Observation ⋅ S. HOLMES (ON HOLD)

2 ⋅ A Necessary Escape

One night, I was passing by the drawing room when voices caught my ear. The door was closed, but the crack at the bottom allowed light to spill into the hallway. Being especially quiet, and wondering what was being said, I crept up to the door and peered through the rather large keyhole.

Grandmother was sitting on a ottoman, an expression of worry on her face. Grandfather stood behind her, looking as stern as always, but what surprised me the most was that Mama was also in the room. She was pacing back and forward, speaking quickly. I strained my ears to catch her words.

"...why do you laugh at me, Father?" she said. "I know someone is following me. I can feel it."

Grandfather frowned. "Eliza, there is nothing for you to worry about," he said. "The house is secure, you're safe here." He waved his hand around. "Your imagination is getting the better of you, my dear. You're just being-"

"Just being what?" Mama stopped pacing and whipped around to face him. "I am not being paranoid or unreasonable. You would know if someone was after you too. Why do you think I leave Maria here instead of bringing her with me?"

I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. 

Grandmother shifted on the ottoman. "Eliza, think for a moment. Why would anyone want to hurt you? Unless Maria is the reason you're being followed, but..." She shook her head. "That's impossible."  

"I'm the daughter of a lord, Mother. What more of a reason does someone need?"

"Your mother is right," Grandfather cut in, trying to calm her down. "You're not a target for anyone." He stopped for a moment. "Perhaps, if you wish, I could give you a guard-"

"No," Mama demanded. "No, Father, I am a target, just like you were. And if it were up to you, we would all forget it and continue on pretending there's no danger out there."

My eyes widened as silence filled the room and a dreadful tension replaced the sound of words. Grandfather? A target? What was she talking about? I could tell neither of my grandparents liked the topic. Grandmother's face paled as Grandfather's jaw clenched and his eyes smoldered with anger. 

His voice broke the silence, cold and unforgiving. "We agreed not to speak of that event, Eliza."

"And why not?" Mama argued. "Because you couldn't bear to see me happy with the man I loved, the man who ended up saving your life? You owe him a great deal more than you think, Father."

"Eliza," Grandmother began. "I don't believe you understand-"

"Oh, I understand perfectly!" She continued pacing again, throwing her hands up as she spoke. "What was so wrong about marrying him, Father? I was happy with him. We were happy."

That was the final straw. Grandfather came around from his position behind the ottoman, his eyes burning. Every part of him was stiff with rage. "Eliza! That's enough! You may no longer be married, but that doesn't change my opinion on the matter. You are my daughter, and I will not have you mentioning that low-life madman in my house!"

A choking sound slipped from my mouth as I realized he was talking about my father. Tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to fall. What was it about my father that Grandfather hated so much? I bristled at those words. A low-life madman, indeed! Half of me wanted to barge into the room and give him a piece of my mind. 

I was unfortunately stopped from doing so by the arrival of a most unwanted person.

"Miss Maria!"

My head snapped up as Nancy, one of Grandmother's maids, approached me, looking quite worried. Her blond hair was spilling out of its place under her cap. "Miss Maria, I've been looking for you. I've come to fetch you for bedtime."