William Monk 02 - A Dangerous Mourning

robberies the police do not solve satisfactorily—and in time he will earn a reputation and perhaps be given cases where there has been injustice or the police are baffled.” Her face brightened conspicuously. “Or perhaps cases where the police do not realize there has been a crime, but someone does, and is desirous to have it proved. And regrettably there will be cases where an innocent person is accused and wishes to clear his name.”
    “But how will he survive until he has sufficient of these cases to earn himself a living?” Hester said anxiously, wiping her fingers on the napkin to remove the butter.
    Callandra thought hard for several moments, then came to some inner decision which clearly pleased her.
    “I have always wished to involve myself in something a trifle more exciting than good works, however necessary or worthy. Visiting friends and struggling for hospital, prison or workhouse reform is most important, but we must have a little color from time to time. I shall go into partnership with Mr. Monk.” She took another crumpet. “I will provide the money, to begin with, sufficient for his needs and for the administration of such offices as he has to have. In return I shall take some of the profits, when there are any. I shall do my best to acquire contacts and clients—he will do the work. And I shall be told all that I care about what happens.” She frowned ferociously. “Do you think he will be agreeable?”
    Hester tried to keep a totally sober face, but inside she felt a wild upsurge of happiness.
    “I imagine he will have very little choice. In his position I should leap at such a chance.”
    “Excellent. Now I shall call upon him and make him a proposition along these lines. Which does not answer the questionof the Queen Anne Street case. What are we to do about that? It is all very unsatisfactory.”
       However it was another fortnight before Hester came to a conclusion as to what she was going to do. She had returned to Queen Anne Street, where Beatrice was still tense, one minute struggling to put everything to do with Octavia’s death out of her mind, the next still concerned that she might yet discover some hideous secret not yet more than guessed at.
    Other people seemed to have settled into patterns of life more closely approximating normal. Basil went into the City on most days, and did whatever it was he usually did. Hester asked Beatrice in a polite, rather vague way, but Beatrice knew very little about it. It was not considered necessary as part of her realm of interest, so Sir Basil had dismissed her past inquiries with a smile.
    Romola was obliged to forgo her social activities, as were they all, because the house was in mourning. But she seemed to believe that the shadow of investigation had passed completely, and she was relentlessly cheerful about the house, when she was not in the schoolroom supervising the new governess. Only rarely did an underlying unhappiness and uncertainty show through, and it had to do with Cyprian, not any suspicion of murder. She was totally satisfied that Percival was the guilty one and no one else was implicated.
    Cyprian spent more time speaking with Hester, asking her opinions or experiences in all manner of areas, and seemed most interested in her answers. She liked him, and found his attention flattering. She looked forward to her meetings with him on the few occasions when they were alone and might speak frankly, not in the customary platitudes.
    Septimus looked anxious and continued to take port wine from Basil’s cellar, and Fenella continued to drink it, make outrageous remarks, and absent herself from the house as often as she dared without incurring Basil’s displeasure. Where she went to no one knew, although many guesses were hazarded, most of them unkind.
    Araminta ran the house very efficiently, even with some flair, which in the circumstances of mourning was an achievement, but her attitude towards Myles was cold with suspicion, and his towards her was casually indifferent. Now that Percivalwas arrested, he had nothing to fear, and mere displeasure did not seem to concern him.
    Below stairs the mood was somber and businesslike. No one spoke of Percival, except by accident, and then immediately fell silent or tried to cover the gaffe with more words.
    In that time Hester received a letter from Monk, passed to her by the new footman, Robert, and she took it upstairs to her room to open it.
    December 19th, 1856
    Dear