The Opera Singer's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Spin-Off Novel)

Chapter Nine

While I was washing the dishes, Mrs. Hudson asked if I knew Silver Threads Among the Gold. Fortunately, I had studied the song the year before with Signori Bianchi. She hummed along as I sang the words of the sweet old song.

"Are you sure I'm not being too loud?" I asked when I had finished the song. The walls here may not be as thin as the boarding house I'd been to first, but she said she'd heard me singing while I was cleaning. With the colonel already out of humor with me, I didn't want to risk irritating him more.

"Bless you, child, not at all. You have a fine singing voice. It's even better in person than listening from afar. I think I could listen to you all night," she said with a smile. When I asked if she had anything else she would like to hear me sing, she shook her head. "Anything you like will be fine, Briar."

Her use of my first name startled me, and I looked over my shoulder. She was focused on her knitting. I returned to scrubbing the pots and thought through the songs I knew by heart. There was one Signori Bianchi had assigned me a few months ago, and I hadn't practiced it since that time.

The Latin words felt strange rolling off my tongue. Dormi, Jesu was something Mum had sung when she was warming up before a performance. I knew I didn't have the range to sing it as well as she did, but I somehow felt closer to her when I did so.

Dormi, Jesu! Mater ridet

Quae tam dulcem somnum videt,

Dormi, Jesu! blandule!

Si non-dormis, Mater plorat,

Inter fila cantans orat,

Blande, veni, somnule.

The only sound was the gentle sploosh of the water in front of me. I glanced over my shoulder to find Mrs. Hudson staring at me. "My goodness," she finally said. "Where did that come from? I've never heard the like!"

"I'm a little out of practice," I said weakly. When I returned to the signori, he was going to be absolutely furious with me.

"Out of practice? Land sakes, child! What must you sound like when you do practice! A voice like that is meant to be shared, not hidden away in a kitchen."

Well, this was the complete opposite of Mrs. Arnold's reaction to me singing. I couldn't hold back a laugh. "If you'd ever heard my mother, you'd know real talent, Mrs. Hudson," I said. "She sounds like an angel. I can only hope I become half as good as her."

"I do know talent and I just heard it. Your mother sounded better, you say? I cannot imagine that."

It was praise to rival any approval I had ever gotten from Signori Bianchi. "I hope I'm not singing loud enough to bother the colonel. Or Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson. The doctor looked so tired when he came in."

"That doesn't surprise me," Mrs. Hudson said with a sigh. "Many are the times that poor man has exhausted himself keeping up with Mr. Holmes. I haven't the slightest idea how Mr. Holmes can run around the city as often as he does, catching criminals, and he hardly eats at times."

"Does Mr. Holmes 'run around the city' often?" I asked curiously. Mrs. Hudson raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm not asking to spread tales. I've read the stories and there didn't seem to be much running in them."

"Not all of Mr. Holmes' cases have been published for the world to read about." Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Perhaps there isn't all that much running, but he does go out at all hours and comes back at the strangest times. I can only imagine what they were up to being gone so long this time."

Would my case require them to be gone at all hours?

I'd finished washing the dishes and I set to drying them. "Mr. Holmes suggested I ask you for a salve for my hands," I said, noticing how red and angry my skin looked.