The Fate of Miss Sutherland (A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction story)

Chapter Eleven

Of course it did not. I was flung against the side as it turned a corner. Where was I being taken? Somewhere I did not wish to be, that was certain!

The buildings outside were flying by at a dizzying speed. I tried to take stock of myself, to make sense of the situation I had found myself in. Kidnapping, for nothing else could clearly explain it, was the last thing I would have expected from my stepfather, for who else could it be?

Should I try to jump? Did I dare risk my neck? If I hurt myself by jumping for the pavement, how would that help my situation? Or would it be better to brazen it out?

Steadying myself, I tried to get a good look at where I was. The brief glance was enough to tell me that I was in familiar territory. I was close to my mother's home. Was that where I was being taken? But, why? Didn't he realize it was sure to be the first place my friends searched for me?

Unless they thought it would be ridiculous to look for me at so obvious a place and they wouldn't even make the attempt? Was James so devious to think of such a thing? But how could he know Evangeline well enough to make an assumption about what she might think?

My head ached from such convoluted reasoning. I kept myself braced upright in the cab. Once we had arrived at Mother's house, I intended to give my kidnapper a large piece of my mind.

****

As I had expected, the cab came to a stop behind the house. No doubt to avoid drawing attention to us. I crossed my arms and waited for the driver to come down.

"You will behave yourself, Mary," James said as he came in to view. "Or there will be consequences."

"I have no desire to enter that house, Mr. Windibank," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. "Or would you prefer me to call you as you once introduced yourself to me, Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

With a sneer, he reached in and grabbed my arm so tightly I let out a cry of pain. He dragged me from the cab and then to the servants' back entrance of the house. "Let go of me!" I exclaimed, trying to dig my heels into the ground. "This is absurd! Stop at once!"

But he wouldn't listen or even pause. He had me inside within a matter of minutes, crushing my hope one of the neighbors might take notice. I saw no sign of the cook or maid, not that I would have expected them to been able to help me. James would have ensured he was bringing me somewhere I would have no help.

Just as I wondered if my mother was even aware of what her husband was doing, she stepped into the hallway. "Oh, Mary," she said with a sigh. Her shoulders were stooped and her hands were clasped together. "What have you done now?"

Her words shouldn't have surprised or saddened me. I was always to blame for everything. "I have done nothing," I said, despite it all. She was my mother. Was it possible all maternal sympathy had left her? "In fact, I was about to return to Evangeline's house when James forced me here."

"And why should he not?" Mother asked, her tone reproachful. "After you left so suddenly, of course your father would wish you home in whatever way possible. You've caused quite a scandal, haven't you, Mary?"

She wouldn't listen to reason, but I hadn't expected her to. "If my father—my real father, John Sutherland—saw what you have done, he would be very disappointed in you," I said as James Windibank pushed me past her.

There was a flash of shame, but she didn't say a word. At the stairs, I grabbed onto the banister. "I've had enough of this!" I cried, locking my fingers around the wood. "Release me at once, James Windibank!"

"Stop fighting me, Mary!" he exclaimed, his voice full of exasperation. He managed to reach around me and pried my fingers free. "Can't you understand the harm you are doing to your mother and your family? You cannot be allowed to roam free in this state!"

"And what do you plan to do? Send me to Bethlem Asylum?" I demanded, trying to shove him against the wall. He had anticipated my move, though, and I couldn't budge him an inch.

"I will do what I see fit."

I had spoken mockingly before, not realizing how close to the truth I was! James would have his two doctors back and then they would carry me off to an asylum.

"You won't get away with this!" I cried, fighting every step up the staircase. "I have friends who will be searching for me. They won't stand for any harm to come to me."

"And what will they do?" James asked angrily. "Nothing! This has nothing to do with them. A father has the right to see to his daughter's welfare. Any man would agree. Struggling will only make this harder on yourself. "

We had come to the top. I managed to bring my heel down on his foot and he cursed in pain.

"James! Mary, please!" Mother's voice had a pleading note in it. "Can't you understand this is for your own good?"

"The one thing I understand quite clearly is that James only does anything for his own good and no one else's," I said defiantly. "My friends will come for me. Even if you try to hide me away in an asylum, it will do you no good."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" James shoved me down the hallway.

"Didn't you ever stop to wonder what I had done at my solicitor's office yesterday?" I asked triumphantly. Who knew what he would do when he heard, but I had to speak out! "Mr. Douglas counseled me on the benefits of a will, and he has already begun to carry out my instructions regarding the dispensation of my inheritance."

Again, James cursed. "A judge will easily overturn that when he hears what the doctors have to say," he said. "You are not as clever as you think you are."

"And when my personal doctor who knows me better than two men who met me for a half hour over a year ago says otherwise?" I asked, enjoying his annoyance. "And when my solicitor says I am as sane as anything? When I have Dr. Watson's published story about what you have done? What do you think will happen then?"

With a great thrust, James forced me into what had been my bedroom. I caught myself on the bedpost to keep from falling to the ground. As I straightened up, he came further into my bedroom. I eyed him in distrust.

"I have had enough of this independent attitude of yours," he said. "What do you think you will gain by making a spectacle of yourself? What will people think if they hear you have abandoned your family?"

"Well, if they've read The Strand they will think I have finally shown some sense." I had barely spoken when James strode closer and grabbed my arm. "Let go of me!" I cried, struggling again.

Before I had time to react, he pressed his lips against mine.