William Monk 11 - Slaves of Obsession

reliable news of what is happening at home. At least now my honor is vindicated and England will know that the officers of the Union are upright in their dealings. I may well be sent back to purchase more arms.”
    There was a moment of silence before Merrit replied with her voice level, but it was apparent it cost her all the strength of will she possessed.
    “I am sure your honor is vindicated, Lyman, and that for you that is the most important thing that could have happened. I am happy it is. I am equally certain that you deserve it. However, I do not wish to return to Washington with you. I thank you for the offer. I am sure you do me great honor, but I do not believe we should make each other happy, therefore I cannot accept.”
    He looked as if he had not grasped what he had heard. It was incomprehensible to him that she could have changed from the girl who had adored him so completely to the young woman who now made such a considered judgment that, incredibly, amounted to a rejection.
    “You would make me very happy,” he said with a frown. “You have all the qualities any man could wish for, and what is more, you have shown them under the greatest pressure. I cannot imagine I could find any woman I should admire more than I do you.”
    Merrit drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Hester saw the resolve flicker in her face.
    “Love is more than admiration, Lyman,” Merrit said with tremendous difficulty, gasping to control her breath. “Love is caring for someone when they are wrong, as well as when they are right, protecting their weakness, guarding them untilthey find strength again. Love is sharing the little things, as well as the big ones.”
    He looked stunned, as if she had struck him, and he had no idea why.
    Then quite slowly he bowed and turned and walked away.
    She gave a little gulp, drew in her breath to call him back, and remained silent.
    Judith came and put her arms around her, allowing her to weep with deep, wrenching sobs that were the end of a dream, and already just a thread of relief.

12
    M
ONK AND H ESTER
dined out on the most excellent poached fish, fresh vegetables and plum pie with cream. They walked home arm in arm along the quiet, lamp-lit streets. There was an arch of light across the sky between the rooftops, and a few windows glowed yellow.
    “We still don’t know who killed Daniel Alberton,” Hester said at last. They had both refrained from saying it all evening, but it could no longer remain a ghost between them.
    “No,” he agreed somberly, tightening his arm around her. “Except that it wasn’t Breeland, even indirectly, and it couldn’t have been Shearer. Who does that leave?”
    “I don’t know,” she admitted. “What happened to the other five hundred guns?”
    He did not reply for several minutes, walking in silence with his head down.
    “Do you think Breeland took them too, and he lied?” she asked.
    “Why should he?”
    “The money? Perhaps what he paid wasn’t enough?”
    “Since there’s no trace of any money at all, there doesn’t seem to be any reason,” he pointed out.
    There was no response to make. Again they walked a short distance without speaking. They passed another couple and nodded politely. The woman was young and pretty, the man openly admiring of her. It made Hester feel comfortable and very safe, not from pain or loss, but at leastfrom the agony of disillusion. She gripped Monk’s arm a little more tightly.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    “Nothing,” she said with a smile. “Nothing to do with Daniel Alberton, poor man. I really want to know what happened … and to prove it.”
    He gave a little laugh, but he held her equally close.
    “I can’t forget the blackmail,” she went on. “I don’t believe its happening at the same time was just coincidence. That’s why he called you in. The blackmailer has never been back! Pirates don’t give up, do they?”
    “Alberton’s dead!”
    “I know that! But Casbolt isn’t! Why didn’t they pursue it with him? He also gave money and help to Gilmer.”
    They crossed the road and reached the pavement on the far side. They were still half a mile from home.
    “The ugliest answer to that is that they didn’t give up,” he replied. “We still don’t know what happened to the barge that went down the river, who took it, or what was on it. Certainly something went from Tooley Street; there are five hundred guns not accounted for … the exact amount demanded by the