William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

“In fact, you look awful.”
    “You don’t,” she rejoined instantly. “You look very well. But then I daresay I have been working a great deal harder than you have.”
    He took her totally by surprise by agreeing with her.
    “I know.” He smiled suddenly. “Let us hope the sick are suitably grateful. I expect Callandra will be, and you can buy a new dress. You certainly need one. What else did you discover if anything?”
    The remark about the dress stung. She was always aware of how very smart he was. She would never have let him know—he was more than vain enough—but she admired it. She also knew quite well that she was seldom fashionable herself, and never really feminine. It was an art which eluded her, and she had stopped trying. She would love to be as beautiful as Imogen, as graceful and romantic.
    He was staring at her, waiting for a reply.
    “Sir Herbert is very likely to be offered a position as medical adviser to a member of the Royal household,” she said hastily. “I don’t know who.”
    “Doesn’t seem to be relevant.” He shrugged, dismissing it. “But I suppose it may be. What else?”
    “Sir John Robertson, one of the governors, has financial troubles,” she recounted in a businesslike tone. “The chaplain drinks; not wildly, but more than is good for his judgment at times, and his balance. And the treasurer has wandering eyes, and hands, where the better-looking nurses are concerned. But he favors fair hair and generous bosoms.”
    Monk glanced at her but forbore from comment.
    “Not likely to have bothered Prudence, then,” he observed.
    She felt as if his remark had been personal and included her.
    “I think she could have dealt with him very adequately if he had,” she answered fiercely. “I certainly could.”
    He grinned broadly, on the edge of laughter, but he said nothing aloud.
    “And did you discover anything?” she inquired with raised eyebrows. “Or have you simply been waiting to see what I would learn?”
    “Of course I discovered things. Are you requiring me to report to you?” He sounded surprised.
    “Certainly I am.”
    “Very well. Both Geoffrey Taunton and Nanette Cuthbertson had excellent opportunity,” he recounted, standing a little more upright, like a soldier reporting, but he was still smiling. “He was in the hospital that morning to see Prudence, and by his own admission he quarreled with her.”
    “She was seen alive after the quarrel,” she interrupted.
    “I know that. But there is no proof he left the hospital. He did not catch the next train. In fact, he did not return home until midday and cannot prove where he was. Do you think I would bother to mention it if he could?”
    She shrugged. “Go on.”
    “And Miss Cuthbertson was also up in town that morning. She had been here since the previous night, when she attended a ball at Mrs. Waldemar’s house, which is in Regent Square, only two streets away from the hospital.” He was looking at her as he spoke. “And curiously, after having danced all night, she rose very early and was absent for breakfast. According to her, she went for a walk in the fresh air. She says it was not to the hospital, but there is no proof of where it was. No one saw her.”
    “And she had an excellent motive in jealousy,” Hester agreed. “But would she be strong enough?”
    “Oh yes,” he said without hesitation. “She is a fine horsewoman. I watched her the other day reining in an animal any man would have trouble mastering. She has the strength, especially if she took someone by surprise.”
    “And I suppose she could have passed herself off as a nurse if she had a plain enough dress,” she said thoughtfully. “But there is nothing to prove that she did.”
    “I know that.” His voice rose sharply. “If there were I would have taken it to Jeavis.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Nothing indicative.”
    “Then I suppose we had better return to work and try harder.” She rose to her feet. “I think I shall see if I can learn more about some of the governors—and Sir Herbert and Dr. Beck.”
    He moved to stand between her and the door, his face suddenly completely serious, his eyes intent on hers.
    “Be careful, Hester! Someone murdered Prudence Barrymore—not in a fight and not by accident. He will just as easily kill you if you let him think he has cause.”
    “Of course I will be careful,” she said with a quick rush of warmth. “I am not asking questions, I am simply