William Monk 11 - Slaves of Obsession

she quarreled very badly with her father, but believe me, Mrs. Monk, Daniel Alberton was a totally honorable man, a man whose word anyone could trust absolutely and who would never stoop to a cruel or greedy act. She was angry with him, but she spoke in hasteand the heat of emotion. In her heart she knows, just as I do, that he was as good a man as walks the earth.”
    She met his gaze very frankly. “What are you telling me, Mr. Casbolt? That she could not imagine duplicity, therefore Breeland could easily have misled her; or that she loved her father too much to have been party to hurting him, regardless of her anger that evening?”
    “I suppose I’m telling you both, Mrs. Monk.” A sad, self-mocking expression filled his face. “Or that I care very much for the outcome of this tragedy, and I would do anything to spare the family further pain.”
    There was no way she could be unaware of the power of his feelings. The air between them was charged with the knowledge of fear, horror, the grief of loneliness. In that moment Hester glimpsed the reality of Casbolt’s involvement with the Albertons, and the depth of his lifelong love and devotion to his cousin.
    But she was not here to offer sympathy or encouragement.
    “Could Breeland have been part of the attempt at blackmail?” she asked. “He seemed willing to do anything at all to get the guns. He is a man whose belief in his cause seems to him to justify anything. He would see it as helping to preserve the Union and freeing slaves.”
    Casbolt’s eyes widened very slightly. “I had not thought of it, but it is possible. Except how could he know of Gilmer, and Daniel’s kindness to him?”
    “Any number of ways,” she responded. “Someone obviously knew.”
    “But he had only been in England a few weeks at that time.”
    “How do you know that?”
    He drew in his breath slowly. “I don’t!”
    “And he could have had allies. Whatever the truth of it,” she pointed out, “it seems Breeland was on a special night train to Liverpool and could not actually have killed Mr. Alberton himself. And Merrit was with him, so that excludes her also, thank heaven.”
    He leaned forward. “Are you sure? Mrs. Monk, please,please don’t raise Judith’s hopes unless there is no doubt whatever … you understand it would be unbearably cruel.”
    “Of course. I understand. This is why I came to you, not to her,” she said quickly. “And because I can speak to you more frankly about Mrs. Alberton. But do you think it is possible that the whole blackmail attempt is connected with the final theft of the guns—whether it was an unsuccessful attempt by Breeland, or even by Mr. Trace?”
    His eyes widened.
    “Trace? Yes … it could be. He is … devious enough … for that.” Then he frowned. “But even if it were so, how would that help Merrit? And to be honest, Mrs. Monk, that is really all I care about. I am not concerned with justice. I hope I don’t shock you in saying that. I am sorry if I do. Daniel was my friend, and I need to see his murderers brought to justice, but not at the cost of further loss to his widow and daughter. He was my best friend from youth, and I knew him well. I believe their welfare is what would have concerned him far above any revenge for his death. And that is all it would be now.” He looked at her earnestly, searching her eyes for understanding.
    She tried to think how she would feel in Judith’s place. Would she care above all things that Monk be avenged, or would their child’s safety and happiness come first? If she were killed, would she want Monk to pursue vengeance for her?
    The answer to that came immediately. No. She would want the living protected. Let time take care of justice.
    “I see you understand,” he said softly. “I thought you would.” There was gentleness in his voice, and relief. He could not hide it, and perhaps he did not want to.
    But she could not let go of the truth, the need to worry at the problem until she had unraveled it. She would decide afterwards who to tell and what decisions to make.
    “I wonder why they asked for the guns to be delivered to Baskin and Company, instead of direct to them. Do you suppose they believed Mr. Alberton had some reason not to sell to one side or the other in the American war?”
    He understood exactly what she meant. “I know of none. But it would suggest someone who was unfamiliar with his family history. Anyone who knew him would never imagine