A Study in Sherlock

At about six o’clock that very day, my niece and I arrived at a large and attractive house near the West End that had once been a nobleman’s private residence. We entered to the sound of piano music and Elizabeth led me straight through the hall into a spacious room furnished with two pianos, a harpsichord, several music stands, and many small gilt chairs. Three of the chairs stood near the grand piano. A stout gentleman of middle age sat next to a younger woman. Their dress indicated wealth and taste. A second woman in a modest skirt and jacket with lilacs pinned to the collar of her shirtwaist occupied the chair slightly behind and to the left of the man who was playing so beautifully.

Upon seeing us enter, she rose and hastily gathered up the loose sheets of music on the piano.

Surprised, the pianist followed her eyes, then sprang to his feet. “Elizabeth! I was beginning to fear something had happened to you. You’re not well enough to go out alone.”

“Something has happened, William,” she said. “This is my aunt whom I told you of, Mrs Hudson. We met in one of the shops and I insisted she come meet you at once.”

“Splendid!”

Mr Breckenridge appeared to be eight or ten years older than Elizabeth. I was prepared for his handsome features, his height, and his long fingers; I was not prepared for the warmth of his smile and the genuine pleasure he seemed to take in meeting me, nor the pride with which he introduced my niece to the others.

“Sir Anthony Stockton, Lady Anne, allow me to present my wife and her aunt Mrs Hudson. Elizabeth, Sir Anthony wishes to commission a work to celebrate their wedding anniversary.”

Although Sir Anthony said all the proper things, I noted that Lady Anne boldly looked my niece up and down and murmured, “Delighted, Mrs Breckenridge. You are a very lucky woman to have such a … talented husband.”

Her smile gave a double meaning to the word talented, but the men seemed not to notice.

Elizabeth then introduced me to Mrs Sarah Manning, the copyist that she had so praised earlier. A soft-spoken woman of some thirty years, her manner was respectful and self-effacing. I later learned that she was the widow of a well-regarded piano teacher who now earned her living by turning drafts of manuscripts into finished scores and by providing fresh copies whenever needed. Lady Anne had been Mr Manning’s student and the friendship had continued after his death.

As the Stocktons took their leave of Mr Breckenridge and he walked them to the door, Mrs Manning asked my niece, “Will you feel well enough to assist tonight?”

“I’m quite recovered now,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you for taking my place these past two nights on such short notice.” She gestured toward a portfolio that lay upon the piano. “Is that tonight’s score?”

Mrs Manning nodded. “But Mr Breckenridge wanted me to make some small changes, so I’ll bring it to the theatre.”

Then she, too, took her leave and I went upstairs with Elizabeth and her husband. He seemed in exceptionally high spirits and soon explained the reason. “On our trip over, I suddenly realised that the coda of a new piece I’ve been working on captured the wrong mood and it has worried me immensely. This morning I finally saw what was needed.”

“Is that what you were playing when we came in?” Elizabeth asked.

He frowned and did not answer.

“And why did Mrs Manning gather up the sheets and put them in her portfolio as if she did not wish me to see them?”

My new nephew, who had asked me to call him by his Christian name, turned to me as if to an old confidant and said, “Was she always this curious as a child, Aunt Hudson?”

I smiled and said nothing.

“Elizabeth has told me so much of her happy childhood in Scotland that I accepted an invitation to play in Edinburgh this summer.”

“It will mark my first visit there since Father died,” she said to me. “But, William, what has that to do with Mrs Manning’s odd behaviour?”

“It’s a Scottish rhapsody for you, my dearest. I planned to play it on our first evening there as your birthday surprise. Unfortunately, Lady Anne saw the draft I had left with Mrs Manning and immediately wanted it. It seems that Sir Anthony’s fortune was built on Scottish wool and she thought it would be perfect for their grand anniversary celebration. They prevailed upon Mrs Manning to arrange today’s meeting and begged me to play it for them. He offered me quite a handsome sum, but of course I refused.”

“Oh, William!” said my niece, her face aglow with happiness.

Shortly thereafter, her maid entered, bearing a tray that held a light meal for the three of us. After his earlier display of affection, I could not bring myself to believe that William Breckenridge would do anything to hurt her. Indeed, he told me of his concern for her health and made her promise she would consult a doctor should her dizziness return. Nevertheless, I watched his every movement but Elizabeth managed it so that his hands never came near her food or drink.