“And what did you mean just now, when you said I should become your assistant?” Mary was almost afraid to ask. Surely he did not mean that she would be another Watson? Solving mysteries with him, traveling around England as a detective? Well, detective’s assistant. But still. After all, she had helped solve the Whitechapel Murders. . . .
“I mean that I need someone to organize my papers. You’ve seen yourself that at present, they are in disarray. I know where everything is, of course. But I need someone with a clear and logical mind, such as you have, to devise an organizational system that will make all my files easily accessible. It’s clerical work, but you asked for work, and I have some for you. Are you interested, Miss Jekyll? I can offer two pounds a week.”
Mary put her soup spoon by her plate. She aligned it precisely, then folded her napkin beside it. We already knew her well enough—at least, Catherine already knew her well enough—to see that she was disappointed and not showing it.
JUSTINE: I knew it also.
BEATRICE: And I.
DIANA: I thought she always did that. Just because she’s Mary. Doesn’t Mary always do that?
“Yes, thank you. I should be very glad of two pounds a week. When would you like me to start?”
“Today, if possible,” said Holmes. “I need to get back to Lestrade at Scotland Yard, and I would like you to accompany me. As a temporary Watson, to take notes. In Watson’s absence, I lack a reliable secretary. Of course he doesn’t thinks of himself that way, but his notes are often useful to me, before they become the melodramatic stuff of his stories. If you’re done with your meal . . . will you come?”
“Of course,” said Mary. Scotland Yard! Well, she might be stuck in 221B Baker Street tomorrow, but today at least she was going somewhere interesting.
“And how is Dr. Watson?” asked Beatrice.
“Much better this morning,” said Holmes. “I saw him first thing, before meeting with Lestrade. You may visit him if you like, but I suggest no more than two of you at a time. I hope you won’t be offended if I say that all of you together can be . . . overwhelming. Particularly for a man in his delicate state.”
“I’d like to go see him,” said Beatrice.
“I’ll go with you,” said Catherine. “For protection.”
“Thank you, Cat, and of course you’re welcome to come with me. But I think I can protect myself.” Beatrice looked as though her pride had been wounded.
“Not to protect you. To protect the British public from you. Particularly until you become less poisonous. I can already see the headlines: Italian Beauty Poisons Londoners! The newsboys would be crying it all over the city. . . .”
“And what about me?” asked Diana. “I want to go somewhere or do something! Why don’t I get to do anything?”
“Diana, will you stay with me?” said Justine. “I am not yet entirely recovered, and if any danger were to threaten, if Hyde were to return for instance, I’m not sure I could defend myself, or Mrs. Poole and Alice. We would need someone as clever and resourceful as yourself on our side.”
“Oh, well, if you need me. I suppose I can stay.” Diana shrugged, but looked as pleased as a cat that had gotten into cream.
Mary was not sure she approved of Justine’s maneuver. Surely that sort of praise was bad for Diana? But at least it would keep her from following one of them without permission.
“Well then,” said Holmes. “Let’s be off on our various errands. Miss Jekyll, if you’re ready?”
“Yes,” said Mary. “Yes, I’m ready.” She rose from the table and pushed back her chair. “Let’s go.” It would be an adventure. And perhaps not the last.
MARY: Of course not the last. Think of all the things that have happened since then!
CATHERINE: Yes, but I have to end with at least a little suspense.
MARY: What about what happened after that? You know, immediately after. You were all there.
“Just a moment, Mr. Holmes,” said Mary. “I’ve forgotten my umbrella.”
They were already outside the door of 11 Park Terrace—I mean, the Athena Club. It was a late spring day in London, which meant it was about to rain. Mary had indeed forgotten her umbrella—she did not add, deliberately. Because she had to know.
Holmes nodded, and she ran back inside. Catherine and Beatrice had their coats on. Well, her coats. Their coats now. Justine and Diana were standing in the hall, seeing them off. Quickly, because she did not want Holmes to come back in and hear her, she said, “Diana, where is that pin you used to pick the locks in the warehouse? The hatpin you probably stole off my dressing table.”
Diana looked at her with astonishment. “What hatpin?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean. Tell me the truth.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Diana shook her head, eyes wide, all innocence. Which meant of course that she was lying. We were beginning to know her now, to know each other. We could tell things about each other that others would not be able to. That’s how it is with families.
“You gave it to him, didn’t you?” Mary spoke accusingly.
“Well, he’s our dad! Whether you want to admit it or not.” Diana crossed her arms and looked petulant.
“So you did! I knew it. As soon as I heard he had escaped from Newgate, I wondered what he could have picked a lock with, small enough to hide from the guards. You must have slipped it to him before you ran off with Charlie, when he was already in handcuffs. It’s your fault a criminal has escaped from prison. It’s your fault a man who is dangerous to the public, and potentially to all of us, is still out there. Don’t you realize—it was his watch fob in Molly Keane’s hand. Adam wasn’t a member of the society. He might have killed her, but our—your—father was just as responsible for her death. He was probably the one who cut out her brain—with a scalpel! Do you even understand what you’ve done?” Mary took her umbrella from the stand, as though she might run Diana through with it. And he may have caused my mother’s death, she did not add. That was not something she wanted to discuss, not yet. Instead she added, although it felt irrelevant now, “It’s your fault we lost even the possibility of a reward for finding the murderer of Sir Danvers Carew.”
“He’s our dad,” said Diana. She looked utterly immovable. Which is how we have learned Diana often looks.
Mary glared at her for a moment, then made the sound a lady makes when she is thoroughly angry. (It’s a sort of low growl.) Clutching her umbrella like a sword, she walked out the door into the rainy London afternoon.
MARY: Do you know what Mr. Holmes said to me in the cab? “Miss Jekyll, I know you and your friends haven’t told me everything. I won’t enquire into your secrets, beyond what is necessary for me to solve the mystery of the Société des Alchimistes. They are safe even from me.”
BEATRICE: That shows he is a gentleman.
CATHERINE: It shows he had already guessed what we weren’t telling him. After all, he’s Sherlock Holmes. And he wanted Mary to understand that he could be trusted. Haven’t you noticed how he is around Mary? Do you seriously think he needed an assistant to organize his files? He wanted to keep her close, that’s what he wanted. For more reasons than one, I’m guessing.