The next several days were spent in a flurry of activity. I barely had time for lessons with Mrs. Stanhope, a relief in itself! And when I was forced through etiquette lessons, I had the prospect of London to console me!
And, in the midst of it all, a letter from one of my former school friends arrived. Jane Meyer was one of the few girls from school that I stayed in contact with, and mostly because Mrs. Stanhope had decreed I needed to maintain "connections" as she called them. Jane was a nice enough girl, a bit flighty but sweet. Her responses to my letters were few and far between.
I opened the letter and scanned the writing as I walked. The news the brief letter contained took my breath away.
"Serena, you're looking rather pale," Mother remarked from where she was collecting her music together. "Your letter from Miss Meyer doesn't contain bad news, does it?"
"I'm afraid it does, Mother," I said, looking up. "Jane writes that her sister has been killed in an accident."
"Oh, dear. How tragic!"
I nodded and examined the letter closer. The paper as the same as always, but there was something drawn on the lower part of the letter that caught my attention. It was a buttercup. I had knew some young ladies personalized their letters in such a way, but Jane had never done so before this.
"Serena, can you hand me the Wagner?" Mother requested, gesturing to the portfolio of Wagner music that sat near my elbow. I folded my letter, putting it away to consider later, and did as she asked.
In no time at all, it seemed, I was crossing the threshold of my mother's house. This was the first time she'd ever opened it since she'd married Father. The circumstances of Irene Adler and the King of Bohemia are quite well known, tanks to Dr. Watson's publication of the event. For several years, there had been many who'd watched the house to get a glimpse of the owner. Now, enough time had passed, it was simply the unused dwelling of a former performer and her husband.
Immediately, Father was off on his business that seemed to be oh-so-secretive. Mother had the grand piano tuned and began to go through the program she'd outlined. Apparently, she had several performances scheduled during her time in London, and was determined to shine as she'd never had a chance to before.
I was, once again, left to the mercy of my governess and she was determined to make up for lost time. As I was denied being able to make any visits in my current wardrobe, I was initially pleased that Mrs. Stanhope took it on herself to take charge of the update to my wardrobe. However when that, it turned out, involved a smaller corset, I was not so happy with the situation. Mrs. Stanhope was quite intent on making my waist smaller than could possibly be healthy!
"I cannot breathe!" I protested when I was first laced into the torture device at the dressmaker's establishment. I had worn a corset before, naturally, but not one that was nearly so tight or constricting. "Can't you loosen it? Just a little?"
The assistant moved to do so, the look on her face compassionate. "Certainly not!" Mrs. Stanhope said sharply, stopping the girl. "Miss Norton, your waist must be brought to a fashionable size. In a few months, you will don a smaller size to increase the progress."
Oh, I was going to bring this to my mother's attention as soon as possible! She, as a singer, knew the value of a person's lung capacity, which I was not able to fill properly with this contraption! I'd be rid of the corset in no time at all!
"Have you heard the terrible news?" the assistant asked as she took my measurements. Hopefully, I could change the measurements with something more reasonable before they began to sew my new dresses. I only shook my head in response to her question, distracted with trying to breathe. "Miss Amelia Johanson has died! Very tragically, too."
Frowning, I focused on what she was saying. Mrs. Stanhope had mentioned the name before. I glanced over to where Mrs. Stanhope was examining cloths. "Was she a client here?" I asked, certain I would not be overheard getting more information.
"She was, Miss," the assistant answered, clearly delighted to have someone to speak to about the matter. "She fell down a flight of stairs."
Nothing sinister then. "Poor girl," I murmured, looking away. I chided myself for feeling disappointed. " It was sad when an accident of that nature occurs. Her family must be very saddened."
"Only I heard it was not truly an accident, and that Mr. Sherlock Holmes has been called into the case! To think I should know a person in one of his cases! Oh, not know personally, you understand. But she had always come here for her clothes. She is the third young lady to come to such a bad end these past few weeks."
Alert, I looked back at her. "Not an accident?" I repeated in puzzlement. What reason would there be to murder a young lady? "The third?
"Yes. She was very close friends with Lady Isabella, and everyone knows what happened to her! And then Miss Meyer, too!"
Did they? I was completely in the dark in the circumstances of Lady Isabella's death and knew only the barest of details regarding Miss Meyer's demise. "Come, get dressed, Miss Norton!" Mrs. Stanhope urged, interrupting the conversation before I could question it any further. "We must continue on."
I growled under my breath at the untimely interruption, but was more than ready to be free of the tight corset. After all, it would make my clothes look far to large and that was not appropriate for a young lady. I would speak to Mother and never put the terrible thing on again!
And, once I was home, I would scour the newspapers for news!
***
The moment I stepped into Briony Lodge, I rushed for the kitchen. Leigh, the butler, usually had the newspapers set aside to read at his leisure. He gave me a stern look when I asked for them, but obligingly handed them over. I spread them out on the table right then, and began to scan through the stories.
After nearly a half hour, I gave up hope. There was nothing on the death of Miss Amelia Johanson. I leaned back with a huff. "Did you not find what you're looking for, Miss Serena?" Mrs. Leigh asked, looking over. I shook my head, considering what to do next. "Well, have some tea and pastries. That'll cheer you up."
"No, I'm not hungry," I answered. I sighed, resigned to not knowing the truth of the matter. In all likelihood, Dr. Watson would write the case up and I would then read it in the Strand with the other published cases. "Thank you, Leigh."
"What were you looking for, Miss Serena?" he asked.
"I had heard something untoward happened to a Lady Isabella and was curious for the details, but it is of no matter," I answered. Thoughtfully, I walked upstairs. I did not like not knowing something. Perhaps if I were to visit Mrs. Hudson, I would learn something? "Fool," I whispered, shaking my head. "What does this have to do with you? Nothing."
"Serena? Is that you darling?" Mother called from the music room. "Come here for a moment."
Well, at least I could put an end to this corset business, and I readily went in. Mrs. Stanhope was already there, looking smug. For the first time, I felt a little bit afraid. She was so determined to have her way in things, but I couldn't tell how far she would go in the matter. And, as I had said, not knowing was not good. It put me at a disadvantage.
"Mrs. Stanhope said you were complaining at your fitting, Serena," Mother said, with a disapproving frown. She was seated at the piano, her music spread about her. "I know new corsets can be uncomfortable at first, but it must be done. You cannot dress like a child forever, and we agreed that this must happen."
My jaw dropped. "B-but, Mother!" I protested. Mrs. Stanhope was smiling with triumph. She thought she'd outwitted me. Well, I knew how to use my mind! "I have no objection to the change! I object to the size of my waist that she intends to inflict on me! I must be able to breathe, else how will I be able to practice singing?"
Mrs. Stanhope's smile faded slightly. "It cannot be that bad," Mother said, turning her attention to my governess. "How narrow did you say you wished Serena's waist to become?"
"I didn't say, Mrs. Norton," my governess answered, attempting to deflect the question. Mother frowned. "Its nothing to be concerned with. You know Miss Norton dislikes the changes that are necessary for a young lady. And I fear she is protesting because of her dislike of me and my methods. The size is what is expected of a young lady."
"Mother, I could not breathe!" I continued, pressing my point. "And she said I would receive a tighter one in a few months."
"Mrs. Stanhope, that is simply not acceptable," Mother said firmly, coming to a quick decision. "I appreciate that you are of an old-fashioned frame of mind, and my husband deemed that an important quality. However, this disfiguring of a young ladies figure for fashion is appalling to me, and I will not allow it to happen to my daughter."
I grinned in happiness, but saw that my governess was less than pleased. "As you say, Mrs. Norton," Mrs. Stanhope said, her tone tight.
Nodding once, Mother turned back to her music. Happy of my victory, I removed myself to my room. A death that was not accident, but for all intent and purposes sounded like an accident. That would occupy my mind for some time!
__________
On the right, Natasha Little as Irene Adler Norton