The Three Locks by Bonnie MacBird (books for 8th graders .TXT) 📗

‘Do not be so sure! I … I will say you attacked me!’ said she. ‘You broke in here and attacked me! It will not go well for you.’

I stepped forward. ‘Young lady, I am a witness here and will stand up for this gentleman. He is known by the London police, whom he assists on a regular basis, Miss Wyndham, and his reputation is impeccable.’

Her own reputation would clearly be compromised had she called the police, but the situation was not without risk, and Holmes and I knew it.

She was improvising, frightened, and the momentum of her anger seemed to add wind to her sails. ‘The two of you came in and attacked me!’ She stepped away from my friend and slammed her wrist hard on the edge of the table with a cry of pain. ‘You see!’ She exclaimed, holding her arm out before us, her eyes shining. The blow brought up an immediate welt.

Holmes glanced at me uneasily. This young woman seemed dangerously unbalanced. He held up his hands and took a step back towards the door.

‘All right, Miss Wyndham. I realize you do feel invaded,’ he said, gently. ‘This room is a kind of sanctuary from a life of dissatisfaction. I suppose if I were a female, and felt, well, as excluded from life as you do, I might consider not only securing an escape like this one – but also defending it with the same passion and conviction. Please calm yourself. I do not intend to force you to do anything you do not want to do, nor to give you away.’

She stared at Holmes uncertainly. This was not the response she was expecting.

‘You are patronizing me.’

‘Miss Wyndham, not at all,’ I said. ‘Mr Holmes has only your best interests at heart.’

‘Why should I trust you?’ she said.

‘Why not? I am here to help, not point a finger,’ said Holmes. ‘May I suggest we all sit down and discuss the dilemma of your disappearance in a civilized manner? No one wishes you harm. In fact, just the opposite. Let us attempt to negotiate a truce.’

Holmes stepped further away from her on the pretext of setting down his hat on a table. He looked about for something on which to sit, espied a low stool tucked under that same table, drew it out and sat down. ‘Do join me, Watson. Sit here.’

I noticed another stool under the table, drew it out and sat next to him. It felt extremely awkward in that strange room, seated so low to the floor, facing the standing young woman. She faltered, not expecting this. But the odd choreography had the intended effect. It allowed the girl to feel in charge.

She paused. Then, with sudden resolve, she returned to her blue velvet divan and resumed the relaxed position she had occupied when we entered the room, now peering haughtily down at us.

Holmes had successfully averted disaster.

‘I would like to help you, Miss Wyndham,’ my friend said, as though everything that had just transpired had not happened. ‘And at the same time put the fears of those who care for you at rest. Let us come to a method together. First of all, do tell me your reasons for this subterfuge.’

‘It is obvious,’ said she, angrily. ‘I am suffocating at home.’

‘Tell me about this,’ said Holmes.

She paused, but not for long. ‘You have no idea of the frustration a person of my position endures. The constraints upon my life! The boundaries of propriety, of position, of womanhood, of God knows – everything. It is enough to drive one mad. Mad, truly! I cannot go to the market alone, play tennis with a boy, say this, do that, wear clothes that do not constrict my body here!’ She put her hands to her waist. ‘Or here!’ Both hands went over her heart. ‘All the rules, the whispered admonitions, yes, and even the shouted ones! I cannot bear it, cannot bear it I say, and what you see here is the culmination of years of planning. If you give me away, it will go very badly for you, sir! Of that I will make certain!’

‘We have covered that ground, Miss Wyndham, and once again I assure you that is not my intent. But even if you refuse to see danger, people have been concerned for your safety. You do understand that? People who care about you. They are suffering.’

‘Or claim to be,’ she said and looked away.

‘Your mother, for one,’ said Holmes.

A small frown flashed across the beautiful young face, but if she felt any contrition, she shook it off like a dog shaking off water. ‘She will recover.’

‘And yet she is suffering, Miss Wyndham. And I believe your maid Polly was arrested one night, presumably on an errand for you. I understand that a girl like that can be gaoled without trial here in Cambridge, if the University so wishes. You know of the Spinning House? Ah, I see you know what I am talking about.’

Miss Wyndham was clearly uncomfortable at this.

‘I’m sure Polly is careful,’ she said.

‘But let us turn to your reasons for needing to hide, Miss Wyndham,’ said Holmes. ‘Do you not see various escape routes from what you feel to be an awful confinement in the home of your father? For example, have you not considered studying at Girton, or Newnham? I understand that opportunities have opened there for women to expand their—’

‘I have grown up steeped in academia. Statues. Greek plays. Pah! That is the last thing I want!’

‘I see.’

‘And anyway, my father forbids it.’

Holmes paused at this. ‘I am sorry to hear it. But what of marriage? I understand that you are being courted, and by more than one suitor.’

His words contained no trace of sarcasm.

‘Escaping from the frying pan into the fire?’ she said bitterly. ‘As it is, I am being steered, none too gently, towards one of them.’

‘Which one do you prefer?’

‘What does it matter? Being steered at all