The Angel of the Opera
Page 29
“Oh, Henry–I do love you.”
I kissed her again, and she responded vigorously. At last she drew away. “This will never do. We are only getting ourselves all hot and bothered.”
“Very hot and bothered.”
She caressed my cheek again. “Yes, extremely so.” She sighed. “That rhododendron there is quite spectacular. Besides hiding us from any watchers in the house, it shares its beauty with us.”
The plant in question was a good ten feet tall, more tree than bush. The sunlight glistened on the large, glossy green leaves, and the iridescent flowers were pale pink with streaks of orange and bronze in their centers.
“I have not seen blooms of that shade before,” I said. “Perhaps the Major brought it back from India. The Himalayas are home to many unusual varieties.”
“A pity he could not have limited himself to rhododendrons and left blood cults and dark goddesses behind. He must not have been completely bad, or Susan would not have turned out so well. Of course, we are all of us a mixture of good and bad.”
“Except for you,” I said. “You are quite perfect.”
She laughed and squeezed my arm with both her hands. “You know better, you who have so nobly eaten my cooking.”
“I did not marry you for your cooking, it is true. However, one may hire a cook to remedy deficits in that skill, but there are those wifely duties which cannot be contracted out, not if one wishes to remain within the bounds of propriety.”
She stared at me, then laughed. “We had best continue our walk. This bush does not provide an ideal spot for those wifely duties of which you speak.” We began to stroll again. “I wish Sherlock could provide for himself as well as he has provided for Erik.”
“Yes,” I replied. “I never before realized his talents as a matchmaker. I am not certain when the idea of bringing Erik here first occurred to him, but it must have been early on. He was sly about this business.
I was convinced for an entire week that Erik was dead, buried under tons of rubble. Imagine my surprise when I went one day to Baker Street and discovered Erik seated on the sofa in the parlor. He had fled the Opera via one of his secret passages, taking little more than his precious violin. He came to London alone, disguised again as a tall old woman in black. Naturally this was all done with Sherlock’s help.”
“I wonder how Sherlock convinced him to flee. You said he seemed most determined to end his life.”
“He did indeed. That is why the thought he might still be alive never crossed my mind. When I saw him in London, I actually wondered for an instant if he were a specter. The nature of Sherlock’s persuasion is obvious: he must have told him about Susan Lowell.”
“She does seem perfect for him.”
“Yes. That concert they gave us was extraordinary. It would have been a tragedy for such a genius to have snuffed out his life. Sherlock understood him from the first, even as he understood that I would see the light about you. Watson may have made him perhaps the most famous misogynist in England; yet he knows much about the secrets of the human heart.”
Michelle shook her head. “He is no misogynist; he is a good actor, but not that good. I have seen how he looks at Susan. Bringing Erik here was no small sacrifice on his part.”
“Perhaps someday he will look to his own needs.”
“Perhaps, but...” She sighed. “Men are curious creatures, so self-important and so resolute; yet they know almost nothing of their inner lives, their inner thoughts and feelings. They mean only to protect themselves, but they do harm instead. They are like plants raised in the dark out of the light. They grow gangly and stunted, deformed. They deny themselves the greatest happiness our sad little lives can offer us. I have seen so much self-inflicted misery, so much sorrow that might have been avoided. Loving is not so very difficult, is it?”
“No. You are not only beautiful, Michelle.” My words caught in my throat.
She squeezed my arm and gave me a glance that made me want to kiss her again. She gazed off into the distance back at the castle. “Here comes Sherlock. Let us walk with him.”
“Perhaps he wishes to be alone.”
“I do not think so; I think he needs comforting.”
‘‘Comforting’? Never let him hear you say such a thing.”
She smiled. “Come on, Henry.”
We started back along the mossy path. He was strolling along at a good clip, walking stick in hand. He had changed clothes, trading his frock coat and top hat for a tweed Norfolk jacket and a felt hat.
He smiled at us, yet his face still seemed drawn and tired. “And how do you find the grounds today? The light appears most remarkable, the temperature perfect.”
Michelle circled about him, then put her hand on his left arm. “It is indeed, and now we shall enjoy the fine view in your company.”
“I fancy Henry, selfish knave that he is, would rather have you to himself.”
“No matter. I shall have to endure him for many long and wearisome years to come, while you will no doubt be rushing off in another day or two.” She took my right arm with her free hand, then the three of us started down the path.
“Sherlock,” I said, “I must compliment you. You have done a very noble thing in bringing Erik to Susan Lowell.”
Holmes’s mouth stiffened, and he gave a slight shrug.
“I had not realized to what depths you would go to preserve your bachelorhood. Perhaps though, you will some day meet your Waterloo in female form.”
Holmes frowned. “Figurative language is not your strong point, Henry. You have taken one of the few worthy members of the female species. I must therefore resign myself to the solitary life.”
Michelle smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, is that all? I shall gladly abandon Henry to become your wife. I have, after all, put up with him for an entire week.”
I shook my head. “Worse and worse.”
Michelle was watching Sherlock closely. “All the same, I shall not rest until I see you married.”
“I fear you will have a very long wait.” Holmes glanced at the dark oaks along the distant ridge. “I am not the marrying kind. I lack patience. I would not inflict all my annoying habits and peccadillos on some poor woman. Besides, no woman could tolerate my slovenly habits and strange hours. She would attempt to reform me, and then the wars would begin.”
Michelle laughed. “Do you honestly believe there are no slovenly women who keep odd hours? I can assure you that you are wrong, for I am such a woman. I know there are others.”
I nodded. “I can vouch for the slovenliness.”
“I wish to be serious now,” Michelle said. “We have been jesting, but I have a request, Sherlock.”
“Anything you wish.”
“Do not be so accommodating, not before you know what I would ask.” She and my cousin stared at one another. “Promise that you will not close off your heart and attempt to live in isolation.”
“I cannot promise such a thing.”
Although the sun still shone, it began to rain lightly, so lightly it was difficult to know if the drops were real or imagined.
“And why not?”
“Because it goes against my nature.”
“Your nature.” Michelle’s voice was faintly ironic. “Can you understand Erik, can you save him, but not yourself? He built a complete world for himself, but one which cut him off entirely from everyone else. He considered himself a freak, a monster. At least he finally understood that his isolation was unbearable. Will you not learn from his example?”
Holmes did not reply; all traces of amusement were gone from his face. I agreed with Michelle, but I wondered if she had gone too far.
At last my cousin spoke. “I understand the parallels you speak of only too well.”
“Then will you promise me that you will never become a phantom and hide yourself behind a mask?”
“Definitely not. Life would be unbearable without our masks.”
“I am serious, Sherlock Holmes. Do not hide your
self from us, do not construct a Palais Garnier about your heart.”
Sherlock laughed. “You are a formidable foe, Michelle, but you ask too much. I promise you one thing only: from you and Henry I shall never hide myself, not completely. You will be my friends always, and you may remind me of my vow when I become curt and prickly. That must suffice.”
A few creases wrinkled Michelle’s brow. “I suppose that will have to do for now.” She stopped walking, slipped her hand about Holmes’s neck, then kissed him lightly on the mouth. They stared at one another; then we resumed walking.
“I envy you, Henry.” Sherlock’s face was flushed.
“If an unexceptional person like myself can be graced with such a partner, surely there is hope for Sherlock Holmes.”
Michelle smiled at me. I put my hand on the small of her back, just above the swell of her hips. Again I was grateful that the bustle had fallen out of fashion. Very softly, Sherlock began to hum the melody from the presto of the Kreutzer sonata.
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE STAR OF INDIA
Carole Buggé
Holmes and Watson find themselves caught up in a complex chess board of a problem, involving a clandestine love affair and the disappearance of a priceless sapphire. Professor James Moriarty leads the duo on a chase through the dark and dangerous back streets of London and beyond.
ISBN: 9780857681218
AVAILABLE AUGUST 2011
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
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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 JUNE 2011
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Richard L. Boyer
For many years, Dr. Watson kept the tale of The Giant Rat of Sumatra a secret. However, before he died, he arranged that the strange story of the giant rat should be held in the vaults of a London bank until all the protagonists were dead...
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AVAILABLE NOW!
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Edward B. Hanna
Grotesque murders are being committed on the streets of Whitechapel. Sherlock Holmes believes he knows the identity of the killer—Jack the Ripper. But as he delves deeper, Holmes realizes that revealing the murderer puts much more at stake than just catching a killer...
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Loren D. Estleman
When Sir Danvers Carew is brutally murdered, the Queen herself calls on Sherlock Holmes to investigate. In the course of his enquiries, the esteemed detective is struck by the strange link between the highly respectable Dr. Henry Jekyll and the immoral, debauched Edward Hyde...
ISBN: 9781848567474
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Fred Saberhagen
Wealthy British aristocrat Ambrose Altamont hires Sherlock Holmes to expose two suspect psychics. During the ensuing séance, Altamont’s deceased daughter reappears as a vampire—and Holmes vanishes. Watson has no choice but to summon the only one who might be able to help — Holmes’s vampire cousin, Prince Dracula.
ISBN: 9781848566774
AVAILABLE NOW!
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Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson travel to New York City to investigate the assassination of true-life muckraker and author David Graham Phillips is assassinated. They soon find themselves caught in a web of deceit, violence and political intrigue, which only the great Sherlock Holmes can unravel.
ISBN: 9781848566767
AVAILABLE NOW!
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H. Paul Jeffers
Written by future President Theodore Roosevelt long before The Great Detective’s first encounter with Dr. Watson, Holmes visits America to solve a most violent and despicable crime. A crime that was to prove the most taxing of his brilliant career.
ISBN: 9781848565098
AVAILABLE NOW!
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ISBN: 9781848565081
AVAILABLE NOW!
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Manley W. Wellman & Wade Wellman
Sherlock Holmes, Professor Challenger and Dr. Watson meet their match when the streets of London are left decimated by a prolonged alien attack. Who could be responsible for such destruction? Sherlock Holmes is about to find out...
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AVAILABLE NOW!
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Sherlock Holmes attends a séance to unmask an impostor posing as a medium, Sebastian Melmoth, a man hell-bent on obtaining immortality after the discovery of an ancient Egyptian papyrus. It is up to Holmes and Watson to stop him and avert disaster.
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SAM SICILIANO’s longtime fascination with gothic and fantasy fiction—subjects he once taught at university level—fuelled his interest in the ‘what if?’ possibility of a meeting between the Phantom of the Opera and the Great Detective. Author of several novels, he lives in Vancouver, Washington.