I wanted to look over my shoulder but also didn't want to give anything away if someone was watching me. Showing how uncomfortable I was would win me nothing.
After glancing at me, the woman heaved a sigh and nodded. She stepped back and gestured for us to enter. Mr. Holmes motioned for me to go ahead of him. He didn't even glance over his shoulder as he followed me in.
"How many are out there?" I asked in a quiet voice.
He looked down at me, an eyebrow raised. "I saw at least three," he said without trying to conceal the matter. "They were not being very discreet in their observation."
My hand itched to reach up to my hat. I'd not yet used my hatpin to defend myself, but I wanted to have it in hand. Just in case I needed it. "Well, then. What do you think they will do now that they know we are here?"
"Nothing if they are smart. However, I've not seen an abundance of intelligence among them as of yet."
"What can I do to help?" the elderly woman asked, leaning on her cane. She didn't give any indication that she had overheard our quiet exchange. "Where do you wish to look?"
"Miss Norton?" Mr. Holmes said. "Where would you suggest?"
Why was he asking me? I breathed out, trying to think clearly. Proceeding without any direction would be futile. "What are we looking for?" I asked, turning to Mr. Holmes.
"By your own telling, your mother left her home of her own free will," Mr. Holmes said, his gaze moving around the room. What was he seeing that I had missed? "Unless she went straight to the King's men —which I would consider a foolish move—she must have gone somewhere."
The housekeeper blinked. "King? Do you mean those rude foreign men who forced their way in no more than five days ago? I don't know what they were looking for, but I called for help and the constable took them off."
The King of Bohemia's men had come here. "Wouldn't she know this place would be watched?" I asked, trying not to get distracted.
"Of course, but if she intended to put something in safety, where else would she go?"
What would Mum have to hide? The picture of her with the King? No, why would she need to hide that? Some papers indicating my birth? What would bring Mum back here when she must have known the danger? Why wouldn't she have just...
"A bank would have been more anonymous," I said.
Mr. Holmes nodded. "It would have. But she may have intended for you to find it if she did not come back."
An interesting notion. With that in mind, I determined to see the room in a new way. If I were her and had something to hide, where would I put it? Start there and work backward to the what. "What about where she hid the photograph fourteen years ago?" I asked, trying to recall which specific room Dr. Watson had stated in the story.
"The sitting room? I think not. I doubt Mrs. Norton would leave anything there as anyone who has read Watson's telling of the incident is aware of its location. Even the King would not be indiotic enough to forget it."
Of course. Why hadn't I thought of that?
The best place to find something would be wherever Mum spent most of her time. At least, that's what I thought. "Which room was my mother's favorite?" I asked, looking at the housekeeper. "Was there somewhere she would spend the majority of her time?"
"Oh, yes," she said with an emphatic nod. "The music room. I keep her piano tuned so that it is ready for her whenever she and Mr. Godfrey come. It is right this way."
Had I asked the right question? Mr. Holmes gave a slight nod in answer to my look. It was as close to approval as I guessed I would get. Feeling somewhat proud, I followed the housekeeper to the music room, which was off the hall.
A grand piano, much like the one at Lynbrook Manor, shone in the middle of the room. Sheet music was displayed. Pastoral paintings hung on the wall, but there was nothing truly personal in the room. It could have been a room in anyone's house.
As Mr. Holmes began to study the walls, I approached the piano. I lifted the fallboard and revealed the gleaming ivory keys below. When I pressed middle c, the note rang out, slightly muffled by the lid.
Music had always been a large part of Mum's life. She trained her voice from an early age but that hadn't meant she'd neglected other things. When I was a child, I had fully believed there wasn't anything she didn't know. She was charming and clever, and I'd always thought everyone loved her.
Mr. Holmes hadn't said anything. When I glanced over, he was making an examination of the paintings. Unsure what I was expected to do, I played scale. As soon as I hit the A note, I tilted my head.
"That wasn't in tune." I played the note again, thinking I had misheard.
This time, Mr. Holmes turned. "When was the last time the piano was tuned?" he asked, glancing at the housekeeper who was watching us with no little apprehension.
"Two months ago," she answered promptly. "I remember because the man was impertinent and rude. He didn't spend much time at the piano. Always looking around when he ought to have done his work and been on his way."
"Incompetant," Mr. Holmes said in a low voice.
It wasn't hard to make the guess that the man hadn't been a piano tuner at all. Two months ago. How long had the King's men been pursuing Mum? What made this so important to them?
I stepped to the side of the piano and lifted the lid. At first glance, the strings looked as they should. In two months, the piano should not have gone out of tune. I leaned closer, trying to find anything out of the ordinary.
There! Tucked between the hammer and ths A string was a folded sheet of paper. I used the lid prop to keep the lid up and leaned forward to get it. I pulled the paper out and unfolded it.
Unless you come to Briony Lodge, you will not see your husband again.
The message was typed, but beyond that I couldn't see anything remarkable about it. Was this what had drawn Mum away from Lynbrook? A threat against Papa? I'd guessed as much, but seeing the words in back and white made my heart skip a beat.
"Clever," Mr. Holmes said, drawing near. "The men searched high and low, destroying anything to get their hands on this, but they did not look somewhere so simple. Allow me to examine it."
"I'm sorry. I should have waited," I said as I handed it over. "Any fingerprints have been covered by mine."
"As I do not have your mother's fingerprints, it would have been difficult to identify any prints I might have found," Mr. Holmes said as he examined the paper. "Excellent quality, but that is to be expected given the persona we are dealing with."
Why had Mum hidden it here? I leaned closer, searching for another scrap of paper. Anything that might help reveal...well, anything at this point! All I knew was that she had been threatened. Was she in hiding? Or had she given herself up to save Papa?
If she knew there was danger, why hadn't I been warned?
"Did Mrs. Norton play the piano when she was here?" Mr. Holmes asked the housekeeper. "Or are you a musician? It is strange that she would leave her music out as she did."
Surprised, I glanced at the music resting on the rack. "It is strange," I said slowly. "She always told me to take care of sheet music as paper tends to be fragile."
"Miss Irene was not here long enough to do so," the housekeeper —at some point I would have to make a proper introduction, if I had time—said with a frown. "I would have loved to hear her play, but she was here and then gone."
Reaching over, I plucked the music from where it had been. I immediately recognized Le Villi, an opera written by Puccini. Mum enjoyed the songs of the opera, but she had never performed it.
When I opened the music, a sheet of paper fell to the ground. Mr. Holmes bent down and snatched it up. However, when he opened it, there was nothing on it. No words. No drawings. Not even a line.
"Why would Mum go to the trouble of hiding a piece of paper with nothing on it?" I asked, very confused. I flipped through the rest of the music, finding two folded sheets of paper.
Mr. Holmes held the first paper up to the light. "Not exactly nothing."
Before he could explain or I could ask what he meant, someone banged on the front door. "Good heavens!" the housekeeper exclaimed as she started for the door. "Who could that be? I do hope it's not those rude men again."
"And that would be the gentlemen who have been observing the house," Mr. Holmes said, folding the paper. "We should take our leave, Miss Norton. I don't think we want to encounter them just now."
Remembering the knife that had been held at my back, I couldn't have agreed more. I folded both papers even smaller and slipped them into my skirt pocket. With the housekeeper distracted, Mr. Holmes was able to move to the back of Briony Lodge. I followed right on his heels.
We were halfway across the kitchen when the back door opened. Mr. Holmes came to a stop as Braxton entered. The man had a length of pipe in his hand. "You must be the gentry cove Keene warned me about," he said.
"And you must be Braxton," Mr. Holmess said, his tone genial. "Miss Norton and I must be on our way."
"Afraid not. She's coming with me," Braxton said, his tone like steel. "She's been an annoyance too long and I am out of patience."
"The feeling is mutual."
From behind me, I could hear the housekeeper exclaim in protest. "You can't just barge in! Who do you think you are! I'm going to call for a constable! See if I don't!" At the same time, Braxton approached.
"Miss Norton, perhaps you could move to the other side of the room?" Mr. Holmes said, his tone calm. "And, though the temptation may be strong, kindly do not leave this room without me."
Without a word, I moved around to the other side of the table. I reached up to my hat but hesitated to pull one out just yet. Breathing out, I settled my left foot back to brace myself for whatever happened.
Mr. Holmes ducked Braxton's swing. The detective's first blow landed against Braxton's stomach. The man didn't seem to feel it, swinging the pipe again at Mr. Holmes. From the hallway that led to the kitchen, I heard running footsteps.
Reinforcements were on their way. While Mr. Holmes seemed to be handling Braxton with ease, the tight space of the kitchen meant neither person had much room to move or dodge. Mr. Holmes' movements were close and controlled, while Braxton appeared to be going for a more wild approach.
A jab to Braxton's throat made the man reel back a step. This allowed Mr. Holmes the opportunity to grab the man's wrist and twist. The length of pipe fell to the ground with a loud clatter.
Or it would have been loud had not two men shoved their way into the kitchen. I didn't recognize either of them. One of them started for Mr. Holmes while the second, stockier man focused on me.
Oh, dear.
He said something in a guttural language that I didn't understand. I assumed it was German, given that it was the national language of Bohemia. From the tone, I also assumed he meant for me to give up or face the consequences.
It wasn't a difficult choice to make.
On the workspace to my right, there was a cast-iron pan. It was immensely heavy when I lifted it up, but that seemed perfect for my use. I swung it as hard as I could as if it were a bat used in baseball.
My blow landed exactly where I wanted: the man's arm. He stumbled back a step but much to my dismay, it didn't seem to phase him at all. He growled something I didn't understand and grabbed the pan. My ineffective weapon was torn from my grasp.
The man tossed the pan aside and grabbed at me. I ducked down and scrambled backward. My instinct was to turn and run. The door was open, after all, and once I was out, I could run.
But Mr. Holmes had told me not to do that, and though I didn't know why, I would do as he said. As it was, I lost my balance and landed on my backside with an "Oof."
I grasped the leg of the table beside me to keep my balance and kicked out as hard as I could. My heel slammed into my attacker's ankle and he jumped back with a curse. Taking advantage of the new distance, I scrambled for the far end of the table and tried to get my feet under me.
Two feet in front of me, Braxton hit the floor. Mr. Holmes' legs came into view a second later. Before I could look up to see how he was faring against his second opponent, fingers wrapped around my wrist.
Nonono! I tried to wrench away. It was a futile action. The German man's grasp didn't loosen at all. "Let me go!" I kicked out again.
The man had learned his lesson and jumped away from my foot. He gave a strong yank and pulled me toward him. I grabbed the table leg to keep myself where I was, but the oak table shifted. "Let me go!" I said again.
He just grinned at me, which made me grit my teeth. No more being nice! I let go of the table leg and reached for my hat. The man pulled me across the floo, taking no note that I was drawing one of my hat pins.
I jabbed down with all my strength! With a roar, he let go of me and stumbled away, clutching his bleeding hand. A drop of blood dripped from the tip of my pin.I pulled myself to my feet and dodged behind Mr. Holmes.
This, however, put my back to the door. The door Mr. Holmes had warned me not to go through.
I heard the footsteps before arms wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my body. Someone had been with Braxton, waiting outside. The noxious smell of liver and onions filled my nose as he lifted me off my feet and squeezed me tighter than my corset ever had.
"Let me go, you imbecile!" I shrieked, kicking my feet. While I still had the hatpin in my hand, my arms couldn't move enough for me to use it. "I'm not going with you!"
As if saying it would make it come true.
The man took no notice of my struggling and turned towards the door. I managed to get my boot against the doorframe. As hard as I could, I shoved against the wood. While I wasn't strong enough to knock the man back, I did manage to keep us from going through the door.
A shrill whistle pierced the air. Someone had found a constable. Finally!
However, the man who was trying to drag me out pulled back and tried to back up through the doorframe. Did he think that once he had me outside, nothing else mattered? Was there a cab in the alley?
His grip loosened just enough that I was able to twist the hatpin in my hand and plunged it into his thigh. With a cry of pain, he let go of me and grabbed the wound I lost my grip on the pin as I tried to land with some semblance of balance.
I'd barely had time to turn around when Mr. Holmes was by my side. "Come, Miss Norton," he said, unruffled by his bout of fisticuffs with the two men. "Discretion is the better part of valor, as they say. I do hope you will forgive my impertinence."
With that, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of Briony Lodge.