“I shall fetch her. You need not trouble yourself.” He started for the door.
Can they both be so blind—so ridiculously stupid? I asked myself, the silence gathering again, somehow more deafening than a clap of thunder.
“No—no! It shall not be—I will not let it!” I stood and savagely pushed over my chair. The crash made Violet start. She and Sherlock stared at me.
Gertrude appeared in the doorway. “Ma’am, is anything...?”
“I have matters under control, Gertrude. Please close the door.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Neither Violet nor Sherlock could meet my gaze. “I cannot bear it. You two will drive me mad! I cannot believe a grown man and woman can be so foolish. Perhaps you deserve to be the poor shriveled-up, desiccated creatures you pretend to be, for that is certainly where you are headed. I will not allow it because I know you love one another. You talk as if you had ice in your veins and withered hearts when your love is obvious to anyone with eyes in their head. I could see it. Henry could see it, and even Donald Wheelwright could see it. Both of you have fire in your veins, not ice.”
Holmes’ face was flushed. “I was not meant for a conventional life.”
“Of course you were not! And neither was Violet! You could not abandon consulting detection and become a banker living in a tidy house in the suburbs, nor could Violet take up knitting and raise a dozen angelic children. I would not wish such a fate on you—no more than I would wish it on Henry and me. Neither a conventional marriage nor what Sherlock calls a vulgar affair will do—you are both too decent.”
Violet laughed harshly, her face flushed. “‘Decent?’—I?”
“Yes! Your decency was what drove you to your crimes. What more is decency than the desire for justice and the hatred of injustice? Your acts came more from an excess of decency rather than a lack of that virtue. No, I do not expect the ordinary, but neither do I expect you to throw away your one chance for happiness—for love. You are nearly there! Do not suffocate yourselves. It is not so difficult as you believe.”
I turned to Violet. “You made a dreadful mistake—you took the wrong path, but you are being offered something few people get—a second chance. Take it—redeem yourself. Make something of your life. Sherlock will help you. Your husband was a brute, but you must know Sherlock would never hurt you. Again, these things are simpler than you think if you will but love one another.”
I paused to draw in my breath, my eyes sweeping about. I walked over to Sherlock. He wanted to retreat, but he watched me warily.
“Do you love Violet?” I asked.
“What?”
“A simple yes or no will suffice.”
His tongue flickered across his lower lip. “I... I am not sure I know what love is.”
“I think you know very well what love is, and I want an answer, not more equivocating, or quibbling, or philosophizing. Yes or no?”
His eyes stared past me at Violet. At last he said softly, “Yes.”
I strode over to Violet, who shrank back into the chair. “Do you love Sherlock?”
“I... I honestly do not know if... if I can love any man.”
Her confusion appeared genuine, but I would have none of it. “Well, if you could love any man, would Sherlock qualify, or is he too peculiar—too homely—too eccentric—to put up with?”
She shook her head. “Oh, no—no.”
“Very well, then I shall vouch for you.” I folded my arms. Both of them were staring at me. “Now then, it is customary after a declaration of love to embrace the beloved. Sherlock?” He stood with his big thin hands hanging awkwardly at his sides, his face still flushed.
I went over to Violet and put my hand on her shoulder. “Violet?” She stared up at me, her lips parted slightly, her dark eyes still anguished. “I... cannot. I...” Her voice was barely recognizable.
Holmes drew in his breath through his nostrils and squared his shoulders. “I really must be going.”
I bit at my lip and shook my head.
He was nearly to the door when Violet’s breath seemed to catch in her throat. She stood and strode quickly forward. Holmes heard her, paused, and then turned. Her arms swung about him, and she buried her face in his chest. I thought he might fall over, but he caught his balance and embraced her. Violet’s shoulders were shaking.
“Don’t,” he murmured. He touched her hair, the back of her neck, with his slender fingers.
“Oh, my heart will break,” she said. “I do love you—I swear I do—almost from the very first. That was why it was so hard—so dreadful. If there had been any way—if I had not been married to Donald—I would have stopped it—stopped everything! But now... You must believe I love you—you must.”
I sighed. “I am going out,” I said softly.
Violet drew back slightly from Holmes, her head turning toward me. “No, Michelle.” She stared up at him again, her arms still clasped about his back. “She cannot understand—she never will—but you can. I am not worthy of you—I...”
His gray eyes widened. “Not worthy?”
She shook her head. “No—not now. I am so very sorry, but that counts for nothing. I cannot... I must find some way to make up for what I have done. I do not know how I shall do it or how long it will take, but I must find a way. I was married to him for eight years, and although I hated him and was never happy—although I was miserable every minute—absolutely trapped—I still cannot... One cannot wave a wand and make eight years and all my crimes vanish. I must—I shall try to find a way, but...”
Her back was to me, but her eyes were obviously fixed on him, and they both seemed to have forgotten me. “I can wait for you,” he said.
“Could you? I cannot tell you how long it will be—it may be years—but...”
“I shall wait.”
“Thank you.” Again she pressed her face against his chest.
He closed his eyes, his gaunt face relaxing, his arms tightening as his big hands drew her closer.
“If you will wait,” she said, “then I shall find a way—somehow I shall find a way to live again and to make up for all the grief I have caused. But it may... It seems so unfair to you. Surely... surely you could do better than...?”
“No,” Holmes said with a quick shake of his head. “There is no one else—not now—nor will there ever be. I had thought I would go to my grave without... So long as I know that some day you will send for me, then I can wait—then I can hope.”
“I promise you,” she whispered fiercely. “I promise.”
Again his arms tightened about her, and I turned away, not wanting to intrude at such a moment, sorrow washing over me. The room was absolutely quiet, no one stirring for a long while.
“Go now,” Violet said at last.
Holmes held her hand. “Goodbye, Violet.” He hesitated, then raised her hand and gently kissed her knuckles.
Violet let her breath out in a tremulous sigh. He turned away, but she seized his arm, then rose up on her toes, touched his cheek with her fingertips and kissed him on the lips. “Au revoir,” she said.
Holmes opened his mouth, and then closed it. He turned and walked through the doorway. I followed him slowly. Violet caught my arm and kissed me on the cheek.
“Thank you, Michelle—for everything. And... try to understand.” Despite her tears, I saw a strange wild joy in her dark eyes.
Sherlock was at the front door putting on his greatcoat and gloves. His eyes softened when he saw me. “Do not pity me, Michelle. I have more than I ever hoped for.”
“You are easily pleased.”
He laughed. He pulled on his gloves and held his top hat in his right hand. He hesitated a moment, his eyes fixed on mine. “It is Violet I love, but then, every man cannot be so fortunate as Henry.” He immediately turned and stared out into the sunlight. “There is the promise of an interesting case in Geneva. Nothing so spectacular as that of the web weaver, but a bank vault mysteriously—and impossibly—empty. Give Henry my r
egards and tell him I shall see him as soon as he returns to London.” He stepped into the icy air and closed the door behind him.
I felt curiously numb, my emotions aswirl, but I badly wanted to see Henry and get some air. I was pulling on my heavy boots when Gertrude appeared, a frown on her face.
“Is everything all right, ma’am?”
“I do not know, Gertrude. I hope so. I am going out for a while.”
She helped me into my fur coat. I put on mittens, a hat, and dark glasses, and stepped out into the bracing air. To the left, the snowy road curved sharply into the trees and led to the train station, half a mile away. Holmes would have gone that way, but he was a brisk walker, and there was no sign of him.
To the right, toward the village, children were squealing and hurling snowballs, darting in and out of the firs. They reminded me of children in London, the same high voices, but with the guttural consonants of German. The boughs were heavy with the snow that had fallen two days ago. The light was dazzling on the snow, blinding, and the sky overhead was still absolutely brilliant blue.
I started for the village and had walked for about twenty minutes when I saw Henry coming from the opposite direction. I ran to him. His face was red from the cold, a thin layer of ice covering his mustache.
“What is it?” he asked. “What is wrong?”
“Sherlock has come—and gone. He and Violet told each other what dreadful, hopeless, unloving, dried-up people they were.”
“Oh, no—I can imagine what they might have said.”
“I lost my temper and gave them a talking to.”
“I’ll wager you did.” I slipped my hand about his arm and told him all that had happened.
When I finished he was silent for a while. “After all that has occurred, do you think they could simply...? No, Violet was right, but I think she will someday go to him. It is as you said: They do love one another. And she is the only woman who could ever happily raise pet spiders with him.”
“Do not joke about it!”
“I am sorry, Michelle. You are so generous with your love that you simply cannot understand.” He stopped, then set his hand on my shoulder. “Diseases of the heart are difficult to treat—I am not joking now. You have done as much as anyone could, Dr. Doudet Vernier. Time must do the rest. You must be patient.”
“You know I am not a patient person.”
He kissed me on the lips. His mustache was icy and prickly, but his breath was warm. “I know you are not, but now it is up to them.”
We held hands through our thick mittens. Ahead of us was the chalet where we were staying, smoke pouring from its narrow chimney. Blue shadow covered the snowy mountains on one side, while the crags on the other were bathed in a golden light, their tops radiant against the blue-black sky.
“It gets dark so early,” I murmured, “but it is lovely here.”
The wind murmured softly in the boughs of the firs, and we were nearly to the door when I realized there was another sound. I plunged forward, pulling Henry along.
“What is it?”
I stopped before the porch. “Hush.”
“But...”
He stopped as he heard it, too, and then the corners of his mouth vanished under his frozen mustache. Something caught in my throat, and a joyful shiver seemed to pass through my entire body, all the way to my toes. A laugh slipped from my lips and flew away as white vapor.
“Oh Violet,” I murmured.
The music of Bach, a partita for unaccompanied violin, could be heard faintly, its strange combination of passion, beauty, and intellect echoing dimly across that vast, glacial landscape.
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE ANGEL OF THE OPERA
Sam Siciliano
Paris 1890. Sherlock Holmes is summoned across the English Channel to the famous Opera House. Once there, he is challenged to discover the true motivations and secrets of the notorious phantom, who rules its depths with passion and defiance.
ISBN: 9781848568617
AVAILABLE NOW!
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE PEERLESS PEER
Philip José Farmer
During the Second World War, Mycroft Holmes dispatches his brother, Sherlock, and Dr. Watson to recover a stolen formula. During their perilous journey, they are captured by a German zeppelin. Subsequently forced to abandon ship, the pair parachute into the dark African jungle where they encounter the lord of the jungle himself...
ISBN: 9780857681201
AVAILABLE NOW!
ALSO AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS
MORIARTY
THE HOUND OF THE D’URBERVILLES
Kim Newman
Imagine the twisted evil twins of Holmes and Watson and you have the dangerous duo of Professor James Moriarty—wily, snake-like, fiercely intelligent, unpredictable—and Colonel Sebastian ‘Basher’ Moran—violent, politically incorrect, debauched. Together they run London crime, owning police and criminals alike. Unravelling mysteries—all for their own gain.
ISBN: 9780857682833
AVAILABLE NOW!
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE BREATH OF GOD
Guy Adams
A body is found crushed to death in the London snow. There are no footprints anywhere near. It is almost as if the man was killed by the air itself. While pursuing the case, Holmes and Watson travel to Scotland to meet with the one person they have been told can help: Aleister Crowley.
ISBN: 9780857682826
AVAILABLE NOW!
THE HARRY HOUDINI MYSTERIES DANIEL STASHOWER
AVAILABLE NOW
THE DIME MUSEUM MURDERS
THE FLOATING LADY MURDER
COMING SOON
THE HOUDINI SPECTER
In turn-of-the-century New York, the Great Houdini’s confidence in his own abilities is matched only by the indifference of the paying public. Now the young performer has the opportunity to make a name for himself by attempting the most amazing feats of his fledgling career–solving what seem to be impenetrable crimes. With the reluctant help of his brother Dash, Houdini must unravel murders, debunk frauds and escape from danger that is no illusion...
A thrilling series from the author of
The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Ectoplasmic Man
PRAISE FOR DANIEL STASHOWER:
“Magician Daniel Stashower pairs [Sherlock Holmes] with Harry Houdini (who was a friend of Conan Doyle)... This is charming... it might have amused Conan Doyle.”
New York Times
“In his first mystery, Stashower paired Harry Houdini and Sherlock Holmes to marvelous effect.”
Chicago Tribune
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ALSO AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS:
THE COMPLETE FU-MANCHU SERIES
SAX ROHMER
London, 1912—the era of Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, the Invisible Man, and Jack the Ripper. A time of shadows, secret societies, and dens filled with opium addicts. Into this world comes the most fantastic emissary of evil society has ever known. Sax Rohmer’s notorious villain returns in brand-new editions of the classic adventure novels.
The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu
The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu
COMING SOON
The Hand of Fu-Manchu
Daughter of Fu-Manchu
The Mask of Fu-Manchu
The Bride of Fu-Manchu
The Trail of Fu-Manchu
President Fu-Manchu
The Drums of Fu-Manchu
The Island of Fu-Manchu
The Shadow of Fu-Manchu
Re-enter Fu-Manchu
Emperor Fu-Manchu
The Wrath of Fu-Manchu and Other Stories
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The Web Weaver Page 37