William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

what you shouldn’t?”
    He laughed abruptly. “That is hardly comparable, my dear girl. I know an infinitely greater amount about the world and its ways than you do.”
    “Of course you do!” she rejoined smartly. “Nobody told you you should stay in the nursery and drink milk for the rest of your life!”
    “Really, Perdita!” He bridled, stepping backwards. “Your complete loss of composure rather proves what I say. You are overwrought and quite unable to think clearly. That is not a matter you should be discussing in front of Miss Latterly and Mr. Monk.”
    “Why not?” she demanded. “You are trying to dismiss Hester. Should that be done behind her back?”
    “Perdita, please control yourself!” Athol was becoming seriously annoyed now. His rather thin patience was worn through. “Have Martha make you a cup of tea or something. This vindicates my judgment that this has all been too much for you. If you are not careful you will take a fit of the vapors, and then you can be no help to Gabriel or anyone else.”
    “I shall not take a fit of the vapors!” Perdita retaliated. “The very worst I shall do is tell you precisely what I think and feel about your interfering in my household. But believe me, Athol, that could be very bad. Hester is staying here, and that is the end to it. If you do not find that something you can abide, then I shall be sorry not to see you until Gabriel is better and she has been released to care for someone else … but I shall endure it. Stoically!” Her face was bright pink, and in spite of her attitude of confidence, she was trembling.
    Hester was trying very hard to keep the smile from her lips.
    Monk did not bother.
    “I am sure your husband will be obliged to you, Mrs. Sheldon,” he said quietly. “It is not pleasant to rely on someone and have them dismissed by anyone else, no matter how wellintended. And your understanding and feelings regarding the Melville case will no doubt make it much easier for him to bear his own sense of distress, since he will not have to do it alone.”
    “I will thank you to concern yourself with your own affairs, sir!” Athol said to him coldly. “You have already brought enough distress and disturbance into this house. We should not even have heard of this miserable, farcical business if it were not for you. Women dressing up as men, deceiving the world, trying to ape their betters and living a completely unnatural life. It is a debasement of all that is purest and most honorable in domestic happiness, and those things any decent man holds dear … those very values which are the cornerstone of any civilized society.”
    Perdita stared at him. “Why shouldn’t women design houses? We live in them just as much as men do—more so.”
    “Because you are plainly not competent to do so!” he answered, exasperation sharpening his voice. “That is self-evident.” He swept his arm sideways, dramatically. “You run households, that is an utterly different affair. It does not call for mathematical or logical skills, for special perception, individuality, or thought—and certainly not for genius—”
    Monk interrupted. “If you have your household accounts kept for you by someone with no mathematical skills you will be in a very unfortunate position. But that is irrelevant. Keelin Melville was a woman, and she was the most brilliant architect of this generation, perhaps of this century.”
    “Nonsense!” Athol laughed derisively. “When one looks at her work with real perception, one can see that it is eccentric, highly unlikely to last. It has a femininity to it, a fundamental weakness.”
    Perdita let out a howl of rage and turned on her heel. Then as she reached the corridor she swung around again, staring at Athol.
    “I think it is going to rain. You had better leave before you get soaked on the way home. I should not like you to catch pneumonia.”
    In spite of himself Monk glanced out the window. Brilliantsunshine streamed in out of a dazzling sky. He glanced at Hester and saw her eyes full of deep, shining satisfaction.
    Rathbone also encountered society’s prejudices regarding Keelin Melville. He knew of nothing else he could do in the case. His client was dead. There was nothing further to defend or to prosecute. There were other cases to which he needed to turn his attention. But tomorrow would be sufficient time.
    Today he was weighed down by the sense of his failure.
    Unfortunately, he had social obligations