Read Jewel of the Thames (A Portia Adams Adventure) for Free Online Page B

London. I shook my head. No, there had been no clues to lead me to this startling place, no unfollowed leads. It was just a secret my grandmother had been determined to keep.
    Mrs. Jones returned to my side, the Dawes having left us on our own. She stood beside me, quietly surveying the books, running her manicured hand lightly over the spines.
    “ He did love to write down every little exploit.” Her fingers paused on one book, and then continued their journey. “Holmes didn’t give the good doctor credit for it while he was alive, but I know he appreciated all the attention.”
    I sat down on one of the comfortable wing chairs. “My grandfather was Dr. Watson, the famous partner to the even-more-famous Sherlock Holmes? My grandmother never told anyone! My mother had no idea…”
    “Yes, little one,” Mrs. Jones said kindly, but with a slightly sardonic smile. “Your grandparents were married barely a year, just enough time for your mother to be born before they divorced, he staying in England, your grandmother emigrating to the States. Your grandfather remarried several times after that, and he bought 221 Baker Street when the old landlord, Mrs. Hudson, died, at which point I believe the Dawes family moved in.”
    “ And it passed to my mother?”
    “ Two years ago, when John died,” she answered. “His other children have their own estates, two of them being doctors, the other being rather a useless sort, so your grandfather must have thought to leave something to his first child. According to Mrs. Dawes, they never met, corresponding only by letter, and your mother’s instructions were to continue running the townhouse as her father did. She wanted as little to do with the place as possible.”
    I nodded, understanding at once why this inheritance had been left unspoken — to hide it from my selfish former stepfather.
    “But then, when John Watson died, and my mother inherited this place, she finally knew who her father was!” I said, the truth obvious now. “She never told me,” I added, tears threatening anew, this time from hurt. I looked down at the book in my hands. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
    Mrs. Jones, her eyes sympathetic and soft, gave a tiny shrug before saying, “I don’t know, Portia; as I have told you, your mother and I had not spoken in almost twenty years.”
    “Fine,” I declared, getting angry now, “then why did you not tell me about this, Mrs. Jones? You knew the truth — why not tell me right away?” I pushed the book back into its place on the shelf.
    She hesitated, but then said, “Honestly, I wasn’t trying to hide him from you, I just didn’t know what you knew. And then when you shared with me that your grandmother had adamantly kept all information about John from you, I thought it best to get to know you better. Tell me, if I had told you John’s full name the first time we talked about him, what would you have thought? Would you have known he was the same John Watson?”
    I shook my head. “Possibly not, but his name, in addition to inheriting 221 Baker Street, would certainly have been enough, Mrs. Jones. You should have trusted me with the full information.”
    “ I see that now, my dear, and I do apologize. I just want you to be introduced to your London connections gently,” she said, grasping my hands. “I don’t want you to have the reaction your grandmother did, cutting herself off from everyone in this city.”
    “ I barely knew my father, he was taken from us so young. He was an orphan,” I explained, my eyes still pointed downwards. “I deserve the truth about my own family.
    “ No more lies, Mrs. Jones,” I declared, getting myself back under control as I turned back toward the bookshelves, pulling out a medical textbook. “No one needs to be careful around me anymore. Just give me all the data, and I promise you, I will deal with it.”
    Mrs. Jones seemed to take a moment to absorb this, pulling out her monogrammed kerchief to pat at