My comrade produced a strong lens and leant into the painting to examine the Captain’s face with great intensity. What had attracted his ever-active attention, I wondered?
‘And this was painted when?’ he asked.
‘Just under a year ago,’ came the reply. ‘A wedding anniversary gift from the Knyaz.’
Holmes stood back and pointed from the painting to our hostess’s hair. ‘And the fine pair of diamond swallows in your hair, a family heirloom I presume?’
‘Not an heirloom,’ Mrs. Barrington responded.
‘What then, may I enquire?’ Holmes pursued.
‘Also a gift from the Knyaz. I have heard they were given to him by the Viennese actress Kathi Schratt.’
We returned to the sofa. Holmes gave Mrs. Barrington an encouraging look. ‘I wonder if you might recount the events leading up to your husband’s departure on this last occasion?’
She began, ‘We were engaged upon our toast and coffee in the morning. A stable-boy brought a note to the house. It was marked For Captain Barrington. Strictly Personal. The boy had no idea who delivered it. My husband read it and burst into laughter. He tucked the note in his pocket and said, “I have been offered a dare I cannot resist. I shall tell you all about it but not now as I must hurry”. I asked, “When will you be back?” He replied, “By dawn.” I exclaimed, “By dawn! Can’t you at least tell me what the note says?” but again he laughed and repeated, “Don’t worry, you’ll hear all about it tomorrow, I promise”. He told me he would return with a bouquet of cyclamen picked fresh in the forests of Mount Vitosh. He gave a droll click of his heels, raised a hand in a salute, and was gone.’
She pointed at the window. ‘A little later I saw him on Brigadier. He was turning the note this way and that. Then he rode off.’ After a pause she said quietly, ‘And he has not been seen since.’
My comrade asked, ‘Has it been Captain Barrington’s habit to stay away at night?’
‘Never before, no,’ she replied.
Overcome with curiosity, I asked, ‘Is it a general custom for beautiful Bulgarian women to marry officers of the British Army?’
Mrs. Barrington blushed. ‘No, I shouldn’t say it was customary by any means!’
Self-consciously I glanced across at my companion. I had expected to see him hiding a growing impatience under this inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he was listening with the greatest concentration of attention.
‘In the possibility your marriage to an Englishman has a bearing on your husband’s disappearance, could you spare the time to tell my friend and me how such a marriage took place?’ Holmes requested.
‘To do so I need to go back some years, to when my father was alive,’ Mrs. Barrington replied. With a concerned look she added, ‘It is a story of some complexity. I - I do not know if you - ?’
‘Our time is entirely at your disposal,’ Holmes smiled reassuringly.
She began, ‘Our estates are so extensive it is said that one farm cannot see the chimney-smoke of another. My father owned more than a hundred thousand hectares of fertile lands and woods here in Bulgaria, and additional lands and villages in France, and Hungary, and elsewhere, I am told, much of which I have not seen.’ She paused. ‘And the story concerns a certain relative of mine. I believe you have met him.’
‘And who might that be?’ Holmes enquired.
‘He is one of the Prince’s chiefest lights, the War Minister.’
‘Colonel Kalchoff!’ I exclaimed, vividly recalling Mycroft’s cautionary words.
‘Yes. My family name is also Kalchoff. Konstantin is my cousin. He exerts himself at every turn to thwart my duties towards my estates.’
‘In what way do your family estates concern your cousin, may we ask?’ Holmes said.
‘His father and my father were brothers. Konstantin’s was the elder of the two. He predeceased my father by some years. If Konstantin had not been illegitimate he would have inherited all the Kalchoff lands. His desire to regain them quickly grew into an obsession. You may imagine my father’s relief when Konstantin left Sofia for Vienna to join the Austro-Hungarian Army. That was where he became excellent friends with a certain fellow Lieutenant.’
‘Would that be Prince Ferdinand?’ I enquired.
She nodded. ‘Some time passed peacefully, then, out of the blue, the previous Knyaz of Bulgaria was kidnapped and taken into exile by agents of the Russian Tsar. You can imagine our surprise when we heard Konstantin had successfully put Ferdinand’s name forward for election by the Grand Sobranje. My cousin returned in triumph to Sofia alongside the new Prince Regnant.’
‘And the matter of marrying an Englishman is in some way connected to this?’ I prompted.
‘My father was very friendly with the British Legate. Sir Penderel assured us that just as Ferdinand’s rule is the more safeguarded from outside intervention because he is a cousin of your Queen Victoria, so our family lands could be safeguarded from Konstantin - that is, my father and Sir Penderel were both convinced only through - ’ Her voice faltered. ‘My father was certain that my cousin could now wage a vendetta as powerful as that of any Macedonian to regain the lands which he felt were his birthright, unless - ’
‘Unless you married an Englishman?’ I interjected.
She nodded. ‘My mother died many years ago. Papa realised he would never have a son to inherit the family lands. He became impatient. “My daughter, as a woman you are very vulnerable,” he told me. “You must go to England. The matter of your marriage is the greatest concern of my last days on Earth. If you are not married to an Englishman by the day I die your cousin will steal our lands from you. Do not believe the Prince Regnant will safeguard you, rather he will aid and abet Konstantin”.’
Mrs. Barrington’s delicate white hand pointed over her shoulder at a copy of Kelly’s Handbook to the Titled, Landed and Official Classes standing alone on a tiny shelf.
‘Evening after evening I would watch my father turning the pages of the gazette you see behind me. He marked out the names of potential suitors. By then it was becoming clear he was gravely ill.’
‘And we must assume Captain Barrington was among the names,’ Holmes remarked. ‘Watson and I would find it of the utmost interest to know how you went about it.’
‘Again I have the British Legate to thank,’ Mrs. Barrington continued. ‘The English hunting season was under way. Sir Penderel told us there was no quicker way for ambitious young Military officers like Captain Barrington to achieve social ascendancy, even presentation at the British Court, than cutting a good figure at a famous Hunt. He said such men move heaven and earth to get to Mr. Fernie’s Billesdon Hunt at Market Harborough, its coverts venerated as the finest hunting in the world. Sir Penderel assured us that a personal invitation from Mr. Fernie, the Master of the Hunt, would soon follow if I wished to attend.’
After a reflective pause she resumed, ‘My father’s mind was made up. I was to leave for England as soon as I could be furnished with a suitable wardrobe.’
Our hostess laughed for the first time. ‘As you may already have noticed, there is no fashion in Sofia except those we emulate from the fine people of Paris, Pesth or Vienna. I studied the fashions in the latest La Mode Illustrée from Paris and Ladies Realm from London. Then I took my choices to the Sultana’s dressmaker in Stamboul.’
‘And now you were ready for England and Market Harborough,’ Holmes broke in, steering her back on track.
‘‘Sir Penderel took up my family’s endeavour with the greatest seriousness. He arranged for me to stay at the Ritz where a Mrs. Wheatley, a widow and distant cousin of his, would meet me each day to act as chaperone so I had a woman’s countenance on my visit. I needed to spend some days in London to get fitted for a Busvine riding habit if I were to appear at the Hunt. Many times I determined to catch the next train home to Sofia but I knew I had to honour the last request my dearest Papa would ever make. My only escape was in the evenings. My chaperone and her brother, Mr. Penderel, escorted me to your wonderful theatres and concert-halls. They transported me away from all my cares.’ She smiled. ‘However, when I wanted to visit a music hall as I had heard much of them, Mr. Penderel refused me my request outright.’