William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

harshly.
    “Indeed?” She came farther in and closed the doors behind her. She was a remarkably handsome woman in a unique way. The whole room was filled with her presence, and he had a powerful feeling that she knew it. “That is only your own opinion, Mr. Monk. If you had proof you would be at Mr. Lovat-Smith’s house, telling him, not here doing …” She hesitated. “Whatever it is you are doing? You have not so far explained yourself….”
    “I don’t have proof,” he answered. “But you do.”
    “I do?” Her voice rose in sheer amazement. “My dear man, you are talking the most arrant rubbish. I have nothing of the kind.”
    “Yes you do.” He remained staring at her, meeting her eyes and holding them. Gradually she recognized the power in him, and the implacable intent. The amusement died out of her face.
    “You are mistaken,” she said softly. “I do not.” She turned away and began fiddling idly with an ornament on the marble-topped table. “The whole idea of her wishing tomarry him is utterly foolish. Mr. Rathbone has demonstrated that.”
    “Of course it is,” he agreed, watching her long fingers caress the porcelain of the figurine. “She was using her knowledge to try to get him to help her gain admittance to a medical school.”
    “That is preposterous,” she said, still not looking at him. “No school would take a woman. He must have told her that.”
    “I imagine he did, but not until after he had used her skills to the full, had her work long hours unrewarded, and given her hope. Then, when she became impatient and wanted a commitment, he killed her.”
    She put the ornament down and turned to face him. The humor was back in her eyes.
    “All he had to do was tell her it was hopeless,” she answered. “Why on earth would he kill her? You are being ridiculous, Mr. Monk.”
    “Because she threatened to tell the authorities he was performing abortions—for money,” he replied, his voice tight with rage. “Unnecessary abortions to save rich women the embarrassment of children they did not want.”
    He saw the blood drain from her cheeks, but her expression did not alter.
    “If you can prove that, what are you doing here telling me, Mr. Monk? It is a very serious charge—in fact, he would be imprisoned for it. But without proof, what you say is slander.”
    “You know it is true—because you procure his patients for him,” he said.
    “Do I?” Her eyes widened and there was a smile on her lips, but it was fixed, and already there was something dead in it. “That too is slanderous, Mr. Monk.”
    “You knew he performed abortions, and you could testify of it,” he said very levelly. “Your word would not be slander, because you have all the facts, dates, names, details.”
    “Even if I had such knowledge”—she was gazing at him without a flicker, her eyes boring into his—“surely youwould not expect me to condemn myself by saying so? Why on earth should I?”
    He smiled too, a slow showing of the teeth.
    “Because if you do not, I shall make it known to all the right people in society—a whisper, a laugh, a word hushed as you approach—that you were his first patient….”
    Her face did not alter. She was not frightened.
    “When you came back from the Indies,” he went on relentlessly. “And that your child was negroid.”
    All the color fled from her skin and he heard the gasp of her indrawn breath and then a choking in her throat.
    “Is that slanderous too, Lady Ross Gilbert?” he said between his teeth. “Take me to court and sue me! I know the nurse who put the child into the rubbish and threw it away.”
    She gave a harsh cry which was strangled in her throat before it was out.
    “On the other hand,” he went on, “should you testify against Sir Herbert, that you referred desperate women to him, whom you could name did not discretion prevent you, and upon whom he performed abortions, then I shall forget I ever knew of such a thing—and you will never hear from me, or from the nurse, again.”
    “Won’t I?” she said with desperate, vicious disbelief. “And what is to stop you coming back again and again—for money, or whatever it is you want?”
    “Madam,” he said icily, “apart from your testimony, you have nothing I want.”
    She reached forward and slapped him as hard as she could.
    He almost lost his balance from the force of it, and his cheek burned where her open hand had struck him, but he smiled very slowly.
    “I am