[Comprehensive Classics] Detective Mary

To Mary's disappointment, Little Jeffrey's mother didn't know who the stranger who abetted her son was.

The housekeeper paid for the doctor's treatment, and the woman's health improved a lot. When Mary came in, she was sitting on the bed embroidering.Hearing the purpose of Mary and Mr. Holmes' visit, tears fell down before he could speak.

"Jeffrey is so young," Little Jeffrey's mother choked up, "it's all because of my poor health, otherwise he wouldn't have made any mistakes."

"You have to watch your health, ma'am."

Up to now, Mary didn't know how to comfort her, so she had to pass her handkerchief to the woman: "Mr. Holmes will find out who framed little Jeffrey. Have you ever seen the appearance of that stranger?"

"Then, that stranger?"

The woman gratefully took Mary's handkerchief, but shook her head: "My son came home that day, and he just said that a well-meaning person bought him a glass of wine and gave him advice."

Mr. Darcy has already reported this.

Mary turned her head to look at Mr. Holmes. The detective standing by the bed still looked indifferent, as if he was not touched by a mother's tears.

"Have you ever seen the stranger, or what he was wearing, what he looked like, whether he had a special accent, did these little Jeffreys say it?" the detective asked.

"Yes, yes!"

Hearing Mr. Holmes' question, the woman paused, and then said eagerly, "Jeffrey said that the kind-hearted man has a northern accent."

Mary shivered.

Mr. Bingley just moved here from the north, so it seems that it may be someone he has known before... maybe even a friend.

But other than that, Little Jeffrey's mother didn't know any other details.

Mary repeatedly promised the grieving woman that Mr. Holmes would find out the real culprit.Mary sighed heavily as the detective bid farewell to little Geoffrey's mother and returned to the streets of Meryton.

"Northern," she said with a stern look, "could they be Mr. Bingley's past partners or competitors?"

"You think the instigator was someone known to Mr. Bingley."

"I'm not sure, sir," Mary tilted her head. "I don't even understand why you want to start with a contract. What's the use of stealing the contract?"

"..."

Mr. Holmes made no answer.

His pale eyes stayed on Mary, staring into her eyes.The detective's scorching eyes carried a bit of scrutiny and thought, but no emotion was revealed.

In all fairness, Mr. Sherlock Holmes is not an easy-going and gentle person—of course, since he didn’t come up and directly despise his IQ and level, or do other shocking things, it has been compared to many movies and TV shows in the 21st century. The work is much calmer.

But his facial features are profound, his expression is steady, and he moves with determination and composure, but he is somewhat too rational, and he always looks at others with this scrutiny, which is really not a good talker.

If other unmarried ladies were stared at by him like this, they might feel uncomfortable all over, and thought to themselves that this person was rude.

As for Mary, the scrutiny of Sherlock Holmes inspired her fighting spirit.

She thought about it carefully, and found the answer in Mr. Holmes' silence.

"It's not that you don't know, you must know, sir," Mary said, "but you can't say it—after all, it's someone else's business experience, is it? I think it should have something to do with the nature of the contract."

Mr. Holmes finally withdrew his scrutiny.

"This is Mr. Bingley's privacy, and I promise to keep it secret for him," he said, "but if I can get his permission, I will naturally share the clues in my hands with you."

and many more.

Sherlock Holmes willing to share clues with her?

Suddenly Mary's eyes lit up.

"Really!"

She happily raised a smile: "That's great, I'm afraid you will think that I am inexperienced and have little knowledge, so you don't want to continue communicating with me, sir."

Holmes snorted, not agreeing with Mary's statement.

"To a seeker, the truth is as important as water is to a fish," he said earnestly, "Just as I will not deprive you of your need for air, Miss Bennet, I will not deprive you of your pursuit of truth."

"..."

What good deeds did she do in her previous life to get such a speech from Sherlock Holmes!

Mary felt that she was overwhelmed by dreamy happiness, she clutched her skirt, and solemnly accepted the words: "Then, then... can I see you at Netherfield Manor, sir?"

Holmes nodded. "See you at Netherfield, miss."

Mary also looked the detective straight in the eye: "See you next time, sir."

At the end of the conversation, the detective politely pressed the brim of his hat, turned and left.

It wasn't until the figure of Sherlock Holmes completely disappeared in the street that Mary came back to her senses.

—what did she just do?

Going to track down the clues with Holmes, he is willing to share the answers with himself.

God!

After she really calmed down, Mary instantly had the illusion that she was dreaming just now.

This illusion lasted until Mary returned to the milliner's shop. Elizabeth, who didn't stop Mary, was obviously dying of panic.Seeing Mary coming back in a daze, he hurried up to her and reprimanded her.

"You are too much, Mary!"

When the elder sister looked her up and down, and confirmed that she was not injured, she poked Mary's forehead angrily: "Running to follow a stranger, what do you think?! I planned that you would never come back, Call the red uniforms of the militia to find you!"

"It hurts!"

Mary hurriedly covered her forehead, seeing Elizabeth's concerned and angry face, she regained a sense of reality.

Yes, she actually met Sherlock Holmes!The idol whom she wanted to see with her own eyes, the most powerful detective in Britain, came to Meryton by airborne and appeared in front of her eyes.

Thinking of this, Mary couldn't help but raise the corners of her mouth: "Lizzie..."

Elizabeth: "..."

Seeing Mary's distraught look, Elizabeth knew something was up.

She paused, and put away her hand that couldn't keep knocking on Mary's forehead: "What's going on?"

Mary: "What?"

Elizabeth: "You ran to follow strangers and looked like this. I don't believe you would lose them."

Still be an older sister who understands herself.

Mary took a deep breath and lowered her voice: "Do you remember I said that Mr. Darcy knew a very good detective?"

Elizabeth understood immediately.

"Is that gentleman a detective?"

She recalled the stranger's attire and manner, but he really looked like a sharp and decisive person.But from this point of view, the so-called theft case is much more complicated than a first-time offender on the surface.

So Elizabeth frowned, but didn't say anything more, instead her eyes fell on Mary.

Although she was not much older than Mary, she was older even if she was older. Elizabeth could not help worrying about this plain-looking but clever and eccentric younger sister.

"Since Mr. Bingley has entrusted the matter to the detective, let the detective do it," she urged, "There will be no next time, Mary, you are a girl, and you run to follow a man, how is that decent?! "

Not to mention reputation, just safety is a problem.Fortunately, Mary came and went quickly, otherwise Elizabeth would have been worried to death.

"I know."

Mary rubbed her forehead. It was really painful for Elizabeth to poke someone: "I have discussed it with Mr. Detective. If Mr. Bingley agrees, please pass on the news to me."

That's more or less.

Elizabeth deliberately taught Mary a few words with a straight face, but was fooled by her coquetry.The two Bennet sisters had no intention of shopping, so they set off from Meryton to Longbourne and returned home.

When they got home, they heard Lydia and Catherine, who had gone home first, chatting with Mrs. Bennet about the new militia group nearby.

"Captain Carter is really a handsome officer," Lydia pulled Mrs. Bennet and said excitedly. "He is going to London tomorrow. I must try my luck in the afternoon and meet him again."

Mr. Bennet, who was sitting on the side, heard Lydia's childish speech, and he couldn't help sneering: "I can see from your words that you are really two stupid girls. I used to have some Half-believed, now I’m convinced*.”

Mrs. Bennet was not happy when she heard it: "How can you say that about your child, dear!"

"Just tell the truth," Mr. Bennet said, looking at Mary who had just entered the door, "What about you, Mary? It's rare to see you put such a bright smile on your face, and it's also because of those 'red uniforms' ?"

Of course not!

Before crossing, Mary scoffed at the uniform complex of the little girl's family. She is not interested in eight-pack abs, and only men with smart brains are attractive.

"I met a gentleman who just arrived at Meryton today," she answered truthfully.

"Oh?"

This indeed aroused Mr. Bennet's interest: "Is there any gentleman around Longbourn that your mother doesn't know about?"

"A friend of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy," explained Mary, "a Mr. detective from London to investigate the theft."

"A detective."

Mr. Bennet shook his head repeatedly, picked up his usual book and sighed, "I thought you were smarter than those two silly girls."

Mary would definitely be unconvinced if it were to rest—no matter how bad she was, she couldn't be more absurd than Lydia.But seeing her idol today, Mary was in a great mood. She changed the subject with a smile: "Where's Jane? She obviously came back with Catherine and Lydia."

Speaking of her baby's eldest daughter, Mrs. Bennet's face suddenly beamed with joy: "I just received a letter from Miss Bingley, asking her to visit Netherfield Manor. I think it's going to rain soon, so I told her to go directly. It would be better to stay at Netherfield Manor in the evening, so that I can talk more with Mr. Bingley."

Mary: "..."

Oops!

But after staying in Meryton for a while and talking to Mr. Holmes a few words, the plot of the original work has already happened.

It doesn't happen sooner, it doesn't happen later, it happens to be this time, and it happens to be this plot.Mary turned her head and looked out of the cloudy window, her smile suddenly froze on her face.

In the novel, Jane fell seriously ill because of the rain on the way to Netherfield Manor.