William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

behaved, and on occasions when she and the general had gone out, whom they had visited.
    “Did Mr. and Mrs. Pole dine here often?” he asked as artlessly as he could.
    “No sir, very seldom,” Hagger replied. “Mrs. Pole only came when the general was away from home.” His face clouded. “I am afraid, sir, that there was some ill feeling there, owing to an event in the past, before Miss Sabella’s marriage.”
    “Yes, I am aware of it. Mrs. Carlyon told me.” It was an extension of the truth. Alexandra had told Edith Sobell, who had told Hester, who in turn had told him. “But Mrs. Carlyon and her daughter remained close?”
    “Oh yes sir.” Hagger’s face lightened a little. “Mrs. Carlyon was always most fond of all her children, and relations were excellent—” He broke off with a frown so slight Monk was not sure if he had imagined it.
    “But …” he said aloud.
    Hagger shook his head. “Nothing, sir. They were always excellent.”
    “You were going to add something.”
    “Well, only that she seemed a trifle closer to her daughters,but I imagine that is natural in a woman. Master Cassian was very fond of his father, poor child. Thought the world o’ the general, he did. Very natural ’e should. General took a lot o’ care with ’im; spent time, which is more than many a man will with ’is son, ’specially a man as busy as the general, and as important. Admired him for that, I did.”
    “A fine trait,” Monk agreed. “One many a son might envy. I assume from what you say that these times did not include Mrs. Carlyon’s presence?”
    “No, sir, I can’t recall as they ever did. I suppose they spoke of man’s affairs, not suitable for ladies—the army, acts o’ heroism and fighting, adventures, exploration and the like.” Hagger shifted in his seat a trifle. “The boy used to come downstairs with stars in his eyes, poor child—and a smile on his lips.” He shook his head. “I can’t think what he must be feeling, fair stunned and lost, I shouldn’t wonder.”
    For the first time since seeing Alexandra Carlyon in prison Monk felt an overwhelming anger against her, crowding out pity and divorcing him utterly from the other woman who haunted the periphery of his mind, and whose innocence he had struggled so intensely to prove. She had had no child—of that he was quite certain. And younger—yes, she had been younger. He did not know why he was so sure of that, but it was a certainty inside him like the knowledge one has in dreams, without knowing where it came from.
    He forced himself back to the present. Hagger was staring at him, a flicker of anxiety returning to his face.
    “Where is he?” Monk asked aloud.
    “With his grandparents, sir, Colonel and Mrs. Carlyon. They sent for him as soon as ’is mother was took.”
    “Did you know Mrs. Furnival?”
    “I have seen her, sir. She and Mr. Furnival dined here on occasion, but that’s all I could say—not exactly ‘know.’ She didn’t come ’ere very often.”
    “I thought the general was a good friend of the Furnivals’?”
    “Yes sir, so ’e was. But far more often ’e went there.”
    “How often?”
    Hagger looked harassed and tired, but there was no guilt in his expression and no evasion. “Well, as I understand it from Holmes, that’s ’is valet, about once or twice a week. But if you’re thinking it was anything improper, sir, all I can say is I most sincerely think as you’re mistaken. The general ’ad business with Mr. Furnival, and ’e went there to ’elp the gentleman. And most obliged Mr. Furnival was too, from what I hear.”
    Monk asked the question he had been leading towards, the one that mattered most, and whose answer now he curiously dreaded.
    “Who were Mrs. Carlyon’s friends, if not Mrs. Furnival? I imagine she had friends, people she called upon and who came here, people with whom she attended parties, dances, the theater and so on?”
    “Oh yes, sir, naturally.”
    “Who are they?”
    Hagger listed a dozen or so names, most of them married couples.
    “Mr. Oundel?” Monk asked. “Was there no Mrs. Oundel?” He felt surprisingly miserable as he asked it. He did not want the answer.
    “No sir, she died some time ago. Very lonely, he was, poor gentleman. Used to come ’ere often.”
    “I see. Mrs. Carlyon was fond of him?”
    “Yes sir, I think she was. Sorry for ’im, I should say. ’E used to call in the afternoons sometimes, and they’d sit in the garden and