William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

the door behind him, ignoring Monk and turning to Hester.
    She stood up, Monk forgotten. The anger fled out of her eyes, her mouth, and was instantly replaced by concern.
    “Is something wrong?”
    The large man’s eyes flickered at Monk.
    “This is Mr. Monk,” Hester said, introducing him perfunctorily as he too rose to his feet. “Mr. Athol Sheldon.” She gave them no time to speak to each other but hurried on. “What is wrong? Is it Gabriel?”
    Athol Sheldon relaxed a fraction, his powerful shoulders stopped straining his jacket and he let out his breath in a sigh. Apparently, having found her he already felt better, as if somehow the problem were in control.
    “Yes—I’m afraid he fell asleep and seems to have had a nightmare. He is—quite unwell. I … I don’t know what to do for him, and poor Perdita is dreadfully upset.” He half swiveledon his foot to acknowledge Monk. “I am sorry to intrude,” he said briefly; it was lip service to courtesy. He looked back instantly to Hester. It was not necessary to request she come; she was already moving towards the door.
    Monk followed her because he could not simply ignore what was obviously an emergency of some sort. It was an unbecoming curiosity to go with them, and callous indifference to stay. The former was instinctive to him.
    Athol led the way across the hall and up the stairs. If he found Monk’s presence odd he was too involved in his own concern to remark it. There was a maid standing at the top of the stairs, a woman of perhaps forty or so, her thin face creased with worry, her eyes going swiftly not to Athol but to Hester. A younger woman with a lovely, frightened face stood a yard away from her, her cheeks pale, her lips trembling. She twisted her hands together, the light catching the gold of her wedding ring. She too looked at Hester desperately. She seemed on the verge of tears.
    The door ahead of them was ajar, and Hester went past them after only the briefest hesitation, not as if she was undecided, certainly not afraid, but simply allowing herself time to be reassured. Then she went into the room, and Monk could see over her shoulder a wide bed with a young man lying crumpled over in it, his fair hair tousled, his face buried in the pillow. It was a moment before Monk realized his left sleeve was empty.
    Hester did not speak at first. She sat on the bed and put her arms around her patient, her cheek against his hair, holding him tightly. It was a gesture which startled Monk; there was a spontaneity in it and a tenderness he had never seen in her before. She did not wait to be asked. It was a response to his need, not to any touch or plea he had made. It moved the whole scene to a new level of gravity.
    Beside Monk, Athol Sheldon was also taken aback, but he seemed embarrassed. He cleared his throat as if about to speak, then changed his mind and said nothing. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again.
    “Gabriel,” Hester said quietly, as if she were unaware of the group outside the open door. “Was it James Lovat again?”
    Gabriel nodded.
    Perdita looked questioningly at Athol.
    “I’ve no idea,” Athol said. He moved forward at last. “Really, my dear chap,” he said to his brother, addressing the back of his head where he half lay in Hester’s arms. “You must put all this behind you. It is a tragedy which cannot be helped now. You did your part, splendidly. Put it from your mind.”
    Hester looked up at him, her eyes wide and bright.
    “One cannot forget at will, Mr. Sheldon. Some memories have to be faced and lived with.”
    “I think not,” Athol contradicted, his voice firm. He stood very square on the balls of his feet.
    “Then if it should happen to you, Mr. Sheldon,” Hester said without flinching, “we shall know what best to do for you. But for Gabriel we shall do as he wishes.”
    “Gabriel is ill!” Athol said angrily. He was frightened by emotion he could neither understand nor share; it was sharp in his voice. He had no idea what demons were in his brother’s head. He was afraid of them for himself, and he did not want anyone to have to look at them. “It is our duty, as well as our—our love for him to make decisions in his interest. I would have thought as a nurse you would have perceived that!” That was an accusation.
    Monk drew breath to defend Hester, then saw her face and realized it was her battle and she needed no assistance. She understood Athol better than he