The Opera Singer's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Spin-Off Novel)

Chapter Five

Before the sun peeked over the horizon, I slipped out the back door. I listened for any sounds that weren't sleepy birds waking up or crickets chirping. There was nothing, no movement to hint at anyone watching.

So as not to worry the Leighs when they discovered me gone, I'd left a brief note: "I've gone to get help in solving this mystery. I will be back as soon as I can. Please do not be concerned. I know what I am doing. AN."

It may not do much in the way of relieving worry, but at least they would know I had gone of my own free will. If strangers pressed them for information, they wouldn't know where I had gone and so could not betray me..

Each step I made was careful and quick. Even the slight crunch of gravel under my feet made me cringe. When I reached the road, no one had accosted me, so I hurried my steps. It may have looked strange for a female to be so early for the London-bound train, but no one attempted to strike up a conversation.

To the casual observer, they would not have seen a teenage girl on a mission, running from danger. Instead, I was the very picture of a young lady. No white blouse with a black, practical skirt, the typical school girl's uniform for me. I was dressed in a smart navy traveling gown.

A charming hat was secured to my head with my three hat pins, and pristine white gloves covered my hands. I had hoped for a pair of spectacles to further disguise myself, but I hadn't found a pair among my mother's belongings. It didn't seem worth the effort to find a pawnbroker's shop to purchase a pair. Perhaps later, if it became necessary.

In my carpetbag, I had a photograph of my parents, although it was a few years old. After all, Mr. Holmes would need to know who he was working for. If he accepted my case, that is.

I also had taken all of the money I'd found in Papa's safe. I was going to need every penny to lodge and feed myself while in London. My only worry was that what I'd found wouldn't be enough.

A change of clothing and my writing utensils, and I didn't have room for anything else in the small bag. Before I departed on my journey, I sent another telegram to Miss Hunter: Taking advice given. Will appraise with further news. A.N."

Even a fool would be able to guess the message had come from me, but Miss Hunter alone would know which advice I was following.

The train ride to London took longer than I expected. It was well past noon when I arrived, hungry and impatient to be on my way.

Inspite of my hunger and impatience, the sounds and smells of the London station intrigued me. I stood still to take it in. On every side of me, there were men and women striding with purpose. Bankers, lawyers, typists, just about every profession and walk of life was represented in the crowd, even at an hour when most ought to have been in their office.

There were even a few ragtag children darting around people. The sight only made me tighten my grip on my bag and reticule. It would be a disaster if a thief were to make off with my belongings.

"Well. Onward," I said aloud to get myself back on track.

Outside the station, the noise of the city was even louder. The streets were filled with hackneys and wagons, and a few horseless carriages. The air was thick with soot, smoke and the strong stench of manure. I didn't want to even think about what covered the street. The buildings rose up above me, crowded together tightly.

I managed to hail a hackney and it was a relief to climb aboard. "221 Baker Street, please," I said to the driver as I dragged a handkerchief from my reticule. The delicate fabric did little to block out the stench, but I kept it over my nose anyway.

How long would it take for me to get used to it all?

If the driver was surprised by my request, he didn't say anything. During the drive, I organized the facts in my mind. The last thing I wanted to do was ramble and muddle it all when I related my story to Mr. Holmes.