The White Worm

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The White Worm Page 9

by Sam Siciliano


  “I’m sorry, Mr. Selton, but as you know, I have already been engaged.”

  Selton stared at him hard. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely serious.”

  He shook his head. “Impossible! This is insolence.”

  Holmes gave a brusque laugh. “Insolence? Hardly. My services are not up for auction to the highest bidder. Your son has employed me, and I shall do my utmost on his behalf.”

  Selton was still shaking his head. “I cannot believe it. I cannot. Do you have any children, Mr. Holmes? No? I sometimes think… it is just as well. There is generally more frustration and anger in fatherhood than satisfaction. That and… disappointment. Can you not understand? Miss Marsh simply will not do.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  He stared at me in disbelief. Obviously he had thought I was to be a silent observer, not a participant. “Because she has nothing to offer. She is also quite plain and… What are you smirking at, sir?”

  “Obviously you must not care for redheads, but as I am married to one, my opinion differs.”

  “Oh, this is ridiculous. Miss Marsh is a nitwit full of foolish and romantic ideas. From the first day they met, even as children, she has involved him in her ridiculous games. I recall, even when he was thirteen or fourteen, they were still playing hide-and-seek in the woods and assuming some silly names. She was Natty something, and he Chin—Chin—Chin—”

  “Chingachgook,” Holmes said. “He was the Indian companion of the woodsman Natty Bumppo in Fenimore Cooper’s Last of the Mohicans.”

  “See—that’s exactly what I mean! Creeping about in the woods and playing Red Indians instead of cricket, rugby or football with other young men! No wonder…” A worried look showed briefly in his eyes. “Anyway, Adam is far too young to be thinking of marriage. He is barely twenty-one. I was twenty-eight when I married, a much more reasonable age for a man.”

  “Mr. Selton, you may feel at liberty to discuss the young lady and her qualifications, but I do not. Besides, she is not the center of my investigations. By the way, I suppose Evans must have told you about your son’s trip to London to summon me.”

  Selton seemed to take half a step back, half opened, then closed his mouth.

  “No, you needn’t bother trying to deny it. Evans is the obvious suspect.”

  “Why should I deny it?”

  I shook my head. “You hired your son’s valet to spy on him?”

  “I have my son’s best interests at heart, Dr. Vernier!”

  Holmes stared closely at him. “Do you indeed, Mr. Selton?”

  “Of course I do. Why are you looking at me that way?”

  Holmes glanced at me, then back at Selton. “And did you actually procure for him the services of a prostitute?”

  Selton stared at him for a second or two, then clenched his fists even as the blood poured into his face. “You cannot…” He turned to me. “Spying—you dared speak of spying! You are the spies!” He turned again to Holmes. “How much did you pay the dirty little whore? She promised she’d keep her mouth shut! I swear I shall make her pay for this—she will be sorry—she will be sorry.”

  Holmes shook his head. “Do not be ridiculous, Mr. Selton. No one has spied on you.”

  “Then how could you possibly know such a thing!”

  “It was a guess on my part,” I said.

  He turned to me. “You?”

  “I am a physician, Mr. Selton. I have seen such things before.”

  The blood began to seep away from Selton’s face almost as fast as it appeared. “What things, Dr. Vernier?”

  “Difficulties with… women.”

  “Then you… you know about my son’s condition.”

  I laughed softly. “Condition? I doubt anything is physically wrong with him. He was only… afraid, which is quite common. The sexual act is not merely biology, Mr. Selton.”

  Selton was deathly pale now. “You dare to speak to me this way?”

  “What way? I am sure you meant well, but…”

  “You have both insulted me in every possible way. This is insufferable, absolutely insufferable. I want you gone. I want you both out from under my roof within the hour. Take your things and go. At once!” His voice rose to a roar for this last.

  Holmes nodded. “As you wish, Mr. Selton. As you wish.”

  He went back into the hallway, and I followed. “But we just got here!” I said. “Where will we go? The inn at Micklethorpe?”

  Holmes shook his head. “No.”

  “Where then? Not back to London.”

  Holmes glanced at me, his gray eyes faintly amused. “Diana’s Grove.”

  “You’re joking?”

  “As you may recall, Lady Verr invited us to visit should we or Mr. Selton grow weary of one another. Well, it is a different Mr. Selton, but he is already weary of our company.”

  Adam was waiting for us at the end of the hallway. His pallor somehow emphasized the classical nature of his features, the high cheekbones, the firmly carved jaw, the full lips and straight nose. “Was that my father shouting just now?”

  “It was,” Holmes said.

  “Oh, damnation. He must know. How could he have found out?”

  “I suggest you start looking for another valet.”

  “Oh no—not Evans! But he has been with me for over three years. I trusted him.”

  “Unwisely, I fear. I would like to speak with him before we leave.”

  “Leave? Where are you going?”

  “To Diana’s Grove to determine if Lady Verr’s hospitable offer was genuine. Your father insists we leave his house at once.”

  “This is my house too!”

  Holmes gripped his arm. “That is kind of you, Mr. Selton, but do not fear. I can continue to work in your interest at Diana’s Grove. In some respects, it may turn out to be advantageous.”

  “He cannot throw you out.”

  “It is just the excuse I need. And where is Evans?”

  Selton was frowning. “He wasn’t in his room, and there is no sign of him about the grounds. Perhaps I’ll walk to Micklethorpe and see if he is still there. He went to the Swan last night, and he has a weakness for malt. He may have drunk so much he could not walk home.”

  Holmes’s brow creased, his eyes fixed on Selton. “Let us hope that is the case. In the meantime, Henry and I will be off to Diana’s Grove to see if the Marsh ladies will shelter two such reprobates.”

  “Are you sure, Mr. Holmes? Perhaps I can make my father see reason. It is not—a gentleman does not drive people from his home on a whim.”

  Holmes smiled gently. “And you are a gentleman, Mr. Selton. Truly you are. All the same, I have my reasons for wanting to stay at Diana’s Grove. It may help me get to the bottom of this case more quickly.”

  “All right. Do you want to walk or…? Blast it, there’s no one to drive the wagonette! I can do it, or you could borrow it, if you prefer.”

  “We shall just walk over after we have a bite to eat. We must make certain of our welcome. If we do not return by three or four o’clock, then you might bring the wagonette over with our bags. That will also give us a chance to talk further. If we are to leave Lesser Hill, we must arrange a daily meeting elsewhere.”

  Selton slowly drew in his breath; his chest was so large the inhalation lasted a long while. “As you wish, Mr. Holmes.” He turned away, then turned again to us. “I must apologize for my father’s rudeness.”

  “The fault is not yours, sir. Come Henry, let us pack our things.”

  Selton glanced at me and shook his head. “What must you think of me and my family.”

  After packing, Holmes and I went to the kitchen, and Mrs. Childes prepared us some ham and cheese sandwiches laden with mustard. Holmes put them and two bottles of cider into a knapsack, and we were soon on our way. We stopped to eat atop a grassy knoll with a superb view of the sea. I, of course, sat well back from the edge. The tide was in, and we could hear the rhythm of the waves sweeping in against the
cliffs below. Several big white gulls with their yellow beaks and feet had landed nearby and stood watching us with rapt attention.

  Holmes finished his sandwich and took a last swallow of cider. He lay back, put both hands behind his head and closed his eyes, basking in the warm sunlight. His face gradually relaxed, losing its usual fierce alertness and energy. He spoke softly. “Coming to Yorkshire was an excellent idea, Henry. The weather has certainly been ideal.”

  I drank some cider; it had a cool, sharp, tangy taste. “I hope…”

  “What do you hope?”

  “I hope we do not regret the decision. Young Selton is a good-hearted decent fellow, but his neighbors… ‘Eccentric’ is far too mild, especially in the case of Caswall.”

  “So you do not believe in the idyllic nature of the country with its noble squires and hearty farmers, those emblematic figures of our sceptered isle? Watson makes up so much in his stories, but there was one where he quoted me quite accurately. The lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside. The houses are isolated, the people ignorant, and deeds of hellish cruelty can go on unchecked for years and years.”

  I shook my head. “After our visit to Caswall and the encounter with Selton père, I was already feeling troubled. Must you completely ruin this peaceful setting?”

  He opened his eyes, blinking at the bright sun, and the corners of his mouth rose ever so slightly. “Forgive me, Henry. My profession always preoccupies me.” He took in a deep breath then brought his hands round as he sat up. “Sickness and disease are always troubling, but sickness of the mind… Caswall had the same effect on me. One wonders how much is heredity, or whether if sometime somehow he had done something slightly different, he might have been another man. Was it one thing he did, one turn he took, that led him off the path for good?” He gazed out at the sea. “You are right. Melancholy reflections for such a peaceful scene.”

  We both sat quietly for a while. At last Holmes took the brown tweed walking hat and put it on. He seized his blackthorn stick and stood. “We must not keep the ladies waiting.”

  “If we must stay there, just… just do not ask me to watch her wretched python swallow a rabbit!”

  He laughed. “I promise, Henry. All the same, there is no malice in the python. It is only hungry. The rabbit is merely… a ham sandwich.”

  I was actually sweating by the time we reached the trees of the grove. The temperature must have been well into the sixties, but it dropped dramatically in the shade. We again followed the same narrow footpath through the woods to the entry road. We reached the clearing and the house at last, and Holmes used the big brass knocker.

  The stocky housekeeper who had brought us tea the day before appeared in the doorway. She looked obviously uncomfortable in her formal apparel—white lacy apron, matching white cap and black dress.

  “Might I speak with Lady Verr and Miss Marsh?” Holmes asked.

  She opened her mouth, closed it, looked left, looked right. “I… I… I’m not…” Her cheeks reddened dramatically.

  “Is something the matter?” Holmes asked.

  “Yes,” she murmured, then shook her head. “I mean, no. I mean…” She suddenly went bright red. “You’d best talk to Angela. I’ll fetch her.” She fled, her hands clenched into fists.

  “What was that all about?” I asked.

  Holmes’s brow had furrowed, and he smiled warily. “I do not know.”

  We waited impossibly long, but at last Angela came walking toward us. She wore a maid’s black formal dress with white collar and cuffs, but one clearly better made than that of the parlor maid. She was quite tall, only an inch or two shorter than Michelle. Her black hair was bound up tightly, a few curls spilling onto her forehead, and she had the classical features of some Greek or Roman statue. Her skin was not white like that of the Marsh women or ruddy like that of the other maid, but an olive-tinted brown. If Selton was Adonis, this was some Venus, a type one might see even now on the streets of Rome or Naples.

  “Lady Verr and Mees Marsh take-a the sunshine on the terrace. They see you now.”

  We followed her across the great hall, down a brief corridor, and then she opened two large french doors. After the dim interior, even the doorway was enough to make me squint. I stepped outside, looked around the stone terrace and saw two naked women, all white with red hair, sitting on some black wrought iron chairs. One woman was wearing octagonal green spectacles, and the other moaned, bent over and desperately tried to cover her breasts with one arm, her hips with the other. Her limbs and her feet were long, pale and bony. Lady Verr smiled graciously, her much larger breasts with the pink areolas proudly thrust forward. “Good day, gentlemen.”

  I jerked my head to the side. Holmes had seized my arm in a grip of iron, his gray eyes frantic. “Good Lord,” he moaned. He had turned to go back inside, and I was ready to follow.

  “Wait, Mr. Holmes—wait, if you please.”

  He paused in the doorway, and I could hear his breath coming and going.

  “We are merely sunbathing in that most natural state of man—or woman. I hope you are not so puritanical as to be disturbed by the human body in all its splendor, as first created by God, without all the wretched deceitful layers of clothing. I was once such a prude, but my travels on the Continent have opened my eyes.”

  “My eyes are open enough,” Holmes murmured so that only I could hear him.

  “On the Continent they understand that the body is an object of beauty and wonder not meant to be always hidden away. Especially in Italy, monumental nudes in bronze or marble abound, visible in nearly every public square. The hot-blooded Latins have a much healthier attitude than the dreary frigid English. They know there is nothing wicked about the body! And indeed, in shedding all our cumbersome layers of smothering vestments, can we not regain some small portion of the primal innocence of our first parents in the garden of Eden? The Italians also comprehend the beneficial effects of the sun’s rays as an aid to health and beauty.”

  Holmes drew in his breath slowly, stood upright. He was still staring into the house. “The climate there is much warmer.”

  I heard a sound between a laugh and a sob. “Oh Lord,” said Miss Marsh. “Oh, no, no.”

  “Diana, must you carry on so? You would think… Anyway, won’t you gentlemen please join us? You would be welcome to assume the natural state as well, but I suspect you are not yet ready for that. Nevertheless, you might remove your woolen jackets and sit with us for a while.”

  “Is everyone in this corner of Yorkshire absolutely crazy?” I exclaimed.

  “Crazy, Dr. Vernier? Of course not. Can we not all act like mature human beings? Can we not see past our narrow prejudices and primitive taboos? Certainly there is nothing innately wicked about the naked human body. Come, have a seat. Surely, Mr. Holmes, you cannot be afraid of two mere women?” This last had a playful taunting tone.

  Holmes swung around. “I suppose we must join you, madam, especially as I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Sherlock?” I moaned.

  He looked at me, his brows diving inward. “You are a married man,” he whispered. “This should be easy for you.”

  “Are you mad?” I whispered back. “I am not married to either of these two!”

  “We cannot let her drive us away with her oddities. We must stay.”

  “I’m ready to pack up and go back to London!”

  Lady Verr laughed softly. “Come, come, gentlemen, it is not polite to whisper. Will you join us or not?”

  “Oh, no, no.” Miss Marsh was obviously agonized.

  “Certainly, Lady Verr, although—call it prudery if you wish—but I would say rather ‘distraction’—that is, I do not wish to be distracted.” Holmes started in their direction, his head firmly twisted to the right in the direction of the sea.

  “This is absurd,” I said.

  I took a quick look—both were still quite naked, althou
gh Miss Marsh was in contortions to hide herself, while her aunt sat with her legs crossed, one white knee just over the other, completely unperturbed. Both had let down their long red hair so that it spilled onto their shoulders, probably in keeping with the au naturel theme. I looked away, very much aware of the conflict in my nature. I was a married man, much in love with my wife, quite satisfied with her, aware that looking at naked women could only create trouble and unfulfillable longings—and yet, and yet…

  Sherlock resolutely took an iron chair and twisted it so it faced in the opposite direction from them. He sat down with his back to the ladies.

  “What is this favor, Mr. Holmes?” Lady Verr did have incredible sangfroid—from the tone of her voice, one would never in a million years imagine she had no clothes on.

  “Mr. Selton’s parents have come up from town, and I’m afraid there is no longer room for us at Lesser Hill. I was wondering if we might take you up on your kind offer to let us stay at Diana’s Grove?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Holmes! Certainly! You are more than welcome. Stay as long as you wish. You can see my collection in detail, and tomorrow is the day we must feed Delilah a rabbit. I know you will find it interesting. It will be wonderful to have someone of your intellectual capacity and brilliance with whom to converse. And you, too, Dr. Vernier—you are more than welcome to stay.”

  I frowned and turned to stare at her, focusing my eyes on those green spectacles and trying to ignore her breasts. You have seen naked women before—and one in particular who is more than her equal! I tried to notice her long red hair, her face, anything but her body, and I also tried to ignore Diana. I did catch a glimpse of her scarlet face. Perhaps that was what gave me courage.

  “How long have you been out here?” I asked.

  “Only a quarter of an hour or so.”

  “You had better not stay out much longer. Your skin is very fair. You will sunburn badly.”

  She shrugged. “What is a little sunburn? The skin must be toughened up.”

  “Sunburn is no joking matter for redheads. It’s bad enough if it’s just the face, but…” I shook my head. I had never had a patient, male or female, who had sunburned their entire body.

 

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