The Spider Web (A Sherlock Holmes Uncovered Tale Book 4)

by Steven Ehrman

  She took leave of me at once and went upstairs. I decided to look in upon the conservatory to see if the cousins were still doing battle. The game was apparently over, as the room was empty. The board and pieces still remained upon a table. The game had ended with a victory by white, as I had thought it would.

  I heard a slight cough behind me, and turned and found that Hudson was at my elbow.

  “Excuse me, sir, but I was about to remove the chess set and return it to the great hall,” he intoned, in a deep rumble.

  “Is that where it customarily resides?” I asked.

  “Indeed, sir. The master is a man of most regular habits and when items are disarranged, it causes him much discomfort. If you will allow me.”

  The portly butler, moving with more grace and speed than I would have given him credit for, gathered up the pieces and the board and exited the room. I spent a few more minutes admiring the glasswork of the room and then decided to proceed upstairs and prepare for the evening. As I passed through the great hall, I saw that the chess set now occupied a marble table in front of a large sofa on one side and a identical sofa on the other, with several comfortable leather arm chairs about the room. As I was admiring the set, I was joined by Percy.

  “So, I see you’ve had the royal tour, eh, Holmes,” he said.

  “I have indeed,” I returned. “This set is most unusual.”

  “Yes, my uncle brought that back from one of his tramps through the orient, they say. Or was it darkest Africa? It is difficult to keep the stories straight. At any rate, it is one of his prized possessions.”

  Percy seemed to lose his train of thought and I waited, whilst he composed himself.

  “No, it was the orient,” he continued at length. “The white pieces are ivory and the black pieces are onyx. The board itself is mahogany I believe.”

  “Surely, mahogany is not native to the orient,” I observed.

  “Well, then it might not have come from the orient or, perhaps I am confused about the type of wood. Surely, it is of little importance.”

  “Perhaps not, but I do like to be exact if possible. It does appear to be mahogany to me, but that wood is native to the Americas. Perhaps that is where it comes from.”

  “That’s possible I suppose,” said Percy reluctantly, “but I do not believe that the old boy has ever been to the Americas.”

  “Perhaps it was sent from there as a gift from a friend of Sir John’s.”

  “Or perhaps it was purchased from anywhere in the world, or one of a hundred explanations. My goodness, but you are trying at times, Holmes.”

  At that moment, Agatha Hardwick came into the room from the entrance hall.

  “Ah, the very person to settle this,” cried Percy. “Aunt Agatha, as you have been here with uncle since the beginning, perhaps you can tell us where this chess set came from.”

  “I do not recall precisely,” said the woman, after a brief pause. “It seems that John brought it back from Africa, years ago. He doesn’t even play the game anymore. He was absolutely keen about it in his youth.”

  “But why does it hold such an exalted place in his heart, if it is a mere trifle he picked up?” asked my friend.

  “Because he is a silly sentimental fool, as all men are,” replied the aunt acidly.

  “Why, Aunt Agatha, I am shocked to hear you speak in this manner.”

  “This business with his betrothal just brings it all back to mind now. How silly men are over women. Women are much more practical, I can tell you, despite what you men think.”

  “I would not want to essay an opinion upon the subject of women I assure you, dear aunt,” said Percy, with a laugh. “As for the situation, surely it is better to accept the decision of Uncle John rather than continually castigate him for it. After all, it is done.”

  “That is where you are wrong, young pup,” said Agatha. “It is not done. It is merely announced. We shall see.”

  With that cryptic statement, she swept from the room and disappeared up the stairs.

  “Has the entire family gone mad?” Percy muttered to me. “I know how love can drive a man to do almost anything, but then I do not imagine that you have ever experienced love yourself, Holmes.”

  “It is true that I am not a romantic man,” I said. “It is not a state of reason, but I have observed the effects of love upon the human animal. The progression has many well plotted steps, but there is always the unknown. Who knows for certain what lies in a man’s heart? Or a woman’s for that matter.”

  “That is almost poetic, Holmes,” said Percy. “I did not realize that you had it in you. Perhaps a human heart beats after all within that chest of science and thought.”

  “If you prick me, do I not bleed, Percy?” I asked.

  “Of course, old boy. That is quite well said actually.”

  “I have read the whole of Shakespeare, you know. As you have pointed out, part of detection is the ability to understand people and emotions. Surely, there is no better chronicler of the human condition than the bard himself.”

  “You know, of course, that some dispute Shakespeare’s authorship of his works,” averred Percy.

  “I am certainly aware of the argument against Shakespeare having written what is accorded to him. But such theories overlook the strongest point in Shakespeare’s favor.”

  “And what, pray tell, would that be, my learned friend?”

  “Why, that Shakespeare’s name is on them as author,” I replied. “Surely, that is powerful evidence.”

  “But, Holmes, that theory takes no detective work. I am surprised you posit that as the basis for your conclusion. A child could have arrived at that decision.”

  “And thereupon is the problem with disordered thinking,” I replied. “The most complicated, convoluted answer is not normally the correct one. The philosophy of Ockham tells us that the simplest explanation is likely the correct one. In fact, we should go to our rooms soon. Can you deduce why that is so?”

  “Well, the simplest explanation,” began Percy, “is that we need to go to our rooms in order to dress for dinner this evening.”

  “Well done, my boy,” I said. “You are coming along, I must say!”

  Chapter Eight

  We ascended the stairs together and went to our separate rooms. I rested for a time and contemplated the people that I had met. The various Hardwicks were all in a state of excitement. Either in anticipation of the wedding of Sir John, as were Sir John himself and his bride Miss Stuart, or in horror of it, as were all of the others, save Percy and possibly Miss Grafton. I wondered if Sir John realized just how volatile the situation was.

  At the appropriate hour, Percy called upon me and we went downstairs together. As we entered the dining room, I saw that all were seated, except for the perspective bride and groom. The atmosphere was subdued, if not glum, and Percy and I sat.

  Presently, Sir John and Irene Stuart came in, arm-and-arm, and they were also seated. As dinner was served the conversation was amiable. There was no mention of the upcoming nuptials, and the tension seemed somewhat lessened as old habits of congeniality between the family members reasserted themselves.

  Sir John chattered on about his book. He was apparently up to the discovery of the river, which had led to his knighthood. All of the ladies listened attentively, with Irene Stuart gently correcting Sir John on various details. Gradually, Jane and Percy fell into conversation whilst I was drawn into the usual argument between George and Robert Hardwick.

  It was difficult to tell just how the deep the animus ran between these two. Much of the arguing was decidedly good natured, particularly on the part of George Hardwick, while real venom was occasionally expressed most often by Robert Hardwick. It was normally during these exchanges that Robert was able to reduce George to a sputtering mess. It was obvious that George Hardwick was possessed of a fine intellect, but he had not the quick wit in conversation that his cousin possessed. George was a man of much fewer words, but likely the better man of action. I
speculated that most men would rather have George Hardwick next to them in the regiment rather than Robert.

  At a certain point Miss Agatha Hardwick, as she had done at the noon meal, was compelled to scold Robert for his deliberate baiting of his cousin. I saw Percy smile as the two men were chastened, as if they were boys. As dinner was cleared away, Sir John stood, and Miss Stuart took his arm. Their action was the signal that the meal had come to a close and we all retired to the great hall.

  The weather was temperate, but a fire was built in the great hall nonetheless. The manor was cool in the evenings, as many old English structures were, and the warmth from the fire was welcome. Hudson, and two under butlers, appeared with the champagne. All were served and a silence fell over the group.

  George Hardwick took a tentative step forward and spoke. “I would like to toast the happy couple,” he said. “A long and happy marriage to my uncle, Sir John Hardwick, and his bride to be, Miss Irene Stuart. Please, raise your glasses with me.”

  All did as they were bid, save Agatha Hardwick, whom I noticed merely held her glass, and the couple were toasted. The men clapped Sir John on the back and Jane Grafton hugged and kissed Miss Stuart. Agatha Hardwick took a seat as if very weary, but evinced no ill will towards the celebrating couple.

  I found Robert Hardwick standing next to me with an empty glass in his hand.

  “Well, the old fellow does seem quite happy,” he stated. “Maybe this is for the best.”

  “You seem to have recovered from your surprise from earlier today,” I observed.

  “What’s that? Oh, yes, quite,” he said. “My goodness, I seem to have an empty glass. Hudson, if you please.”

  The butler waddled over to us and refilled Robert’s glass. I demurred from another glass for myself and noted that the smell of brandy was about Hudson. I caught Robert Hardwick watching me, and he broke into a broad grin, as if reading my mind.

  “I see that you have discovered a family secret, Mr. Holmes, “ he said, with a twinkle. “It is generally acknowledged that Hudson tipples.”

  “I am surprised that your uncle would tolerate such behavior.”

  “Well, Hudson has served this family for many years,” said Robert expansively. “His father was Sir John’s valet during his roving days, and later the old boy’s butler. The position has apparently become hereditary, as the son eventually ascended to his father’s position. Uncle will hear nothing against him, and it is really a small frailty, at any rate.”

  As Robert Hardwick finished his statement, he also finished his glass. I wondered if he was forgiving towards Hudson because they shared a similar character flaw. We were joined by his cousins, George and Jane.

  “And just what are you two talking about?” asked Jane, in a lighted hearted manner.

  “Merely a few of the family skeletons falling out of the closet, Jane,” said Robert.

  “Really, Robert, must you always play the fool?” asked his cousin George.

  “Every court has a fool, George. As uncle is our sovereign, and is about to make Miss Stuart his queen, I should think that the job of fool is a necessary one,” returned Robert.”

  “When you are in this state, you are impossible to reason with,” said George, staring at the empty glass of his cousin.

  “Now, boys. Do not make Aunt Agatha rap you across the knuckles again. Play nice,” said Jane.

  “It is easy for you to say, Jane,” said George sternly. “You are not the butt of Robert’s, so-called wit. I see how everyone treats him as the gentle rogue. You, Aunt Agatha, and even Uncle John, seem to find him funny, but I assure you that I do not.”

  “I am sorry, cousin,” said Robert. “I sometimes forget that your lack of humor extends not only from expressing it, but also in recognizing it.”

  “Buffoon,” George snorted, and walked away with dignity.

  “You’ll push George too far one day,” said Jane. “Still waters, you know.”

  “I know what I am doing dear, Jane,” said Robert as he stalked off. I observed him refill his glass again.

  “I wish he wouldn’t taunt poor George like that,” said Jane, with a worried expression. “You do not want to push George too far. Its dangerous.”

  “What’s dangerous?” asked Percy, as he joined us.

  “Oh nothing,” said Jane distractedly. “I must speak to Aunt Agatha.

  Jane walked off towards her aunt and Percy cast an arched eyebrow towards me. I explained briefly the conversation of the last few minutes. Percy gradually broke into a broad grin.

  “Well, isn’t that our family in sum.”

  I questioned him upon that statement.

  “Oh, it is simply the first act of a play I have seen many times. Roberts frustrates George with his quick wit and sharp tongue, whilst Jane attempts to play peacemaker and tries to keep a foot in both camps.”

  “And what part do the rest play?” I asked.

  “Well, as to that Uncle John, of course, has always been the king and Aunt Agatha has performed almost as his chaste queen.”

  “And Miss Stuart? What role does she play?”

  “Let me see,” Percy mused. He snapped his fingers. “I have it. We can assign her the part of Anne Boleyn.”

  “Let us hope that she does not suffer the same fate, Percy,” I observed.

  Percy laughed at my warning, yet I felt a distinct chill in the air. Thoughts of danger and ill will vanished as we were joined by our host and his prospective bride.

  “Mr. Holmes,” said Sir John in greeting. “I am glad that you are here to celebrate with us.”

  The couple were beaming and gazing at one another in obvious affection.

  “I am most pleased to be here, I assure you, sir,” I answered.

  “That is a polite return, Mr. Holmes, but from what Percy has told me in his letters, you are a most reticent man when it comes to society. I fear that you did not expect to find yourself in social engagements.”

  “While it is true that I am a bit of a social hermit, I am by no means a misanthrope, and I am truly happy to be able to toast your future happiness.”

  “That is well spoken, and I thank you, sir,” he replied. “I understand you have been able to inspect my laboratory. I hope you found it adequate to your needs.”

  “Adequate, and more, Sir John. It is an impressive set up for a non-university setting. I would like to have inspected it further, but your lovely niece insisted that I take a tour of the estate with her.”

  “She is proud of it, as we all are. At any rate, you will have ample time to secrete yourself in the laboratory during your holiday. I can assure you that, save the official announcement in a fortnight, the house will be free of social engagements.”

  I was about to thank Sir John for his hospitality, when an argument between George and Robert Hardwick broke out. Agatha Hardwick was standing nearly in between them, attempting to calm them down when; I heard George Hardwick’s voice rise above the others.

  “I simply will not stand for this!” he shouted.

  A sneer crossed the face of Robert Hardwick. He began to answer, when George Hardwick struck him forcefully across the face with the back of his hand. With a roar, Robert sprang at his cousin, with his hands clutching for the throat of the other man. Percy and I both rushed towards the men. In a bound, each of us were able to restrain the combatants.

  Percy was struggling to hold George Hardwick. His elder cousin had an advantage by weight of at least a stone, but Percy was managing to keep him from escaping his grasp. My hold upon Robert was quite firm, and he discovered quickly that, although I was slight of build, my frame hid muscles hardened through exercise.

  Both men were huffing and puffing as their uncle stormed over.

  “Why, boys, this unseemly behavior is well…it’s unseemly,” he sputtered. “George, what could have caused you to strike Robert?”

  “He well knows, uncle, but it is a private matter,” replied George with dignity. “I will not speak of it, especially
in mixed company.”

  I noticed Irene Stuart blush, Jane Grafton smile, and Agatha Hardwick frown.

  “The women all know you’re a stuffed shirt, George,” said Robert, and made as if to charge at his cousin again.

  “No more of this,” scolded Sir John. The tone in his voice finally penetrated the skulls of the two men and for the first time they seemed to realize just how angry their uncle was. “Now, shake hands like gentlemen. I insist upon it. Come now.”

  Robert and George approached each other cautiously. George stuck his hand out first and Robert took it, and they shook firmly.

  “My apologies to all,” said George, with shame. “I cannot tell you how badly I feel for disrupting this happy occasion.”

  “That was well said,” stated Robert, with a gentle calmness. “Perhaps, I have made rather too merry with drink this evening and it has loosened my tongue somewhat. I apologize, and if you will excuse me, I will retire for the night.”

  He gave a short bow and ascended the stairs and disappeared from view. The party was resumed, but it was a desultory affair in the aftermath of the dispute, and by silent acclimation the gala ended early with all, save Percy and I, retiring to our bedchambers. We sat and Percy, though normally somewhat abstentious, called for a drink. It was brought by one of the under butlers, Hudson was nowhere in sight, and Percy drained his glass in a gulp.

  “I suppose I should thank you. Percy,” said I.

  “My goodness, for what, my dear Holmes?” he asked bewildered.

  “Why, for another up close look at the human condition,” I said. “I shall most certainly catalogue this evening for future perusal. It was most informative.”

  Percy stared at me, agog for a moment, and then burst into laughter.

  “I say, Holmes, those that suspect you of a lack of humor are sorely mistaken. Shall we retire?” he asked.