William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

ridicule.
    “What were you investigating?” Zillah asked. “About Killian? I—I mean Keelin … I don’t understand a great deal about the law, but if there was something, surely if she told Sir Oliver, he would have kept it secret? Doesn’t he have to, if he was her barrister? Anyway, what could it be?” Her brow darkened. “And why were you investigating her? Sir Oliver was supposed to be defending her. He was on her side!” She was indignant. She felt a trust had been abused.
    “No, Miss Lambert,” Monk said softly. “I was investigating you.”
    “Me?” She was amazed. “I have nothing to hide.”
    “What about Hugh Gibbons?”
    “Oh!” She looked away and the color rushed crimson up her cheeks. “Well, that was all rather foolish. I suppose I was indiscreet—”
    “Zillah!” Delphine said warningly.
    Sacheverall frowned and stood perfectly still. It was the first time he had seemed uncertain of himself since Monk had come in.
    Zillah ignored her mother. She was still facing Monk. “I did not behave very well. I should know better now. I would not permit myself to become so … emotional. Unless, of course, I were married.” She took a deep breath but did not lower her eyes.
    Monk found himself feeling extraordinarily partisan towards her. Each time he saw her, it became easier to understand why Keelin Melville had liked her so much she had inadvertently allowed this tragedy to happen.
    “Perhaps anyone who is capable of passion is indiscreet at some time or other,” he said quietly. He had no idea how he might have erred in his own youth. It was gone, with all his other memories. But he knew himself well enough to be sure it had occurred, and probably often. Not that it was the same for women, of course—at least not to society.
    “That is hardly a worthy sentiment, Mr. Monk,” Delphine said, looking quickly at Sacheverall and away again. “I would be obliged if you would not express it here. It is not the way we believe—or behave. Zillah was fond of this young man and saw him more frequently than we desired. It was inevitable, since he moved in the same circles. Before he became too enamored of her and overstepped propriety, or we unintentionally encouraged hopes in him that would not be fulfilled, we went for a short holiday to Crickieth, in North Wales.” She forced herself to smile. “By the time we returned he had formed an attachment for another young lady, altogether more suitable to his age and situation. The word
passion
is far too strong for such a childhood fondness.”
    Her words fell in silence, as if they all knew they were a gilding of the truth to such a point as to amount to a lie. Zillah was the only one who seemed unconcerned.
    “What has it to do with Keelin’s death?” she persisted. “Hugh wouldn’t have harmed anyone over me, no matter how ardent he seemed at the time. He said a lot of things he didn’t mean. He was hotheaded, but there was no real violence in him.”
    “Of course there wasn’t!” Delphine said urgently, looking at Zillah with warning in her eyes, then at Sacheverall. “It was all very young and innocent, and over with years ago.”
    “No, it wasn’t,” Zillah contradicted. “He went on writing to me….” She disregarded Delphine’s obvious anger. “I collected the letters from a friend. And there is no use asking me who, because I shall not tell you….”
    “You will do as you are told, young lady!” Delphine snapped, moving forward as if to restrain her physically.
    “Was he jealous over your betrothal to Melville?” Lambertasked, holding up his hand to Delphine and looking steadily at his daughter, his expression hard and anxious. “Does he still care for you enough to have hated Melville for her insult to you? Tell me the truth, Zillah. He will not be blamed for anything he did not do, but I will not allow Keelin Melville’s death to go unavenged if anyone else is responsible for it but herself. We may be speaking of murder. I will have no false loyalties or soft ideas of romance. Your loyalty is to the truth, girl, before all else. Do you understand me?”
    “Yes, Papa.” She did not flinch. “I wrote to Hugh long after Mama took me to Wales, but I never saw him again, except by chance, and never alone. He says that he still cares for me. Of course, I don’t know whether that is true or just his idea of romance. But he wrote very well to me when the betrothal was announced, even if there was some