William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

a strong grasp, not a clinging, just a knowledge of the other’s being there, a gentleness for which there were no words, perhaps even a memory of many other times when they had felt the same but had remained separate.
    It was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs which disturbedthem. Hester pulled away slowly, turning to the door as Perdita came in.
    “Oh!” she said, seeing Monk. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hester … I don’t know what to do. It’s just impossible. I can’t manage this!” She was obviously on the edge of tears, her face pink, and she was breathing rapidly. She behaved as if she had already forgotten Monk was there or simply was past caring.
    Hester was on the very edge of losing her temper. Monk could see it in the rigidity of her body, especially her neck. When she spoke her voice was brittle.
    “Well, if you really can’t, perhaps you had better give up,” she answered. “I don’t know quite what that means. I suppose you do or you wouldn’t have said it. Have the staff look after Gabriel, and you lead a separate life. I don’t know whether you could afford it financially. Maybe Athol would help? Or if you ask him, Gabriel would release you from the marriage altogether. He offered to before. You told me that when I first came. Only then, of course, you said you wouldn’t dream of it.”
    Perdita looked as if she had been struck in the face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slack.
    “I’m sure you could marry again,” Hester went on ruthlessly, her voice getting harder and heavier. “You are very pretty—in fact, quite beautiful—and you have a very docile and agreeable nature … just what most men want—”
    “Stop it!” Perdita shouted at her. “You mean I’m stupid and cowardly, and no use for anything but to do as I’m told! I’m fine when everything is all right. I can simper and smile and flatter people and be obedient. I can keep my place and make anyone feel comfortable … and superior. But when something goes wrong, and you need a woman with courage and intelligence, I just run away. I don’t think of anybody but myself. How I feel … and what I want.” Her lips were trembling, but she did not stop. She gulped and swallowed, glaring at Hester. “Then you can step in, all brave and unselfish. You know what to do, what to say. You’re never afraid, never confused. Nothing ever revolts you or makes you want to run away and pretend it never happened!”
    Her voice was rising high and becoming louder. The servants must have been able to hear her as far as the kitchen. “Well, I’ll tell you something, Miss Perfect Nurse! Nobody wants a woman who is never wrong. You can’t love somebody who doesn’t need you, who’s never vulnerable or frightened or makes mistakes. I may not be half as clever as you are, or as brave, or know anything about Indian history or soldiers or what it is like to see real war … but I know that.”
    Hester stood very stiff, her back like a ramrod, her shoulders clenched so tight Monk felt as if he could see the bones of them pulling against her dress. He was not certain, but he thought she was shivering. This was what she had wanted, what she had intended to happen when she had provoked Perdita … at least he thought it was. But that did not stop it from hurting. There was too much truth in it, and yet it was also so terribly wrong.
    “You are lashing out in anger, Mrs. Sheldon,” he said in a low, controlled voice. “And you don’t know what you are talking about. You know nothing of Miss Latterly except what you have seen in this house. There are many kinds of men and many kinds of love. Sometimes we imagine what we must hunger for is a sweet and clinging creature who will feed our vanity and hang upon our words, dependent upon our judgment all the time.” He took a breath. “And then we meet the harder realities of life, and a woman who has the courage, the fire and the intelligence to be our equal, and we discover that those joys far outweigh the irritations and discomforts.” He stared at her very hard. “You must be true to the best in yourself, Mrs. Sheldon, but you have no grounds and no right to insult where you do not know the facts. Miss Latterly may not be loved widely, but she is loved very deeply indeed, more than most women can aspire to or dare to accept.”
    The color burned up in Perdita’s cheeks. She was furious and overwhelmed with embarrassment. She did not know what to say, and the rage