Sherlock Holmes: Before Baker Street by David Marcum (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📕

“I said to Mr. Buttenshaw that the school was very happy to accept the admission of Simon into Harrow, but would need him to sign the various papers I had brought with me. Buttenshaw said he did not have his glasses to hand and indicated that he would be unable sign any papers without them. However, with a tug on a bell cord near the desk of the study, he suggested that could be easily remedied. Moments later a slim, fresh-faced young woman with tied-back blond hair entered the study and gave me a most radiant smile. Buttenshaw introduced me to his daughter, saying that she organised all of his secretarial and administrative affairs. Sophia took charge, reading carefully through each document and then signing all of the relevant sections.

“Having completed the formalities, I was then invited to join the family for a light luncheon, although Buttenshaw gave his apologies about half-an-hour later, explaining that he had to go down to the factory, as there had been an unexpected problem with one of the steam-driven looms used in the production process. Simon then excused himself, saying that he had planned to do a spot of fishing in the trout steam bordering their land. That left me in the company of Sophia for the better part of three hours, chatting comfortably about our respective pasts and interests, our hopes and aspirations. It was clear that we both felt the attraction and when it came for me to leave she shook my hand tenderly and held my gaze, asking me first to take good care of her brother at Harrow, and then specifically asking for me to write to her on a regular basis and to visit again soon to keep her informed of his progress. We both knew that it was a signal of affection.

“I have since then continued to write to Sophia and have made the journey to Darlington five times. The lady herself has also visited the school twice, checking on her brother, but equally spending time with me. Three weeks ago, she attended a business meeting with a law firm in town, took a room at the Clarendon in Bond Street, and accepted my invitation to dine at Bertolini’s in the West End and to take in a show. That evening we talked about a possible engagement. This would have been no great surprise to Simon, who had mentioned more than once his sister’s growing attachment to me, but I was not so sure how her father might react. As a result, I took the decision to write to Kenneth Buttenshaw, declaring my intentions and asking for his blessing on the betrothal. Two days later, I received a decidedly lukewarm response from the man which stated that Sophia was far too young to marry and would, in all likelihood, prefer to wed someone with greater prospects than my own. As if that were not damning enough, the following day I received a letter from Sophia herself. She declared that she was deeply upset that I should have taken matters into my own hands and written to her father in such a way, and asked that I desist from entering into any further communications with her. And that is how the matter now stands.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow and smiled gently. “How has Simon Buttenshaw reacted to this news?”

I could only be honest with him. “Not well, I’m afraid. He has been tearful at the revelations and says that he has no idea why his sister and father have reacted so unfavourably towards me. His own letters to Sophia have brought no change of heart, and he is too terrified to speak to his father of the matter for fear of upsetting the man. The last thing he wants is to be removed from Harrow, where he feels he is making such good progress.”

“I see. And do you by any chance have the two letters on you, Mr. Hughes?”

Cedric shuffled uncomfortably beside me. He knew that I had carried the letters around with me since first receiving them. I had continually re-read them and talked to him about their contents, desperate to know if anything could be done to rectify the situation. As a loyal friend, he had advised me to let the matter rest and to get on with my life. His insistence that I join our friends for a day at the races was the first step in that direction. I withdrew the letters from an inside pocket of my jacket and passed them to Holmes. The look on his face suggested that he already knew I would have them with me.

He spent some time examining the two envelopes, using a magnifying glass which he retrieved from a pocket of his waistcoat, and he made a point of smelling the paper. He then unfurled the contents of both letters and examined each in a meticulous fashion. It was a good five minutes before he ventured any comment.

“Fascinating, Mr. Hughes – and most revealing. The second letter is clearly from Sophia Buttenshaw. There is no mistaking the feminine flourish of the hand, and you may have observed that the paper carries with it more than a hint of Creed scent, a choice perfume which is also favoured by our dear Queen.”

“That is certainly the scent Sophia uses, Mr. Holmes. But why is that significant?” I enquired.

“Well, it seems odd that a young woman writing to you in such definitive terms about the ending of a relationship should still think to add a touch of scent to the note. I would suggest that it betrays her mixed emotions,” he replied.

“Then there is still a chance for me,” I spluttered, eagerly clinging on to any hope of reconciliation.

“That remains to be seen,” was all that Holmes had to offer. “As for the first letter, I have serious doubts about its penmanship. Kenneth Buttenshaw has not written this. The