“I can see that your mind is already made up, Mrs. Wallace. Any denial on my part would only lead to further accusations of dishonesty.”
“In that case I have no choice but to ask you to leave immediately. I must have a care for the reputation of my establishment. This is a house of virtue, of good Christian respectability. There is no room for you, Miss Holmes. There never was.”
“Very well. You will have no trouble from me, Mrs. Wallace. Return me the sum I’ve paid in advance, minus the portion deducted for the nights I’ve spent here, and I’ll be gone within the hour.”
“I’m afraid I will be keeping your rent.” Mrs. Wallace’s tone was firm. “You were plainly informed that any misrepresentation or misconduct on your part would lead to a forfeiture of rent already paid.”
Charlotte folded her hands together. “Then what about misrepresentation on your part, Mrs. Wallace?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You said that this is a house of virtue, of good Christian respectability. But you yourself entertain, on a regular basis, a man to whom you’re not married.”
Mrs. Wallace recoiled. “Where did you hear such a malicious rumor? I will have you know—how dare you—” She paused to exhale. “I will have you know there are absolutely no such shenanigans going on here!”
“I must disagree. You have a strict no-gentlemen policy for the house. Your boarders, even if they have brothers or fathers in town, are expected to meet them at tea shops and other such venues. In the common room there are no antimacassars on the furniture, yet in this, your own private parlor, I see an antimacassar on every chair except one, yours.”
“Some women do use macassar oil in their hair,” Mrs. Wallace said heatedly.
Charlotte scanned the room and made for a door to her right. Beyond the door was a small anteroom, with a mirror, an umbrella stand, a coat tree, and, of course, a doormat.
She looked back at Mrs. Wallace, who was beginning to look hunted. “True, some women do use macassar oil. But why would a woman leave muddy prints in the shape of a pair of men’s shoes on the doormat just inside the private entrance to this apartment?”
Charlotte walked across the room to Mrs. Wallace’s writing desk. “Furthermore, you are right-handed, but the ink blotter was on the left-hand side of the desk when I came for my interview. You had asked me to write down the name and address of my next of kin, in case of emergency. As I stood over your desk, almost directly above the wastepaper basket, what had I seen but a rectangle of discarded blotting paper, with the words Cordially yours, George Atwell, in reverse, just discernable at the corner.
“I asked then whether you had any family in town or visiting regularly. You replied that your parents are no more and that your only surviving sibling, a sister, lives with her husband and daughter in India. Mr. Atwell, therefore, cannot be a father or a brother. And unless you are impersonating a man by post, a problematic activity in itself, Mr. Atwell sat here at this very desk recently and dashed out a message before he left.
“That was when I decided to look for the private entrance I knew must exist. And when I found it in the alley behind the house, what should I see, almost directly opposite, but the service door to Atwell & Dewsbury, Pharmaceutical Chemists.
“I visited the shop and met Mr. Atwell. When I mentioned that I am a new boarder at your establishment, he had nothing but the most effusive praise for you as a woman of substance and character. It really is too bad that he is already married.”
Mrs. Wallace’s face turned red, then pale, then splotchy. “Unfounded accusations, one and all.”
“Perhaps. But your other boarders will no doubt be curious as to the reason behind my hasty departure. I can disseminate a great many unfounded accusations during the hour you allotted for my packing.”
“You—you would destroy my reputation as you destroyed your own?”
“To the contrary, I have no intention at all of besmirching your good name, publicly or privately—notice I kept Miss Turner of the long ear and eager tongue far away from our conversation. I know nothing of Mr. Atwell’s domestic situation, but it is evident he and you have arrived at a comfortable state of affairs. There is your ongoing chess game in the corner. The bottle of Pimm’s on the shelf you probably enjoy together. And I can see him reading those William Clark Russell sea novels, should you be busy with business matters in the evening. I would not wish for anything to upset your cozy arrangement.
“But in return, I’d like you to extend a similar consideration to me. You should be able to deduce that I am in difficult circumstances. I will not blackmail you to let me remain under your roof—you do have your reputation to consider—but it is reasonable to ask for the rest of my money back.”