Africa?”
pursued the doctor with genuine interest.
“Yes,” replied the sister
before turning to her brother. “It was an idyllic childhood, wasn’t
it Carter?”
“Yes,” he confirmed blandly.
“Positively idyllic. I say, this curried haddock is delicious!”
“I was just about to say the
same thing,” affirmed the Countess. “Did your mother also encourage
your love affair with golf?”
“Our mother died in
childbirth,” supplied the sister.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,
Will your father be in Scotland to watch you play?” The Countess
knew very well that the twins were wards of his lordship, but she
wanted to elicit more background information.
“Our father passed away several
years ago.”
“Oh, how terribly tragic. I’m
sure if he could see you now, he would be very proud.”
Surprisingly, it was Miss Dee,
who had seemed the less affable of the twins upon their first
encounter, who suggested rounding off the meal with a coffee in the
saloon car. She invited Dr Watson and Countess Volodymyrovna to
join her. The doctor feigned fatigue, and as soon as he was out of
sight hurried to his compartment to peruse his letter in private.
It had been burning a hole in his pocket all through lunch and he
was keen to slip away without further ado. Mr Carter Dee likewise
declined the invitation. He was immersing himself in Shakespeare
and wanted to finish reading the Scottish play prior to: Bubble,
bubble, toil and trouble...
4
The Letter
Dr Watson locked himself into
his compartment and checked the time on his pocket watch. He
calculated he had about thirty minutes in which to read the letter
he had received from Mycroft Holmes before the Countess returned.
Best to re-read the first page he told himself, wondering if Mr
Carter Dee had actually perused through the entire four pages of
his private correspondence, despite the young man joking about not
knowing the contents. The brother and sister put his teeth on edge.
One moment arrogant and scornful, the next charming and chummy –
Oh, well, at least he had his letter back. His eyes skated across
the confident sweep of copperplate handwriting:
Dear Doctor Watson,
The lady in question did spend
her formative years in Odessa on the estate of the Count of
Odessos. The estate, about 15000 acres, lies to the west of the
city of Odessa and borders the River Dnistr. The child was doted on
and had a much-loved nanny who died seven years ago - a peasant
woman by the name of Paraskovia.
From a young age the lady in
question had an army of private tutors and proved to be a
precocious student. She easily grasped the finer points of her
feminine education – embroidery, drawing, painting, dancing,
singing and playing a musical instrument. By the way, she plays an
instrument not unlike the violin. It is called a bandura – a
sixteen stringed instrument similar to a balalaika or lute.
When the lady in question was
aged six her step-father drowned while crossing the Volga River.
The ice cracked unexpectedly and he drowned along with his horse.
His body was recovered after the spring thaw and given a
traditional Orthodox burial, along with that of his beloved horse!
The girl composed a poem in Cyrillic which she read at the funeral.
There was apparently not a dry eye in the little church by the time
she finished.
The step-aunt, who owned the
adjoining estate, subsequently moved into the Odessos estate of her
brother and took over the raising of the child.
By age twelve the lady in
question could read, write and speak several languages. These were:
Ukrainian, Russian, French and English. She then set about
mastering Latin. Her Bible studies were conducted in both Latin and
English.
She is proficient in archery,
fencing, and is an excellent markswoman. Horse-riding – a
strongpoint with Ukrainians going back centuries - is also her
strongpoint. She can harness a horse blindfolded and ride bareback,
steering the horse using only her knees. By the by, she
pursued the doctor with genuine interest.
“Yes,” replied the sister
before turning to her brother. “It was an idyllic childhood, wasn’t
it Carter?”
“Yes,” he confirmed blandly.
“Positively idyllic. I say, this curried haddock is delicious!”
“I was just about to say the
same thing,” affirmed the Countess. “Did your mother also encourage
your love affair with golf?”
“Our mother died in
childbirth,” supplied the sister.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,
Will your father be in Scotland to watch you play?” The Countess
knew very well that the twins were wards of his lordship, but she
wanted to elicit more background information.
“Our father passed away several
years ago.”
“Oh, how terribly tragic. I’m
sure if he could see you now, he would be very proud.”
Surprisingly, it was Miss Dee,
who had seemed the less affable of the twins upon their first
encounter, who suggested rounding off the meal with a coffee in the
saloon car. She invited Dr Watson and Countess Volodymyrovna to
join her. The doctor feigned fatigue, and as soon as he was out of
sight hurried to his compartment to peruse his letter in private.
It had been burning a hole in his pocket all through lunch and he
was keen to slip away without further ado. Mr Carter Dee likewise
declined the invitation. He was immersing himself in Shakespeare
and wanted to finish reading the Scottish play prior to: Bubble,
bubble, toil and trouble...
4
The Letter
Dr Watson locked himself into
his compartment and checked the time on his pocket watch. He
calculated he had about thirty minutes in which to read the letter
he had received from Mycroft Holmes before the Countess returned.
Best to re-read the first page he told himself, wondering if Mr
Carter Dee had actually perused through the entire four pages of
his private correspondence, despite the young man joking about not
knowing the contents. The brother and sister put his teeth on edge.
One moment arrogant and scornful, the next charming and chummy –
Oh, well, at least he had his letter back. His eyes skated across
the confident sweep of copperplate handwriting:
Dear Doctor Watson,
The lady in question did spend
her formative years in Odessa on the estate of the Count of
Odessos. The estate, about 15000 acres, lies to the west of the
city of Odessa and borders the River Dnistr. The child was doted on
and had a much-loved nanny who died seven years ago - a peasant
woman by the name of Paraskovia.
From a young age the lady in
question had an army of private tutors and proved to be a
precocious student. She easily grasped the finer points of her
feminine education – embroidery, drawing, painting, dancing,
singing and playing a musical instrument. By the way, she plays an
instrument not unlike the violin. It is called a bandura – a
sixteen stringed instrument similar to a balalaika or lute.
When the lady in question was
aged six her step-father drowned while crossing the Volga River.
The ice cracked unexpectedly and he drowned along with his horse.
His body was recovered after the spring thaw and given a
traditional Orthodox burial, along with that of his beloved horse!
The girl composed a poem in Cyrillic which she read at the funeral.
There was apparently not a dry eye in the little church by the time
she finished.
The step-aunt, who owned the
adjoining estate, subsequently moved into the Odessos estate of her
brother and took over the raising of the child.
By age twelve the lady in
question could read, write and speak several languages. These were:
Ukrainian, Russian, French and English. She then set about
mastering Latin. Her Bible studies were conducted in both Latin and
English.
She is proficient in archery,
fencing, and is an excellent markswoman. Horse-riding – a
strongpoint with Ukrainians going back centuries - is also her
strongpoint. She can harness a horse blindfolded and ride bareback,
steering the horse using only her knees. By the by, she
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