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“Yes!” he said vehemently, setting down his spoon momentarily. “It is unbecoming, irritating in manner, and makes all intelligent and open conversation impossible. Not that most men would be seeking an intelligent conversation with a woman of her age,” he added.
“Especially when her views are mistaken,” she said with her eyes bright.
“That adds to it, of course,” he conceded, quite sure now that she was laughing.
“You know she said something very similar about you when she was here about three weeks ago. She is nursing an elderly lady with a broken leg, but at that point the woman was almost recovered, and I don’t think she has a further position offered her yet.”
“Perhaps if she were to guard her tongue a little and make herself more obliging—and modest?” he suggested.
“I am sure you are right,” Callandra agreed. “With your own experience of the value of such qualities, perhaps you might give her some excellent advice.” She made the suggestion with a face almost wiped of humor.
He looked at her more closely. There was the slightest curl of a smile on her mouth and her eyes avoided his.
“After all,” she continued, keeping a sober expression with an effort, “intelligent conversation with the open-minded is so agreeable, don’t you think?”
“You are twisting my words,” he said between his teeth.
“No I am not,” she denied, looking up at him with quite open affection and amusement. “You mean that when Hester has an opinion and will not move from it, it is dogmatic and unbecoming and it annoys you incredibly. When you have one it is courageous and committed, and the only path for anyone with integrity. That is what you said, one way or another, and I am quite sure it is what you mean.”
“You think I am wrong.” He leaned forward on the table.
“Oh frequently. But I should never dare to say so. Would you care for more cream with your pie? I suppose you have not heard from Oliver Rathbone lately either?”
He helped himself to the cream.
“I looked into a minor case for him ten days ago.” Rathbone was the highly successful barrister with whom Monk had worked on all his outstanding cases since the accident. He admired Rathbone’s professional ability profoundly and found the man himself both attractive and irritating. There was a suaveness and a self-confidence in him which caught a nerve in Monk’s nature. They were too alike in some aspects, and too unalike in others. “He seemed in excellent health,” he finished with a tight smile, meeting Callandra’s eyes. “And how are you? We have spoken of everything else….”
She looked down at her plate for a moment, then up again at him.
“I am very well, thank you. Do I not look it?”
“Indeed, you look exceptionally well,” he replied truthfully, although he had actually just noticed it for the first time. “You have found an interest?”
“How perceptive of you.”
“I am a detective.”
She looked at him very steadily and for that moment there was honest and equal friendship between them, without barrier of words.
“What is it?” he said quietly.
“I am on the Board of Governors in the Royal Free Hospital.”
“I am delighted.” He knew her late husband had been an army surgeon. It was a position which would suit her experience and her natural abilities and inclinations admirably. He was genuinely pleased for her. “How long?”
“Only a month, but already I feel I have been of some service.” Her face was quickened with excitement and her eyes brilliant. “There is so much to be done.” She leaned forward across the table. “I know a little about the new methods, Miss Nightingale’s beliefs about air and cleanliness. It will take time, but we can accomplish what will seem like miracles if we work hard enough.” Unconsciously she was beating her forefinger on the tab
lecloth. “There are so many progressive doctors, as well as the die-hards. And the difference it makes to have anesthetic! You have no idea how things have changed in the last ten or twelve years.”
She pushed the sugar scuttle away, her eyes intent upon his. “Do you know they can make a person completely senseless, oblivious of pain, and then recover him without harm!” Again her finger beat on the cloth. “That means all manner of surgery can be performed. There is no longer any need to tie a person down and hope to complete everything in a matter of two minutes or so. Now speed is not the primary consideration: one may take time—and care. I never imagined I would see such things—it is absolutely marvelous.”
Her face darkened and she leaned back again. “Of course, the trouble is we still lose at least half the patients to infection afterwards. That is where we must improve things.” Again she leaned forward. “But I am sure it can be done—there are brilliant and dedicated men here. I really feel I may make some difference.” Suddenly the earnestness vanished and she smiled with total candor. “Finish your pie and have some more.”
He laughed, happy for her enthusiasm, even though he knew so much of it would end in defeat. Still, any victory was precious. “Thank you,” he accepted. “It is really exceedingly good.”
2
THE FOLLOWING DAY about ten o’clock Monk walked along to Hastings Street again and called at number fourteen. This time Julia received him in a state of some concern.
