Sherlock's Apprentice (The Crimson Glove)

1.4

Miss Charlotte had said not to lose sight of her tonight.

Or so Emma reassured herself.

It wasn't natural, all this sneaking about. Perhaps she had been reading too many of Charlotte's fiction novels. Yet Emma had known that something was wrong since the minute the photographer had begun leading the Winchesters to the library.

She had been in the library that very morning, and she knew there was no way the mistress would have allowed the photographer there. Alonso and Sam had been re-papering walls all week, and many of the bookshelves were still covered in a protective layer of sheets. It wasn't exactly the most picturesque setting at the moment.

Emma had intended to follow the Winchesters discreetly, but was immediately stopped by another black-suited gentleman. He stood at the library entrance like a sentinel.

"No kitchen staff, please," he said distantly, in a surprisingly mellow baritone for a tall man.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but Miss Winchester asked—"

He frowned down at her, as though he hadn't expected her to reply. "I requested that no servants enter. Photography is a delicate and highly sophisticated business. We require no interruptions."

"It will not be an interruption, I assure you," Emma said quickly. "If you please, sir, I could—"

Again the man cut her off. "I do not expect a kitchen girl to understand. There is to be no one in the library excepting the family and the photographers. I must insist that you leave now."

Surprised at his harsh tone, Emma hesitated before dipping into a curtsy. "Yes, sir." Casting a last glance back, she hurried down the hall and around a corner. There was more than one entrance to the library. And she was familiar with all of them.

Emma hated the idea of eavesdropping. Her former mistress had taught her much about etiquette and virtue, so she had rather prided herself on her good conduct. Yet with a girl like Charlotte Winchester in the household, one could hardly expect to carry on a quiet and unexciting life.

Emma had been appalled at first by Charlotte's rebellious ways, but in working so closely with the young heiress, had grown fond of her. Charlotte had no lack of social graces; she could be quite charming in the right company. And yet she had such outlandish ideas. Her mother had sent her off to France to get an education, and she had come home with a bit more than that. Women voting, earning wages, wearing trousers - Emma was certain the girl only spoke of such campaigns to annoy her traditionalist parents.

Still, Charlotte's singular habits had their advantages. Among other things, she actually encouraged Emma to frequent the library. That was how she found herself on the second floor, approaching the French doors to the upper level of the library.

A catwalk circled the upper half of the room, carpeted, and sided by a polished railing of dark wood. The railing curved away from the balcony, a spiral staircase connecting it to the floor below. From the balcony, Emma could easily see and hear what was taking place beneath.

Charlotte was unmistakable in her red party gown, seated demurely in one of the two chairs facing the cloth-draped camera. Her brother stood behind her, and a dark-suited gentleman was next to them, speaking in low tones. Lord Henry bent to consult with a small man in a brown coat, whose head was largely obscured by the black cloth over the tripod. Various cases and camera parts littered the carpet around the two men.