The Hollow of Fear by Sherry Thomas

Author:Sherry Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2018-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

The interview with Lady Avery and Lady Somersby did not conclude there.

Chief Inspector Fowler went on to ask the ladies who they supposed might have sent the note chiding them for not paying closer attention to Lady Ingram’s disappearance. They had no good guesses but felt that the writer was unlikely to be a member of Lord Ingram’s staff, because of its imperious tone.

“Even an upper servant, writing anonymously, wouldn’t address a ladyship in this manner. Would have been more deferent.”

Attesting to Sherrinford Holmes’s skillful insinuation, Fowler concluded by asking whether the ladies knew anyone who might wish Lord Ingram harm. The question surprised the ladies and made them thoughtful but yielded no useful answers.

Treadles took good notes, as he should. But it was difficult to maintain his concentration.

Lord Ingram. In love. With Miss Holmes.

It shouldn’t have shocked him. Hadn’t he sensed something between the two, from the very beginning? He hadn’t wanted to let his thoughts go down that direction, hadn’t wanted to believe that Lord Ingram, the very embodiment of manly virtues, could feel more for Miss Holmes than an exasperated friendship.

The exasperated friendship had most certainly been there. As well as a deeply frustrated protectiveness, a constant awareness, and a fierce and fiercely repressed yearning.

What did he see in her? Treadles supposed that one must admire Miss Holmes’s mind. He himself still did, however reluctantly. And he supposed there were Miss Holmes’s looks, which were not displeasing. But her femininity was only skin-deep. Underneath that . . .

Near the end of the Sackville case, Miss Holmes had sat calmly and unspooled one revelation after another, as he, the professional, reeled from the ugliness that came to light. The woman had no feelings. No horror at the vilest human deeds. No regrets about running away from home. No shame over the conduct that had brought her low.

And certainly no need for a man.

Lord Ingram might as well have fallen in love with a pretty dress—or an advertising poster featuring a woman with blond ringlets.

Lady Avery and Lady Somersby were leaving. Fowler rose. So did Treadles, a moment too late.

“I must confess,” said Fowler, rather conversationally, after he thanked the women, “that I’m now highly curious about this Miss Charlotte Holmes.”

Treadles’s conscience chafed again. Why was he keeping this silence? And for how much longer?

“If you find her,” replied Lady Avery in all seriousness, “please tell her we wish to speak to her.”

When they had left, Fowler turned to Treadles. “Did you notice what she said? If we find her, not when. We are policemen, are we not? Let us find her.”

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