William Monk 05 - The Sins of the Wolf

good manners he shows towards me.”
    Hester did not find it hard to believe. She had seen the strength of determination in Quinlan’s face and the intelligence behind those quick, blue eyes. He would be far better served to make a friend of Oonagh than anyone else in the family. Baird obviously loathed him, Deirdra was indifferent, occupied with her own interests, and by Mary’s account, Alastair relied upon Oonagh’s judgment as he had done since they were children.
    “Yes, I expect she would,” Hester agreed. “But good judgment and the arts of diplomacy are never wasted in a large family. They may make the difference between happiness and misery.”
    “You’re right, of course you are,” Mary agreed with a nod. “But perhaps it is a fact not everyone appreciates.”
    Hester smiled. It would have been clumsy to acknowledge her understanding.
    “Will you have a pleasant time in London?” she asked. “Will you have the opportunity to dine out and to go to the theater?”
    Mary hesitated a moment before replying. “I am not entirely sure,” she said thoughtfully. “I do not know Connal Murdoch or his family very well. He is rather a stiff young man, very conscious of other people’s opinions. Griselda may not care to come. But if we do go to the theater, it will be to see something very unadventurous, I fear, and certainly nothing controversial.”
    “He may be concerned to impress you well,” Hester pointed out. “After all, you are his mother-in-law, and he will care very much what your opinion of him may be.”
    “Oh dear.” Mary sighed, biting her lip. “I stand corrected. Of course he may. I remember when Baird was newly married to Oonagh, he was so shy it was painful, and yet at that time so much in love.” She took a deep breath. “Of course that kind of passion wears away as we become better acquainted; the mystery is discovered, familiarity takes away the sense of wonderment. One can only remain excited and amazed for really quite a short time.”
    “Surely then there comes a friendship, and a kind of warmth that …” Hester’s voice trailed away. She sounded naive, even to herself. She felt her cheeks burning.
    “One hopes so,” Mary said softly. “If you are fortunate, the tenderness and the understanding never die, nor the laughter, and the memories.” She looked beyond Hester as she spoke, towards something in her imagination.
    Hester pictured the man in the portrait again, wondering when it had been painted, trying to see the marks of time in his face and how he might have changed, how familiarity might have stripped the glamour from him. She failed. To her there was still too much in his face which was unreachable, laughter and emotions that would always be his alone. Had Mary discovered that, and remained in love with him? Hester would never know, nor should she. Monk was like that. You would never know him well enough that he would no longer be able to surprise you, reveal some passion or belief you had not seen in him.
    “Idealism is a poor bedfellow,” Mary said suddenly. “Something I must tell Griselda, poor child; and most certainly tell this man she has married. It may be fairy princes with whom one walks up the aisle, but it is certainly very ordinary mortals with whom we wake up the following morning. And since we are ordinary mortals too, that is no doubt just as well.”
    Hester smiled in spite of herself. She prepared to stand up.
    “It is growing late, Mrs. Farraline. Do you think I should take out your medicine now?”
    “Should?” Mary raised her eyebrows. “Quite probably. But I am not yet ready to take it. To return to your original question, yes, I believe I shall go to the theater. I shall insist upon it. I have brought with me some gowns suitable for such occasions. Unfortunately I could not bring my favorite because it is silk, and I marked it right at the front where it shows.”
    “Can it not be cleaned?” Hester said sympathetically.
    “Oh certainly, but there wasn’t time before I left. I’m sure Nora will take care of it in my absence. But apart from the fact that I like it, unfortunately it is the only gown I have which really sets off my gray pearl pin, so I didn’t bring it. It is quite beautiful, but gray pearls are not easy to wear; I really don’t care for it with colors, or with anything that glitters. Still, no matter. It is only a week, and I daresay we shall have few enough formal occasions. And I am going in order to