William Monk 02 - A Dangerous Mourning

immaculate black Mousquetaire hat. Only her high-necked blouse and stock were vivid white. Her dark hair was neatly arranged, and her face with its unnatural color and painted eyebrows looked rakish and artificial in the cool November daylight.
    “Why, Mr. Monk,” she said in amazement, looking him up and down and evidently approving what she saw. “Whatever brings you walking in the park?” She gave a girlish giggle. “Shouldn’t you be questioning the servants or something? How does one detect?”
    She ignored her horse, leaving the rein loosely over her arm as if that were sufficient.
    “In a large number of ways, ma’am.” He tried to be courteous and at the same time not play to her mood of levity. “Before I speak to the servants I would like to gain a clearer impression from the family, so that when I do ask questions they are the right ones.”
    “So you’ve come to interrogate me.” She shivered melodramatically. “Well, Inspector, ask me anything. I shall give you what answers I consider wisest.” She was a small woman, and she looked up at him through half-closed lashes.
    Surely she could not be drunk this early in the day? She must be amusing herself at his expense. He affected not to notice her flippancy and kept a perfectly sober face, as if they were engaged in a serious conversation which might yield important information.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Sandeman. I am informed you have lived in Queen Anne Street since shortly after the death of your husband some eleven or twelve years ago—”
    “You have been delving into my past!” Her voice was husky, and far from being annoyed, she sounded flattered by the thought.
    “Into everyone’s, ma’am,” he said coldly. “If you have been there such a time, you will have had frequent opportunity to observe both the family and the staff. You must know them all quite well.”
    She swung the riding crop, startling the horse and narrowlymissing its head. She seemed quite oblivious of the animal, and fortunately it was sufficiently well schooled. It remained close to her, measuring its pace obediently to hers as she moved very slowly along the path.
    “Of course,” she agreed jauntily. “Who do you wish to know about?” She shrugged her beautifully clothed shoulders. “Myles is fun, but quite worthless—but then some of the most attractive men are, don’t you think?” She turned sideways to look at him. Her eyes must have been marvelous once, very large and dark. Now the rest of her face had so altered they were grotesque.
    He smiled very slightly. “I think my interest in them is probably very different from yours, Mrs. Sandeman.”
    She laughed uproariously for several moments, causing half a dozen people within earshot to turn curiously to find the cause of such mirth. When she had regained her composure she was still openly amused.
    Monk was discomfited. He disliked being stared at as a matter of ribaldry.
    “Don’t you find pious women very tedious, Mr. Monk?” She opened her eyes very wide. “Be honest with me.”
    “Are there pious women in your family, Mrs. Sandeman?” His voice was cooler than he intended, but if she was aware she gave no sign.
    “It’s full of them.” She sighed. “Absolutely prickling like fleas on a hedgehog. My mother was one, may heaven rest her soul. My sister-in-law is another, may heaven preserve me—I live in her house. You have no idea how hard it is to have any privacy! Pious women are so good at minding other people’s business—I suppose it is so much more interesting than their own.” She laughed again with a rich, gurgling sound.
    He was becoming increasingly aware that she found him attractive, and it made him intensely uncomfortable.
    “And Araminta is worse, poor creature,” she continued, walking with grace and swinging her stick. The horse plodded obediently at her heels, its rein trailing loosely over her arm. “I suppose she has to be, with Myles. I told you he was worthless, didn’t I? Of course Tavie was all right.” She looked straight ahead of her along the Row towards a fashionable group riding slowly in their direction. “She drank, you know?” She glanced at him, then away again. “All that tommyrotabout ill health and headaches! She was drunk—or suffering the aftereffects. She took it from the kitchen.” She shrugged. “I daresay one of the servants gave it to her. They all liked her because she was generous. Took advantage, if you ask me. Treat servants above