The Case of the Missing Marquess Read Online Free PDF Page B

swinging by its knees from a tree limb. All my life I had assumed that my brothers kept their distance due to my shameful existence, whereas they were saying—a quarrel with my mother?
    I could not tell how Mycroft felt regarding this revelation. Or Sherlock.
    I could not quite tell how I felt about it, either, other than bewildered. But something secret fluttered like a butterfly in my heart.
    “I sent her a monthly allowance,” Mycroft went on, “and she wrote me a very businesslike letter requesting an increase. I replied by asking for an accounting of how the money was being spent, and she complied. Her continuing requests for additional funds seemed so reasonable that I never refused any of them. But, as we now know, her accounts were fictitious. What actually has become of all that money, we, um, we have no idea.”
    I noticed his hesitation. “But you have a theory,” I said.
    “Yes.” He took a long breath. “We think she has been hoarding, while planning an escapade, all this time.” Another breath, even longer. “We think she has now taken what she perceives as her money and, um, gone somewhere to, ah, thumb her nose at us, so to speak.”
    What on earth was he saying? That Mum had abandoned me? I sat with my mouth ajar.
    “Pity the girl’s cranial capacity, Mycroft,” Sherlock murmured to his brother, and to me he said gently, “Enola, simply put, we think she has run away.”
    But—but that was preposterous, impossible. She wouldn’t have done that to me.
    “No,” I blurted. “No, it can’t be.”
    “Think, Enola.” Sherlock sounded just like Mum. “All logic points to that conclusion. If she were injured, the searchers would have found her, and if she were in an accident, we would have heard. There is no reason for anyone to harm her, and there are no signs of foul play. There is no reason for anyone to seize her against her will, other than ransom, for which there has been no demand.” He paused for a significant breath before going on. “If, however, she is alive, in good health, and doing whatever she pleases—”
    “As usual,” Mycroft put in.
    “Her disorderly bedroom could be the merest blind.”
    “To throw us off the track,” Mycroft agreed. “It certainly appears that she has been plotting and scheming for years—”
    I sat up straight like a steam whistle. “But if she could have left anytime,” I wailed, “why would she do it on my birthday ?”
    Now it was their turn to sit with mouths slack and uncouth. I had bested them.
    But at that very triumphant instant it occurred to me, with a chill, that Mum had instructed Mrs. Lane to give me my gifts, just in case she were not back in time for tea.
    Or for ever.

CHAPTER THE FIFTH
    BECAUSE MY EYES BURNED WITH TEARS, I am afraid I excused myself from luncheon rather hastily.
    I needed to be outside. Fresh air would cool my heated feelings. Pausing only to snatch up the new drawing kit Mum had given me, I ran out the kitchen door, through the vegetable garden, past the empty stables, across the overgrown lawn, and into the wooded portion of the estate. Then, out of breath, I walked on beneath the oaks, feeling somewhat better.
    It seemed I was alone in the forest. The constables and other searchers had passed on to the more distant fields and moorlands.
    The woodland sloped downward, and at the bottom of that incline I reached my favourite place, the deep rocky dell where ferns draped like a lady’s green velvet evening gown over the stones, trailing down to a pebbly stream that formed a pool under a leaning willow. Heedless of my frock and pantalets, I clambered over rocks and ferns until I reached the willow. Hugging its stout trunk, I laid my cheek against its mossy bark. Then I ducked beneath it to crawl into a shady hollow between the overhanging tree and the stream.
    This cool nook was my secret hideaway, known to no one except me. Here I kept things I liked, things Mrs. Lane would have thrown out if I had brought