William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

think she would not proceed. Of course she could prove nothing. Nothing had happened. But that was immaterial. She could make the charge, and it would be sufficient to ruin him. His livelihood depended on his reputation, on trust.
    He had no other skills. Perhaps she knew that?
    What had he done to her? What manner of man was he—had he been?
    Hester was still taking her turn nursing Enid Ravensbrook, who was now beginning the long, slow journey to recovery but still needed constant attention, or she could slip into relapse.
    The same morning that Monk received his letter from Drusilla, Hester returned from the makeshift hospital to Ravensbrook House, tired and thoroughly miserable. She ached from lack of sleep, her eyes stung as if she had grit or dust in them, and she was heartsick of the sights and sounds and smells of distress. So many people had died. The bare few who had recovered gave it all meaning, but it was small in the sight of so much loss. And no matter how hard Kristian tried, what arguments he put up in the local government council, nothing was done. They were frightened of the disease, frightened of the cost of new sewers, frightened of innovation or change, of new inventions which might not work, of old ones which had already failed, and of blame no matter what they did. It was an exhausting struggle, and almost certainly doomed to failure. But neither he nor Callandra could give up.
    Hester had watched them day after day marshaling new arguments and returning to battle. Each evening they had retired defeated. The only good to come of it was the tenderness they shared with each other, and even that was fraught with pain. After the fever they would part again, to see each other only occasionally, formally, perhaps in meetings of the board of governors of the hospital where Kristian worked and Callandra gave her help voluntarily. These meetings would be in front of all the other governors, or if they were fortunate, perhaps a chance encounter in a corridor with the constant expectation of interruption. They would speak of anything and everything but themselves. In all probability it would always be so.
    Hester was welcomed in by the parlormaid and told thata supper was prepared if she wished it, after she had seen Lady Ravensbrook and Mrs. Stonefield.
    She thanked the girl and went upstairs.
    Enid was propped up in bed, leaning against a pile of pillows. She looked gaunt, as if she had not eaten or slept in days. There were bruised hollows around her eyes and her skin looked discolored and paper-fragile. Her hair hung in lank strings around her shoulders and she was so thin the bones seemed in danger of hurting the flesh stretched across them. But she smiled as soon as she saw Hester.
    “How are they?” she asked, her voice still weak, only lifted by the eagerness inside her. “Is it easing at all? How about Callandra? Is she all right? And Mary? And Kristian?”
    Hester felt some of the tension slip away from her. The room was warm and comfortable. There was a fire in the hearth. It was a different world from the coldness and the dirt of the hospital, the guttering candles and the smell of too many people unwashed, close together in their pain.
    Hester sat on the edge of the bed.
    “Callandra and Mary are still well, though very tired,” she replied. “And Kristian is still fighting the council, but I don’t think he has won a yard of ground. And yes, I think the fever is lessening a little. Certainly there are fewer deaths. We sent two people home today, both well enough to leave.”
    “Who are they? Did I know them?”
    “Yes,” Hester said with a broad smile. “One is the little boy you were so fond of, the one you thought could never survive.…”
    “He’s all right?” Enid said in amazement, her eyes lighting. “He’s recovered?”
    “Yes. He went home today. I don’t know what gave him the strength, but he survived.”
    Enid leaned back against her pillows, a great sweetness in her face, almost a radiance. “And the other?” she asked.
    “A woman with four children,” Hester answered. “Shewent home to them today as well. But how are you? That’s what I came to know.”
    It was a question only of friendship. She would make her own determination. The improvement in Enid was great. Her eyes were clearer, her temperature down to normal, but the fever had wasted her and she looked at the very end of her strength.
    Enid smiled. “Very impatient to feel better,” she