William Monk 05 - The Sins of the Wolf

it was out of control. “It would distress him, and he could do nothing to help. He would feel he ought to visit me, and that would be terrible for him.”
    She wanted to explain to Rathbone about her father’s suicide when he was ruined by a cheat, and their mother’s death shortly afterwards, and the shock it had been for Charles. He had been the only one of the three children to be in England at the time, James having died recently in the Crimea, and Hester being still out there nursing. The full weight of the disgrace and the financial ruin had fallen on Charles, and then the grief afterwards.
    Of course Rathbone knew something of it, because he had defended the man charged in the resulting murder case. But if he had not known the full extent of her father’s disgrace, she was not willing to tell him now, or to expose and relive her father’s vulnerability. She found herself sitting silently, risking his thinking her sullen.
    Rathbone smiled very slightly, a small expression of resignation, and a kind of bitter humor.
    “I think you are judging him ill,” he said calmly. “But it is not of great importance now. Perhaps later on we can discuss it again.” He rose to his feet.
    “What are you going to do?” She stood up also, too quickly, knocking herself against the table and scraping the chair legs loudly on the floor. She lost her balance clumsily and only regained it by holding on to the table. “What happens next?”
    He was close to her, so close she could smell the faint odor of the wool of his coat and feel the warmth of his skin. She longed for the comfort of being held with a depth that made the blood rush up to her face in shame. She straightened and took a step backwards.
    “They will keep you here,” he answered, wincing. “I shall go and seek Monk and send him to learn more of the Farralines and what really happened.”
    “To Edinburgh?” she said with surprise.
    “Of course. I doubt there is anything more we can discover in London.”
    “Oh.”
    He moved to the door and knocked. “Wardress!” He turned back to see her. “Keep heart,” he said gently. “There is an answer, and we shall find it.”
    She forced herself to smile. She knew he was speaking only to comfort her, but even so the words themselves had some power. She clung to them, willing herself to believe.
    “Of course. Thank you….”
    They were prevented from saying anything further by the clang of the keys in the lock and the wardress’s appearing, grim-faced and implacable.
    Before calling upon Monk, which Rathbone viewed with very mixed thoughts, he returned to his offices in Vere Street. He had learned little of practical value from his interview with Hester, and he felt more emotionally drainedthan he had foreseen. Visiting clients accused of crime was always trying. Naturally they were frightened, shocked by arrest. Even when they were guilty, capture and charge took them by surprise. When they were innocent the sense of bewilderment and having been overtaken by events out of their control was devastating.
    He had seen Hester angry before, burning with injustice, frightened for other people, close to despair, but never with the fear for herself. In a sense she had always been in some control of events, her own freedom not at stake.
    He took off his coat and gave it to the clerk waiting to take it from him. Hester was so impatient of fools, so fierce to charge into battle. It was a characteristic most alarming, and highly unattractive in a woman. Society would not tolerate it. He smiled as he imagined how it would be greeted by most of the respectable ladies he knew. He could visualize the expressions in their well-bred faces. And it alarmed him, as his smile broadened with self-mockery, that it was the quality in her which most appealed to him. Gentler, more conventionally behaved women he found more comfortable, less challenging, less disturbing to his well-being, his assumptions and certainly his social and professional ambitions, but they did not remain always in his memory after they had parted. He was neither troubled by them nor invigorated. Safety was beginning to cloy, for all its seeming advantages.
    Absentmindedly he thanked the clerk and walked past him to his office. He closed the door behind him and sat down at his desk. He must not allow this to happen to Hester. He was one of the best barristers in England, he was the ideal person to protect her and get this absurd charge dismissed. It