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“I think you are—are mistaken. You must have him confused with someone else.” She made herself smile in return, remembering he was wounded. Perhaps his mind was affected. Yes, that would explain everything. The thoughts were as transparent on her face as if she had spoken them aloud.
Monk glanced at Hester. Still she remained silent.
Perdita moved forward, her hands clutched in front of her, her voice trembling.
“I take it you did not care for India, Mrs. Hanning. I am so sorry. That must make your loss doubly hard. I was unable to go, but I always thought I should find it fascinating. Gabriel wrote such marvelous letters, and I have been reading a book lately about its history. Of course, most of what I know is after the British arrived there, but a little about before that too. I should have done it a long time ago….” She smiled at Mrs. Hanning defiantly, daring her to take offense or argue the issue. She came farther into the room. “I should have been so much more of a companion to Gabriel.”
Mrs. Hanning drew in her breath. It was impossible to tell whether she was hurt or not.
Perdita knew what she had done, but she was too defensive certainly to retreat.
“Since I didn’t go out with him, it is the least I can do now.” She smiled, tilting her chin up a fraction.
“Naturally, if you feel it your duty.” Mrs. Hanning smiled back with the merest movement of her lips. “Then no doubt it will be of comfort to you. I am delighted you have found something … in your situation … my dear.”
“It is not duty,” Perdita corrected her. “It is my pleasure, and naturally it is distressing, of course, because of all the suffering and the wrongs, the injustices—”
“You mean the barbarity of the Indians—the disloyalty!” Mrs. Hanning finished for her.
“No, I meant the injustices we committed towards them,” Perdita corrected. “I don’t think it is wrong to defend your country. I should want to defend England if Indian armies came here and tried to make us part of their empire.”
Mrs. Hanning laughed. “That is hardly the same thing, my dear. The Indians are barbarians. We are English.”
“I think if you read the accounts of some of our conquests, you will find that we are barbarous as well.” Perdita was insistent. “We were just rather better at it.”
“You are very young,” Mrs. Hanning said patiently. “I think perhaps someone should advise you more suitably as to your reading material. It is obviously not sound. I am sure your intentions are good.” Her voice dropped in tone. “But your doctor will tell you that Lieutenant Sheldon needs peace and rest, and a quiet and loving home, a wife to read of pleasant things to him, or to play a little piano music, not lecture on the history of India. Allow me to guide you, my dear.”
“Thank you,” Perdita replied. “I am sure you mean well, and it is very kind of you to have come, but I want to learn about India so that if Gabriel wishes to talk to me I can listen with intelligence.”
“I think you will find that sweetness of nature is what is required, not intelligence,” Mrs. Hanning said with an assured smile. “A man does not wish to discuss serious subjects with his wife. He has any number of friends and colleagues with whom to do that—gentlemen like Mr. Monk.” She glanced at Monk briefly.
Monk looked across at Hester. Her eyes were bright with satisfaction. She cared fiercely for Perdita and Gabriel, and their victory was hers. He had not appreciated before how much feeling she invested in her patients, how much emotion filled her. He felt at once thrilled by it and full of admiration for her; he also sensed a kind of envy because it was something wholehearted and generous. There was a warmth in it which was not in his feeling for his clients. He kept a reserve, a coolness, even sometimes an anger. He recognized this difference, a side of Hester which had almost certainly been there always but that he had not seen. He had not wanted to. It was more comfortable to criticize her arbitrariness, her autocratic ways, her too forcibly expressed opinions, her generally awkward manner.
All of which were still there.
This new mixture of emotions was disturbing, and yet too sweet to let go of just yet. It was an astonishing gentleness under the prickling exterior.
Mrs. Hanning had paid her duty visit. It had not been a success. She was preparing to leave—or rather more accurately, to beat a strategic retreat.
Perdita thanked her again for coming and prepared to accompany her downstairs. She walked very straight with her head high and her hands clenched by her sides, betraying her tenseness.
Monk looked back at Gabriel. He was still sitting upright, his shoulders stiff, but there was the beginning of a smile on the good side of his face. In spite of the fear in his eyes, there was also a flare of hope as he watched Perdita’s back disappear into the passageway.
Hester came into the room.
Monk wondered if she would refer to it or not. Perhaps it would be clumsy. Maybe it was still too delicate to be caught in words.
She looked at Gabriel, then at Monk, with anxiety in her eyes. Monk realized with a shock that she was not sure of what she had done. She had prompted the confrontation with hope but no certainty. He wanted to laugh because of the knowledge of her vulnerability it gave him. Without thinking about it he stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. It was a gesture of companionship, a desire she should know he understood.
She stiffened, motionless for a moment, then relaxed as if he had often done such a thing.
“How is your case progressing?” she asked him. Her voice quivered almost undetectably.
“Disastrously,” he replied. “I came hoping you could offer some advice, although I am not sure anything will do any good now.”
“Why? What has happened?” Now she forgot his gesture and thought only of the case.
“Nothing,” he said. “That is the point. The case is going to come to a conclusion without Rathbone’s having offered a shred of defense.”
