The Opera Singer's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Spin-Off Novel)

Chapter Fourteen

"What if Mum's 'liaison' with the King wasn't just a liason?" I whispered as the idea became fully formed.

If I remembered Dr. Watson's telling of what had happened, Mum's letter had said she was a wronged woman. Why wronged? Simply because the King had married? Had she expected something else to happen?

Of course, it was hard to know what Mum may have been thinking. Fourteen years had passed. Until I could ask her, I wouldn't be able to know what she expected from her...affair with the King. After all, she hadn't wanted to be just a mistress. She had left when the King offered to keep her in a house.

So what had been Mum's association with him? Why be involved with him at all if the idea of being his 'kept woman' had been so unappealing? What if...

What if Mum had thought her relationship with the King was more serious? She believed she was the one wronged. What if she had refused to be intimate with the King unless he married her? If he had pretended to do so to get what he wanted....well, that would be more than enough reason for Mum to say she had been wronged.

But then why come after her now that she had married? Had a child of fourteen? Had a life that had nothing to do with Bohemia?

"What if the King had married Mum, and then found a way to annul it when he decided on a more politically advantageous marriage?" My mind was spinning with the possibilities, and hearing them aloud helped sort through what I was thinking.

"Or he really married her and then didn't annul it."

If that were true, his marriage to his queen would be invalid and his children illegitimate. I would be the next in line for the Bohemian throne.

It was a good thing I was sitting down because I don't think my legs would have been able to support me if I had been standing.

Me? Daughter to a king? Heir to a throne? Was it possible? The marriage license that had so annoyed Mr. Holmes would seem to suggest as much.

It would be the scandal of the century!

At the very least, if someone believed it to be true, they might go to great lengths to resolve the matter. My stomach twisted as I imagined just how far an advisor might go.

Make the problem disappear? Absolutely, and no doubt by any means necessary.

"Oh, Mum," I whispered, wondering just what my parents were enduring at the moment. "How did this happen?"

Was my imagination running away with me? Probably, but it was hard to ignore the facts that seemed to point to the conclusion I had come to. Still, why had it taken fourteen years for the King to take action?

"What if I am?" I said. "What then?"

What then, indeed? It explained why I had been nearly kidnapped but did nothing to help explain what to do about it.

As it was, the cab was slowing down. I found myself on a street I had never seen before. There were some ladies walking from shop to shop, their long skirts brushing the pavement. I paid the cabbie and set off before he could question me about where the gentleman had gone. I had little doubt that he would remember me, even if I did do my best not to look directly at him.

I tried to walk with confidence on the pavement. I knew all too well how important it was to look as if I belonged there. If I appeared to be hesitant and lost, I would be memorable. Nevermind that I was in a school uniform at a time when most girls in school would not be on the street.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the little shops that lined the street. Mr. Holmes hadn't said I needed to go directly to the tea shop. If, on the way there, I found a shop with items to help disguise myself, all the better.

And I found such a shop. In the window were ready-made gowns. Thankful I had money in my reticule, which had managed to stay on my wrist through the whole ordeal, I slipped in to make a purchase.

The young lady behind the counter was more than happy to find me one of the gowns in my size. The dark green walking gown was similar to the one I had taken from my mother's wardrobe. It fit well enough that it didn't need any alteration and dramatically changed the status people would believe me to be when they saw me.

A large hat completed my outfit and did a great deal to hide my face. I left the shop looking like a different person. My school uniform was tied in paper and added to the effect that I was a fashionable lady out shopping.

Granted, every disguise I had tried had only held up for so long. This time, however, I made a detour into a beauty shop. There, for a hefty sum, I bought a black wig. It was hot but the curls about my face made my cheeks look wider. I did not look like Aida Norton.

There were several occupied tables in the tea shop when I entered. I was shown to a small table and tea brought. I watched the newcomers carefully. The greatest test of my disguise would be if Mr. Holmes recognized me.

Nearly a half-hour passed. I had finished an entire pot of tea, which would have its own consequences later on. Just as I was about to request a second pot, a stooped-over gentleman stepped into the tea shop. He was well dressed but somehow managed to appear aged.

He glanced around the shop and then his grey eyes landed on me. Mr. Holmes' surprise must have matched mine. "Uncle!" I exclaimed with delighted cheerfulness. I rose from my table and skipped toward him. "There you are at last! I have been waiting ages for you!"

My declaration had drawn the attention of everyone in the shop, which had been my intention. I was not Aida Norton at that moment, and being noticed was a good thing. "Niece," Mr. Holmes said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Have you bought everything in the shop?"

"Oh, of course not!" I said, with a mock pout. "I'm having all my baubles sent to the house, but there was this one gorgeous gown I simply had to bring along with me. Do you want some tea?"

Mr. Holmes gravely declined. I collected my package while he paid for my tea. Arms linked together, we left the tea shop. "Too much?" I asked in a low voice. I sent a beaming smile to the gentleman we were passing on the pavement.

"Dear girl, if you were tracked to this street, no one will have forgotten you," Mr. Holmes said, hailing a cab. "And that will send the searchers on their way to continue their search. A flighty young lady drawing attention to her meeting with her uncle will be uninteresting to them."

His approval pleased me immensely. "I'd considered cosmetics, but I have not the experience to use them well enough," I admitted as I climbed into the cab.

My confession barely even raised Mr. Holmes' eyebrow. "I applaud your resourcefulness, though I hardly think it will be effective if you were right in front of Braxton or Keene," he said as the cab set off.

"I was afraid of that," I said with a sigh.

"Once we have reached our destination, I would like you to make a list of what you will need for a wardrobe. This was admirable and may put your pursuers off for a time, but it won't take them long to work matters out. I will have Mrs. Hudson purchase what you need."

Now that was not an acceptable solution. "Mrs. Hudson is still hampered by her foot," I said firmly. "How do you expect her to be able to go out to shops?"

"Oh, yes. I had forgotten." The reminder did not please the detective. "I shall have to think of something else."
"Is it too soon to ask what our next move will be?"

I did not get an answer. Sighing, I settled back to wait until I knew where we were going.