Bond Street. No watermark visible. The hand shaky, as might befit an injured man, I thought with a mixture of rue and satisfaction. Sealed with wax and a regimental insignia from a signet or no-a sleeve button.

One sheet of paper inside. I unfolded it.

"Mary. I am sorry. There is so much more to say than that, but it bears repeating. You knew, did you not, that I hoped to give you a ring to go with these lovely earrings? I did and do love you very much. I hope you can find it in your heart to believe that. However, Father has succeeded in convincing me that I am no fit husband for any woman at present. So this is of course good -bye. I shall not trouble you further except to say again that I bitterly regret this ending of all my hopes. Spare me a kind thought occasionally if you can. I, my love, shall never forget you. God bless you. D."

Well, I thought. So this was my first and probably only love letter. This was the voice of the man I thought I had known, tender charming and sincere. But that was not, I realized all there was to him. Did we all have these unexpected depths, I wondered, these cracks in our souls through which evil could enter? Theologians had been puzzling over this for centuries, and I certainly was doing no better at finding an answer. I read my letter again and slowly tore it into tiny pieces that no finder could ever decipher. Then I opened my hand and watched them float away on the wind, through the orchard and past the hives.

So this was the end of David, handsome charming David; he of the quick wit, strong arms, fast car and delightful kisses. I waited for an upwelling of emotion, I expected more tears; but none came. I was puzzled by how little sadness I felt. I'd come within a hair's breadth of getting engaged to the man, shouldn't I be grieving his loss, as I had last night?

The habit of rigorous thought, once developed, can be a burden as well as a blessing. I was beginning to understand that while I would always regret the way things had ended, the acute phase of my reaction had passed. I might still grieve, but I would weep no more. I had to acknowledge, if only to myself, that a great deal of his attraction for me had been the very pleasant physical sensations that he could arouse in my body, and my curiosity as to where those sensations might lead. And, I realised ruefully, I'd been a little overly fond of the envy and wonder of my friends as they saw shy, bluestocking, unprepossessing Mary Russell receive an eligible-very eligible- man's flattering attentions.

The envy of one's friends and the reactions of one's body might not be the soundest basis for a lifelong partnership, I reflected. It would certainly not make for the kind of marriage my mother had had with my father. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to marry at all.

My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a motorcar starting. I looked up to see Holmes, gravely courteous, standing in the drive to watch the Major drive away. The car lumbered up the drive, then picked up speed, and soon was gone, leaving nothing behind it but dust settling in to a gravel drive on a limpid Sussex morning. Holmes turned on his heel and walked back to the terrace. He didn't sit down when he reached the table, but grimaced at his cooling tea and gave me a searching glance.

"Are you... quite all right, Russell?"

I smiled. "You know Holmes, I am. I do believe I am. How is the Major?"

"Finding his part in the human comedy a bit hard to play, I fear. Poor man. There but for the grace of God.." He shook his head. "I, Russell," he said, "propose to go for a walk. Would you care to join me?"

A walk with Holmes. O blessed normality. "I would indeed. I'll go back for my boots and meet you."