Page 75 of The Hollow of Fear
Sometimes he still couldn’t be sure whether he’d kept his silence more out of loyalty or cowardice. But her words were clear and sincere and he was... touched to know that his inner struggle had not been completely in vain. That he had rendered a service to his friend.
Footsteps. Miss Olivia Holmes rushed down the grand staircase, her expression full of both anxiety and an anxious love. At the sight of Treadles, however, she stiffened.
“Good morning, Miss Holmes,” he said as she approached.
She glanced at him, then pointedly looked away, her eyes for only her sister. “You wished to see me? Is everything all right?”
Treadles’s face scalded. He had not realized that he had offended to such an extent that she would choose to discard basic civilities.
Charlotte Holmes looked at her sister with gentle reproach, but before she could say anything, Chief Inspector Fowler strode into the foyer. After a perfunctory greeting to Miss Olivia Holmes, he said, “Gentlemen, a word please.”
“I’ll be a second,” said Charlotte Holmes to her sister.
Her sister nodded. “I’ll wait in the white drawing room.”
“I didn’t know you were acquainted with Miss Holmes, sir,” said Fowler, when Miss Holmes had disappeared behind a set of doors.
Charlotte Holmes patted the ends of her mustache, which had been waxed to a high sheen. “I am only here as an emissary of Lord Ingram’s. He knows Miss Holmes is fearful for him and wishes to let her know that he remains in tolerable shape.”
“Most chivalrous of him.” Fowler lowered his voice. “Now, this is strictly police business, Mr. Holmes, but since Lord Bancroft Ashburton was present at the autopsy, presumably you would soon have known what he has learned, namely that, at the time of her death, Lady Ingram was with child.”
Treadles sucked in a breath.
Miss Holmes, in her imperturbable way, said only, “And the cause of death?”
This extreme sangfroid garnered her a wary look from Fowler. “The pathologist deemed likely your idea of death by excess alcohol, injected intravenously. He will be performing more tests to ascertain what substances might have been in her bloodstream.”
Charlotte Holmes nodded. “Most prudent of him.”
“I hope this will not come across as unseemly curiosity, Mr. Holmes. In your knowledge, is there any chance that the child Lady Ingram carried could have been Lord Ingram’s?”
“Anything is possible but that is highly unlikely. Their estrangement was complete, and my understanding is that it marked the end of all affections, both of the heart and of the body.”
“Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I mustn’t keep you any longer from your meeting.”
Charlotte Holmes inclined her head. “Good day, gentlemen.”
When she was out of earshot, Fowler said to Treadles, “Do you realize what this means, Inspector?”
After Treadles’s initial dismay, a sense of relief had washed over him. If the child truly was not Lord Ingram’s, then Lady Ingram’s pregnancy gave great credence to his assertion that she had defected with her lover. But Fowler seemed almost gleeful—never a good sign—so he erred on the side of caution. “Yes, sir?”
“It means that now we have a motive that is much stronger than Lord Ingram’s desire to marry Miss Charlotte Holmes. What would your reaction be, Inspector, if your missing wife turned up carrying another man’s child?”
Treadles blinked, unable to even contemplate the idea.
Fowler nodded with satisfaction. “My point exactly.”
Livia leapedup when Charlotte came into the white drawing room. “Have you learned anything?”
“Not enough yet. Have you been well?”
“I... I don’t know, frankly.”
This morning Livia had received two notes. One came from Lord Ingram, informing her that he had written to his solicitor to begin the process of looking into Moreton Close, the institute now in charge of Bernadine. The other one was unsigned and without a return address but had been postmarked at the nearest village post office.
It read,I have been looking for the Sherlock Holmes story everywhere. Has it been published yet? If not, please hurry.
She was terrified for Lord Ingram, worried about Charlotte, frustrated with herself, and yet, with the arrival of this second note, so extravagantly buoyed that she could have walked over a carpet of rose petals and not bruised a single one.
