Page 5 of A Ruse of Shadows
He managed splendidly.
Afterward, he expected that they would discuss the situation at hand, what with Bancroft’s abrupt and unwelcome insertion. But she wanted to look at a pair of letters he’d penned during his “convalescence” largely to amuse himself.
“How nice that I don’t need to write this performative letter—that you’ve done it for me,” she murmured.
He looked down at her, lying across his bed, using his “uninjured” leg as a pillow. This also surprised him. As much as she enjoyed lovemaking, outside of it, she was not one to linger in a cuddle or to engage in any kind of prolonged touching. He supposed that putting her head on his thigh suited her, as she could change her position or cease contact at any moment.
But a small part of him—no, a large part of him; all of him, in fact—wanted this semi-embrace to be a harbinger of things to come.
Except he couldn’t quite conceive what a future might look like for them—or how it might differ from the status quo of occasional meetings followed by long separations.
She read aloud. The first letter purported to be from her to him.
Dear Ash,
I know I already thanked you for the gift of the hamper, but now that I’ve at last plumbed its great depths, I am beyond delighted at this vast stockpile of foodstuff at my disposal.
She glanced up. “I can’t say I’ve ever been informed in so agreeable a manner that I am about to receive a heroic quantity of delicious things.”
“You are most welcome, Holmes.”
“I look forward to discovering the contents of this fabled hamper. And by the way, thank you for the scrumptious charlotte russe at dinner.”
The last time she’d visited Stern Hollow, her appetite had suffered a rare collapse, and she’d picked apart, rather than enjoyed, a beautiful slice of charlotte russe. Tonight, she’d relished it, and he had been most gratified by the sight of her empty plate.
In fact, when Inspector Treadles called at my hotel this afternoon, I treated him to some excellent plum cake from the hoard.
“Ah, so I’m to expect a visit from our Scotland Yard connection. You are beginning to sound clairvoyant, my lord.”
Her golden hair had been dyed grey to play an old lady on the RMSProvence. Since then it had been shorn and was now just long enough to hold a curl again.
“Ihavebeen working on my ability to control the future,” he said modestly, taking hold of a strand of her hair and feeling its fine, weightless texture against his skin.
The good police officer was saddened that the trip you two had planned for the Isles of Scilly must now be postponed. But he was far more concerned that your injury might not have been a result of pure bad luck. I tried, but he left still fixated on the absence of kerosene at your children’s play cottage, which would have provided illumination for you on the way back.
It is possible that I could not convince him otherwise because I myself do not entirely believe that there were no other forces at work that night, lack of evidence notwithstanding.
“I like this bit,” she declared. “If you had truly been hurt, everyone would have been highly suspicious of foul play.”
Inspector Treadles then asked whether I would be leaving directly. You know I do not wish to be away from France for too long, but I could not bring myself to cross the Channel right away. The odd timing and serious nature of your injury—I told the inspector that I planned to remain in Britain until I felt better assured.
Upon hearing that, he replied that he would like me to look into something for him, if I happened to be idle in the near future. This surprised me, but I accepted the commission, with the understanding that other demands may preclude me from finishing the investigation in a timely manner.
“Have I mentioned yet, my lord, that I am somewhat alarmed by your extraordinary imitation of my handwriting? I can scarcely tell that I haven’t penned this myself.”
She could indeed post the letter to him from London, if she so wished. He let go of her hair and briefly touched her soft, cool earlobe. “Why, thank you, Holmes.”
So there you have it, my itinerary for the days immediately ahead. Keep me apprised of your recovery. If circumstances are favorable, perhaps I’ll travel to Stern Hollow again before I return to Paris.
Yours,
Holmes
P.S. Have I mentioned how grateful I am for the lovely hamper, one of the best gifts I’ve ever received? So grateful that I have decided to write the next installment in the very sedate little story that you found so relaxing.
At this, Holmes sat up.
Six months ago, he had sent her a pair of fuchsia silk stockings and she, in return, had penned an erotic vignette of a man watching a woman undress. And she had enjoyed his deliberately overwrought response so much that she asserted more than once her intention to continue the tale. Well, now he had done so for her.
