William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

spared you,” she said quietly. “But you have other daughters. For their sakes I had to inform you. I wish it were not so.”
    Still Philomena seemed paralyzed.
    Callandra leaned forward and took one of her hands. Itwas cold to the touch, and stiff. Then she rose and pulled the bell sharply and stood facing the door.
    As soon as a maid appeared she sent her for brandy and then a hot, sweet tisane.
    The maid hesitated.
    “Don’t stand there, girl,” Callandra said sharply. “Tell the butler to bring the brandy and then fetch the tisane. Hurry yourself!”
    “Arthur,” Philomena said suddenly in a harsh voice thick with anguish. “Dear God! If only I’d known! If she’d told me!” Slowly she bent forward, her body shuddering with terrible dry sobs and long cries, straining for breath.
    Callandra did not even look to see if the maid had gone or not. She knelt and put her arms around the agonized woman and held her close while she shook with a storm of weeping.
    The butler brought the brandy, stood helpless and anguished with uncertainty and embarrassment, then put the tray down and left.
    Eventually Philomena’s strength was spent and she clung to Callandra in motionless exhaustion.
    Gently Callandra eased her back into the chair and fetched the brandy, holding it to her lips.
    Philomena sipped it, choked, then drank the rest.
    “You don’t understand,” she said at last, her eyes red-rimmed, her face smeared with the signs of weeping. “I could have saved her. I knew where to find a woman who could have got her a proper abortion, a woman who knows where to find a real surgeon who would do it—for sufficient money. If she had felt she could trust me, I would have taken her to that man in time. When she got there herself—it was too late.”
    “You—” Callandra could hardly believe it. “You knew how to find such a woman?”
    Philomena misunderstood her emotion. She colored deeply. “I—I have seven children. I …”
    Callandra grasped her hand and held it. “I understand,” she said immediately.
    “I didn’t go.” Philomena’s eyes opened wide. “She would not refer me. She—she herself—gave me …” She faltered to a stop, unable to say the words.
    “But she knew how to find him?” Callandra pressed, the irony bitter inside her.
    “Yes.” Philomena sobbed again. “God forgive me—I could have helped Victoria. Why didn’t she trust me? Why? I loved her so much! I didn’t condemn her—what did I fail to do that she …” Again the tears filled her eyes and she looked at Callandra desperately, as if she could find some answer that somehow, anyhow, would take away the appalling pain that overwhelmed her.
    Callandra said the only thing that came into her mind.
    “Perhaps she was ashamed because it was Arthur. And you don’t know what he said to her. She may have felt she must defend him from anyone’s knowing, even you—or perhaps you most of all because of the distress it would cause you. One thing I am sure of: she would not wish you to bear the burden of guilt for it now. Has she ever reproached you?”
    “No.”
    “Then be assured she does not hold you responsible.”
    Philomena’s face filled with self-disgust. “Whether she does or not, I am to blame. I am her mother. I should have prevented it in the first place—and when it did happen, I should have helped her.”
    “Who would you have gone to?” She made it sound casual, almost unimportant, but her breath rasped in her throat as she waited for the answer.
    “Berenice Ross Gilbert,” Philomena replied. “She knows how to obtain safe abortions. She knows of a surgeon who will do it.”
    “Berenice Ross Gilbert. I see.” Callandra tried to hide her amazement and almost succeeded; there was only a lift at the end of her words, a half squeak.
    “It makes no difference now,” Philomena said immediately. “It is all done. Victoria is ruined—far worse than if she had had the child!”
    “Perhaps.” Callandra could not deny it. “You must send Arthur away to university, or military college, or anything to keep him from the house. Your other daughters must be protected. And you had better make sure none of them is—well, if they are, I will find you a surgeon who will perform the operation without charge, and immediately.”
    Philomena stared at her. There was nothing else to say. She was numb, wretched, weak with pain and bewilderment.
    There was a knock on the door and it opened a crack. The maid put