The Marriage of Mary Russell Read Online Free PDF Page B

surprised. Nor did he look like a man dressed for his wedding. I opened my mouth to comment on what looked like a hansom-driver’s outfit—then I shut it. Today, for once, he would not provoke me. At least he had shaved.
    “Good afternoon, Holmes,” I offered primly.
    “Russell,” he said with a tip of his disreputable hat.
    “Shall we?” I asked.
    “Ah,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ve a Third—” He stopped, looking down at the ticket I was holding out.
    “I bought two in First Class,” I told him. “We shall have a compartment by ourselves.”
    He submitted with surprisingly good grace, and handed me into the compartment, taking my small valise—the one with the long strap to free one’s hands for flight or fight—to place in the rack overhead. He, I noted, had none. I stifled a sigh, and held out to him the smaller parcel I had fetched as my taxi passed through Town.
    Champagne with two glasses; pâté with biscuits; three wedges of cheese; grapes that had hurried across Europe from some Egyptian hot-house.
    His mouth gave a twitch, and he set about decanting our picnic.
    For the first time that day, I relaxed: whatever lay before us, it would include emotional swordplay, and it would involve Holmes.
    I raised my glass to him, then sat back against the leather seat.
    “Tell me what we are likely to encounter,” I requested. “Other than dogs, furious cousins, and armed butlers.”
    “That may be enough to be going on, considering our hostages to fortune.”
    “Mrs Hudson and Dr Watson,” I supplied. “And Billy?” William Mudd, once the young page on Baker Street, now an investigator in his own right.
    “Once he’s seen the other two off at Euston, Billy’s work is finished. No, just Mycroft.”
    I came perilously near to splashing wine on the pale wool. “
Mycroft?
Your brother is removing himself from London?”
    “A rare occurrence, it is true.”
    Such an event had been described as a planet leaving its orbit.
    “Plus his pet Anglican rector,” I said.
    “Not…exactly.”
    I fixed him with a gaze. “Tell me, Holmes: will anything about this ceremony be recognised in a court of law? I ask because my solicitors are sure to do so.”
    “Your solicitors will be quite satisfied with the paper-work,” he said.
    “And we won’t be required to commit blood-shed in the course of it?”
    “I fully intend our presence to go without notice.”
    “Then would you hand me the grapes?” I requested. The rest of the journey passed in an amiable silence. I may even have napped.
    —
    It was dark when we arrived in…not Northamptonshire, but near there. Holmes carried my small valise across the platform and through the station to the street beyond, but rather than summon one of the two taxis at the kerb, he turned right. Around the corner waited a large, shiny motorcar, its heavy engine idling a cloud into the frigid air. We climbed in. Without waiting for instructions, the driver switched on the head-lamps and put it into gear.
    “Friend of yours?” I asked.
    “An acquaintance.”
    We drove some five or six miles, out of town and up first one country road, then a smaller one, and finally a rough track that had the man pulling himself forward to peer over the wheel.
    At the end, he turned into a wide spot and applied the brakes. Head-lamps and engine cut off; silence and blackness descended. Holmes addressed our driver. “It might be best to turn the motor around, the next time.”
    “For ease of departure, yes, sir.”
    “We shall return here within two hours.”
    “I’ll keep your friends here until you come.”
    “Russell, you’re certain you won’t hold me to blame for the ruination of your shoes or garments? We have a mile or so of ground to cover.”
    “In that case,” I said, “hold on a moment.”
    I knew my…intended well enough to have suspected that formal clothing would be doomed, so I now felt around for the valise, opened it, and pulled out a pair of shoes