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Hester said nothing. She was aware of Rathbone looking at her with the same inquisitive amusement he had at their first meeting, before the trial. She was not in the mood for small talk, but she was Callandra’s guest and she must endure it with some grace.
“I could not but feel sorry for the heroine,” Miss Newhouse continued. “In spite of her weaknesses.” She looked down for a moment. “Oh, I know of course that she brought her ruin upon herself. That was the playwright’s skill, was it not, that one deplored her behavior and yet wept for her at the same time?” She turned to Hester. “Do you not think so, Miss Latterly?”
“I fear I had rather more sympathy with her than was intended,” Hester said with an apologetic smile.
“Oh?” Miss Newhouse looked confused.
Hester felt compelled to explain further. She was acutely aware of Rathbone watching her.
“I thought her husband so extremely tedious I could well understand why she … lost interest.”
“That hardly excuses her betrayal of her vows.” Miss Newhouse was shocked. “It shows how easily we women can be led astray by a few flattering words,” she said earnestly. “We see a handsome face and a little surface glamour, instead of true worth!”
Hester spoke before thinking. The heroine had been very pretty, and it seemed the husband had bothered to learn very little else about her. “I do not need anyone to lead me astray! I am perfectly capable of going on my own!”
Miss Newhouse stared at her, nonplussed.
Callandra coughed hard into her handkerchief.
“But not as much fun, going astray alone, is it?” Rathbone said with brilliant eyes and lips barely refraining from a smile. “Hardly worth the journey!”
Hester swung around and met his gaze. “I may go alone, Mr. Rathbone, but I am perfectly sure I would not find the ground uninhabited when I got there!”
His smile broadened, showing surprisingly beautiful teeth. He held out his arm in invitation.
“May I? Just to your carriage,” he said with an expressionless face.
She was unable to stop laughing, and the fact that Miss Newhouse obviously did not know what was funny only added to her enjoyment.
* * *
The following day Callandra sent her footman to the police station with a note requesting that Monk wait upon her at his earliest convenience. She gave no explanation for her desire to see him and she certainly did not offer any information that would be of interest or use.
Nevertheless in the late morning he presented himself at her door and was duly shown in. He had a deep regard
for her, of which she was aware.
“Good morning, Mr. Monk,” she said courteously. “Please be seated and make yourself comfortable. May I offer you refreshment of some kind? Perhaps a hot chocolate? The morning is seasonably unpleasant.”
“Thank you,” he accepted, his face rather evidently showing his puzzlement as to why he had been sent for.
She rang for the maid, and when she appeared, requested the hot chocolate. Then she turned to Monk with a charming smile.
“How is your case progressing?” She had no idea which case he was engaged on, but she had no doubt there would be one.
He hesitated just long enough to decide whether the question was a mere politeness until the chocolate should arrive or whether she really wished to know. He decided the latter.
“Little bits and pieces of evidence all over the place,” he replied. “Which do not as yet seem to add up to anything.”
“Is that frequent?”
A flash of humor crossed his face. “It is not unknown, but these seem unusually erratic. And with a family like Sir Basil Moidore’s, one does not press as one might with less socially eminent people.”
She had the information she needed.
“Of course not. It must be very difficult indeed. And the public, by way of the newspapers, and the authorities also, will naturally be pressing very hard for a solution.”
The chocolate came and she served them both, permitting the maid to leave immediately. The beverage was hot, creamy and delicious, and she saw the satisfaction in Monk’s face as soon as his lips touched it.
