William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

before I came up.” His face shadowed. “Not in good spirits, poor girl. Bit worried, if you ask me. Have to see what we can do about it.”
    Gabriel sighed soundlessly. “She seemed all right when she came in just before luncheon. She said she would take a walk this afternoon … later.”
    “Good,” Athol agreed. “She ought to get out more. Brisk walk is the best thing in the world. Sure you agree, Miss Latterly. Not enough fresh air. Read somewhere that your Miss Nightingale said that.” He looked pleased with himself.
    “Yes,” Hester agreed reluctantly. Athol’s insensitivity annoyed her. He reminded her of many soldiers she had known, always convinced they were right, wearing an air of impenetrable confidence like armor against any kind of doubt, seldom listening to anyone else. Only heaven could count the number of lives they had cost.
    She knew she was probably being unfair to Athol Sheldon. He was not a soldier. Being the eldest brother, he had inherited the family estate in Buckinghamshire and most of the time managed it, sufficiently well at least to allow him to offer financial assistance to his injured brother.
    “There you are.” Athol rubbed his hands together. “Duties of a wife are first, of course; but she should find an occupation of some sort to fill her hours. Plenty of good works to be done. Vicar’s wife would know all about it. Need younger women on some of their charities. Fresh ideas … energy.” He looked a little uncomfortable.
    “I expect she will,” Gabriel agreed, easing himself up a little higher on his pillows.
    “Have another one,” Athol offered immediately, leaning forward.
    “It’s all right!” Gabriel refused, using his one hand. “I can manage.”
    “ ‘Course you can. Apologies.” Athol retreated. “You’ll get used to doing all manner of things. A few weeks will make all the difference. A year from now you’ll have put it all behind you.”
    He did not seem to notice Gabriel’s face tighten.
    “Time will heal the memories,” Athol went on cheerfully. “Perdita will help you to forget. Lovely girl. Look towards the future. Now, is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?”
    Gabriel smiled. “No, thank you. You have done extremely well for me.”
    “Pleasure, my dear fellow.” Athol smiled back, looking a little less uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, everything will sort itself out. Only got to do our part and we’ll be able to put all this behind us.”
    Hester cringed. Athol had not the faintest idea what he was talking about. For him the Indian Mutiny and its horror were only mistakes on the pages of history, momentary darknesses in the grand procession of empire.
    Athol stood up. “Won’t interrupt you.” He put his hands under the lapels of his jacket and rearranged it on his shoulders. “Must see if I can call on the vicar and have a word with him about Perdita. I am sure something can be arranged. Do her the world of good. Always does. Busy, that’s the thing.”
    Gabriel looked quickly at Hester, his eyes searching.
    Hester stood up. “I’ll see you to the door, Mr. Sheldon.”
    “No need, my dear Miss Latterly,” he said graciously. “Don’t want to interrupt you. What are you reading? Shelley? Bit miserable, isn’t it? I’ll bring you something with a bit more fire to it, something more uplifting.”
    Hester controlled herself with an effort. After all, they did not have to read it. “Thank you. That is very kind.” But she stillwalked to the door with him and accompanied him onto the landing and slowly down the stairs.
    “Mr. Sheldon …”
    He stopped, hesitant for an instant, as if he too had considered speaking to her. “Yes, Miss Latterly?”
    “Please reconsider asking Mrs. Sheldon to participate too fully in other activities just at the moment,” she said gravely. “I—I don’t think it will help.”
    “Always good to be busy, Miss Latterly,” he said quickly, almost as if he had decided how to answer before she spoke. “Needs to get out. Mustn’t brood, you know.” His voice lifted, not as if his last comment were a question but rather as if he sought to encourage her somehow. “Can think about things too much. Get inward. Not healthy.”
    “But—”
    He frowned. “Know you mean the best for them,” he went on, interrupting. “Gabriel’s your patient, and all that. Er … speaking of which … most natural thing in the world, only thing for a woman, really … faith,