by Mrs Hudson
‘Sir Reginald Birdlip, of the Gloucestershire Birdlips. Mrs Hudson was in service with his uncle at the time of the Italian loans affair. Saved Sir Reginald from certain ruin, she did. Of course she was still only a parlour maid then, and I was a very callow young fellow myself. But when she came to me with her observations there was no doubting her sharpness. Had she not understood the significance of the dust accumulating beneath the stair-rods, the fraud might never have come to light. Sir Reginald pretty much owes her everything.’
‘I see, sir,’ I replied, although in truth I saw very little. ‘I don’t think Mrs Hudson has ever mentioned it.’
‘Of course after that she couldn’t remain with the Birdlips,’ the good solicitor continued. ‘Too awkward. She simply knew too much. I was lucky enough to be able to point her towards a rather better position, where she rapidly rose through the ranks. And then of course young Bertie Codlington disappeared from Codlington Hall, and only Mrs Hudson was able to offer any explanation. Had she not realised the importance of the half-eaten omelette and the train ticket for Bodmin, we would never have discovered the bungalow near Scarborough, and Bertie would most certainly have committed bigamy with the under-cook.’
Mr Rumbelow shook his head admiringly as he recalled it.
‘And so things went on, Flotsam. Of course you’ll have heard most of the stories already. And it’s been my great privilege, down the years, to have assisted her from time to time. Indeed it was I who found this post for her, when she told me she wanted a little peace and quiet. That was just after the affair at Baltham Hall, you see. Lord Bilborough never knew who rescued the pearls, but Rothebury knew, and so did Rochester and Lord Arlington, and they all wanted her to come to them. But she’s never one for the limelight, you know. She likes to keep to the shadows.’
‘Indeed I do, sir, indeed I do.’ The voice startled us both, coming as it did from the actual shadows by the back door. Mrs Hudson had let herself in so quietly that neither of us had been aware of her presence. ‘And if you please, sir, you won’t go filling Flotsam’s head with all those stories. Flotsam is a bright girl but she has a lot of learning ahead of her, and she’ll learn all the quicker if she’s not distracted by nonsense of that sort.’
‘Er, quite so, Mrs Hudson.’ Mr Rumbelow coughed apologetically. ‘Yet you cannot deny that over the years your position in some of our great houses has made you privy to some remarkable goings-on. She is too modest, Flotsam,’ he concluded. ‘Always a good deal too modest.’
‘I see you have made a start on the Mulgrave, sir.’ Mrs Hudson’s voice was stern but I knew her well enough by then to detect the warmth in it. ‘Is it to your satisfaction?’
‘Why, madam …’ Mr Rumbelow seemed genuinely lost for words. ‘It is … it is everything you told me and more. When you told me you planned to open a bottle . . . Why, such felicity, Mrs Hudson, such perfect felicity!’
‘Yes, sir, I thought you would enjoy it. And of course as my time here comes to an end, it is I who should be thanking you. I asked you to find me a quiet place free from scandal and skulduggery, and this position has been exactly that. Working here has been a pleasure, hasn’t it, Flotsam?’
I bobbed my agreement, and Mr Rumbelow allowed himself another sip of the port. Thus fortified, he took a deep breath.
‘Which brings me, of course, to my reason for seeking this interview. For it was not, you understand, solely with the intention of relieving you of your old tawny. Mrs Hudson, it has come to my attention that you have yet to find yourself a new position and your tenure here will end all too soon. Now, I am aware that a woman of your talents, for there is never a household run in quite the way that yours is run . . . As I say, a woman of your talents cannot be short of offers of, er, employment, from any number of quarters. But if I could offer any assistance …’
‘Go on, sir,’ encouraged Mrs Hudson, ‘your advice is always welcome, although I have a small sum put away and a mind to wait for the post that suits me.’
‘Quite. Just as you say, Mrs Hudson. Quite so. But in the last few days I have received a most earnest missive from Lord Arlington renewing his previous offers. I need hardly tell you …’
‘His Lordship’s good opinion is most gratifying, sir, but that house of his at Egremont … A most unappealing edifice, and inconvenient in every way. No wonder the soup there is never properly warm.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Mr Rumbelow allowed his forehead to pucker a little. ‘I did indicate to his lordship that I thought your agreement unlikely … But if Egremont does not appeal, how about Woolstanton? Or Rothebury Manor? I know you would be welcomed with great enthusiasm at either establishment. Or failing those, I believe a discreet approach to Lady Carmichael …’
But Mrs Hudson’s face remained impassive as a series of great names were listed to her and, when Mr Rumbelow tailed off, the housekeeper reached into her apron and produced a neat square of paper.
‘The truth is, sir, that while the positions you mention are all very well, there is a particular post that I have in mind. I believe this address is familiar to you?’
She handed the paper to Mr Rumbelow with great dignity, but it was very clear from the solicitor’s reaction that the address she had given him was not one he had anticipated. His eyebrow twitched, then twitched again, and when he raised his eyes there was something approaching alarm in them.
‘Why, yes, Mrs Hudson. I handled this lease myself only a few days ago. The new tenants are two gentlemen, medical men of a sort, who have just taken these rooms in Baker Street. And it is true that they do indeed wish to engage a housekeeper. But I must tell you at once, Mrs Hudson, and in the most emphatic terms, that the position would be very different from those you are used to. It is but a pair of gentlemen in rooms who require someone to keep their little establishment in order. The gentlemen will mostly dine out, but there would be no cook to prepare what they may require in terms of breakfast or luncheon. I fear that side of things would all devolve to the housekeeper and whatever help she may have.’
He shook his head again and almost shuddered, as if appalled at the idea being put to him.
‘Now, I need hardly tell you, Mrs Hudson, that such a post would be very far beneath those to which you are accustomed. Oh dear, yes, very far indeed. And to be honest with you, the gentlemen concerned are very far from being your usual gentlemen. They have certain requirements of their domestic surroundings that are very far from orthodox. Yes indeed. Very, very far. One of the gentlemen mentioned that the housekeeper he was seeking must have no aversion to blood.’
I detected one of Mrs Hudson’s eyebrows rise very slightly above the horizontal, but she said nothing.
‘That is not to say,’ the lawyer continued hastily, ‘that there is anything in the least bit ghoulish about the gentlemen in question. They come with the most impeccable references. One indeed has recently covered himself in glory in Afghanistan. But given their unique requirements, I feel certain they will struggle to fill the position, even though they are willing to agree the most attractive terms with the individual they consider suitable. Quite enormously attractive, in fact. But, Mrs Hudson,’ he continued, lowering his voice, ‘you must see that such a position could not be for you.’
‘Blood, you say, sir?’
‘Er, blood, Mrs Hudson. But in vials. Always in vials, I am absolutely assured.’
‘And what else, sir?’
‘There was, I believe, some mention of bones. And indeed various organs, but always, I am told, safely stored in jars. And of certain artefacts from foreign parts that may be considered a little morbid by our modern society. One of the gentlemen mentioned that there would also be visitors of all descriptions arriving at irregular hours; not to mention various experiments of a chemical nature. Some playing of the violin may also take place, I believe. And the gentlemen stressed that they wished to appoint someone with a rational mind and a keen understanding. A self-defeating aspiration, I fear,’ concluded the lawyer, shaki
ng his head, ‘for anyone possessed of either would surely see that this was a position to avoid at any cost.’
Mrs Hudson’s eyebrow trembled for the briefest of moments. Then she rose to her feet and began to refold the laundry in a way suggestive of deep thought.
‘You interest me strangely, sir,’ she said at last. ‘It is not, as you say, the sort of position I would usually contemplate. But I am sure the gentlemen would also be requiring a maid like young Flotsam here?’
Mr Rumbelow looked momentarily disconcerted but then nodded slowly.
‘Well, indeed, Mrs Hudson. I am sure they must. And if you are really serious … Well, I’m sure Flottie here would be admirably suited to the gentlemen’s needs.’
‘And no doubt on similarly generous terms?’
‘Well, Mrs Hudson, if you really are determined to pursue this strange fancy … As I say, if you are so determined, then, yes, I’m sure the gentleman would wish to recognise Flotsam’s unique worth.’
Mrs Hudson folded the last piece of linen with a flourish.
‘Very well, Mr Rumbelow. You may inform Mr Sherlock Holmes that he has my permission to call.’
*
What took place when the gentleman did call, and just what passed between them, was something to which I was never a party. But on returning home on the evening of the following day, I was passed on the steps by a gentleman ascending. He paused for a moment to look at me and I was greatly struck by his restless, inquisitive demeanour. His features were not unusually defined, though many since have described them so. But the movement of his eyes as they passed over me in exacting scrutiny gave a great impression of restlessness, as if exposed to the winds of many different moods.
‘You must be Florence,’ he concluded, his examination complete.
‘Flotsam, if you please, sir.’
‘Precisely!’ he exclaimed, beginning once again to ascend the steps with an animal swiftness. ‘We shall all do very nicely!’ were the last words I heard before he vanished into the fog.
And in that way began a whole new existence. The next morning we said goodbye to our familiar basement and were instead marvelling at the piles of strange boxes and mysterious cases that had been sent on to Baker Street. I confess that as I wandered among them like an Israelite among the Pyramids I was subject to a growing curiosity about the strange gentlemen who possessed such exotic personal effects. Next to a large upright packing case the size of a wardrobe lay a small red chest marked Poisons. Beside it was an even smaller box marked Hair: Northern and another, Hair: Asiatic. Next to the fireplace was an old trunk, inscribed Various: Strangulation, Asphyxiation, Mesmerism, which, when moved, revealed the most thrilling of all – a flat case no thicker than a Bible bearing the legend Blood: Human.
Mrs Hudson did little to put an end to my ferocious curiosity as she unpacked the various domestic implements that had been sent on by Mr Rumbelow’s office according to a lengthy list she had composed the night before.
‘Bless you, Flottie, I have scarcely met Mr Holmes and I know very little of the man. Our conversation was confined to my telling him a little bit about myself and what he could expect from me. He strikes me as the kind of man who may benefit from a mite of frankness. Dr Watson, of course, I have yet to meet.’
‘And Mr Holmes is a medical man too, is he not?’
‘I can’t say that he is, Flottie. In fact I understand his interests lie in quite a different direction.’
‘Yes, ma’am, it’s just that Mr Rumbelow said they were both medical men. And from what I can tell, many of Mr Holmes’s books are medical books. And he has cases of instruments like I’ve seen through the windows of the hospital. And many of his cases have markings saying From the College of Surgeons, and such like. And the boy from Mr Rumbelow’s office who came to check on the deliveries told me that he had heard for certain that Dr Watson and Mr Holmes had met in a hospital.’
Mrs Hudson paused in her unpacking and lowered herself gently onto a box marked Garments: Old Crones and Naval Officers.
‘Flotsam,’ she said, drawing me towards her, ‘you’re a bright girl and I’m delighted to say so. There are too many people who will tell you that it is not your place to speculate on things that don’t concern you, but I’ll have none of that. Where would we be if no-one had ever had the sense to speculate a little? And how are we to know what concerns us if we don’t do a little investigation first? The older I get, the more I realise that there’s very little that passes in this whole heaving city and beyond that doesn’t concern us all in one way or another. For if good, decent people don’t keep their wits about them, then it is the likes of Fogarty who will benefit.
‘So let me give you some advice, young Flottie. At your age I was like you, seeing everything, hearing everything, always looking for the facts beneath things so I could put them together in a way that made sense. Well, Flottie, I’ve come to understand that in this world facts are very largely used to keep the likes of us in our places. Now I’ve got nothing against that. I like my place plenty well enough and I’m not looking to move into anyone else’s. But I’ve grown to know that if you start letting facts cloud your judgement you’ll spend most of your life being wrong for all the right reasons. No, Flottie, take my advice and learn to heed that little voice inside you that tells you what’s right even when all the facts get in the way.’
She stirred from the packing case.
‘Now that’s enough lecturing, and don’t you get the idea that I think it’s honest behaviour to go peeking into packing cases that belong to others. If I just went by facts, I’d have clipped your ear and turned you out by now. But right now I need you to unpack the linen. The gentlemen will be here tomorrow night and they’ll be expecting the place to be straighter than a sergeant major’s trousers.’
But the gentlemen arrived much sooner than we expected. I was making up the beds and looking forward to the bit of bread and cheese that we had brought for supper when I heard Mrs Hudson exclaim, ‘My goodness, Mr Holmes, what a shock you gave me! We weren’t expecting you till this hour tomorrow.’
A voice I recognised from the previous evening replied, ‘Apologies, Mrs Hudson. I fear that Watson and I make a science out of the unexpected. So anxious are we to get down to some serious study in the peace of our own rooms that nothing would deter us from altering our plans and proceeding here at once. Let me introduce the excellent Dr Watson. And where is the inestimable, er, Flottie?’
At that I was called in to perform a curtsy that did Mrs Hudson proud. Despite the proliferation of boxes, Mrs Hudson had created a semblance of order in the principle room, soon known to us all as the study, where the two gentleman were now standing; where, over the years, they were to interview so many visitors and pass so many distinguished hours. It was not a large room but had a good window, curtained now with soft dark drapes, and below it a solid dining table. In the centre of the room, the armchairs faced a welcoming fireplace; behind them a door opened onto a narrow corridor, at the end of which lay the stairs down to the street door and our kitchen; while the gentlemen’s bedrooms were gained through a door in the fourth wall. The decoration of the main room was so contrived that by day it was airy and practical but by night the walls seemed closer, the ceiling lower and the space between them dark and comfortable like a cave on a stormy night. In the lamplight, Mr Holmes seemed slightly softer, less lean and angular than before. Dr Watson was a kindly looking man, though not perhaps in the best of health. He mumbled some warm words and then expressed his intention to lie down for a few moments before supper.
‘Supper, sir?’ Mrs Hudson’s eyebrow turned upwards and twitched dangerously. ‘Surely you gentlemen will be dining out tonight? There’s not a mouthful of food in the house, I’m afraid, sir.’
‘Fear not, Mrs Hudson,’ Mr Holmes chuckled jovially, ‘anticipating just such an eventuality, I took the precaution on the very day we secured the rooms of ordering some foodstuffs to be delivered immediately. And that, if I am
not very much mistaken, is the very box, there in the corner beneath Watson’s collection of surprising Oriental art works. It will be the labour of an instant for me to transport it to the kitchen and I’m sure we can then prevail upon you to see us towards a little supper.’
It wasn’t until we were alone in the kitchen that I dared look at Mrs Hudson’s face. To my surprise, instead of indignation there was a certain resigned amusement.
‘Well, Flottie,’ she sighed with the suspicion of a smile, ‘we took this position because it interested us to do so. And I can see that the gentlemen aren’t going to disappoint.’
She was halted by a swift knock at the kitchen door, followed in an instant by the entry of Mr Holmes. Our previous employers had never been tolerated in Mrs Hudson’s domestic demesne but at Baker Street things were different from the start. The kitchen there was, for me, the best room in the house, warm and safe whether full of angled morning sunshine or lit only by a flicker from the range. And indeed through the years to come, when Dr Watson was out or resting or keeping his room after one of their disagreements, Mr Holmes was often to be found beside our fire with a bottle or two of brown ale, listening avidly to Mrs Hudson’s explanations of various domestic mysteries. It was, I think, a side of him that Dr Watson never really saw; perhaps it was a side for which the public wasn’t ready.
But this time he was here on more important matters.
‘Well, Mrs Hudson, I trust that the few things I sent along will prove adequate for a simple repast?’
‘Mr Holmes, just when was it that you agreed to take these rooms?’
‘At ten minutes after eleven on the morning of the 22nd,’ he replied.
‘That would be two weeks ago, Mr Holmes.’
‘Fifteen days, to be precise.’
‘And are you aware what effect fifteen days may have on a box of meat and vegetables? Even one which appears to have been thrown together by someone under the influence of strong drink?’