The Twisted Root

and which he believed impossible to see to a happy solution.
    Lucius Stourbridge was gazing at him intensely, his wide, brown eyes deeply troubled.
    "No," Monk repeated with less emphasis. "I am sure it is possible to feel such an affinity with someone." He hurried on, away from emotion to facts. "Perhaps you would tell me something of your family and the circumstances of your meeting Mrs. Gardiner."
    "Yes, yes, of course." Lucius seemed relieved to have something definite to do. "My father is Major Harry Stourbridge. He is now retired from the army, but he served with great distinction in Africa, and particularly in Egypt. He spent much time there early in his career. In fact, he was there when I was born."
    A faint smile touched his face. "I should like to go there someday myself. I have listened to him speak of it with the greatest pleasure." He dismissed the thought ruefully. "Our family comes from Yorkshire—the West Riding. That is where our land is. All entailed on the male line, of course, but most substantial. We go there occasionally, but my mother prefers to spend the season in town. I daresay most people do, especially women."
    "Do you have brothers or sisters?" Monk interrupted.
    "No. Regrettably, I am an only child."
    Monk did not remark that Lucius would thus inherit this very considerable property, but it was evident in the young man’s face that he, too, had taken the point, and his lips tightened, a faint flush marked his cheeks.
    "My family has no objections to my marriage," the younger man said with a slight edge of defensiveness. He sat perfectly still in the chair, looking straight at Monk, his eyes unblinking. "My father and I are close. He is happy for my happiness, and indeed, he is fond of Miriam, Mrs. Gardiner, himself. He sees no fault in her character or her reputation. The fact that she has no dowry or property to bring to the marriage is immaterial. I shall have more than sufficient for our needs, and physical possessions are of no importance to me compared with the prospect of spending my life in the companionship of a woman of courage, virtue and good humor, and whom I love more than anyone else on earth." His voice cracked a little on the last few words, and the effort it cost him to keep his composure was apparent.
    Monk felt the other man’s distress with a reality far greater than he could have imagined even a few weeks before. In spite of his intention to concentrate entirely upon Lucius Stourbridge’s situation, his mind re-created pictures of himself and Hester walking side by side along a quiet beach in the late-evening sunlight, the color blazing across the northern sky, shadowing the hills purple in the distance and filling the air with radiance. They had not needed to speak to each other, knowing wordlessly that they saw the same beauty and felt the same desire to keep it—and the knowledge that it was impossible. And yet the fact that they had shared it gave the moment a kind of immortality.
    And there had been other times: laughter shared at the antics of a dog with a paper bag in the wind; the pleasure of a really good sandwich of fresh bread and cheese after a long walk, the climb to the top of a hill; the gasp of wonder at the view, and the relief at not having to go any farther.
    If Lucius had had any such happiness in his life, and lost it for no reason he could understand, no wonder he was at his wits’ end to find the answer. However ugly or shattering to his dreams the truth might be, he could not begin to heal until he knew it.
    "Then I shall do all I can to discover what happened," Monk said aloud. "And if she is willing to return to you—"
    "Thank you!" Lucius said eagerly, his face brightening. "Thank you, Mr. Monk! Cost will be no consideration, I promise you. I have more than sufficient means of my own, but my father is also determined to find out what has happened to Miriam. What may I do to assist you?"
    "Tell me the story of your acquaintance, and all you know about Mrs. Gardiner," Monk replied with a sinking feeling inside him.
    "Of course." Lucius’s face softened, the strain eased out of it as if merely remembering their meeting were enough to fill him with happiness. "I had called upon a friend of mine who lived in Hampstead, and I was walking back across the Heath. It was about this time of year, and quite beautiful. There were several people around, children playing, an elderly couple quite close to me, just smiling together in the sun." He