William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

them.
    Monk should say something. It was his responsibility.
    He stood up, smiling at Mrs. Hanning.
    “How do you do, Mrs. Hanning. My name is William Monk.” He held out his hand. “I am a friend of Gabriel’s. I called by to ask his advice on a small problem I am dealing with for a friend. At least, I hope to deal with it. I am not doing very well at the moment.”
    Mrs. Hanning caught her breath. “Oh … really? I am sorry,Mr…. Mr. Monk.” She was obviously not even sure whether she was relieved to have to speak to him or annoyed. She was also not interested. Her voice was dry, overpolite. “How unfortunate.”
    “I find him most helpful for clarifying the mind,” he went on, as if she had been charming.
    It was long enough to give Gabriel time to take command of himself again.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Hanning. How kind of you to call.” His voice shook only a little and he forced himself to meet her eyes, regardless of what he should see there.
    “It was …” She had been about to say “duty” and thought better of it. She tried to look at him normally and failed. Her gaze fixed rigidly on his eyes as if she were afraid it would slide off to his disfigured flesh or his absent arm. “It was something I always intended,” she finished lamely. “I have just been … er …”
    “Of course,” He struggled to help her, hideously conscious of her revulsion. “We were all terribly grieved to hear of Major Hanning’s death at Gwalior. We lost so many friends it seemed as if the grief would never stop—stop increasing.”
    “Yes …” She still had no idea what to say to him. If she had had it all clear in her mind before she came, the reality of his injuries had scattered it from her. “It must have been dreadful for you. My husband …” She swallowed and gulped. “My husband always mentioned you with great regard.” It sounded appallingly formal, as if she were a senior officer’s wife making a duty call with no idea and no feeling for the events or emotions of which she spoke. She was floundering, and they all knew it.
    Where was Hester? She would know how to say something which could bring them back to honesty. Monk looked over Mrs. Hanning’s shoulder and saw first Perdita, ashen-faced, then Hester beyond her. She shook her head minutely.
    He nodded, tightening his lips. Why was she letting this go on? It was agonizing!
    “He would,” Gabriel replied, still holding Mrs. Hanning’sgaze, almost unblinking. “He was a generous man, and we were friends. We shared many struggles together, many experiences. We had good friends in common … whom we lost.” His face was full of emotion and memory. “He loved India. He loved the land, the nights, the smells of spices and dust and everything growing.” He half smiled and his voice became even softer. “Once you have felt the heat and life of the jungle you don’t ever forget it. Or the markets. The noise, the—” He stopped abruptly. She could not believe him. Unlike Perdita, she had been to India, but only to the sheltered hill posts, and then she had mixed only with other officers’ wives.
    “I think you are—are mistaken. You must have him confused with someone else.” She made herself smile in return, remembering he was wounded. Perhaps his mind was affected. Yes, that would explain everything. The thoughts were as transparent on her face as if she had spoken them aloud.
    Monk glanced at Hester. Still she remained silent.
    Perdita moved forward, her hands clutched in front of her, her voice trembling.
    “I take it you did not care for India, Mrs. Hanning. I am so sorry. That must make your loss doubly hard. I was unable to go, but I always thought I should find it fascinating. Gabriel wrote such marvelous letters, and I have been reading a book lately about its history. Of course, most of what I know is after the British arrived there, but a little about before that too. I should have done it a long time ago….” She smiled at Mrs. Hanning defiantly, daring her to take offense or argue the issue. She came farther into the room. “I should have been so much more of a companion to Gabriel.”
    Mrs. Hanning drew in her breath. It was impossible to tell whether she was hurt or not.
    Perdita knew what she had done, but she was too defensive certainly to retreat.
    “Since I didn’t go out with him, it is the least I can do now.” She smiled, tilting her chin up a fraction.
    “Naturally, if you feel it your