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Monk was curious. Would it be so dangerous for him to be recognized?
Her voice was choked with emotion. “He didn’t talk about his home much. He grew up on the outskirts of the city. He liked to walk miles out into the country.” Her eyes brimmed with tears as if they were her own lost memories. “I’m sorry…none of that is useful. He never gambled, but he took wild chances in other ways. He was a good judge of horses, but he drove too fast. Rode too fast as well, if the ground was firm. I don’t expect that has changed.”
“Any habits of speech?” he asked. “Things I could ask people to listen for?”
“He could read Latin, but I’m not sure if he could have a conversation in it. He knew lots of the words. Said so much of English was based on it, it was always useful to have. And he doesn’t mind spiders, but he is afraid of moths. The fluttering upsets him. He hid it, but you could still see they bothered him. You know how if something disturbs you, you keep an eye on it. If there is one in the room, you want to know where it is?” She made herself smile at him. “He always took care of his feet. No matter how sick or poor he was, he wore good boots.”
“Did he have a quick temper?” he asked. “Or drink much?”
“Yes, he had a quick temper. But he drank very little. He…” Again she took a deep breath. “He could hold a grudge. And he was very clever. He could do those puzzles with words and ideas that I can’t even understand.”
Monk was aware that she was watching him intently, even as she sipped her tea.
“Do you really think he could be alive, after all these years?” he asked. “Why would he wait so long to come back to England and take revenge? Why not do it straightaway, and while you were all in San Francisco?”
She gave a very slight shrug, almost a gesture of defeat, of loss. “I don’t know. You asked Aaron if there was anyone who would hate him. He said there wasn’t. I’m afraid for him. Somebody seems to, and Piers is the only person I can think of. They began as equals, when Aaron’s cousin Zachary was still alive. That was a long time ago.” Her face softened and for a moment she was clearly lost in her memories.
Again Monk waited, beginning to drink his own tea.
“Zachary was one of the best people I ever knew,” she said. “Everybody trusted him, Aaron most of all. When Aaron found gold, it was Zack who helped him set everything up legally, and see that all those who helped him were rewarded.” She stopped abruptly, as if a new thought had occurred to her.
Was any of this relevant to an attack against Aaron Clive’s business? It was beginning to feel more and more remote.
Miriam’s eyes filled with tears almost beyond her ability to control. “Aaron grieved for him terribly. He was changed, almost as if he had lost part of himself.”
“Mrs. Clive…are you all right?” Monk asked anxiously.
She straightened up and raised her eyes to meet his again. “Yes. Thank you. It is all a long time ago now. Zack was killed defending a helpless man from a mob of drunkards. California was a pretty lawless place at that time. It was as if a light went out…something of goodness was lost. Without him some of us lost our way….”
Monk tried to think of something to say. He clung to the one thing relevant.
“But it’s possible Piers Astley could still be alive? In spite of the fact that he was legally declared to be dead, and you free to marry Aaron Clive?”
“I was told he was dead; he never came home,” she said simply. “He had worked for Aaron for some time. In fact he was his right hand, as it were.” She gave a little shrug. “You don’t understand what it was like, Mr. Monk. It was another world, out there. Gold is magic, as if it had a power within itself to change men, circumstances, anything. Suddenly from worrying about every meal and debts of a few dollars, people think they can buy anything, and sometimes everybody. Some find a few nuggets, and think it will never end. People even gave it away, thinking there would always be more. But there isn’t. Except for a few, it’s never sufficient, though enough to live on, perhaps. The best thing is to buy land you can farm.” She shook her head. “But gold is power, and power sends most people a little mad.”
He knew that what she said was true; he had a faint memory of it himself, a kind of lunacy in the air, like having drunk too much.
He became aware that Miriam was watching him, and felt as if his thoughts were wide open to her gaze.
“Men gambled and lost fortunes,” she continued. “Many found gold and were gripped by the madness of it, the elation. Some settled, some died poor. Some prospered by creating businesses, schools, churches, stores. A few, like Aaron, struck a rich seam of gold and became little kings of their own realms.” She lifted her shoulders very slightly. It was a gesture of helplessness. “Some, like Piers, vanished. People came from all over the world, and went again. And of course there were the native people to whom the land really belonged. Many of them disappeared, too. What was one English adventurer more or less, except to those who loved him?”
“Have you any real reason to think Piers Astley is alive?” Monk asked.
She thought in silence for several moments. He was about to ask her again when at last she replied, looking away into the corner of the room, lost in some vision in her mind.
“Maybe none, but I see him everywhere, perhaps only because I want to. Fleeting glances of his profile, once, in San Francisco, and then again, just a month ago, here in London. I don’t know. Perhaps it was my imagination. Then you came and told Aaron that it is possible someone is seeking to harm his business, perhaps commit a huge and clever robbery. How can I not at least tell you of this?”
He conceded, “I shall see if I can find any trace of him, or any connection whatever with any of the men who have escaped.”
She seemed to reach a decision within herself. She set down her empty teacup and turned a little to face him.
“Do you think that schooner is moored almost opposite my husband’s warehouse totally by chance, Mr. Monk?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I shall assume it is not chance, until I can prove otherwise,” he promised. “And tomorrow I shall begin inquiries into Piers Astley’s disappearance, and his possible return to England.”
Her smile of gratitude was dazzling, and as if someone had turned up the light. He saw the beautiful woman she was when she was happy, safe.
When she was gone, he stood alone in the hall for several minutes, absorbing the new information in his mind. Hester found him there when she came through, having heard the front door close.
