systematic avoidance of young Mr Edwards's attentions. Lunch was heavy and alcoholic, and a cold drizzle prevented me from a temporary escape into the grounds. I went back to the study after an hour of male badinage, suffered with gritted teeth, anxious to get through the day so that I could hear what Holmes had found in Cambridgeshire.
Fortunately, the wine at lunch seemed to have slowed down the roving hands, for although Gerald followed me into his father's study and watched my every move, he didn't actually reach for me. The colonel went to his room to rest, and his son talked to me while I sorted files. His monologue dragged on, covering all the high points of cricket matches and rowing, and I occasionally nodded my head and watched for anything of interest in the files.
He did it cleverly, I'll give him that. I stood up to retrieve some files on the other end of the desk, and when I turned back, he was there, his arms clamped around me and his mouth seeking mine.
I do not know why I reacted so violently. I was in no real danger— I could have laid him out in three simple moves, or broken his neck in four, for that matter. I reacted in part because I was so immersed in the role of Miss Small, and even in 1923, few women would fail to react strongly to such an affront. Mostly, however, it was my sheer frustration and rage at the entire situation that erupted. I could feel the urge for his neck in my hands for one brief instant before sanity clamped down, and I considered what to do while dodging his reechy kisses.
The real danger was not to me and any honour I might possess, but to my role. If I were to overwhelm him physically, my time in the Edwards home would come to a sudden end. Mary Small would probably just scream, but aside from the fact that it was difficult to do with his mouth in the way, it would only delay the problem, not solve it. And, there was my pride. I wanted to hurt the slimy creature, but even a quick knee jerk would be out of character. Any injury must be bad enough to stop him, light enough to keep me from losing my position, and must appear completely accidental. All this reflection took about three seconds of grappling, and then my body assumed command.
I stumbled backwards half a step to put him off balance, with a twist, so he was forced to take a single step (my boy, your breath is foul!), and then leant away— all of them natural movements. I then rose slightly, twisted my head away from him, made certain of my balance and his full preoccupation, and finally swung one heel around hard to knock his feet out from under him while simultaneously giving a sudden stumbling lurch with all my weight behind me, my hip aimed at the sharp corner of the immovable oak desk just behind him. The high and satisfying scream that tore through the room did not come from my throat, and I stepped back to let him sink stiffly to the floor. He was not breathing. He looked quite green. I began to fluster about him before his knees hit the carpet.
The door burst open and Colonel Edwards was there, hair awry and pulling on his coat. I turned as he came in.
'Oh, sir, I'm so sorry. I don't know—'
'What in God's name is going on? Was that you I heard, or— Gerry? What the devil's wrong with him?'
As dear Gerry was somewhat preoccupied with curling into a tight knot and wheezing into a semiconscious state, I took it upon myself to answer, albeit quite incoherently.
'Oh, Colonel, I don't know. I just— he was— I fell, you see, and I must have hit his stomach or maybe the desk hit his back, and oh, shouldn't we call a doctor? He looks like he's having a fit; maybe he's dying.' A tortured gasp followed by a deep groan told us that he had finally regained his breath. The colonel knelt beside him, saw no signs of blood, and stood up with narrowed eyes. He looked hard at me, took in the disarray of my hair and blouse, including a popped button, and started to smile grimly.
'I told him he'd get into trouble one of these days if he didn't keep his hands to himself. Wouldn't have thought it'd be you who gave it to him, but you never know.'
'Gave it— But sir, I didn't mean to do anything. I just caught my heel on the carpet and tripped. Shouldn't we ring for a doctor?'
'Doctor couldn't help any. He'll get over it. It's nothing most men don't have happen sometime or another. Ice and a whisky should take care of it.'
'But what—' I stopped. A complete innocence of male anatomical characteristics was surely not to be expected. 'You mean I— oh dear. The poor boy.' I knelt down, and Gerald, who had reached the sickly smile stage, smiled sickly up at me. 'I'm so very sorry. I'm always so clumsy, and you did so surprise me.'
'Yes, I imagine he did. Come, Mary, you'll not get much more accomplished today. Why don't you have a glass of sherry and then take your work home with you to finish up.'
'But ... we can't leave him here!'
'I'm certain he'd be much happier if we did, wouldn't you, Gerry?' A weak, uncontrolled flap of the hand signalled agreement and dismissal. 'I'll send Alex in with ice and brandy. He'll help you up.' We left the room, and the colonel began to chuckle. I stopped short and drew an audible breath.
'Colonel, do you mind if I use the small room for a few minutes? I'm rather ... I would like a sherry after that, though.'
'Certainly, my dear. I'll be downstairs.'
I let myself into the large marble bath that lay between the colonel's study and his bedroom. His steps retreated down the hallway, and I heard him shout for Alex. Next door, the groans had given way to profuse, bitter, and unimaginative cursing. I grinned maliciously, locked the door, and turned on the tap in the basin.
I had three minutes, perhaps more. I moved swiftly to the other door, the one that opened into the colonel's private room, and pushed it open on noiseless hinges.
I did not know what I was looking for, but I was not about to pass up the opportunity. I ran my eyes over the room, inviting them to choose a target.
It was a large room, totally and unremittingly male: dark wood, undersized bow window, a thick, garish Persian carpet on the polished floor, cabinets— glazed on the top half, panelled below— covering one wall. There were two paintings: one of a man, which looked like a self-portrait by one of Rembrandt's third-rate students, all heavy moodiness and no technique, and the other a huge, gilt-framed, enthusiastically done nude of a remarkably well-endowed young blond woman who was cowering coyly before a thick, glossy, and lubricious snake. Not perhaps my image of Mother Eve, but the leering expression on the face of the snake was cleverly done, given the lack of facial characteristics to work with.
The cabinets were unrevealing, containing a variety of trophies and awards, family heirlooms (one assumed) and statuettes, predominantly of females in various stages of undress. One minute passed. The telephone rang, and I heard the colonel's voice. I pulled open a few of the wooden doors, to find clothing, no apparent hidden compartments, and enough dust to make it obvious that the housekeeper cut a few corners. I walked around the bed to the well-worn armchair that sat next to the window. It was oddly positioned, I thought, almost as if— ah! It was within arm's reach of a locked cabinet. I dropped next to the door and yanked a pin out of my hair, bent the end of it, and set to work. Two minutes gone. I heard voices downstairs, but not on the stairs yet.
After an agonising thirty seconds, the lock gave and I pulled the doors open, to find books. Pornography. Damn! I flipped through them quickly, but they were only books, mostly illustrated. I locked the doors again and heard the colonel bidding the caller good-bye. I made to rise, then froze. There, in front of my eyes, was a double row of cheap, well-thumbed pamphlets and paperback booklets. The title that jumped out at me was
'Are you all right, Mary?'
'Oh yes, sir, I'll be down in just a moment.'
'I have the files you were working on; you needn't go back into the study. I'll have Alex take you home; it's raining very heavily now.'
'Thank you, sir. I won't be a minute.'
Rapid repairs completed, I took several calming breaths and went downstairs to the loathsome and inevitable sherry.
