In Which Irene Watches Molly Watch a Play
At exactly seven that evening, Irene lifted the heavy knocker and let it fall loudly onto an impressive mahogany door. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably in her chest, and her white fingers trembled as she glanced around the looming façade of Molly’s ancestral home.
Sherlock had implied that Molly came from a good family, but Irene had not been expecting this kind of opulence. The house was an imposing structure of stone that was somehow formidable and uninviting at the same time.
It was strange, but Irene could not imagine a younger Molly growing up here, in this cold, stony place. Everything seemed too large for life, too surrounded by shadow. It contrasted too brutally with Molly’s lightness of disposition.
Did Molly live here alone, with just servants for company? She searched her memory for references to Molly’s family. The girl had mentioned a grandfather in such a way that Irene could only assume he was a central figure in her life. But she had mentioned him in the past tense. How long had he been dead?
If the grandfather had been instrumental in raising Molly, as Irene suspected, where were Molly’s parents? For some reason, Irene thought they might have been dead. She must have heard something, but it would have been a long time ago, before she even knew Molly. Did she have siblings?
Irene bit back a smile at an image that crept suddenly into her head, of a young Molly throwing her arms around some hypothetical younger brother, with her same beautiful chestnut hair.
She heard the careful click of footsteps on the other side of the door. It would swing open any second now, and Irene would have to exchange polite conversation with Molly’s butler. Irene hated pleasantries.
But when the door was finally flung open, it was a breathless, slightly pink-cheeked Molly who stood before her. She hung loosely on the edge of the entryway, smiling radiantly at Irene, as her small hands rushed to push her hair behind her ears. She was wearing a cobalt blue dress that highlighted the slimness of her waist, while also hinting at curves in other place. A patterned silver cover-up hung around her narrow and otherwise bare shoulders.
Irene felt her chest fill with a kind of frantic energy at the sight of Molly, suddenly only a foot away.
“I’m terribly sorry, we normally have a butler to manage the door, but I sent
Carson home early. His anniversary is tonight and his wife is such a sweet creature, and I figured we could manage alright without—“, Molly rambled slightly, her lips still caught in an adorable half-smile until Irene cut her off.
“I understand, Miss Hooper.”, and then to fill the silence that ensued for a second between them and satisfy her curiosity, she asked, “Do you live here alone, save the servants?”
Molly’s pink-tinged cheeks grew a little more flushed as she replied, “Well, yes. Ever since my grandfather died last year I’ve managed the place on my own. It gets a little lonely at night when some of the servants go home”, and then seeming to realize the somber tone that had crept into her voice, she quickly added, “But, I have a couple of ladies maids, who stay here downstairs full-time, and a gardener who lives on the property as well”.
She laughed nervously, ducking her head so as to keep from looking Irene in the eyes. The older woman noted the gesture. The girl clearly felt uncomfortable speaking about herself. What made her so fearful speaking about herself? Irene determined to draw her out a bit, as Molly ushered her into an impressive foyer with marble floors and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
“I prefer being alone personally, but I can’t picture you with all your charm being isolated in this place night after night. No brothers or sisters? Cousins?”
A shadow of something flickered in Molly’s eyes, something unreadable that made Irene even more curious about the girl’s backstory.
“None at all” Molly answered with an overly bright air before pulling the door closed behind Irene, “It is isolating sometimes. It’s almost enough to make me go out and find a husband— accept the offers of one of the men I’ve rejected”.
The reference to men interested in Molly sent a thrill of something like jealousy through Irene’s blood, and without thinking she uttered, “You won’t feel any less lonely if you accept a marriage proposal like that. People are always alone, even when they’re married, even when they’re completely surrounded by other people, and have children and think they have friends. It doesn’t matter how many people you think you know, the truth is you can never really know anyone and no one can ever really know you.”
“How terribly cynical of you, Miss Adler”. Molly’s look of surprise was quickly interrupted by her usual playful smile.
And it was something in the gently teasing nature of her voice that drove the older woman to whisper, “Please call me Irene”.
The younger girl’s smile grew even more luminous at these words, lowering her eyes shyly at the sudden show of intimacy, despite Irene’s previous words about not really knowing anyone.
“Irene”, Molly tasted the way the name sounded on her tongue before responding, “Then you must call me Molly”.
Irene watched Molly with thinly veiled absorption as the girl dropped the cover-up onto a divan in a parlor room just past the foyer. Her bare shoulders were creamy and luminous, and the way Molly pulled uncertainly at the edge of her hair made Irene swallow back the tide of feelings that suddenly came over her.
* * *
As they settled into the box overlooking the stage, and Molly slipped gracefully into the seat next to Irene, the older woman felt a thrill of excitement, and a pang of something deeper in her stomach as the girl scooted her chair closer so that the two women’s arms touched slightly. The girl smelled of vanilla and orange blossom, and the effect was quite intoxicating. Even Lord Lestrade’s overly obvious interest in Irene didn’t bother The Woman tonight.
Lord Lestrade had eagerly assented when Irene had told him that her guest for the evening would be Molly Hooper. Lestrade, Irene knew, was just glad that she had chosen a female to accompany her out. He had always had a bit of a crush on the woman, something that Irene had encouraged just enough to receive the occasional favor out of the man.
The lights dimmed, and the red velvet curtains parted to reveal an impressive wooden set painted to look like the great stone façade of Elsinore Castle. For a few moments, Irene was reminded of Molly’s own forbidding family manner.
Irene smiled to herself in the dark as she heard Molly inhale in wonder, and felt her move a little closer.
The younger girls lips brushed the Woman’s ear and Irene had to keep a soft moan from escaping her lips as she whispered, “Thank you, for taking me tonight. I know I’m no Sherlock, but I hop you’ll have a good time nonetheless”.
Irene’s heart fluttered at the sincerity and needless insecurity in the girl’s words. She turned her face, a slight smile dancing upon her lips and murmured “Darling, I wouldn’t trade you for anyone tonight. It was my intention that Sherlock should refuse my offer, and that you would come with me. I think you’ll like this play. It’s macabre and poignant and terribly dramatic, a perfect piece to watch as your theatre debut”.
Molly laughed softly, and Irene felt a thrill of total surprise when the girl intertwined her arm with the older woman’s. She moved closer and laid a gentle head on Irene’s shoulder, “You’re too kind to me, Irene. I won’t ever forget it. I feel already as though we are going to be remarkable friends”.
Irene stiffened at first from his unexpected display of affection, but as the play began, and Molly continued to hold tightly to her arm, Irene relaxed into the embrace.
It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself over and over again, trying to dislodge the overwhelming happiness that had taken root in her breast from the very moment she had seen Molly fling open the door earlier in the evening. She noted each gasp that Molly took, each cry of surprise and moan of disappointment that flew from the younger girl’s lips, all the while tying to keep her breathing steady so that the younger girl would have no reason to guess at her true feelings.
When ‘Hamlet’ finally ended, and the lights went on again, Molly leaned farther into Irene’s side, turning her wide expressive eyes on the woman with a kind of feverish wonderment.
“My heart is beating so fast”, she whispered just loud enough so that only the Woman could hear. Lestrade was pouring himself a drink and talking to another gentleman, not that Irene cared at all with the lovely creature speaking to her so reverently.
“Oh?” Irene tried to make her voice sound indifferent, even though her own chest seemed to be electrified.
“It was magnificent, Irene. I feel so strange, so taken in”, Molly was shaking slightly, pressed a she was into Irene’s side.
Irene laughed slightly at the girl’s obvious wonderment. Molly’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were alive with the tragedy that had transpired before them only moments before.
Molly said something so quietly that Irene couldn’t catch it.
“What, darling?”
“I could have sworn he blew me a kiss…” Molly repeated a little louder, before burrowing her red face in her fingers.
Irene felt her heart stop in its racing, and melancholy filled her soul. She knew without having to inquire what Molly was referring to. Right before the curtain had closed, the lead actor, the handsome, dark haired man who had so skillfully played Hamlet, had thrown a rose out at the crowd and blown a kiss in the direction of their box. Irene had been too focused on the feel of Molly’s warm skin on her arm to be concerned that it had obviously been aimed at Molly. She had not for some reason, expected Molly to have much cared either.
“Stupid”, Irene clenched her eyes shut, against the way her whole chest felt pained. She had been foolish to assume Molly would ever feel the same way about her as she did for the younger girl. Most women preferred men. God, what a fool she had been!
“What?” Molly pushed herself off of Irene, her cheeks still pink, but her eyes wide with concern.
Irene forced her gaze to meet Molly’s, and instantly felt as though she had been struck by lightning. Those eyes captured her.
“Nothing, darling. If you think the actor flirted with you, we should try to find him in the foyer. Now that the play’s over he’ll no doubt wish to talk with you”. Her voice came out flat and cold, but at least it didn’t waver.
Molly seemed to notice the change Irene’s change in demeanor, but was too focused on the actor to inquire further.
“He was so dreadfully handsome, and his eyes are so intense. I doubt he’d want anything to do with me”, Molly shook her head, obviously embarrassed.
“He’d be a fool not to make a move, Molly”, Irene felt the bitterness in her words, but couldn’t suppress them. She realized that what she had said sounded flirtatious, but it hardly mattered because Molly clearly wasn’t interested.
Molly glanced sharply at Irene’s eyes for a moment, and then--- was Irene imagining it? The younger girl’s gaze seemed to drop to Irene’s lips with a sudden unreadable expression. Molly shook herself, as though to clear her thoughts, and stood up abruptly.
“Well, let’s get downstairs then. I’ve always wanted to fall in love”.
Irene nodded, and took Molly’s proffered hand as the two made their exit from the box.