“Your mother ordered this coverlet from France.”
“I remember.”
“I had described one very much like it that I saw when your uncle and I went to France for the first time, and based just on my description, she decided she had to have one like it for you. And then I purchased one for you to have here to remind you of home. Does it remind you of your room in the Broads?”
I shrugged. “I suppose. Aunt Susan-”
“Now and then I imagine you wish you were back home, back in Norfolk at Burleigh Manor. It’s so lovely there. So quiet. Do you fancy you’ll ever go back?”
“Aunt Susan, this is my home now. London. Living here with you and Uncle. It has been for a long time and-”
She flipped the hat over and then back again. “Effie made a hat like this for me.”
“I know.”
“Only mine is the colour of dark red wine. I suppose you miss her terribly.”
“Yes, I do, Aunt Susan.”
“She told me once that you would go away one day. Far away. She told me this on a visit to your parents’ home when you were both quite young. And then you came to live with us to attend school here, and I thought what she meant by far away was London. Here with us. But I wonder if she meant something else. Do you ever think about going far away, Poppy?”
Right now I would like to be in a distant land, I thought. Anywhere but here.
“Do you know how long Mycroft and your uncle have been friends?”
I shook my head.
“Fifteen years. The same number of years between them. Ormond was on a visit to see a friend of his from university who was teaching at Mycroft’s boarding school. His friend - his name was Phillip - told Ormond that there was a boy in his class who needed help. He was not a pretty boy, not thin and athletic like your Sherlock.”
There it was again - ‘my’ Sherlock. Why did everyone reference him thus? Why did everyone think of him as my Sherlock, except for Sherlock?
“Mycroft was - is brilliant, of course,” Aunt Susan continued. “A bit lazy, from what Ormond tells me, but he was always focused, intent even then to be of service to Her Majesty. But he was odd, not like the other boys. Ormond talked to him, shared stories of his own unhappy childhood because he, too, had always been odd and friendless. He would visit Mycroft from time to time and they corresponded. By the time Mycroft graduated from Cambridge, Ormond had ingratiated himself to many in the House of Lords. With his influence and Mycroft’s impeccable scholastic record...” She paused, then asked, “Poppy, how could he do this to Ormond?”
I dared not breathe a whisper of my own suspicions. Aunt Susan would never forgive me.
“Sherlock will sort it out, Aunt Susan. I will assist him.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Assist him?”
“He thinks of me as his assistant in some of his investigations. Much in the same way that we worked together on the baby-farming matter, I shall-”
“No, Poppy. You are a physician. Your endeavours all these years have been toward that one goal. And I will not have you caught up in another criminal investigation. Ormond blames himself for your narrow escape from that woman, that baby farmer. I will not let you put yourself in harm’s way again. Not even to help your uncle.”
“I will be in no danger, Aunt Susan. I promise you.”
“You think Sherlock will protect you, don’t you?”
“I think you should try to get some rest, Aunt Susan.”
Aunt Susan rose, placed the hat back on its stand, and smoothed the front of her dress.
“No, I am going to pay a visit to our solicitor. Ormond has often spoken to Mr. Havershal about the need for further reform, and he says that things have progressed. Mr. Havershal will be able to cross-examine the prosecutor and witnesses, and he can question the motives for bringing the prosecution, which in this case are completely spurious. And he can keep Ormond from saying more than he should. You know how your uncle gets, especially when specious accusations about something are set forth.”
“Aunt Susan, it’s late.”
She shook me by the shoulders. “I don’t care how late it is! Your uncle is in dire need of guidance in such a matter!”
She dropped her hands and tucked wisps of her dark hair back into her bun. “I shall return as soon as I can. Will you ask Martha to attend to things? The dishes and-”
I touched her arm. “I’ll see to it.”
“Oh, and Sherlock, I did not say goodbye. I must-”
“He let himself out, Aunt Susan.”
“But I should have bid him a good evening. I should have-”
“Aunt Susan, don’t think about that. Don’t think about anything except Uncle.”
“I rather doubt I will be able to remember so much as my name until your uncle’s name is cleared.”
29
I slept fitfully... I think I finally drifted off shortly before dawn, and a few hours later, I woke to light tapping on my door. Martha had come to offer breakfast, but I had no stomach for food. She also brought me a note from Aunt Susan.
Poppy, your uncle is still at the Yard. Mr. Havershal is there with him. I came home to change and for food to take to Ormond. Do not fret, we will sort this out. Go to work.
“Work,” I said to myself. I had not been there for a week. “I should go,” I said, again in a whisper.
I washed up, put on a brown morning dress that reminded me of the drab nursing uniform I had been forced to wear at the nursing school before I went on to medical school, and left the house. But instead of my office, I ended up at the British Museum. There might be clues there. The fact that all the men had been found near the museum had to
