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Collard hid a smile.
Lu glared at him, then smiled suddenly at Hester, showing surprisingly good teeth. “Yeah. O’ course,” she replied.
That evening Hester spent a couple of hours cleaning and tidying up after the plasterer, who was now finished. Not only were the walls perfectly smooth, ready for papering, there was also elegant molding where the wall met the ceiling, and a beautiful rose for the pendant lamp. But all the time her hands were busy with brooms, dustpans, scrubbing brushes, and cloths, she was thinking about her promise to Andy Collard and, more important, to Sutton. As Collard had observed, Parliament made the laws. That was the only place worth beginning. She must find out who was the member most appropriate to approach.
When Monk came home she proudly showed him how the house decorating was going, and asked after the success of his day. She said nothing about Sutton or her interest in the building of the new sewers. It was not difficult to conceal it, nor did she feel deceitful. She was deeply concerned over the apparent suicide of Mary Havilland, the young woman who had so recently lost her father in a way Hester could understand far more than she cared to remember. She had thought her own loss had been dealt with in her mind and the wound of it healed over. Now it was like a bone that was broken long ago but aches again with the cold weather, a pain deep inside, wakening unexpectedly, too covered over with scars to reach again, and yet sometimes hurting as sharply as when it had been new.
She wanted to hide it from Monk. She could see in the shadow in his eyes, the line of his lips, that he was aware of the memory in her, and that he was pursuing the Havilland case at least in part because Mary made him think of Hester. Inside he was reacting to the old injustice as well as the new.
She wanted to smile at him and tell him that it did not hurt anymore. But she would not lie to him. And it was going to hurt more in the loneliness of the house with only chores to keep her busy, no challenge, nothing to fight. She reached out to touch him, to be close to him and say nothing. Sometimes explanations intruded into understanding that was better in silence.
In the morning Hester visited a gentleman she had once nursed through a serious illness. She was delighted to see that he was in much improved health, although he tired more quickly than earlier. She had gone principally for the purpose of learning from him which member of Parliament to seek out regarding the method and regulations of the new construction of sewers.
She came away with the conviction that it was unquestionably Morgan Applegate. She even obtained a warm letter of introduction so that she might call upon him immediately.
Since she was already dressed in the best clothes she had, and incidentally the warmest, she bought herself a little luncheon from a street peddler—something she had become used to lately. By early afternoon she was at the front door of the home of Morgan Applegate, M.P.
It was opened by a short, extremely plump butler who took her letter of introduction. He showed her into a morning room with a roaring fire that gleamed red and gold on the polished furniture and in the copper globes that decorated the handsome fender.
It was a full quarter hour before Morgan Applegate himself appeared. He was a most agreeable-looking man, of average height, with an aquiline face that yet managed to look mild in spite of a very obvious intelligence. His fairish hair was receding, and he was clean-shaven.
He greeted Hester courteously, invited her to sit, then asked what he might do to be of assistance to her.
She told him of her visit to the excavations the previous day, without mentioning Sutton’s name or occupation.
He stopped her in midsentence. “I am aware of this problem, Mrs. Monk.”
Her heart sank. The fear of typhoid was everywhere, and the queen was in the grip of a desperate, almost uncontrollable grief since Prince Albert’s death from typhoid. If Applegate was a man of any ambition, he would not risk his career by stating an opinion that must be bound to anger and offend many.
“Mr. Applegate,” she said earnestly, “I do understand the very immediate need for new and adequate sewers. I nursed men dying of typhoid in the Crimea, and it is something I could never forget or take lightly. But if you had seen the dangers—”
“Mrs. Monk”—he interrupted her again, leaning forward a little in the chair he had taken opposite her—“I am aware of the matter because it was drawn to my attention by someone else, someone even more disturbed by the possibility of disaster than you are. She gave her whole time and attention to it, and I fear perhaps even her sanity.” His face was very grave, and there was an acute consciousness of pain in his eyes. “My wife was very fond of her, and I held her in high regard myself.”
“Held?” Hester said with a chill. “What happened to her?”
Now there was no mistaking his distress. “Of that I am not certain. I was informed only of the merest details, and since they are unclear, I prefer not to repeat them. It is no slight upon you, Mrs. Monk, it is a respect for the dead. She was a young woman of great courage, a kind of high daring. In spite of personal loss and forfeit of much chance of happiness, she placed honor first, and it seems to have exacted from her a terrible price. Please do not press me to say more.”
But it was impossible for Hester to leave it. She was the equal of anyone on earth for compassion, and had the fire and courage to make it of practical use, but she had never excelled in tact. She was too fierce and too impatient. “If she placed honor first, then it is all the more urgent that we should follow her!” she said intently. “How can you wish to say nothing of her? Are you not proud of her? Do we not all owe her something?”
Now he seemed embarrassed, and very clearly uncertain how to answer. “Mrs. Monk, there are some tragedies that…that should remain…unexplained. I can think of no better word. Please…”
She saw the great crevasse in the ground in her mind’s eye again, and her stomach turned at the thought of its collapse. She imagined how it would be for the men at the bottom, possibly even seeing it begin to bulge and give way, knowing what would happen and yet unable to do anything but watch. They would see the water explode through, carrying earth and timber with it to crash down on top of them, bruising, breaking, burying them in the filth and darkness. She could not keep silent.
“Mr. Applegate, there is no time for the niceties of feeling! If she saw what I did today and understood what could happen to these men—almost certainly will happen one day, sooner or later—would this woman really wish you to respect her delicacy now she is dead? Think of their lives, of those who still have a chance if we act, if we achieve what she began. Is not the greatest compliment to her, the greatest service, that we take up her cause?”
He was looking at her with profound indecision in his eyes. He was a kind man, torn by conflicting principles of overwhelming power.
Hester realized she was leaning forward as if to physically touch him. Reluctantly she sat back, not in apology but because it might be a bad strategy, and certainly bad manners.
Without explanation Applegate stood up. “Excuse me,” he said huskily, and left the room.
Hester was crushed. She had liked the man instinctively, and it seemed she had driven him to the point where he had found her so oppressive he had actually retreated from her presence, as if not knowing how else to deal with her. Was she really so insensitive? Was she dragging out the memory of a woman he had perhaps loved, and treating it with unbearable disrespect? How ugly! And how stupid.
She did not know what to do next.
Then the door opened and a woman came in. She was tall, perhaps even an inch or so taller than Hester, and equally slender. She had a most unusual face. It was handsome in its own way, but far more than for the beauty; it was remarkable for its great readiness for the enjoyment of life.
The woman was immediately followed by Applegate himself, who introduced her to Hester as his wife, then by way of explanation added, “We were both fond of Mary, but my wife the more so. Before I break confidence I felt I should consult her opinion.”
