William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

career, and is nothing to do with his personal life.”
    Edith’s face lit up. “Oh Hester. That’s brilliant of you! You mean some incident on the battlefield, or in the barracks, that has at long last been revenged? We must find out all we can about the Furnivals’ servants. You must tell him—Monk, did you say? Yes, Mr. Monk. You must tell him what we have thought of, and set him about it immediately!”
    Hester smiled at the thought of so instructing Monk, but she acquiesced, and before Edith could continue with herideas, the maid came to announce that luncheon was served and they were expected at table.
    Apparently Edith had already informed the family that Hester was expected. No remarks were passed on her presence, except a cool acknowledgment of her arrival and an invitation to be seated at the specified place, and a rather perfunctory wish that she should enjoy her meal.
    She thanked Felicia and took her seat otherwise in silence.
    “I imagine you have seen the newspapers?” Randolf said, glancing around the table. He looked even wearier today than the last time Hester had seen him, but certainly had Monk asked her now if she thought him senile, she would have denied it without doubt. There was an angry intelligence in his eyes, and any querulousness around his mouth or droop to his features was set there by character as much as the mere passage of time.
    “Naturally I have seen the headlines,” Felicia said sharply. “I do not care for the rest. There is nothing we can do about it, but we do not have to discuss this with one another. It is like all evil speaking and distasteful speculation: one sets one’s mind against it and refuses to be distressed. Would you be so good as to pass me the condiments, Peverell?”
    Peverell did as he was bidden, and smiled from the corner of his vision at Hester. There was the same gentleness in his eyes, a mild awareness of humor, as she had observed before. He was an ordinary man—and yet far from ordinary. She could not imagine that Damaris had entertained romantic notions about Maxim Furnival; she was not foolish enough to destroy what she had for a cheap moment of entertainment. For all her flamboyance, she was not a stupid or shallow woman.
    “I have not seen the newspapers,” Edith said suddenly, looking at her mother.
    “Of course you haven’t.” Felicia stared at her with wide eyes. “Nor shall you.”
    “What are they saying of Alexandra?” Edith persisted, apparently deaf to the warning note in Felicia’s voice.
    “Precisely what you would expect,” Felicia answered. “Ignore it.”
    “You say that as if we could.” Damaris’s tone was sharp, almost an accusation. “Don’t think about it, and it is of no importance. Just like that—it is dealt with.”
    “You have a great deal yet to learn, my dear,” Felicia said with chill, looking at her daughter in something close to exasperation. “Where is Cassian? He is late. A certain amount of latitude may be allowed, but one must exercise discipline as well.” She reached out her hand and rang the little silver bell.
    Almost immediately a footman appeared.
    “Go and fetch Master Cassian, James. Tell him he is required at luncheon.”
    “Yes ma’am.” And obediently he left.
    Randolf grunted, but spoke no words, and addressed himself again to his food.
    “I imagine the newspapers write well of General Carlyon.” Hester heard her own voice loud in the silence, sounding clumsy and terribly contrived. But how else was she to serve any purpose here? She could not hope any of them would say or do something in which she could find meaning, simply eating their luncheon. “He had a brilliant career,” she went on. “They are bound to have written of it.”
    Randolf looked at her, his heavy face puckered.
    “He did,” he agreed. “He was an outstanding man, an ornament to his generation and his family. Although what you can possibly know about it, Miss Latterly, I fail to see. I daresay your remark is well meant, and intended as a kindness, and for your civility, I thank you.” He looked anything but grateful.
    Hester felt as if she had trespassed by praising him, as though they felt he was their particular property and only they might speak of him.
    “I have spent a considerable time in the army myself, Colonel Carlyon,” she said in defense.
    “Army!” he snorted with quite open contempt. “Nonsense,young woman! You were a nurse, a skivvy to tend to the slops for the surgeons.