Read Online Of Dubious and Questionable Memory by Rachel McMillan - Free Book Online

House.
    â€œIt’s too late, Robert.” She held up her hand. “Nicholas and I were married three days ago.”
    Robert had opened his mouth to begin what promised to be a string of threats and insults, but he cut off abruptly at the sight of the diamond glinting on her hand. He watched, flabbergasted, as Nicholas and Del strode off over the soft grass and to the overrun field yonder to adventures beyond. Nicholas’s men cheered and Merinda and I gaped stupidly at each other.
    â€œJem,” said Merinda, “did we actually win a bet if there wasn’t a mystery to be solved?”

Chapter Seven
    At the end of “A Scandal in Bohemia,” Irene Adler, the only woman ever to outsmart the great detective, gives up the life of a prima donna to marry barrister Godfrey Norton, taking great pains to ensure that the king of Bohemia will not expect any further attachment with her. Her short wedding ceremony is attended by Sherlock Holmes, in disguise, acting as witness. Afterward, she presses a coin into the detective’s palm, and he keeps it always.
    I remembered the story, thinking on life and love and the way that our paths wind and turn far from any expectation. More still how love—“the essence of God”—must take on as many shapes and forms and mysteries as He does.
    On our last morning in Boston, we sat at tea while the chauffeur saw to our luggage. I looked across the table at a woman who had not married for love, but rather expectation, with a feeling of sympathy that countered whatever sense of betrayal I suspected Merinda was muddling under.
    Miri handed me tea in a delicate cup from her matching set. “My house is perfect,” she boasted, stealing into my thoughts.
    â€œYes.” I held out my cup in a slight toast. “And your dishes. Just what I dreamed of as a little girl playing with dolls.”
    â€œI have control over this sphere.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I keep it perfect and pristine.”
    Before envy may have welled up in me. Now I kept my voice level as Merinda found great amusement in a plate of tarts: “Your husband must be so comfortable when he returns from his business trips to this golden home.”
    We sipped our tea. “You married for love, Jemima.” Miri’s voice was defensive. “Del married for love. I know my husband doesn’t love me, but I did my duty to our family. I protected the fortune.” She picked at a thread on her skirt. “I didn’t want Del to have my life. I would shoulder the inheritance. Invest the money wisely. Look good on my husband’s arm. Bear golden-haired sons to keep the family name alive.”
    I opened my mouth to say something, but there were no words.
    Miri stared at her tea with a rueful smile. “But I learned I couldn’t even have children to fill my days. So I am a cog in this clockwork of existence. And I wanted so much for my sister. I wanted Del to have the love of her life.” She laughed bitterly.
    â€œMiri, I don’t know what to say. I wish… ”
    She shook her head. “I wrote my husband a letter, pretending to be Del. A terrible risk, wouldn’t you say? Except that I knew he was not even familiar with my own hand. That’s how little attention he pays to me.”
    The butler announced that our luggage was packed and we had better make a move to the station. After we said goodbye to Miri, Merinda stopped me at the top of the walkway overlooking the grand street and off toward the winking, dimpling Charles River. “Funny, Jem,” she said. “I don’t want to prove myself so much as go home and hug Jasper so tightly his hat falls off.”

    I breathed in the sweet first moment of home as we disembarked from Union Station, the zip in the air tickling my cheeks.
    Exhausted, I saw Merinda into her own taxi and splurged on a cab for myself. Down Carlton and into the heart of drab Cabbagetown,