The Twisted Root

questioned all the servants, and no one saw or heard anything except the usual trivial talk. The worst that anyone knew of was a disagreement between Mr. Wall and the Reverend Dabney over a croquet shot’s being rather poor sportsman-ship. It did not concern Miriam."
    "She didn’t play?"
    She smiled very slightly, but there was no criticism in it.
    "No. She said she preferred to watch. I think actually she never learned and did not like to admit it."
    He changed the subject. "The coachman, Treadwell. He has not reappeared, and I am told no one knows what happened to him either."
    Her face darkened. "That is true. Not entirely a satisfactory young man. We employed him because he is the nephew of the cook, who is a most loyal and excellent woman. We cannot choose our relatives."
    "And, of course, your coach is still missing, too?"
    "Indeed."
    "I shall ask your groom for a description of it, and of Treadwell." That was a more hopeful line to pursue. "Was there a maid who particularly looked after Mrs. Gardiner while she stayed here?"
    "Yes, Amelia. If you wish to speak with her I shall send for her."
    "Thank you. And your cook as well. She may know something of Treadwell."
    There was a knock on the door, and it opened before she had time to answer. The man who came in was tall and broad-shouldered, a trifle thick about the waist. His features were strong, and the family resemblance was marked.
    "This is my brother, Mr. Monk," Mrs. Stourbridge said.
    "You must be the agent of enquiry Lucius fetched in," the man said. He looked at Monk with gravity, and there was a note of sadness in his voice that could almost have been despair. "Aiden Campbell," he introduced himself, offering his hand. "I am afraid you are unlikely to have any success," Campbell continued, glancing at his sister in half apology, then back to Monk. "Mrs. Gardiner left of her own free will. In the little we know of the circumstances, that seems unarguable. Possibly she was experiencing severe doubts which up to that moment she had managed to conceal. We may never know what suddenly caused her to realize her feelings." He frowned at Monk. "I am not convinced that seeking her will not lead to further unhappiness." He took a deep breath. "We, none of us, desire that. Please be very careful what you do, Mr. Monk. You may be led, in sincerity, to make discoveries we might be better not knowing. I hope you understand me?"
    Monk understood very well. He shared the view. He wished now he had been wise enough to follow his original judgment and refuse the case when Lucius had first asked him.
    "I am aware of the possibilities, Mr. Campbell," he answered quietly. "I share your opinion that I may not be able to find Mrs. Gardiner, and that if I do, she still might wish to stand by her decision. However, I have given my word to Mr. Stourbridge that I would look for her, and I will do so." Then, sensing the sharpness in Campbell’s face, he added, "I have informed him of my opinion as to the chances of success, and I shall continue to be honest with him as to my progress or lack of it."
    Campbell remained silent, pushing his hands into his pockets and staring at the floor.
    "Aiden," Verona said gently. "I know you believe that she will not return and that only more disillusion and unhappiness will follow from seeking her, but neither Harry nor Lucius will accept that. They both feel compelled to do all they can to find out where she is, if she is unhurt, and why she left. Harry almost certainly for Lucius’s sake, of course, but he is nonetheless resolved. I believe we should help them, rather than make them feel isolated and as if we do not understand."
    Campbell raised his eyes and looked at her steadily. "Of course." He smiled, but the effort behind it was apparent to Monk. "Of course, my dear. You are perfectly right. It is something which must run its course. How can I assist you, Mr. Monk? Let me take you to the stables and enquire after James Treadwell. He may be at the heart of this."
    Monk accepted, thanking Verona and excusing himself. He followed Campbell down the stairs and out of the side door to the mews. The light was bright as he stepped outside. The smells of hay, horse sweat and the sharp sting of manure were strong in the closed heat of the yard. He heard a horse whinnying, and stamping its feet on the stones.
    A ginger-haired boy with a brush in one hand looked up at him with curiosity.
    "Answer Mr. Monk’s questions, Billy," Campbell