William Monk 11 - Slaves of Obsession

myself so early, but since Mr. Trace has called on what is apparently business, I feel I should either stay and argue my cause over his, or withdraw and retainyour goodwill by not allowing this most agreeable evening to descend into acrimony.” He lifted his chin a little higher. He was angry and self-conscious, but would yield his convictions to no one. “And since you already know every reason why the Union is fighting to preserve the nation we have founded in freedom, against a Confederacy which would encircle us in slavery, and I have argued it with every reason and every emotion in my power, I shall thank you for your hospitality and wish you good night.” He inclined his head stiffly in something less than a bow. “Mrs. Alberton, Miss Alberton.” He looked at Daniel coldly. “Sir. Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, including everyone else. Then he turned on his heel and left.
    “I’m so sorry,” Trace repeated. “That was the last thing I meant to have happen.” He turned from Judith to Daniel Alberton. “Please believe me, sir, I never doubted your word. I did not know Breeland was here.”
    “Of course you didn’t,” Alberton agreed, rising to his feet also. “Perhaps if the rest of you will excuse us, we shall be able to conclude our business quite quickly. It seems unfortunate, and unnecessary, now that Mr. Trace is here, for me to require him to come again tomorrow.” He looked apologetically to Hester and Monk.
    “I daresay it is my fault.” Casbolt looked at Trace and shrugged very slightly. “It was I who last spoke to you about it. I may have given the wrong date. If I did, I am sorry. It was most careless of me.” He turned to Judith, then to Monk and Hester.
    “It is quite all right,” Monk said quickly, and he meant it. The friction between Trace and Breeland was more interesting than a blander party might have been, but of course he could not say so.
    “Thank you,” Casbolt said warmly. “Shall you and I remain here while the ladies retire to the withdrawing room and Daniel and Mr. Trace conduct their business?”
    “By all means,” Monk accepted.
    Casbolt looked at the port bottle nestling in its basket, and the sparkling glasses waiting for it, and grinned broadly.
    Judith led Hester and Merrit through to the withdrawing room again. The curtains were still open and the last of the evening light still bathed the tops of the trees in a warm apricot glow. An aspen shimmered as the sunset breeze turned its leaves, glittering one moment, smooth the next.
    “I am so sorry for the intrusion of this miserable war in America,” Judith said ruefully. “It seems we can’t escape from it at the moment.”
    Merrit stood very straight, her shoulders squared, staring out of the long windows at the roses across the lawn.
    “I don’t think it is morally right that we should try to. I’m sorry if you feel that it is bad manners to say so, but I honestly don’t believe Mrs. Monk is someone who would use manners as an excuse to run away from the truth.” She turned her head to stare at Hester. “She went to the Crimea to care for our soldiers who were sick and injured when she could have stayed here at home and been comfortable and said it was none of her business. If you had been alive at the time, wouldn’t you have campaigned with Wilberforce to end the slave trade through Britain and on the high seas?” There was a challenge directed at Hester, but in spite of the ring in her voice, her eyes were bright, as if she knew the answer.
    “Please heaven, I hope so!” Hester said vehemently. “That we even entered into it was one of the blackest pages in all our history. To buy and sell human beings is inexcusable.”
    Merrit gave her a beautiful smile, then turned to her mother. “I knew it! Why can’t Papa see that? How can he be there in his study actually proposing to sell guns to the Confederacy? The slave states!”
    “Because he gave his word to Mr. Trace before Mr. Breeland came here,” Judith replied. “Now please sit down and don’t place Mrs. Monk in the middle of our difficulties. It is quite unfair.” Taking Merrit’s obedience for granted, she turned to Hester. “Sometimes I wish my husband were in a different business. I am not sure if there is anything entirely without contention. Even if you were to sell tin baths or turnips, I daresay there would be someone on your doorstepdeclaring your demands were unrighteous or prejudicial to somebody else’s