William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

across the yard toward the kitchen garden, and he opened the door of the farmhouse. It was not into the kitchen as he had expected, but a side entrance to a wide hallway.
    “May I offer you some refreshment, Mr. Monk?” Nanette said with a smile. She was of more than average height and slender, a tiny waist and slight bosom. She moved with skill to maneuver the skirts of her riding habit so they seemed part of her and not an encumbrance, as they were to some women.
    “Thank you,” he accepted. He did not know if he could learn anything useful from her, but he might not have another opportunity. He should use this one.
    She laid her hat and crop on the hall table, then rang for a maid, requested tea, and conducted him to a pretty sitting room full of flowered chintz. They made trivial conversation till the tea was brought and they were alone again and could remain uninterrupted.
    “You wish to know about poor Prudence,” she said immediately, passing him his cup.
    “If you please.” He accepted it.
    She met his eyes. “Please understand that I am speaking so frankly only because I am aware that kindness is of no use in finding out who killed her, poor soul.”
    “I have asked you to be frank, Miss Cuthbertson,” he encouraged her.
    She settled back in her chair and began to speak, her gaze unflinching.
    “I have known Prudence since we were both girls. She always had a curiosity much greater than most people’s, and a dedication to learn all she could. Her mother, who is a dear creature, most sensible, tried to dissuade her, but to no avail. Have you met her sister, Faith?”
    “No.”
    “A very nice person,” she said with approval. “She married and went to live in York. But Prudence was always her father’s favorite, and I regret the necessity to say so, but I think he indulged her when it might have been in hergreater interest to have exercised a little more discipline.” She shrugged, looking at Monk with a smile. “Anyway, the result was that when we here in England began to learn a little of how serious the war in the Crimea had become, Prudence decided to go out there and nurse our soldiers, and nothing on earth would deter her.”
    Monk forbore from interruption with difficulty. He wanted to tell this equally determined, rather complacent, pretty woman who was discreetly flirting with him something of the horror of the battlefield and the hospital as he had learned it from Hester. He forced himself to keep silent, merely looking at her to continue.
    She did not need prompting.
    “Of course we all assumed that when she came home she would have had enough of it,” she said quickly. “She had served her country and we were all proud of her. But not at all. She then insisted on continuing with nursing and took up a post in the hospital in London.” She was watching Monk’s face closely, all the time biting her lip as if uncertain what to say, although he knew from the strength in her voice that that was anything but the case. “She became very—very forceful,” she continued. “Very outspoken in her opinions and extremely critical of the medical authorities. I am afraid she had ambitions that were totally impossible and quite unsuitable anyway, and she was bitter about it.” She searched Monk’s eyes, trying to judge his thoughts. “I can only assume that some of her experiences in the Crimea were so fearful that they affected her mind and destroyed her judgment to some extent. It is really very tragic.” As she said it her face was very sober.
    “Very,” Monk agreed tersely. “It is also tragic that someone should have killed her. Did she ever say anything to you about anyone who might have threatened her or wished her ill?” It was an ingenuous question, but there was always the remote chance she might give a surprising answer.
    Nanette shrugged very slightly, a delicate, very feminine gesture of her shoulders.
    “Well, she was very forthright, and she could be highlycritical,” she said reluctantly. “I fear it is not impossible that she offended someone sufficiently that he became violent, which is a fearful thought. But some men do have ungovernable tempers. Perhaps her insult was very serious, threatening his professional reputation. She did not spare people, you know.”
    “Did she mention anyone by name, Miss Cuthbertson?”
    “Oh not to me. But then their names would mean nothing to me even if I heard them.”
    “I see. What about admirers? Were there any men,