Russell was momentarily at a loss for words.
Somehow the conversation had suddenly turned rather heavy.
So you've got dark, weighty secrets too?
"Uh... that sounds pretty rough, actually?"
"It is." Mary nodded in heartfelt agreement, and even her previously ramrod-straight posture slumped along with it.
"Just yesterday, I got scolded by my father."
"Mr. Morstan?" Russell raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because of the whole Moriarty affair." Mary sighed, shedding that dignified bearing of hers and slumping onto the table.
The girl lifted those deep-blue eyes and gazed at Russell with a pitiful, put-upon look, as if she'd suffered some tremendous injustice.
"He said I went to The Guardian without discussing it with him first.
He claimed he wasn't blaming me, but really, he still doesn't like it when I take matters into my own hands."
"Your father..." Russell frowned, but in the end he said nothing.
Badmouthing someone's dad right in front of their daughter still felt a little inappropriate.
"He's just like that." Mary gave a small smile.
"He has a strong need for control, likes to keep everything within the bounds of what he can manage.
As for anything done without his permission, or without his knowing about it beforehand—even if the outcome turns out well—he'll still be displeased."
As she spoke, she idly traced circles on the smooth tabletop with her fingertip, her tone carrying a note of casual, offhand complaint.
"I can understand that." Russell nodded, offering no further comment.
After all, it wasn't his place to meddle in other people's family affairs.
"Still," he paused, then adopted a lighter tone. "At least the outcome was good, wasn't it? The paper came out, and Moriarty's suspicions were cleared.
The most your father can do is nag you a bit. He can't very well actually do anything to you."
"That's not necessarily true..." the girl instinctively retorted.
"What?"
"No, nothing." Mary shook her head and gave Russell a smile.
"I mean, well, that's true too." She sat up straight again, lifted her teacup, and stirred it gently with a spoon.
"Actually... there's one more thing I haven't told you."
Mary watched the swirling tea in her cup and spoke softly.
"What is it?" Russell looked over at her.
"My father, he..." Mary paused, her gaze wavering slightly, but in the end she made up her mind and said:
"My father—he's told me more than once to stay away from you.
He said it back at Lloyds Bank last time, and he said it again yesterday."
The instant the words fell, Russell's hand, holding his teacup, froze in midair for a moment.
"Stay away from me?" he repeated, somewhat uncertainly.
"Mm." Mary nodded, not looking at him, only lowering her head to stare at the ceaselessly swirling brown whirlpool in her cup.
"Why?" Russell frowned, asking in puzzlement.
"Where did I offend him?"
"This..." Mary opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end it only dissolved into a helpless sigh.
"I don't know either," she shook her head, her side ponytail swaying gently along with the motion.
"Maybe he thinks you've gotten too close to Charlotte Holmes.
Father really dislikes Mycroft, so that prejudice has spilled over onto Charlotte, and onto you as well."
The girl looked up, those deep-blue eyes carrying a trace of apology.
"I'm sorry, Russell," she said softly.
"The truth is... it's not that Father dislikes you. Or rather, it's a bit worse than that."
"There's something worse than that?" Russell arched an eyebrow.
"Of course," Mary nodded.
"Rather than saying he dislikes you, it's more that... he probably looks down on you a little.
Your relationship with the Holmes family is only one factor. The main reason is that he simply has no fondness for you in the first place.
Father is a businessman. In his eyes, the starting point of everything should be based on profit and value—even human relationships are no exception.
He decides how to treat a person according to that person's value in his eyes.
So..."
"So, a penniless nobody from an orphanage, with no one to rely on and no background, is naturally worthless in his eyes."
Russell finished Mary's thought for her.
"That's not what I meant." Mary hurried to explain, terrified that Russell might misunderstand.
"I think completely differently from my father."
"Of course, I believe you." Russell smiled.
"And you don't need to worry that I'll feel inferior because of it or anything. My mental resilience isn't quite that fragile."
He said it with an air of indifference.
"I wasn't born into this world just to be liked by everyone."
Hearing this, Mary looked at him, a smile slowly surfacing at the corners of her mouth.
"That's right," the girl said softly. "Having one or two people who like you is enough."
As she said this, Mary suddenly laughed, looking at Russell.
"Then again, in a certain sense, meeting you today was quite a risk on my part, you know.
If I got caught, the consequences would be pretty serious."
"It's fine. If it comes to that, you can just pin all the blame on me," Russell said with a wave of his hand.
"Taking the fall for things isn't exactly the first time for me, anyway.
Besides, your dad only looks down on me for now. Give it a while, and he'll come to know my potential."
"Oh?" Mary raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward. "And what do you plan to do?"
"Next week, Charlotte and I are doing an interview with The Times," Russell said.
"The main subject of the interview is Charlotte; I'm just tagging along as her assistant.
But Charlotte's temperament... you know how she is. Expecting her to give the reporters any sort of normal answers to their questions isn't exactly realistic."
"So, when the time comes, the one in charge of talking and fielding the reporters' questions will be—you?"
A knowing light flickered in Mary's eyes.
"Can't be helped. We can't just let the whole thing fall flat, can we?" Russell spread his hands. "They are paying an appearance fee, after all."
"So what will you say when the time comes?" Mary asked again.
"Probably depends on what the paper asks. And I'll have to check with Mycroft first about what can and can't be said."
Russell ticked off points on his fingers. "Things like the Buckingham Palace matter, and various other odds and ends."
"If that's the case..." Mary thought it over.
"A penniless nobody who was originally unknown, suddenly appearing in the newspaper—and as Charlotte Holmes's assistant, no less.
Having collaborated with Scotland Yard, even Buckingham Palace, and earned high recognition...
In that case, even Father would probably have to reconsider."
As she spoke, the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curve upward slightly.
Calling it a match of equal standing might still be a bit of a stretch.
But with Scotland Yard and Buckingham Palace vouching for him, it would be more than enough to shut that man's mouth.
Though it was a joint interview with Charlotte, in terms of the outcome, it counted as beneficial for herself as well.
Fine, then—she'd let her have this one.
Mary lifted her teacup.
Even in losing, there's a way to win.
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