William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

held the collar of her cloak up around her neck and chin as she crossed the pavement and mounted the step. She rapped smartly on the door, before she could change her mind.
    She stepped back, and was about to decide that he was not in and she had done all duty demanded of her, when the latch turned and the door swung open. Monk stood just inside, outlined by the light behind him. From what she could see of his face he was tired and discouraged. He did not hide his surprise at seeing her.
    She felt sorry for him, and was suddenly glad she had come.
    “I thought I should tell you the little I have learned about Angus and Caleb,” she explained her presence.
    “You’ve learned something?” he said quickly, stepping back for her to enter.
    Perhaps she had overstated it and given him unjustified hope. She felt foolish.
    “Only a few facts, or perhaps I should more correctly say a few people’s opinions.”
    “Whose opinions? For heaven’s sake, come in! I don’t want to stand here on the step, even if you don’t mind.” He pulled the door wider, and then as she passed him, closed it behind her.
    “Why are you so angry?” She decided to stop retreating and attack instead. It was more in her nature. She should not allow him to make her feel as if she had to justify herself all the time. “If your case is going badly, that is unfortunate,” she continued, walking past him through the outer chamber to the inner one. “But being offensive will nothelp it, and it is very childish. You should learn to control yourself.”
    “Have you come all the way, at this time of the evening, to tell me that?” he said incredulously, following her in. “You interfering, opinionated, monumentally arrogant woman! Treating the sick has gone to your brain! Even in your futile field, surely you must have something more useful to do? Go and empty some slops, or scrub a floor. Stoke a fire somewhere. Comfort someone, if you have the faintest idea how.”
    She took off her wet cloak and handed it to him.
    “Do you want to know about Angus and Caleb, or not?” It was almost a relief to be just as rude in return. She had guarded her tongue for so long, all sorts of emotions were knotted up inside her, memories of loneliness and fear, of horror and exhaustion in the past, pain she could not ease, deaths she had been helpless to prevent. All of it came back to her so much more vividly and easily than she had expected. And she did not want to care about Monk. It was nice, almost like a familiar pleasure, to quarrel with him. “Are you actually interested in helping poor Genevieve, or are you just taking her money?”
    His face went white. She had hurt him with that last suggestion. For all his faults, she knew with absolute certainty he would never have done that. Perhaps she should not have said it. But then he had insulted her professionally just as much.
    “I’m sorry,” he said tightly. “I had not realized that this time you had something useful to say. What is it?” He put her cloak absentmindedly over the back of one of the chairs.
    Now she felt foolish. It was not truly useful. Maybe he knew that too? She took a deep breath and faced him. His gray eyes were cold and level, full of anger.
    “Lord Ravensbrook does not think Caleb would have harmed Angus,” she began. “Because for all his violence, they are brothers, and grew up together, sharing their lonelinessand grief when they lost their parents. But he thinks that because he loves them, and cannot bear to think otherwise. He has already lost his first wife, and then the boys’ parents, and now Enid is terribly ill, and Angus is missing.”
    He was staring at her, waiting for her to conclude.
    Her voice sounded thin even in her own ears. “But Genevieve is convinced Caleb has killed him. She told me that in the past Angus has come home with knife scars that no one else knows about. He would not call a doctor. He was ashamed of them. I think that is why she did not tell you. She does not wish anyone to think Angus was not able to stand up for himself, or that he was a coward. Angus …” She did not know how to phrase what she thought and make it seem sensible. She could almost hear Monk’s sarcastic dismissal even before she spoke. “Angus loved Caleb,” she went on hastily. “They were very close as children. Perhaps that bond still existed, for him, and he could never believe Caleb would hurt him. Maybe he could even have felt guilty for his own