The Detective and the Woman Read Free

that for myself and never detected anything amiss in his manner. I was very happy during my honeymoon, happy and still, I admit, proud of my little defeat of the greatest detective in London.’ I looked up, but Holmes’s face did not register any change at this.
    ‘Few, if any, know the truth about Godfrey’s family. He was distantly related to an earl, and it had never seemed a significant connection until one month before the wedding, when Godfrey informed me that he had learned that he was the heir to a large estate in Yorkshire. My fortune, gained through my career, was enough to support the manor, which was rich in land but deficient in money. Our friends assumed Godfrey and I meant to move to America, but our intention from that point on was to take possession of the family home. I did not mind the idea of secluded country life. After spending my years from fourteen to twenty-seven touring the world, I felt ready to settle down with a good man—a much better one, I thought, than others I had known.’
    I stopped to take a drink of my now-cold coffee, and Holmes stood up and turned to the shelf behind the sofa, which was empty except for a tattered grey afghan that was redolent of mothballs. He handed it to me. I hadn’t realised I was chilled, but even in Florida, an old theatre can be draughty. ‘Your hands turned pale,’ he said, by way of explanation. I thanked him and tucked the afghan around myself, glad for a reprieve before the most difficult part of my recollection, the years I would have liked to forget.
    ‘The trouble started when we reached West Yorkshire. I can’t—I still can’t explain how quickly it happened. I flattered myself before that I was not a stupid woman, Holmes, but I had been completely taken in. Godfrey was nothing like the man I had known. It immediately became apparent that he had married me for my fortune, the one thing he did not possess to go along with his property and the lifestyle of the landed gentry he sought. He told me very quickly that he had known about his inheritance far longer than he had let on—since before our first meeting, in fact.’
    ‘I was shaken, but I planned my escape, determined not to be beaten so easily. He was too vigilant. The man who had been able to deceive me was able to retain power over me by having servants in my way constantly, people who believed he was the kindest of husbands to be so solicitous of his wife’s needs. Outwardly, I lived the life of a princess. Inwardly, I felt as if I would die. I could go nowhere alone, do nothing without being watched. My only recourse would have been to injure or kill one of the staff and go alone into the Yorkshire countryside. In London, I would have risked it with a sedative in the teacup of a maid, but in Yorkshire I had access to nothing and no knowledge of the area. I was trapped.’ As I finished my statement, I saw Holmes’s hand clasp into a fist inadvertently, the first sign of acknowledgement he had given in many minutes. I surmised that his quick brain was producing in him the feelings of a trapped mind, my captive feelings.
    ‘I will not explain all the details of my relationship with my husband. It is hardly necessary and excessively painful to recall. Suffice to say that he did everything to me that a man can do to make a woman’s life miserable, both mentally and physically. I had been with unpleasant men before, but his triumph made him crueler than anyone I had ever known. The only hold I had over him was music. During our courtship, I would sing to him almost every night, and he had professed great fondness for my voice. That, at least, was not a lie. When we were married, he would beg me to sing for him, over and over, and I would refuse. It drove him mad, but I never cared what he did then because I knew that I had kept something for myself. It kept me alive, that one thing.’
    I leaned forward. ‘One day, Holmes, it happened. We were eating dinner in the evening, and Godfrey