William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

back in his voice. “They are universal. But the honeysuckle on the orchard fence and the lupins against the wall belong peculiarly to an English garden. This is ours.”
    Together they walked back to where Henry was standing by the French doors of the sitting room just as the clear song of a nightingale trilled through the night once and vanished.
    Half an hour later Hester left. It was remarkably late, and she had enjoyed the evening more than any other she could recall for a very long time indeed.
        It was now May 28, and more than a month since the murder of Thaddeus Carlyon and since Edith had come to Hester asking her assistance in finding some occupation that would use her talents and fill her time more rewardingly than the endless round of domestic pleasantries which now occupied her. And so far Hester had achieved nothing in that direction.
    And quite apart from Edith Sobell, Major Tiplady was progressing extremely well and in a very short time would have no need of her services, and she would have to look for another position herself. And while for Edith it was a matter of finding something to use her time to more purpose, for Hester it was necessary to earn her living.
    “You are looking much concerned, Miss Latterly,” Major Tiplady said anxiously. “Is something wrong?”
    “No—oh no. Not at all,” she said quickly. “Your leg is healing beautifully. There is no infection now, and in a week or two at the outside, I think you may begin putting your weight on it again.”
    “And when is the unfortunate Carlyon woman coming to trial?”
    “I’m not sure, precisely. Some time in the middle of June.”
    “Then I doubt I shall be able to dispense with you in twoweeks.” There was a faint flush in his cheeks as he said it, but his china-blue eyes did not waver.
    She smiled at him. “I would be less than honest if I remained here once you are perfectly well. Then how could you recommend me, should anyone ask?”
    “I shall give you the very highest recommendation,” he promised. “When the time comes—but it is not yet. And what about your friend who wishes for a position? What have you found for her?”
    “Nothing so far. That is why I was looking concerned just now.” It was at least partially true, if not the whole truth.
    “Well, you had better look a little harder,” he said seriously. “What manner of person is she?”
    “A soldier’s widow, well-bred, intelligent.” She looked at his innocent face. “And I should think most unlikely to take kindly to being given orders.”
    “Awkward,” he agreed with a tiny smile. “You will not find it an easy task.”
    “I am sure there must be something.” She busied herself tidying away three books he had been reading, without asking him if he were finished or not.
    “And you haven’t done very well with Mrs. Carlyon either, have you,” he went on.
    “No—not at all. We must have missed something.” She had related much of her discussions to him to while away the long evenings, and to help put it all in order in her own mind.
    “Then you had better go back and see the people again,” he advised her solemnly, looking very pink and white in his dressing robe with his face scrubbed clean and his hair a trifle on end. “I can spare you in the afternoons. You have left it all to the men. Surely you have some observations to offer? Take a look at the Furnival woman. She sounds appalling!”
    He was getting very brave in offering his opinions, and she knew that if Monk and Rathbone were right, Louisa Furnival was the sort of woman who would terrify Major Tiplady into a paralyzed silence. Still, he was quite correct.She had left it very much to other people’s judgment. She could at least have seen Louisa Furnival herself.
    “That is an excellent idea, Major,” she concluded. “But what excuse can I give for calling upon a woman I have never met? She will show me the door instantly—and quite understandably.”
    He thought very gravely for several minutes, and she disappeared to consult the cook about dinner. In fact the subject was not raised again until she was preparing to leave him for the night.
    “She is wealthy?” the major said suddenly as she was assisting him into bed.
    “I beg your pardon?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
    “Mrs. Furnival,” he said impatiently. “She is wealthy?”
    “I believe so—yes. Apparently her husband does very well out of military contracts. Why?”
    “Well go