William Monk 07 - Weighed in the Balance

I … I think you may be able to help. You will be less closely caught up. In a sense, you have been there already. The shock and the anger have passed.”
    “Sometimes.” Victoria smiled, but there was bleakness in her eyes. “There are mornings when I wake up, and for the first few minutes I’ve forgotten, and then it all comes back just as if it were new.”
    “I’m sorry.” Hester felt ashamed. She thought of all the hopes and dreams any young girl would have—for parties and balls, romance, love and marriage, children of her own one day. To realize in one blow that that was never possible must be as bad as everything Robert could face. “That was a stupid thing for me to say,” she apologized profoundly. “I meant that you have learned to control it, instead of it controlling you.”
    Victoria’s smile became real for a moment, before it faded and the trouble came back to her eyes. “Will he see me, do you think?”
    “Yes, although I am not sure what mood he will be in or what you should hope for, or say.” Victoria did not reply, but started across the landing, herback straight, swishing her skirts a little, the color rich where it caught the sunlight. She wanted to look pretty, graceful, and she moved awkwardly. Behind her, Hester could tell that it was a bad day for pain. Suddenly she almost hated Bernd for his dismissal of the girl as not a lasting friend for Robert, not someone who could have a place in his life once he was resigned to his dependence and had learned to live within it.
    Victoria knocked, and when she heard Robert’s voice, opened the door and went in. She left the door open, as propriety demanded.
    “You look better,” she said as soon as she was inside. “I was afraid you might feel ill again.”
    “Why?” he asked. “The disease is over.”
    She did not evade the issue. “Because you know you will not get better. Sometimes shock or grief can make you feel ill. It can certainly give you a headache or make you sick.”
    “I feel terrible,” he said flatly. “If I knew how to die, as an act of will, I probably would … except that Mama would be bound to feel as if it were her fault. So I’m caught.”
    “It’s a beautiful day.” Her voice was quite clear and matter-of-fact. “I think you should come downstairs and go out into the garden.”
    “In my imagination?” he asked with a hard edge of sarcasm. “Are you going to describe the garden for me? You don’t need to. I know what it looks like, and I’d rather you didn’t. That’s like pouring vinegar in the wound.”
    “I can’t tell you about it,” she replied honestly. “I’ve never been in your garden. I’ve always come straight up here. I meant that you should get someone to carry you down. As you say, you are not ill. And it isn’t cold. You could sit out there perfectly well and see for yourself. I should like to see the garden. You could show me.”
    “What, and have the butler carry me around while I tell you ’This is the rose bed, these are the Michaelmas daisies, there are the chrysanthemums!’ ” he said bitterly. “I don’t think thebutler is strong enough! Or do you envisage a couple of footmen, one on either side?”
    “The footman could bring you down, and you could sit on a chair on the lawn,” she replied, still refusing to respond emotionally, whatever hurt or anger was inside her. “From there you could point out the beds to me. I don’t feel like walking very far today myself.”
    There was a minute’s silence.
    “Oh,” he said at last, his tone different, subdued. “You have pain?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
    “Will you show me the garden, please?”
    “I should feel—” He stopped.
    “Then stop thinking how you feel,” she replied. “Just do it! Or are you going to spend the rest of your life here in bed?”
    “Don’t you dare speak …” His voice trailed off.
    There was a long silence.
    “Are you coming?” Victoria said at last.
    The bell by Robert’s bed rang, and Hester straightened her apron and knocked on the door.
    “Come in,” Robert replied.
    She pushed the door wide.
    “Would you be good enough to ask the footman to assist me downstairs, Hester?” Robert said, biting his lip and looking at her self-consciously, fear and self-mockery in his eyes. “Miss Stanhope wishes me to show her the garden.”
    Hester had promised Rathbone she would learn everything she could about Zorah and Gisela, or anything else