“So yes, Mr. Longstead spoke the truth as he saw it. But he did not use truth as a cudgel, as some do, or an instrument for the wounding of others. He was deeply decent and deeply kind, and his honesty was equally decent and equally kind.”
Lord Ingram was beginning to regret not having met Mr. Longstead while the man still lived. Some men’s deaths left little besides unfulfilled obligations and the inconvenience of a corpse. The departure of others tore holes in the hearts of those who were fortunate enough to know them.
Mrs. Treadles’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “My father loved Mr. Longstead as a brother. More than a brother, I’d say. I don’t remember him ever being as happy to see my late uncle, or having as many good things to say of him. He always did lament that it wasn’t the same at Cousins after Mr. Longstead left. That he felt lonely without his brother-in-arms.”
Holmes nodded, as if in sympathy, but not so much that she didn’t immediately pose another question sure to discomfit her client. “Since you brought up the existence of those who oppose you at work, Mrs. Treadles, may I ask what exactly is the nature of your disagreement with your managers?”
Mrs. Treadles dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. It crossed Lord Ingram’s mind that she might be trying to hide her reaction from Holmes’s all-seeing gaze. He felt disloyal at the thought but nothing Mrs. Treadles had said or done since had dispelled his earlier impression that she was not being entirely forthcoming.
“I can answer that question, but Miss Holmes, you must understand, I never mentioned any of my difficulties at Cousins to my husband.”
“It is precisely because we are trying to extricate Inspector Treadles from his present predicament that I am asking about matters unrelated to him,” Holmes explained. “You affirmed Mr. Longstead as an ally. I take it to mean that he sided with you against your managers. Could that have been the reason he was killed? Such a line of reasoning would exclude Inspector Treadles, who was ignorant about the insubordination you faced at Cousins.”
“Very well. If you must know, Miss Holmes—” Mrs. Treadles took a deep breath. “This is mortifying to confess, but the truth is, my greatest point of contention with the managers is how little I am allowed to participate in the running of my own company.
“I’d always found Cousins Manufacturing fascinating, and my father had enjoyed my fascination and indulged in my desire to understand both the technical and the commercial aspects of the enterprise. I learned double-entry bookkeeping when I was still a child. I’ve been tutored in enough physics, mathematics, and even chemistry to understand the concerns of engineers. I always read both the financial pages in the papers that my father followed and the scientific and mechanical journals that Mr. Longstead kept abreast of.
“But no matter how I enumerate my qualifications, no matter how I try to make clear that at the very least, I am far more prepared to run Cousins than my brother was when he took over, my words fall on deaf ears.
“The only thing that I am good for, it seems, is providing signatures. And they don’t even want that: Every day I am urged to designate someone to act on my behalf, either one of them or someone they recommend—so I can return to the domestic sphere, where I’d be happiest, you see.
“I don’t want to sign just anything put down in front of me. But when I ask for clarifications, for the context of the outlays and obligations, explanations are inevitably deemed too complex for my understanding. When I refuse to comply without explanations, I’m told that by my inaction I have delayed important sales, or prevented the arrival of crucial shipments. And when I demand to know why I was not properly informed in the first place, they take my ire as a sign of incipient hysteria.”
Lord Ingram’s stomach tightened. His had not been an easy life and on occasion he’d even wondered whether he wasn’t being punished for sins from some prior lifetime. But times like this he realized anew that however many difficulties he encountered, there were still many hardships and stumbling blocks he would never experience, simply by virtue of having been born a man.
Mrs. Treadles gave a bitter smile. “I have wondered, frequently, whether I am indeed utterly irrational. Whether I indeed possess only the mind of a child. But so far, I have not returned to the domestic sphere. I suppose I must give myself some credit for sheer pigheadedness, if nothing else.
“Mr. Longstead shared my frustration. He didn’t understand the opposition I faced, but as he was no longer a stockholder in the company and couldn’t give orders to the management, he counseled patience and perseverance. He believed that I would eventually prevail, and I very much hung on to his reassurances.”
“So he wasn’t personally involved in the conflict between you and the managers?”
“No. He was on my side, but due to his health, he was unable to join me on the battlefield, so to speak.”
Holmes nodded, a contemplative look on her face.
What was she thinking of? As far as Lord Ingram knew, at her work she had been spared such belittlements because to her clients she was only a messenger, and their faith rested on the near-mythical capabilities of a man.
But she, too, had chafed against the limitations placed on women, on what they could or couldn’t do, and on what they ought or oughtn’t even think. He was sure she felt for Mrs. Treadles, but then again, she had never been one to let sympathy, or the lack thereof, affect her investigations.
“Is there anything else you can tell us for certain, Mrs. Treadles?”
Mrs. Treadles shook her head.
“I’m ready to hear your conjectures,” said Holmes, her voice crisp. “You mentioned earlier that you wondered whether Inspector Treadles, in recent days, was where he said he was and doing what he told you he was doing. Why did you think he might not be?”
Lord Ingram leaned forward. Their client had indeed brought up the subject herself, which meant that she was ready to make some confessions, at least on that front.
Mrs. Treadles drank again from her cup, several jerky swallows of tea that must have already cooled. “Two reasons. First, as I mentioned, he left this past Friday. Since then, I’ve received two letters from him. Today I found those letters and looked at the postmarks. They weren’t from any post office in Kent, where he was supposed to be. One was sent from Manchester, the other from a little place in Cornwall.”
Her voice quaked a little.
Lord Ingram’s brows rose.
Holmes’s expression remained unchanged, a placidness that must have felt oppressive to Mrs. Treadles. “Is Mr. Longstead’s country residence in either of those places?”
“No, it’s in Berkshire.”
Then what was Inspector Treadles doing traipsing all over Britain?
“Is Inspector Treadles in the habit of misleading you about where he travels for work?”