The Grimswell Curse (7 page)

“Rubbish. You would have figured them out, anyway.”

“All the same, I shall be glad for your company. Even I, who have faced many a danger, must confess to a certain fearful tremor at the thought of that solitary train ride with Lord Frederick.”

I laughed. “I wish Michelle could come.”

“She would be most welcome. I am certain she could gain Miss Grimswell’s confidence.”

“She is far too busy to leave her practice this abruptly.”

“Perhaps it is just as well. I would not wish to put her in any danger.”

My stomach did a somersault, and I stared at him. “You think it may come to that?”

“Yes. As I’ve said, men have been killed for far less than four hundred thousand pounds.” A gentle rap sounded at the door. “Come in.”

Mrs. Hudson appeared. “Mr. Holmes, there is a young—”

Before she could finish, a young woman marched around her, fists clenched, her upper lip curled back in a kind of snarl. Her finery augmented her beauty, the sharp, clean lines of her nose, cheek and jaw. Her blond hair was bound up and hidden under a mauve hat which matched her elegant silken dress. She was small, barely five feet tall, if that, with a remarkably tiny waist, no doubt the result of a slender figure and a tightly laced corset.

“Mr. Holmes, I must speak to you about that despicable wretch.” She had stopped before Holmes and stared up at him.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” Holmes said, then lowered his gaze. “Of whom are you speaking, madam?”

“Of Digby—of
Lord Frederick
.” She said his title with scorn and sarcasm.

“Ah.” Holmes gave a nod, then gestured at a chair. “Would you care to be seated?”

“No, I would not care to be seated. I am too angry to be seated.” She began to pace, then glanced up at me. “Who is this person?”

“My cousin, Doctor Henry Vernier. He too is acquainted with Lord Frederick.”

She gave me a brief, withering smile. “Then he too must know him for an insufferable ass.” I said nothing, but something in my face must have given some hint of my feelings. “You do know it—I see you do!” Her laugh was sharp and bitter.

“Well, madam, you may not wish to sit, but I do. I hope you will not object?” Holmes said. She shook her head angrily. He sat down, crossed his legs and set the tips of his fingers together. “What do you wish to tell me about Lord Frederick?”

She turned about and stopped abruptly. “What do I wish to tell you?” Her breath made a sharp, sibilant sound as she drew it in through clenched teeth, her face reddening. “What do I...? I hardly know where to begin. He is a liar, a terrible liar, and a fool as well.” She began to walk again. “He thinks he can just run off with that—that poor—cow and leave me after all...”

“Which cow?” Holmes asked coldly. “Miss Grimswell, I presume?”

“Yes, and I know... it is not her fault. I do not hate her, not really. He called her a cow once, a milk cow, but usually he refers to her as the giantess. She’s not to blame, after all. How can she help it if she is rich? And it is not her fault she’s large and plain. I pity her, really I do—I especially pity her if she is fool enough to marry Freddie. It’s her money he is after—only her money.”

“Are you quite certain of that, madam?”

“I have heard him say it often enough, haven’t I? He is a younger son, isn’t he? And his father is an even greater dolt than he. His brother will get the land, the estate and all the income. The entail has protected that from Hampsford’s stupidity, but Freddie will be lucky if he gets a hundred a year. He owes ten or twenty times that much. Of course, his debts have doubled in the last month, now that his credit is good again. They are only too happy to lend him money. Oh, I will not stand for it—I will not! I told him we could run away together and start over. We could go to Australia or America and have a new life together. We could scrape up a couple of hundred pounds between the two of us. That would be enough.”

“And leave his creditors in the lurch?” Holmes asked.

She smiled fiercely. “They are mostly a bunch of money-grubbing Jews.”

“Perhaps, but they will no doubt collect from someone—his family or those friends ill-advised enough to back him.”

“They can afford it.” She laughed harshly. “They will not starve, Mr. Holmes.”

Holmes gave a slight shrug. “Pardon me, madam, but you have me at a disadvantage. We have not been introduced.”

“Oh, that’s easily remedied. I am Alice Dobson, the
Honorable
Alice Dobson.” Her voice was again heavy with sarcasm. “My father was a baron who blew his brains out over some financial scandal. He left his wife and baby daughter with almost nothing. His brother got the title and the estate. Of course, that is how I learned to take care of myself.”

Holmes hesitated. “I am certain you are quite good at it.”

She gave a savage laugh which bared her teeth. “Oh, I am, you can be certain of that. I have had considerable practice. I have learned exactly what price honor and virtue have. It is much easier being virtuous when you are rich—and stupid. Virtue is worth nothing without a dowry. Even a penniless lord like Digby will not marry me. I might find some barrister or banker with pretensions and live in a hovel, but money wants money—more money, Mr. Holmes, and not virtue. In spite of all the pious hypocrisies, virtue is cheap. No one will pay a penny for it.”

Holmes lowered his hands. “I fear there is some truth in your observations, Miss Dobson.”

She laughed again, her eyes suddenly full of tears. “I gave Digby everything he wanted, Mr. Holmes—I denied him nothing—and this is how he repays me. I did not necessarily expect him to marry me, but I did not expect him to—to run off with the first wealthy heiress he could get his hooks into. The girl would be a fool to marry him. I know what he is—I am a match for him, but some poor innocent...
cow
.” She bared her teeth, clenched them. “Some poor little romantic twit who knows no better, who takes his protestations of love seriously—who thinks he really cares for her when all he wants is her fortune... I will not have it, Mr. Holmes—
I will not
.” She choked off her words. Tears started out of her right eye, but she wrenched off her glove and wiped angrily at it. Her hand was small, white and delicate.

Holmes sighed. “What do you want of me, Miss Dobson?”

“I want you to stop it—I want you to stop him. Tell Miss Grimswell that her would-be fiancé is a bounder who is only after her money. Tell her that he has already been the ruin of one virtuous maid.” A sharp laugh burst from her lips, then the tears began again. She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

“Please, madam, calm yourself.”

“I will not calm myself—but you must not think—he has not hurt me—I am only angry—so very angry—I can hardly think straight. I am...” She put her hand on her forehead. She had grown quite pale, her face resembling the icy white marble of a statue.

Holmes stood up. “Please sit down, Miss Dobson.”

“I... I shall not.”

He gestured at the wicker chair with its soft cushion. “Do sit down.” She did so. Holmes walked to the sideboard, then poured brandy from a decanter into a glass. He handed it to her. “Drink this.”

She swallowed about half the glass, gasped, her face reddening, then lowered it. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “I...”

“Take a minute to compose yourself.”

She sighed, then took another swallow. “He makes me so angry,” she murmured to herself. “God, how I wish... how I wish I was someone else. If I were a man, if I were only a man, none of this would ever...” She sipped the brandy, then smiled up at Holmes. She was a remarkably beautiful woman. “I should have been a man, Mr. Holmes. I have brains and will enough. I have the strength that Digby lacks. But what good is it—without money? It always comes down to money.” She laughed softly, her eyes glistening, then sipped the brandy.

Holmes said nothing, but watched her silently. The breeze from the window stirred the papers on his desk.

At last she sighed and looked up, a faint blush on her cheeks. “You both must think me a fool.”

Holmes shook his head. “No.”

“I can see it has been very difficult for you,” I said.

She gave a dull laugh. “Difficult. Yes, it has been difficult.”

Holmes hesitated. “But now you know what kind of man he is. You have learned before it is too late.”

She laughed once, then sobbed, a dry, shuddering sound that made me wince. She wiped at her cheek with the handkerchief. “But I have always known what kind of man he is—since the first moment I met him. It is obvious, isn’t it?” She laughed, then looked at us both. “How could I want such a vain, shallow, spineless man? I have asked myself that many times.” She bowed her head. “Yet I do. And how could I ever let him wound me so?—I, who...”

Holmes hook his head. “Please, madam.”

She drew in her breath, then let out a sigh. “Forgive me for this display of female hysterics. I only...” She swallowed the last of the brandy and set down the glass. “I know your reputation, Mr. Holmes. Do not let Lord Frederick marry Miss Grimswell. He does not love her—he only wants her fortune.”

Holmes smiled. “Neither Lord Frederick nor the lady have asked my advice on their matrimonial intentions. Besides, the engagement at present seems to be off. Someone has been... I think someone has been threatening Miss Grimswell.”

His gray eyes peered intently at her. She raised her chin and stared back calmly. “Oh, that is probably Freddie, too.”

I frowned. “But she has broken off the engagement.”

“That will change. It is probably all part of his plan. Digby is not stupid, even though he acts that way. He will not let her escape, not now. You must not let him get away with it, Mr. Holmes—you must not. I do not know what he is paying you—it must be her money—but...”

“He is paying me nothing. Not yet. And as I have told Miss Grimswell, I am mainly concerned with her well-being.”

“Then you must save her from him.” The word “save” was faintly ironic. “I do not really know anything bad of her, but of course I hate her.” She smiled fiercely. “Oh God, it is all so stupid. I know I would be better off without him, but I cannot give him up. I must go. I have made enough of a fool of myself.” She stood, then swayed slightly, putting her hand over her forehead.

Holmes’s hand shot out and seized her arm below the shoulder. I stood up at once. She smiled weakly. “You need not worry, gentlemen. I am well.” Her pallor contradicted her words. “I am a fool, but I am not... I am not an idiot. I am not suicidal. I only wish to kill Freddie.” She laughed harshly, then noticed the expression on Holmes’s face. “I am joking. I do not mean it. I really must be going.”

Holmes still held her arm. “One thing puzzles me, madam. You heard Lord Frederick repeatedly insulting Miss Grimswell, but you have known for a long time that he wanted to marry her for her fortune. Why, then, did you remain with him? And what has changed to so infuriate you?” He lowered his hand.

“Yes, we joked about her all the time, but he had said that once they were married...” Her eyes stared out the window off into the distance. “He would have the giantess’s fortune, but it would make no real difference for us. We two might still...” Her cheeks reddened.

“He is a bounder!” I exclaimed.

“Oh, yes, and a liar. He had said the marriage would not matter, but then... He told me we were finished—that it was all over.”

“When did he tell you this?” Holmes asked.

“Last Friday. I could not believe him.”

“What reason did he give you?”

Her mouth widened, twisting into a grin which bared her teeth. “He said... he said it wouldn’t do...
wouldn’t do...
for a married man to—”

“Enough, madam—you have told me enough.”

She straightened her back, closed her eyes, her fists clenched. Her breath made a kind of hiss escaping through her teeth. She pulled on her gloves and started for the door. I walked over and opened it for her. She nodded.

“Miss Dobson,” Holmes said. She turned to him. He had folded his arms. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

Her mouth twitched, and finally formed a smile. “The pleasure was mine.” Her eyes were red, her face fearfully pale.

I closed the door behind her. “Poor woman,” I murmured.

“She will recover,” Holmes said. “She has a strength rarely found in women—or men.”

“I thought Digby was an imbecile, but now I know him for a villain. To think...”

“Come, come, Henry. We know no such thing.”

“Can you doubt he has ruined the poor girl?”

“She was a willing party to it all. You heard her. And how many noble bachelors do you think go to the altar without some such sordid affair in their past? At least he had the decency to finally break things off.”

“Decency—decency?”

Holmes laughed. “A poor choice of words, I grant you, a very poor choice.”

“Miss Dobson has been gravely wronged.”

Holmes smiled, but his gray eyes showed no humor. “The world is full of such wronged people. She went along with Digby. I am sure she was a match for him. Unfortunately the heart often pays little attention to the brain. Even you must admit she is probably well rid of him.”

My frown slowly faded. “Yes, I suppose that is true. But there was a certain truth to her ravings. It is difficult for a woman to marry well without money.”

“Miss Dobson will manage.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked.

“Because she is beautiful. Beautiful women have a way of looking after themselves.”

My frown returned. “That may also be true, although I do not care for your cynical tone.”

“How can one regard the behavior of men and women and avoid cynicism?” He went to the window and drew in his breath, his back to me, his fingers grasping at the sill. “What does it all mean, this pathetic mating dance? These lacerated hearts, these ridiculous longings and desires, this incessant pain—all this... nonsense.” He was quiet briefly. “Why should such a simple business cause such turmoil? Man is unique among the animals in this respect. For them it is all roaring, growling or butting horns, and then they run off, or they have what they desire—for the moment. They are better off than we.”