William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

can’t afford.”
    “I am not thinking of you, William,” Callandra said soberly. She was the only person who called him by his given name, and while it pleased him with its familiarity, it also brought her close enough that pretense was impossible.
    “What?” he said somewhat abruptly.
    “I was not thinking of your satisfaction in revenge,” sheelaborated. “Sweet as that would be. Or the demands of justice, as you see it. I was thinking of Marianne Gillespie. How can she continue to live in that house, with what has happened to her, and may well happen again if he believes he has got away with it?”
    “That is her choice,” Monk returned, but it was not a satisfying answer and he knew it. “She was extremely insistent on it,” he went on, trying to justify himself. “She begged me to promise that I would not tell Julia, and I gave her my word.”
    “And what disturbs you now?” Callandra asked, her eyes wide.
    Hester looked from one to the other of them, waiting, her concentration intense.
    Monk hesitated.
    “Is it purely vanity, because you do not like to appear to be defeated?” Callandra pursued. “Is that all it is, William, your own reputation?”
    “No—no, I’m not sure what it is,” he confessed, his anger temporarily abated.
    “Have you considered what her life will be if he continues his behavior?” Callandra’s voice was very quiet but the urgency in it filled the room. “She will feel terrified every time she is alone with him in case it happens again. She will be terrified in case Julia ever discovers them and is devastated with grief.” She leaned farther forward in her chair. “Marianne will feel she has betrayed her sister, although it is none of her choosing, but will Julia know that? Will she not always have that gnawing fear that in her heart Marianne was willing, and that in some subtle way she encouraged him?”
    “I don’t believe that,” he said fiercely. “She would rather be put out on the street than have Julia know it.”
    Callandra shook her head. “I am not speaking of now, William. I am speaking of what will happen if she says nothing and remains in the house. She may not have thought of it yet, but you must. You are the only one who knows all the facts and is in a position to act.”
    Monk sat silent, the thoughts and fears crowding his mind.
    It was Hester who spoke.
    “There is something worse than that,” she said quietly. “What if she became with child?”
    Monk and Callandra both turned slowly toward her and it was only too apparent in their faces that such an idea had not occurred to them, and now that it had they were appalled.
    “Whatever you promised, it is not enough,” Callandra said grimly. “You cannot simply walk away and leave her to her fate.”
    “But no one has the right to override her choice,” Hester argued, not out of obstructiveness but because it had to be said. Her own conflicting emotions were plain in her face. For once Monk felt no animosity toward her, only the old sense of total friendship, the bond that unites people who understand each other and care with equal passion in a single cause.
    “If I don’t give her an answer I think Julia may well seek another agent who will,” Monk added miserably. “I didn’t tell Marianne that because I didn’t see her again after I spoke to Julia.”
    “But what will happen if you tell Julia?” Hester asked anxiously. “Will she believe you? She will be placed in an impossible situation between her husband and her sister.”
    “And there is worse,” Monk went on. “They are both financially dependent upon Audley.”
    “He can’t throw his wife out.” Hester sat upright, her face hot with anger. “And surely she would not be so—oh, of course. You mean she may choose to leave. Oh dear.” She bit her lip. “And even if his crime could be proved, which it almost certainly could not, and he were convicted, then there is not money for anyone and they would both be in the street. What a ridiculous situation.” Her fists clenched in her lap and her voice was husky with fury and frustration.
    Suddenly she rose to her feet. “If only women could earna living as men can. If women could be doctors or architects and lawyers too.” She paced to the window and turned. “Or even clerks and shopkeepers. Anything more than domestic servants, seamstresses, or whores! But what woman earns enough to live in anything better than one room in a lodging house if she’s lucky,