Upon hearing Nancy’s words, Holmes’s eyebrows shot up instantly.
He looked at Arna and mouthed the word “private,” as if Arna should already understand why Nancy had come to speak with Mrs. Hudson.
Arna grabbed a piece of paper from the side, scribbled a few words, and held it up.
*I don’t know either.*
Watson looked left and right, then hesitantly moved toward the door. “Perhaps we should receive her first? At the very least, we shouldn’t keep her waiting downstairs.”
Eavesdropping like this was hardly the behavior of a gentleman.
“No,” Holmes said, his hand darting out to catch Watson. “Listen first.”
Amidst the bated breath of the three people upstairs, the two women below fell silent for a brief moment.
Then, Mrs. Hudson spoke softly. “Of course, my dear. My parlor is right here. Would you like some tea?”
Nancy’s reply was too quiet to catch, but the faint sound of footsteps could be heard as the two women moved away, eventually fading into silence.
*
A fire crackled in the cozy little parlor, its warmth radiating against the walls and carrying the scent of dried lavender everywhere.
Mrs. Hudson led Nancy inside and invited her to sit on the sofa, acting with the composure of a woman who had seen it all and was prepared for the worst.
Nancy was usually steady, but now her fingers caught the tassels of her shawl, twisting them absentmindedly until her knuckles turned white.
She didn’t know how to explain things to Mrs. Hudson.
As a respectable landlady living on Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson was far removed from the East End and everything that happened there.
The last thing Nancy wanted to do was expose her own most shameful side in front of this woman.
She steeled herself and opened her mouth—
“Now, dear, don’t worry too much,” Mrs. Hudson interrupted briskly, pressing a steaming cup of tea into her hands. “Whatever it is, we’ll settle it. Fretting does no good.”
She inquired, “What is this about?”
Nancy opened her mouth again, then closed it.
Where should she begin? Should she start with Fagin taking her in, or end with their filthy plan?
The words wouldn’t come.
*Yes, Mrs. Hudson, that’s right. I was part of the plan to rob your nephew. As part of the conspiracy, I was supposed to help get Isaacs drunk?*
She couldn’t say it, especially not with the way Mrs. Hudson was looking at her—with eyes full of motherly concern.
Seeing her hesitation, Mrs. Hudson couldn’t help but feel her own nerves tighten.
To be fair, Nancy was a good girl, no doubt about it. She was efficient, capable, and had a bright personality. Mrs. Hudson had always had a good impression of her.
Though neighbors occasionally whispered things to her—malicious gossip about the girl—Mrs. Hudson never took it to heart.
“You’d best be careful, Mrs. Hudson,” the gossip spat out by a neighbor this morning haunted her ears. “I’ve seen her sort before. She surely sees a bright future for Mr. Isaacs and wants to seduce the boy. She’ll wait until she’s pregnant and then use it as a chance to marry him!”
Mrs. Hudson had chased that wretched, gossiping man away with a rolling pin at the time.
But seeing Nancy seek her out late at night and specifically ask to “speak privately,” her heart climbed into her throat and dangled there.
Nancy was a fine girl. If her nephew and Nancy were truly in love and he had found a way to pursue her, eventually becoming a devoted couple, Mrs. Hudson—as Little Mr.’s only elder—didn’t see anything wrong with it.
It would only prove her nephew had good taste.
Nancy was hardworking and clever. Anyone who looked at her tragic background and felt spite instead of sympathy wasn’t a normal person in Mrs. Hudson’s book.
But… but that rascal Isaacs wouldn’t be so irresponsible, would he?
Amidst Mrs. Hudson’s tense expression, Nancy finally managed to start.
“It’s… it’s about Mr. Isaacs,” her voice was barely above a whisper.
The stone had finally dropped.
Mrs. Hudson let out a sigh of relief, her expression instantly shifting to one of understanding. “Ah, there’s no need to worry, my dear. I’ve known Little Isaacs since he was a boy—that young fellow—he’s a bit peculiar at times, but he has a good heart.”
Nancy’s eyes widened in confusion. She stared blankly at Mrs. Hudson, not understanding how the topic had veered so far off course.
Yes, Mr. Isaacs was a good person, and while he was a bit strange, it didn’t change his nature… but that had nothing to do with what she had to say today.
Thinking this, she could only speak up. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Mrs. Hudson.”
Mrs. Hudson patted her arm and picked up the teapot, intending to pour the girl another cup. “It’s alright, my poor child. If it’s… delicate, we don’t have to put it into words.”
She said sternly, “You needn’t feel ashamed. I shall demand Isaacs take responsibility. Anything else would be villainous. Rest assured, he will treat you well—”
Nancy finally realized what Mrs. Hudson had misunderstood, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.
“No, no, ma’am,” she nearly dropped her teacup. “I’m not—he didn’t—damn it—”
In her extreme panic, the truth burst out of her mouth in desperation. “Mrs. Hudson, I’m here because Fagin plans to rob Isaacs on Saturday night! At the factory!”
The teapot slipped from Mrs. Hudson’s hand with a thud, landing on the carpet.
A heavy silence fell over the parlor.
“And, I’m not the sweet parish girl you think I am,” Nancy said through gritted teeth. “I’m a thief, ma’am. Or I was. I was raised by Fagin and I work for him. And… and everything else people call me is mostly true.”
Her voice grew smaller and smaller. She didn’t dare look Mrs. Hudson in the eye, staring instead at the tea-stained carpet. “I don’t deserve your kindness. But I can’t let them hurt Isaacs. Not after everything—”
She swallowed hard. “I just can’t do it.”
Hearing this terrifying news, which was entirely different from the romantic scandal she had imagined, Mrs. Hudson instinctively covered her mouth with both hands.
Coming back to her senses, she quickly looked down and grasped Nancy’s trembling hand.
“Oh, my dear,” she murmured. “You came here to warn us. That is not the act of a thief, but the act of a friend.”
Nancy let out a shaky breath.
“Fagin… Fagin makes the children believe it’s a game,” she said. “But Sykes will hurt people. Or worse.”
Mrs. Hudson pulled Nancy toward her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a comforting pat.
“Then we shall stop them,” she said. “Right now.”
She let go and stood up, nearly knocking over a plate on the table.
“…You’re not angry?” Nancy asked, stunned.
“Angry?” Mrs. Hudson marched into the kitchen and retrieved that same rolling pin. “My dear, I am not merely angry; I am furious. But not at you. I am furious at the villains who think they can prey upon good people.”
She brandished the rolling pin like a general waving a flag. “Now, let us go wake those useless geniuses upstairs!”
A chill ran down the spines of the three people with their ears pressed to the floor.
“A remarkable woman,” Holmes murmured. “Reminds me that I really ought to raise her rent.”
Arna kicked him and scrambled to her feet.
“Quickly,” she urged. “They’re coming up!”
The three of them moved in a frantic scramble, straightening themselves and hiding any traces of their eavesdropping.
But the door swung open before Holmes could even finish smoothing his sleeve.
Mrs. Hudson stood in the doorway, rolling pin in hand, with a nervous Nancy hesitating behind her.
Mrs. Hudson’s eyes swept over the room, guessing exactly what they had been up to. She narrowed her eyes. “Well then, which of you geniuses is going to solve this?”
Holmes opened his mouth.
“No,” Mrs. Hudson said immediately, a wave of her rolling pin cutting off the deduction he was about to start. “Not another word about treasures, or conspiracies, or what might be going on in this poor girl’s head. At least not for now.”
She turned to her nephew, her expression softening slightly. “Isaacs, explain yourself.”
Arna felt her hair standing on end. “I… uh… well…”
Watson stood up bravely, trying to say a word for Arna. “Mrs. Hudson, perhaps we could—”
“Sit,” Mrs. Hudson’s rolling pin pointed toward Watson’s chair like a yardstick.
Watson sat.
Nancy looked past Mrs. Hudson’s shoulder into the room, saying nervously, “I think… I just… I tried to tell Mr. Isaacs—I just never found the chance—”
“Nonsense, child. Isaacs isn’t a fool,” Mrs. Hudson said dismissively. “Would any sane person keep a treasure in an unguarded factory safe instead of at home?”
As she spoke, she shot a glance at Arna. “Unless they already knew something about the matter.”
Arna rubbed her hands together nervously. “Or perhaps my quirks are just strange.”
She started talking nonsense. “For instance, putting gold in the factory makes the factory more lucky… or something…”
Her voice trailed off. Behind her back, she frantically gestured to Holmes, signaling for help.
Holmes cleared his throat. “Actually, my dear Mrs. Hudson, we already have a—”
Mrs. Hudson’s rolling pin slammed onto the table with a loud *bang*.
“Plan it out,” she said. “Now.”
Arna exchanged a look with the other two and quickly surrendered.
She truly didn’t dare tell Mrs. Hudson that she had intended to take them all down single-handedly. She could only look silently at Nancy. “How many people will be coming?”
“What is their method? Which route will they take?” Holmes asked.
“Are they armed with firearms?” Watson added. “Or other lethal weapons?”
Nancy blinked, stunned by the sudden shift in the conversation.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.