William Monk 14 - The Shifting Tide

other suitor she was considering. She was far too honest to have allowed him to court her had there been. She would accept him. The question that turned and twisted inside him was would she love him? She would be loyal, because loyalty was in her nature. She would be gentle, even-tempered, generous of spirit, but she would have done that for anyone. It was not enough. To have all that, not because she loved him but because it was a matter of her honor that she should give it, would be a refinement of torture he could not bear to face. Yet if he did not ask her, he had already chosen failure.
    He took a hansom to call on her, and this time he found Mrs. Ballinger’s attentions even more difficult to receive gracefully. His emotions were far too raw to expose to her acute perception. He had no layer of wit with which to defend himself, and he found parrying her enquiries extremely hard work. He was relieved when Margaret was unfashionably punctual; in fact, he was deeply grateful for it.
    He offered her his arm, bade Mrs. Ballinger a good evening, and went out to the waiting hansom just a fraction more hastily than was graceful.
    “Have you heard anything more from Monk?” Margaret asked as soon as he had given the cabbie instructions. “What is happening? Has he heard from Hester?”
    “Yes, I have seen Monk again,” he replied. “He came to my chambers yesterday morning, but he had heard nothing from Portpool Lane. I know no more than you do.”
    She made a tiny sound of desperation. “How was he?”
    How could he protect her from pain? To love and cherish her was the privilege he was seeking to obtain for the rest of their lives. Surely he should begin now?
    “He is trying very hard to find evidence to help Gould’s trial,” he replied. “It starts tomorrow.”
    “Sir Oliver!” she said simply. “Please do not patronize me. I asked you because I wished to know the truth. If it is a confidence you cannot tell me, then say so, but do not tell me something untrue simply because you believe it is what I wish to hear. How is Monk?”
    He felt powerfully rebuked. “He looks dreadful,” he said honestly. “I have never seen anyone suffer as he is doing now. And I know of no way to help him. I feel as if I am watching a man drown, and standing by with my arms folded.”
    She turned to face him, the carriage lamps of the passing traffic throwing a flickering light on her face. “Thank you,” she said softly. “That at least I believe. And please don’t blame yourself like that; no one can help. There are not many occasions that friendship cannot improve, but I think this might be one of them. We can only do our best, and be there if the time should come when there is something to do.”
    There was no answer that was large enough, so he made none. A kind of peace settled between them. He thought how fortunate he was to be sitting beside her, and the resolve within him to ask her to marry him became even more certain.
    They arrived at the home of their hosts and alighted. They were welcomed in their turn, there being over a score of guests. It was a very formal affair, women in magnificent gowns, richly embroidered, jeweled combs and tiaras glittering in their hair, diamonds on earlobes and around pale throats.
    Margaret wore very little adornment, only a simple pearl necklace, and he was surprised how anything so modest could please him so much. It had a purity that was like a quiet statement of her own worth.
    Within a few moments they were absorbed into the buzz of conversation. He had been accustomed to such parties for years, but he had never found it quite so intensely difficult to chatter politely without saying anything of meaning. He recognized several people and did not wish to become involved in exchanges with them because he knew he could not concentrate. His usual ease of manner was impossible. Emotions threatened to break through his composure, and it required a constant vigilance to conceal them. He wanted to protect Margaret from the intrusive speculation that was customary. He had escorted her several times now, and it was inevitable that many would be waiting for him to make some declaration. They would be watching her for pride, disappointment, desperation. It was all intrusive, unintentionally cruel, and a part of society they both took for granted.
    Far more deeply than that, he wanted to protect her from the fear she felt for Hester and the sense of helplessness because there was