Detective Mary

Chapter 16

Mary knew that Mr. Darcy was eager to follow up on the morning's topic, but she just wouldn't give him that chance.

By mid-afternoon, after exchanging pleasantries with the host-guests of Mary's Netherfield estate, she tugged Elizabeth back to Jane's bedchamber.

--Hold it in, heh! I told you to say that I'm not good enough for my god, even if it's true, you can't say it out loud, okay!

Besides, as big as the sky is, it's still the sick loved ones who are the biggest.

Jane's untreated typhoid fever and low-grade fever worried Mary - in Victorian times, modern medicine was only just beginning, and antibiotics would not be used in medicine until the 1920s. The level of pharmacists and doctors in the countryside naturally made Mary feel doubly unreliable.

She ordered the maid to bring wine and couldn't stop wiping Jane's forehead and arms to dissipate the heat.

"There are servants to look after me," urged Jane; "Lizzie, you had better take Mary into the parlor, or it is really too rude."

"We are here to take care of you," Elizabeth demurred, "Mr. Bingley will not mind, and besides ......"

To reassure Jane, Elizabeth's pretty eyes twinkled and landed on Mary, joking, "Better not ask Mary to go down there, you don't know how apprehensive she is sitting in the parlor."

Mary rolled her eyes in an extremely unladylike manner.

And it wasn't because Miss Bentley wasn't finished?

Mary did not understand, she wanted to please Mr. Darcy, then find Mr. Darcy chat, but Miss Bingley did not. Since the morning with Bentley, Darcy talked about a few factory things, Miss Bentley is a "I want to learn from the talented girl" posture, have to drag Mary to talk.

However, Mary did not like embroidery nor pretty hats, and had nothing in common with a standard unmarried lady like Miss Bingley.

Now that she was sitting in Jane's bedroom, taking care of her and avoiding Miss Bingley at the same time, Mary was not going anywhere.

"In that case, stay and keep me company," said Jane, who was gentle by nature, and dragged in a few sickly laughs at Elizabeth's banter, "but you may go down for dinner and dine with Mr. Bingley and the others."

"All right."

Mary reluctantly complied, reaching out to touch Jane's forehead and stifling a frown.

"The fever still hasn't gone down." She said.

"Mr. Bingley has instructed the servants to send for a doctor," Elizabeth spoke up, "He should be here by supper time."

It would have to do.

Even if Mary didn't trust the doctors of this day and age, it was better than nothing, so she didn't stop the anxious Mr. Bentley.

But to-day Nethersfield was really busy, and before dinner the doctor from Meryton came to see Jane and prescribe medicines, and after dinner, when the night was deep and the people were ready to disperse to rest, Mr. Sherlock Holmes returned.

As suddenly as he had left, he walked straight into the drawing-room of the manor, startling the men and women present.

Mr. Holmes was very dusty, and his trouser-legs, in particular, were slightly soiled by the wet ground. But he took no notice of this, nor did any of the gentlemen in the room call him rude or "undignified".

"Mr. Holmes," exclaimed Mr. Bingley, "have you seen little Geoffrey?"

"Yes."

The detective removed his gentleman's hat and allowed the servant to take his cane as he nodded to Mr. Bentley, "I've got the clues I need."

Mary stood up.

Neither Miss Bentley nor Mr. and Mrs. Hurst were interested in the matter of the instigator-it seemed to them that the matter was closed by the capture of little Geoffrey, and that there was no need to do anything useless-so they said a few courtesies to Mr. Holmes, and went to their respective rooms to rest.

With the exception of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth, surprisingly, chose to remain.

This was a bit of a surprise to Mary, knowing that this morning Elizabeth had felt that Sherlock Holmes was being cross and disrespectful to the lady.

But even so, he was in the end a detective hired by Mr. Bingley, and with Elizabeth also doubly curious about the truth, she spoke politely, "What did you talk to young Geoffrey about, sir?"

Holmes did not mind at all that Elizabeth had taken the liberty of asking the question, and even more so that he had long since put the morning's episode behind him.

"I asked for the physical description of the instigator."

"How?" Mary was instantly energized.

"About thirty years of age, and quite an imposing gentleman," replied Holmes; "I asked young Geoffrey if he had the station and commanding tone of an officer, and young Geoffrey answered in the affirmative."

"An officer?"

Elizabeth was a bit surprised, "There is a militia regiment near Meriden, but it's just so numerous that I'm afraid it's hard to find."

"This soldier who changed out of his red uniform has dark hair and is nearly six feet tall, and with his northern accent, I don't think it would be hard to identify."

Mary sniffed.

She subconsciously looked at Elizabeth, whose expression then became extremely serious.

Darcy sidled her head, "Do you two ladies recognize someone who fits the profile?"

Elizabeth's tone was heavy, "To fit the profile, Captain Carter of the Militia Regiment would fit the profile, but he had left Meriden for London by this morning."

Darcy: "Leaving at this time makes him seem even more suspicious."

Bentley: "I'll write a handwritten letter to the sheriff."

Holmes, however, does not approve.

The detective remained aloof, even snorting softly as he heard Mr. Bentley's intentions.

"Better not," he said with certainty; "the clue is too vital to frighten."

"Spoil the bird?" Mr. Bentley was a little perplexed.

But this time, instead of solving the confusion in time, Holmes inexplicably spoke out, "Your partners are very shrewd, sir, and if you don't want to lose your money to the point of losing it, don't sign that contract to change your supplier - and, if necessary, tell your other partners not to make any casual contact with the cotton raw material fields of other countries. "

Mr. Bentley:

This sudden warning left Bentley somewhat puzzled.

Not only him, but even Darcy bowed his head slightly, showing a thoughtful look.

But Mary figured it out.

Long before he moved on, Mary had asked Sherlock Holmes if what he really wanted to investigate had anything to do with the supplier of raw cotton. The detective had answered in the affirmative.

And the morning's conversation with the two gentlemen about the mill reminded Mary of a fact.

That is that a factory owner's prepaid capital includes, besides labor, the means and objects of labor-such as factory lots, machinery, and raw cotton materials.

The land and machinery, which do not change easily after purchase, are fixed capital; while the labor and raw materials, which need to be hired and purchased, are working capital.

What is prone to risk in the operation of a factory is naturally the workers and cotton in the mobile capital. Therefore, in Mary's opinion, the motive for the crime is either in the workers or in the cotton.

Perhaps it was Mr. Bentley's partners, fearing that Mr. Bentley had switched raw material suppliers and thus raised the wages of his workers, causing them to have to follow suit, and thus trying to steal the contract - but this was too unlikely, factory owners in a region often had agreements, and it was not up to Mr. Bentley or Mr. Thornton to say whether to raise wages or not.

There was only one possibility then.

With that in mind Mary suddenly spoke, "Someone is trying to manipulate the market for raw cotton, aren't they?"

Holmes hooked the corners of his mouth without a trace.

A look of approval came into his sharp eyes, but that quickly faded, "You are indeed quite a perceptive lady, Miss Bennet."

Sure enough.

The second time she was complimented by Sherlock Holmes, Mary still couldn't help but leap up inside.

"The workers in London tell me," the detective explained to the others, withdrawing his gaze with satisfaction, "that most of the cotton mills which have changed their foreign suppliers in recent years have made losses. On closer investigation, it's nothing more than the supplier going bust and not being able to supply the predetermined amount of raw cotton."

"Caribbean suppliers too?" Mr. Bentley looked grave.

"Most are like the Caribbean suppliers," Holmes said, "popping up out of nowhere, coming up with prices much lower than the market, selling for a year or two and then being nowhere to be found, and there is reason to suspect that it is through human manipulation. So, Mr. Bentley, what gentleman recommended the new supplier to you?"

"Another of Mr. Thornton's associates," said Mr. Bentley, "who is now in London."

Holmes raised an eyebrow, the meaning of which was clear: the real clue lay either in Captain Carter or in the partner who had encouraged Mr. Bingley to change his supplier.

It's just that ......

In doing so, Sherlock Holmes loses his reason for staying at Nethersfield Manor.

Though it was known that even if Holmes would have parachuted into Mary's presence, he would have left quickly.

Both Netherfield Manor and Meryton are nothing more than the countryside of the south of England. It is a beautiful setting with rustic inhabitants and an idyllic pastoral life not unlike that of London.

"So."

Disappointed as she was, Mary was not at all surprised.

Sherlock Holmes didn't belong here, and Mary was pleasantly surprised to see him now. It wasn't like she was really swept away by her idol, Mary wasn't a fool, trying to force him to stay would have annoyed the detective.

Therefore, she just pressed down the loss in her heart, "When do you intend to move away, sir?"

Holmes' light colored eyes flicked over Mary's.

The four eyes met, and the detective's sharp vision gave Mary the dawning illusion that she was being seen through.

But assuming that he did see through Mary's dismay, he didn't say much - thankfully he didn't, and Mary was secretly relieved when Holmes' eyes left her.

She didn't want to cause the detective any trouble, much less be taunted on the spot by Holmes about teenage heartaches.

"If the weather is favorable," replied the detective, "I shall move away to-morrow."

"I hope we may meet in London some time," said Mary, with great gravity; "I will visit you in Baker Street, sir."

"Baker Street?"

A rare blank look came over Holmes' face.

He wrinkled his brow, "Why Baker Street?"

Mary: "......"

Right Oh!

The detective is here alone, and apparently he doesn't know John Watson at the moment. Which means that Sherlock Holmes, at this very moment, hasn't moved to 221b Baker Street yet!

Oh no, how can this be explained well?

"Baker Street would be a good place to look," Darcy snapped just as Mary was getting stuck, "You've always had your heart set on moving, Sherlock, and I think it would be a good idea to look for a house in that neighborhood."

Holmes gave Mary another deep look.

"I will consider it," he said, "and thank you for your recommendation, Miss Bennet."

Mary: ".................."

Scary! It wasn't until Holmes turned to leave the living room that Mary breathed a secret sigh of relief, so afraid was she that the detective would simply press the issue of why he had singled out the existence of Baker Street - and so on.

Halfway through her thoughts, Mary reacted abruptly that since Sherlock Holmes hadn't meant to move, wouldn't she have facilitated the detective's search for a roommate, and thus his acquaintance with Dr. Watson?

Just as Mary was winding down over this possibility, Elizabeth, seeing the detective leave, got up and prepared to go to rest as well.

She glanced at Mary, who carried her skirts with the intention of following, but Mr. Darcy stopped Mary.

"You say that my apology has once again offended Miss Elizabeth," the handsome Mr. Darcy said with a stony, confused look on his face, "I do not understand."