Page 100 of The Vanished Sister

The girl had courage. Livia…was developing some.

She turned the notebook to a new page. Then she put aside the pencil they’d been also passing back and forth and took out a fountain pen.

After you leave London this time, I’m not sure when we’ll see each other again. More movements on the Continent meant he’d spend more time on the Continent. Shall we plan to be married by the middle of next summer?

He sucked in a breath. Their eyes met—he looked stunned. Instead of writing—or saying—anything, he only pointed at her question, as if it were an accidentally started fire that might burn out of control.

She nodded. Yes, she was serious. She’d always approached their association with the utmost seriousness. It was only his circumstances that had held her back and now she’d decided not to pay attention to those anymore.

He held his hand over his mouth. Then he suddenly started feeling everywhere on his person. Finally, from an inside pocket of his coat he produced a tiny velvet-covered box and opened it to reveal an amethyst engagement ring.

It became her turn to slap a palm over her mouth. She eventually found her pen again and wrote, Where did that come from?

Every time I saw you in the past year I’ve carried it on me, in case I got up the courage to propose.

She laughed silently. Amethyst is my favorite.

I know. I asked Miss Charlotte.

Trust Charlotte to have known it a whole year and never betrayed a hint that something might be afoot.

Well, she wrote, still laughing silently and uproariously, you’ve made me the happiest woman alive by accepting my hand, Mr. Marbleton!

Mr. Mears, Mrs. Watson’s butler, was surprised to see Lord Ingram. Or rather, he was surprised not by Lord Ingram’s presence but that of his children.

“My lord, Mrs. Watson is still at Noble House and Miss Redmayne has already returned to Paris.”

“Ah, is that so?” said Lord Ingram, who knew very well that it was so. “In that case, is Miss Charlotte at home?”

Holmes liked to be home by teatime.

Mr. Mears blinked. He, too, had grown accustomed to the fact that when Lord Ingram brought his children, he never asked for Charlotte Holmes. He beckoned Lord Ingram and his children inside. “Allow me to find out, sir.”

Instead of heading upstairs, he went toward the back of the house. Holmes was sitting with her sister Bernadine then. When Bernadine Holmes first moved to Mrs. Watson’s house, she stayed in an upstairs chamber. Several years ago, however, she moved to the ground floor, in a neat solution to her aversion to stairs. These days, she took guided walks in Regent’s Park, her eyes squinted, her face full of serenity and happiness.

The children looked around the vestibule. Carlisle tugged at Lord Ingram’s sleeve, then pointed at the tiny azurite geode on a console table, next to a vase of peacock feathers, the deep, vibrant blue of geode matching the eyes of the peacock feathers almost exactly.

“Yes, I believe that’s new since you were here last,” murmured Lord Ingram.

Mr. Mears came back, smiling. “Please come with me.”

Lord Ingram motioned his children to follow the butler upstairs to the afternoon parlor. “I’ll say hello to Miss Holmes.”

By which he meant Bernadine, the eldest unmarried Holmes sister.

For once, Bernadine was not spinning spools that had been strung on cords. Instead she sat before a window, looked outside, and appeared to be in a world all her own. She had large blue eyes and blonde ringlets, and now that her diet agreed with her and she had put on a few stones, she bore a startling, rather discomfiting resemblance to Holmes.

“Good afternoon, Miss Holmes,” he said softly.

Bernadine carried on with herself. Holmes said, “I’ll leave you now, Bernadine.”

She then inclined her head to Mademoiselle Robineau, Bernadine’s nurse, who was cheerfully knitting in a corner. Lord Ingram did likewise and opened the door for Holmes.

“What brought you here today, my lord?” she asked once they were in the corridor.

He suppressed a flutter of nerves. “We were in town and I thought it might be a good idea for the children to meet you again. I’m almost sure they’ve forgotten you entirely.”

She nodded. They mounted the staircase in silence. Doubt assailed him. Had he been too previous? Should he have written ahead of time and obtained her permission first?