Chapter Six

Later that afternoon I found myself back in Scarlett’s apartments, adjusting my “Benevolence Society” sash so that it would lie smoothly across my second best dress.

“Now, Watson, as a member of the Society you will make a call to our victim’s widow.  We must find out the identity of this second smoking gentleman. To do so, you must allow her to see the mark on this handkerchief.”

Scarlett folded the handkerchief carefully, and much to my surprise, shoved it down the bosom of my dress.

“I do have a pocket, you know.” I said, but she ignored me. I continued. 

“It seems wrong to use the Society’s work as a ruse.  We do good in the world.” I stopped there but felt compelled to add “Despite the occasional sniping cats and idle gossip.”

“The deception is for a good cause.  And, in idle gossip there often slips the nugget of truth.”

“You’re certain I should go alone?”

“She lives in Uptown. I don’t go to Uptown.”

“I thought there was no place that you couldn’t go.”

Now, dear reader, I must admit that at that moment I still was not yet well-enough acquainted with Scarlett Holmes to understand the inner turmoil that my query had triggered, or how in that moment of stilted conversation, she re-lived a world of pain within her mind palace.

The ballroom is aglitter with candles and flowers. Couples twirl to merry music from the band set against the ornately curtained windows.  Scarlett, in her late teenage years, catches the green eyes of her beautiful half-sister, Myriel, who is spinning across the room in the arms of a handsome young gentleman, and they share a girlish giggle. So far, their first ball on their American holiday is a dream.

“I’m not white. But I’m not black either.” Scarlett said, in a oddly monotone voice, as though her mind were far away.

“That’s not so uncommon.  I’ve seen plenty of light-skinned-”

“My story is uncommon.” she cut in. “I am no product of a master taking advantage of his slave. I was born into a real, loving family.”

Scarlett’s father, Robert Holmes, taps his foot in time to the music, smiling at his daughters.  The smile disappears when he is addressed by a gentleman with a severe expression, who points at Scarlett.  Seeing the interaction, Scarlett can guess what the stranger is saying, and the rising color on her father’s cheek’s confirms her suspicions.

“What are you insinuating” she hears her father say, as she quickly navigates the crowded ballroom to reach his side. “That is my daughter, sir, consider your tone carefully.”

“In this town, we have decency laws. There is a statute against mixed races dancing.”

“We are here on the invitation of the mayor, and that’s a preposterous and foolish law…” Scarlett’s father begins, but she has reached them by now and speaks over him.

“Papa, I’ve got a bit of a headache. I’d like to have Hudson take me back to the hotel. I’ll send him back with the carriage for you and Myriel.”

“We’ll all go.” Robert Holmes said, and signals to a younger Hudson, who has been watching the proceedings from a dark alcover with wary eyes.

Scarlett puts a hand on her father’s arm, forestalling him. “Myriel would be so upset to leave.”

“It would be best if you left out the back.” the gruff official said, an unsubtle hint to move.

On the dance floor, Myriel is laughing, as a young handsome man looks down into her face with obvious admiration. Scarlett sees her father’s eyes soften at the sight of his other daughter’s happiness.

“I will be fine, Papa.” Scarlett says, a smile she did not feel on her face.

Robert stares daggers at the official, and nods tightly. 

“I’ll send Hudson around back with the carriage.”

“I was raised in London…”

Scarlett walks through the ballroom, tracked by the cruel-eyed gentleman.  Servants stop in their tracks to stare at the beautiful, strange sight of Scarlett walking through the kitchen toward the back door of the mansion.

“...no different from some of the fine ladies in Uptown, with their language and arts.”

Out in the dark foggy night, Scarlett walks down a dark alley, around to the street where Hudson will meet her with the carriage. One. Two. Three sets of footsteps on the cobblestones, approaching her from behind.

“You should hear me play the violin.”

Scarlett whirls around, and sees a flurry of white knuckles, Red, angry faces, the stench of bourbon, before the hood comes down over her face, and her scream is choked off.

With a quick, startled movement, Scarlett moved across her cluttered sitting room, and picked up her violin, setting it to her chin, her bow at the ready.  She held it there a moment, as though struggling with an idea, and then immediately set it back down on the table without sounding a note. She turned to me, a blank expression, a flat note to her voice, that in later years I would come to understand was masking the most tumultuous of emotions.

“Miss Scarlett Holmes,” she said, referring to herself in the third person, “never goes Uptown, because Miss Scarlett Holmes is a story.  Her skin, her very existence sparks curiosity.  Under the circumstances, it’s best for us to remain as unnoticed as possible.”

Scarlett came back around to stand before me, and smoothed a wrinkle in my sash that was not there, her voice returning to normal.

“You are perfect. Completely uninteresting.” At that comment I gave Scarlett a glare that she did not notice. She continued.

“The authorities are trying to bury the true nature of this murder, and until we know why, the wife of a police officer visiting the widow of the victim he found is not something that will be noticed.”

“So, I go to this woman’s home, alone, uninvited, unannounced, and...what?”

“Do what comes naturally. Provide her comfort.  Inquire as to any other friend of her dearly departed husband that might need comfort in their time of grief.  And find some occasion to wipe your eyes with that handkerchief.” At that last, she stabbed a finger at my breasts.

“I was trained in medicine, not spy-craft.  What possible good can waving this disturbing rag in front of his widow do?”

Scarlett smiled a mischievous smile. “You will see.  But first, an errand!”