William Monk 05 - The Sins of the Wolf

sibilant, his diction perfect, but Monk instantly caught a shadow of regional flavor, and in a moment realized it was Yorkshire. So Baird McIvor was not only an Englishman, but from that wild and proudest of counties, almost a small country to itself. Hester had not mentioned that. Perhaps her ear had not placed the intonation. Like most women, she was more interested in relationships.
    Next Oonagh turned to a man of barely average height and long face like her own, but even fairer hair which surrounded his head in an aureole of close curls. Superficiallyhe resembled the Farralines, but the differences were easy to see, the less generous mouth with carefully chiseled lips, and the ruler-straight nose. And there was something different in his manner as well, a confidence born of intellect, not status or power. Curious how such fractional things, the angle of a head, a furrow between the brows, a hesitation, a measuring as if of a potential threat, could give away a man’s origins even before he spoke.
    “This is my brother-in-law, Quinlan Fyffe,” Oonagh said, looking first to him and then back at Monk. “He is a master at printing, fortunately for us, and brilliant at business of every sort.” She did not use the slight condescension an English gentlewoman would have towards trade; she spoke of it with admiration. But then the Farralines were not gentry—they had made their own wealth, and presumably were proud of their skills. Her father had begun the company, not merely as owner but as proprietor. She would have no false vanity about idleness and the superiority of those who could afford to spend their lives in leisure.
    “How do you do, Mr. Fyffe,” Monk acknowledged.
    “And Quinlan’s wife, my sister Eilish,” Oonagh continued, smiling at the younger woman with gentleness, and then glancing back at Quinlan and touching his arm. It was an odd, familiar gesture, as if she were in some way again giving her sister to him, or perhaps reminding him of the event.
    After what Mrs. Forster had said, Monk regarded Eilish with interest, and was prepared to be disappointed, even condescending. One glance at her swept away all such indifference. Her beauty was not merely a matter of flawless features, it had a radiance, almost a luminescence, that touched the imagination, and a grace that stirred all manner of half-forgotten dreams. Looking at her, Monk was not sure if he even liked it; it was disturbing, self-sufficient, lacking in the vulnerability which usually appealed to him in feminine beauty. He liked a certain imperfection—it made a woman seem fragile, attainable. But he could notpossibly dismiss her either. When one had seen Eilish Farraline, one could not forget her.
    She looked at him with very little curiosity, as if her attention were not fully engaged. It occurred to him that perhaps she was too absorbed in herself to occupy her thoughts with anyone else.
    The moment the introductions had been effected they were interrupted by the entrance of the nominal mistress of the house. Deirdra Farraline was small and dark with a vitality powerful enough to make her rather scruffy black gown seem irrelevant and her lack of jewelry an oversight of no importance. She had none of the extraordinary beauty of her sister-in-law, but hers was a face that pleased Monk the moment he saw her. There was warmth in her, and humor, and he felt he might discover yet more admirable qualities in her, upon acquaintance.
    “Good evening, Mr. Monk,” she said as soon as she had been introduced. “I hope we shall be of assistance to you.” She smiled at him, but looked beyond him almost immediately, something else upon her mind. “Has anyone seen Kenneth? It really is too bad of him!”
    “Don’t wait,” Alastair said tartly. “He can catch up with us when he arrives, or go without. His behavior these days is totally thoughtless. I shall have to speak to him.” His face tightened. “One would have thought in the circumstances he would have shown a little family loyalty. It is more than time we found out who this woman is he is pursuing, and if she is suitable.”
    “Don’t worry about it now, my dear,” Oonagh said quietly. “You have more than enough to attend to. I’ll speak with Kenneth. I daresay he did not like to bring her here just at the moment.”
    He looked at her with a flash of relief, then smiled. It altered his whole face. With a little imagination Monk could visualize the youth he had been and see