William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

him. There were times when he deeply missed her presence to share an idea, a thing of beauty, something that made him laugh.
    Henry merely nodded. Did he know? Or guess? Hester was extraordinarily fond of him. Oliver had even wondered sometimes if part of his own attraction for her was the regard she had for Henry, the wider sense of belonging she would have as part of his family. That was something William Monk could not give her! He had lost his memory in a carriage accident just after the end of the Crimean War, and everything in his life before that was fragments pieced together from observation and deduction, albeit far more complete now than even a year ago. Still, there was no one in Monk’s background like Henry Rathbone.
    Could that be it? Was it not Zillah who was unacceptable but someone else in her family? Barton Lambert? Delphine? No, that was unlikely in the extreme. Barton Lambert had beenMelville’s friend far more than most men could expect of a father-in-law. And Delphine was proud of her daughter, ambitious, possibly overprotective, but then was that not usual, and what one expected, even admired, in a mother? If she disliked Melville now, she certainly had ample cause.
    “There seems to be no defense,” he said aloud.
    “What does he say?” Henry asked, taking the pipe out of his mouth and knocking the bowl sharply against the fireplace. He looked enquiringly at Oliver as he cleaned out the pipe and refilled it with tobacco. He seldom actually smoked it, but fiddling with it seemed to give him satisfaction.
    “That’s it,” Oliver replied with exasperation. “Nothing! Simply that he did not ask her in the first place and he cannot bear the thought of marrying anyone at all. He states emphatically that he knows nothing to her discredit, and has no impediment to marriage himself, and trusts in me to defend him as well as may be done.”
    “Then surely there is something he is not telling you,” Henry observed, putting the pipe between his teeth again but still not bothering to light it.
    “I know that,” Oliver agreed. “But I have no idea what it is. Every moment in court I dread Sacheverall facing him with it. I imagine he is going to produce it, like a conjurer, and any hope I have will evaporate.”
    “Is that Wystan Sacheverall?” Henry asked, raising his eyebrows.
    “Yes. Why?”
    Henry shrugged. “Knew his father. Always thought him very ambitious socially, something of an opportunist. Big man with fair hair and large ears.”
    Oliver smiled. “Definitely his son,” he agreed. “But he is a very competent man. I shall not make the error of underrating him simply because he has a clownish face. I think he is extremely serious beneath it.”
    “Then you had better find out for yourself what your client will not tell you,” Henry stated. “Have you told Hester about this situation? A ferninine point of view might help.”
    “I hadn’t thought of it,” Oliver admitted. She had been in his mind on many occasions, but not as a possible source of help. “Actually, I have not been in touch with her for a few weeks. She will almost certainly be with a new patient.”
    “Then you can ask Lady Callandra Daviot,” Henry pointed out. “She will know where Hester is.”
    “Callandra is in Scotland,” Oliver replied stubbornly. “Traveling around from place to place. I had a letter from her posted from Ballachulish. I believe that is somewhere on the west coast, a little short of Fort William in Inverness-shire.”
    “I know where Fort William is,” Henry said patiently. “Then you will have to enquire from Monk. It should not be beyond his ability to find her. He is an excellent detective … assuming he does not already know.”
    Oliver loathed the idea of going to Monk to ask him where Hester was. He would feel so vulnerable. It would entirely expose his disadvantage that he did not know himself, and yet he assumed Monk would. His only satisfaction would be if Monk did not know either. But then he would be no further forward. Now that Henry had suggested it, he realized how much he wanted to consult Hester. In fact, this case could provide the perfect reason to go to her again without their personal emotions intruding so much that the whole meeting would be impossibly awkward. On reflection, it had been a mistake not to see her more often in the intervening time. It would then have been so much easier.
    Now he was reduced to going to Monk, of all people, for