Detective Mary

Chapter 13

The original Pride and Prejudice states that Mr. Bentley earns four or five thousand pounds a year.

Four or five thousand pounds in the twenty-first century, where Mary lived, would have been no more than two to three months' rent expenses in London. But in Victorian times, the average family that earned about fifty pounds a year would be able to feed and clothe themselves.

Mr. Bingley is indeed wealthy, though not as wealthy as the original hero, Mr. Darcy, an accomplished and expansive unmarried gentleman.

And, unlike Darcy, he is not as well off as his family and is more or less invested and run.

It is not stated in the novel what Mr. Bingley's business is, or perhaps Mary has forgotten. But at least Mary is sure that, although not a "riffraff" as the upper classes would have disliked, Mr. Bingley is a half-capitalist, not unlike Mr. Darcy.

Thus, when Mr. Holmes says that the stranger who instigated young Geoffrey's theft wanted "a contract," Mary reacts immediately - either a factory contract, a commercial trade, or a financial bond contract.

But she doesn't expect Mr. Bentley to allow her to get involved.

For one thing, something like a contract is always a trade secret; for another ...... it was Sherlock Holmes himself persuading Mr. Bentley, personally!

Gosh, she really was in a dream, wasn't she.

Happiness came so quickly that Mary's mind was dizzy until she followed Mr. Holmes into the study and met Mr. Bingley, who was looking worried, and Mr. Darcy, who was looking disapproving, and the slightly gloomy atmosphere finally calmed Mary down.

"I still don't think Miss Bennet should be involved in this." Seeing her enter, Mr. Darcy spoke calmly.

Knew he would say that.

Mary wasn't discouraged, "I have no intention of getting my hands on Mr. Bentley's business, sir, I just want to give little Geoffrey's mother a piece of my mind."

Darcy: "It's not a matter for a young lady to meddle in, Sherlock, and I'd like you to reconsider."

Mr. Holmes gives a look.

"The young lady has yet more clues than you, William," he said, "and I do not think that s*x is a determinant of intelligence."

"......"

Still not a friend anymore!

The fact that Sherlock Holmes, who never put anyone in his place, was speaking up for a young girl who was behaving recklessly made Darcy choke - he wasn't saying that ladies were less intelligent than men, he was clearly afraid that something would happen to Miss Mary Bennet if she followed him on his adventures, okay?

Seeing that Darcy was speechless, Mr. Bingley lost his voice and laughed: "It's all right, I believe in Miss Mary's character, besides, apart from her, I am afraid it is difficult to find out the second young lady who is interested in the factory industry."

Mary's eyes lit up at the words.

Still this good tempered brother-in-law is a favorite, Charles Bentley is easy going and gentle, and has a heart of gold. Where can you find such a good man, he and Jane are really a perfect match.

If it had not been for the presence of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Holmes, Mary would have been obliged to say a few more witticisms to tease him.

"Thank you for taking care of Jane, sir," Mary smiled, "I do have an interest in the factory, and I haven't seen a real business contract yet."

Bentley's smile faded at the mention of business.

"Mr. Holmes says that the burglar who instigated young Geoffrey wanted an unsigned contract in your possession," Mary continued, "and since you have consented to my joining the investigation, I must ask what it is."

"I wonder how much you know about the factory, Miss Mary?" Bentley asked.

"Not too much," but on the strength of twenty-first century knowledge, certainly more than the unmarried ladies of today, "I'll try to understand as much as I can."

"It's an investment contract."

"An investment in what?"

"Spinning cotton mills."

Mary was surprised.

The Victorian period was more of a time of growth and prosperity for all kinds of industries, and Mary had been learning about that part of the world in her history and politics books since middle school.

But it was the first time she realized that she was so close to the second industrial revolution.

"I see," Mary nodded quickly, "In fact, one of the doubts I always had when Mr. Holmes said it might be a contract was what would be the point of stealing it? A contract that isn't signed doesn't have legal significance, so what good could it do to steal it?"

Looking at Mary's confused look, Mr. Bentley didn't open his mouth to explain, but instead went straight to a drawer in the study and took a contract out.

With Mr. Bentley's approval, Mary stepped forward, self-consciously, and took the contract.

She was a quick reader, and understood the contents in a few glances, and when she saw the name of another person on the contract, Mary's eyes widened suddenly.

"Miss Mary?" Mr. Bentley spoke in confusion.

"No, nothing."

Mary withdrew her gaze.

"Is it possible that your intention to abandon the cotton supplier in Liverpool in favor of a contract with a cotton supplier in the Caribbean," she said, looking up, "without a signature, is something you're still hesitating about, sir?"

"No, it's my partner who disagrees."

"Your partner?"

"I'm only in charge of the investment, Miss Mary, and the real running of the mill is up to the other gentleman on the contract. And while he thinks the cotton from South America is certainly cheap, the supply is not stable enough to make it worth the risk."

Mary turned her attention to the contract, "Mr. John Thornton of Milton."

"Yes," Mr. Bentley said and smiled again, "It's a pity that Milton is so far north, otherwise John would be afraid to be surprised if he knew which young lady was so interested in the factory."

Isn't that so, Mary raised an eyebrow.

For Mary in Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Bentley was introducing strangers, but not for Mary who had come through time and space.

John Thornton, none other than a British woman writer of no lesser stature than Jane Austen, the hero of Mrs. Gaskell's novel South and North.

It seems that in this world of homoerotic fiction, although there is no magic or ghosts, there is not only Mr. Sherlock Holmes, but I'm afraid that there are also characters from other famous works.

"Since Thornton didn't agree to change suppliers," Darcy spoke up at this point, "could he have done it?"

"How could it be!"

Bentley showed his surprise, "I would not go over my partners' heads; John Thornton is a real man, William, and he is frank by nature, and says what he has to say, and never engages in such conspiratorial tactics."

Mary felt the same way.

John Thornton did not know her, but she could know Mr. Thornton-just as Mary had known Bentley and Mr. Darcy early on. The proprietor of a factory in the North was a straight, silent man, and particularly like Mr. Darcy.

All the heroes in your English romances are cut from the same mold, Mary mentally spat.

But then again, with a best friend in Darcy and a partner in Thornton, who was about as much of a character as Mr. Darcy, only the good-natured Mr. Bingley could stand it, I suppose!

It's true that it's only people with complementary personalities that make friendships.

"In that case," said Darcy, "wouldn't that break the trail? The stranger who came to Meryton with a northern accent would surely not stay here long enough to avoid exposure."

"A visit to Meryton could be made."

Mary thought for a moment and exported the suggestion, "Mr. Thornton doesn't think much of cheap cotton from South America, so naturally someone else does. Ask around to see if the mill has any competitors, and maybe there will be a breakthrough."

Mr. Bentley nodded, "I'll write to John."

Mary: "Mr. Holmes, what do you think?"

Holmes: "I must go and meet that little Geoffrey."

Actually, Mary was thinking the same thing.

When she couldn't get evidence from Jeffrey Jr.'s mother, it was only logical to go to Jeffrey Jr. himself. But Jeffrey Jr. was no longer in Meriden, the evidence was all there, and he confessed on the spot, so the sheriff sentenced him to work on the railroad, and Mary didn't see him at all.

As an unmarried lady, she could not have gone to the scene of the railroad repairs to look for him.

But Mary could not go; Mr. Holmes could.

It also means that ...... Mr. Sherlock Holmes is going to be alone, and Mary can't follow him there.

Her heart was breaking!

People proved to be greedy, and before meeting Holmes in person, Mary had thought that she would be satisfied with just one look, even if it meant writing a letter. But now, after seeing him in person and realizing that he was going to solve the case alone, Mary was both thrilled and saddened.

I wish I could go with the detective, together to solve the case.

But no, after Jane so sick, let Mary deeply realize, she can no longer because of the head full of messy fantasy and ignore their loved ones. Jane and Elizabeth are no longer fictional characters, but living people, Mary's relatives.

Besides, even if Mary wanted to go, Mr. Holmes wouldn't necessarily take her with him - why should he? If he was so easy to talk to, would the man still be a man!

If he was so easy to talk to, he would still be a man!

After following Mr. Holmes out of the study, Mary, who was optimistic by nature, figured this out and let out a long breath.

"Sir," she said, her tone once more becoming light, "you did not answer me positively to yesterday's question."

"What question?"

Holmes stopped and turned around.

The detective was tall, and Mary was a little shorter than a lady of her age. She had to lift her head to look directly into his piercing and sharp eyes.

"I don't think burglaries are that hard for you, or even a little boring."

It was just a matter of following the trail, and Mary felt that even on her own, with the help of the two gentlemen, Darcy and Bentley, it would take some time to find out who the real culprit was.

"So, Mr. Holmes," Mary asked, "did you take on this commission because there is a bigger case behind it?"

"How did you come to that conclusion?" Holmes did not move.

"There was no deduction," Mary answered honestly, "I just thought it was of such a degree that you could give the answer sitting in your chair at home."

"You flatter me unduly, ma'am."

Mary laughed, and instead of continuing to be polite with Mr. Holmes, she spoke directly, "When I think about it, what caught your attention, perhaps the cotton from the South American Caribbean, was it the supplier, or some other part of the process that was problematic?"

Holmes did not answer immediately.

His scrutinizing gaze did not leave him, as if he were trying to see into Mary's soul. It was a few moments before the detective broke the silence without haste, "You are indeed an intelligent person, Miss Bennet."

"......"

What did Sherlock Holmes say about her, smart?

Since she was a child, countless people had complimented Mary on her intelligence, wit or talent. Mary knew it was only because she was average looking and unsocialized, so there really wasn't much to compliment her on in the way of polite remarks.

But Holmes would never say anything polite.

And, geez, Holmes complimented her on her intelligence?

Mary's first reaction was to reach out and pinch her face.

Mr. Detective raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Mary blinked, "Nothing, I just wanted to see if I was dreaming."

Holmes: "......"

Mr. Detective, who was looking down at Mary, hooked the corners of his mouth in a meaningful smile.