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Neither Hester nor Callandra interrupted him, nor did their faces betray any disbelief.
“I questioned everyone in the neighborhood. No one saw any stranger.”
Callandra sighed. “Audley Penrose?”
“Yes.”
“Oh dear. Does she love him? Or think she does?”
“No. She is horrified—and apparently hurt,” he said wearily. “She would rather be put out in the street as an immoral woman than have Julia know what happened.”
Hester bit her lip. “Has she any conception what that would be like?”
“Probably not,” he replied. “But that hardly matters. Julia won’t allow that to happen—I don’t think. But Marianne doesn’t want me to tell anyone. She says she will deny it anyway, and I can understand that. Audley will deny it, naturally. He has to. I have no idea what Julia will believe, or what she will have to say she believes.”
“Poor creature,” Hester said with sudden passion. “What a fearful dilemma. What have you told her?”
“That I cannot find out who assaulted Marianne and I wish to be released from the case.”
Hester looked across at him, her face lit with warmth of admiration and respect.
He was caught unaware by how sweet it was to him. Without warning the bitterness vanished from the decision. His own pride slipped away.
“And you are content with that?” Callandra broke the moment.
“Not content,” he replied. “But I can think of nothing better. There is no honorable alternative.”
“And Audley Penrose?” she pressed.
“I’d like to break his neck,” he said savagely. “But that is a luxury I can’t afford.”
“I am not thinking of you, William,” Callandra said soberly. She was the only person who called him by his given name, and while it pleased him with its familiarity, it also brought her close enough that pretense was impossible.
“What?” he said somewhat abruptly.
“I was not thinking of your satisfaction in revenge,” she elaborated. “Sweet as that would be. Or the demands of justice, as you see it. I was thinking of Marianne Gillespie. How can she continue to live in that house, with what has happened to her, and may well happen again if he believes he has got away with it?”
“That is her choice,” Monk returned, but it was not a satisfying answer and he knew it. “She was extremely insistent on it,” he went on, trying to justify himself. “She begged me to promise that I would not tell Julia, and I gave her my word.”
“And what disturbs you now?” Callandra asked, her eyes wide.
Hester looked from one to the other of them, waiting, her concentration intense.
Monk hesitated.
“Is it purely vanity, because you do not like to appear to be defeated?” Callandra pursued. “Is that all it is, William, your own reputation?”
“No—no, I’m not sure what it is,” he confessed, his anger temporarily abated.
“Have you considered what her life will be if he continues his behavior?” Callandra’s voice was very quiet but the urgency in it filled the room. “She will feel terrified every time she is alone with him in case it happens again. She will be terrified in case Julia ever discovers them and is devastated with grief.” She leaned farther forward in her chair. “Marianne will feel she has betrayed her sister, although it is none of her choosing, but will Julia know that? Will she not always have that gnawing fear that in her heart Marianne was willing, and that in some subtle way she encouraged him?”
“I don’t believe that,” he said fiercely. “She would rather be put out on the street than have Julia know it.”
Callandra shook her head. “I am not speaking of now, William. I am speaking of what will happen if she says nothing and remains in the house. She may not have thought of it yet, but you must. You are the only one who knows all the facts and is in a position to act.”
Monk sat silent, the thoughts and fears crowding his mind.
It was Hester who spoke.
