William Monk 02 - A Dangerous Mourning

wants more than anything else to know, at other times she dreads it, because it would finally condemn someone and shatter all the beliefs and the love she has felt for that person until now. The uncertainty is poisoning everything for her, yet she is afraid that if one day she learns who it is, then that person may realize she knows and she herself will be in danger.”
    His face was tight with inner pain and the knowledge thatfor all the effort and the struggle he had put forth, and the price it had cost him, he had failed.
    “She is right,” he said quietly. “Whoever it is has no mercy. They are prepared to allow Percival to hang. It would be a flight of fancy to suppose they will spare her if she endangers them.”
    “And I think she would.” Now Hester’s expression was pinched with anxiety. “Underneath the fashionable woman who retreated to her bedroom with grief there is someone of more courage, and a deeper horror at the cruelty and the lies.”
    “Then we still have something to fight for,” he said simply. “If she wants to know badly enough, and the suspicion and the fear become unbearable to her, then one day she will.”
    The waiter appeared and set their chocolate in front of them. Monk thanked him.
    “Something will fall into place in her memory,” he continued to Hester. “A word, a gesture; someone’s guilt will draw them into an error, and suddenly she will realize—and they will see it, because she will not possibly be able to be the same towards them—how could she?”
    “Then we must find out—before she does.” Hester stirred her chocolate vigorously, risking slopping it over with every round of the spoon. “She knows that almost everyone lied, in one degree or another, because Octavia was not as they described her in the trial.” And she told him of everything that Beatrice had said the last time they spoke.
    “Maybe.” Monk was dubious. “But Octavia was her daughter; it is possible she simply did not want to see her as clearly as they did. If Octavia were indiscreet in her cups, perhaps vain, and did not keep the usual curb on her sensuality—her mother may not be prepared to accept that as true.”
    “What are you saying?” Hester demanded. “That what they all testified was right, and she encouraged Percival, and then changed her mind when she thought he would take her at her word? And instead of asking anyone for help, she took a carving knife to her bedroom?”
    She picked up her chocolate but was too eager to finish the thought to stop. “And when Percival did intrude in the night, even though her brother was next door, she fought to the death with Percival and never cried out? I’d have screamed my lungs raw!” She sipped her chocolate. “And don’t say she was embarrassedhe’d say she had invited him. No one in her family would believe Percival instead of her—and it would be a lot easier to explain than either his injured body or his corpse.”
    Monk smiled with a harsh humor. “Perhaps she hoped the mere sight of the knife would send him away—silently?”
    She paused an instant. “Yes,” she agreed reluctantly. “That does make some sense. It is not what I believe though.”
    “Nor I,” he assented. “There is too much else that is out of character. What we need is to discover the lies from the truths, and perhaps the reasons for the lies—that might be the most revealing.”
    “In order of testimony,” she agreed quickly. “I doubt Annie lied. For one thing she said nothing of significance, merely that she found Octavia, and we all know that is true. Similarly the doctor had no interest in anything but the best accuracy of which he was capable.” She screwed up her face in intense concentration. “What reasons do people who are innocent of the crime have to lie? We must consider them. Then of course there is always the possibility of error that is not malicious, simply a matter of ignorance, incorrect assumption, and simple mistake.”
    He smiled in spite of himself. “The cook? Do you think Mrs. Boden could be in error about her knife?”
    She caught his amusement, but responded with only a moment’s softening of her eyes.
    “No—I cannot think how. She identified it most precisely. And anyway, what sense would there be in it being a knife from anywhere else? There was no intruder. The knife does not help us towards the identity of who took it.”
    “Mary?”
    Hester considered for a moment. “She is a person of most decided