Page 49 of Miss Moriarty, I Presume?
They were back near the front gate, on the western wall. Miss Charlotte had her hand on the side rail of a ladder.
“Indeed,” said Mr. Peters. “We are all most fortunate to be here. I have never felt as safe and at peace as I have been since I arrived in the Garden. And I am determined to do everything in my power to keep things as they are.”
And not let two women from London muck everything up?
His gaze flicked over Miss Charlotte, who leaned forward, looking down the length of the ladder. “You should be careful, Miss Holmes. That is a fatal drop.”
Mrs. Watson looked sharply at him. Was that a threat?
“My falling over would make no difference in the larger scheme of things,” said Miss Charlotte, responding directly to the threat. “Mr. Baxter would simply send someone else.”
“No matter how many people he sends, Miss Baxter will outlast them all.”
His tone sounded almost childlike in its unshakable faith.
“That is certainly our sincere hope as well,” replied Miss Charlotte, her voice cool and calm. “We have no quarrels with either Miss Baxter or the Garden of Hermopolis. We only wish to see that she is safe and sound.”
“Well, there she is,” said Mr. Peters.
As if on cue, down in the Garden, a dark window glowed from within.
“That’s Miss Baxter’s bedroom,” said Mr. Peters. “And this is the time of the day she usually goes to bed.”
Miss Baxter’s bedroom window was separated from the interior by only a layer of translucent fabric. A woman’s silhouette, clad in a dressing gown, appeared. She shut the heavier outer curtains and they could see no more of her.
12
Mrs. Watson would have liked to part ways from Mr. Peters as soon as possible. As it turned out, however, they had to spend some more time with him, because at that moment, Miss Charlotte looked to the southwest and said, “Is that a vehicle approaching?”
It was indeed a carriage, the light from its lanterns shining on none other than Lord Ingram, driving himself.
They descended the ladder, Mrs. Watson so fortified by her dear boy’s arrival that she barely noticed how far down she had to go or the winds that would peel a gecko from a wall. Mr. Peters opened the solid metal gate. The carriage pulled up and Lord Ingram leaped down from the driver’s perch.
Mr. Peters, who must not have a proper sense of Miss Holmes yet, displayed a much greater wariness upon meeting the formidable-looking “Mr. Hudson.” Lord Ingram was his usual courteous self, his demeanor one of gentlemanly ease. Of the two, one would have guessed that he was the gracious host, and Mr. Peters, the awkward guest.
The introduction was performed quickly and the small talk took only two minutes, before a sleepy-looking man—the Garden’s groom, presumably—came to take charge of horse and carriage. Mr. Peters bowed and walked away.
Lord Ingram, luggage in hand, regarded his departing back. A few seconds later his eyes met Miss Charlotte’s, then Mrs. Watson’s. He smiled.
A weight lifted from Mrs. Watson. She linked her arm with his and sighed in relief.
He leaned down and kissed her atop her hat. “It’s good to see you, ma’am.”
And then, after a moment, “You, too, Holmes.”
“Let’s speak inside,” murmured Miss Charlotte.
Mrs. Watson could not see her face, but she heard a smile in the young woman’s words.
Ah, but they were not being very secretive, were they? The night before, Mrs. Watson, unable to sleep, had gone to discuss matters with Mr. Mears. Afterward she’d knocked on Miss Charlotte’s door to tell her that Mr. Mears had volunteered to come with them to Cornwall—and she’d found the girl’s room empty.
It had been just as empty this morning, when she’d checked it again.
The development did not greatly surprise Mrs. Watson. From the moment Lady Ingram had been revealed as an agent of Moriarty’s, it had been more or less a foregone conclusion that these two young people would find their way to each other.
Mrs. Watson loved a romance. She loved an engagement announcement in the papers. She loved a summer wedding, with flowers in the bridesmaids’ hair. But she was also old enough to know all that was only ActI and the play could turn out to bea tragedy.
Lord Ingram and Miss Charlotte suited each other both very well and not at all. She wanted to picture a lovely future for them, but she could just as easily imagine a slow, soul-crushing disaster.
