William Monk 14 - The Shifting Tide

it.”
    Margaret said nothing.
    “Perhaps he can face things we find harder, or even turn away from,” Hester went on. “If he were afraid of nothing, if he had never run away, never failed or been ashamed, never needed time and another chance, what would he have in common with the rest of us, and how would he learn to be gentle with us?”
    Margaret looked at her steadily, searching her eyes.
    “You’re disappointed?” Hester asked.
    “No!” Margaret answered instantly, then looked away. “I . . . I’m afraid he’ll think I am, because I was for a moment or two. And maybe he won’t ask me again. Maybe nobody will, but that doesn’t matter, because I really don’t want anyone else. Apart from you, there’s nobody else I . . . like so much.” She looked up again. “Do you understand?”
    “Absolutely. I believe he will ask you, but if he is cautious, you will have to deal with that.”
    “You mean be patient, wait?”
    “No, I don’t!” Hester responded instantly. “I mean do something about it. Put him in a situation where he is obliged to speak—not that I am in the least useful at doing that sort of thing myself, but I know it can be done.”
    Sutton came in through the back door, Snoot at his heels. Hester poured tea for him, offered him toast, and invited him to sit down.
    “It’s good to see you, miss,” he said to Margaret, accepting the invitation. The words were bare enough, but the expression in his face was profound approval, and Margaret found herself coloring at the unspoken praise.
    Hester took the crusts from her toast and gave them to Snoot. “I know I shouldn’t,” she acknowledged to Sutton. “But he’s done such a good job.”
    “He’s a beggar!” Sutton said tartly. “ ’Ow many times ’ave I told yer not to beg, yer little ’ound?” His voice was full of pride. “ ’e ’as done a good job, Miss ’Ester. I in’t seed a rat fer two days now.”
    Hester felt a hollowness at the thought that Sutton might leave. She realized how much she relied upon him, even with Margaret back. His resourcefulness, his wry, brave wit, his companionship could not be replaced by anybody else.
    “There might still be some,” she said too quickly.
    “I’ll show yer where I bin,” he replied, waiting until she was ready to move.
    She finished her tea, and when he had also she followed him to the laundry. It smelled of carbolic, wet stone, and cotton. He stopped. “We in’t had no more new cases o’ the plague since Miss Mercy. Mebbe we’re gonna get the better of it,” he said softly. “But I in’t goin’ till yer find out ’oo killed that Clark woman. Not as she din’t deserve it, like, but nob’dy can take the law into their own ’ands.” He looked at her in the dim light. “I bin thinkin’, it’s gotter be between Flo, Miss Claudine, an’ Miss Mercy, though why Miss Mercy should wanter kill ’er I in’t got no idea. Summink ter do wi’ ’er brother, mebbe. Bessie could’ve o’ course, but she in’t like that. The rest of ’em were too poorly accordin’ ter Bessie, an’ din’t never see ’er.”
    “Or Squeaky,” Hester added. “But so far as I know, he didn’t see her either. And why on earth would he want to kill her?”
    “That’s exactly it,” Sutton said unhappily. “An’ as yer said, it were Mr. Louvain as brung ’er in.”
    “Yes. He said she was the mistress of a friend of his.”
    He raised an eyebrow in a lopsided expression of doubt. “Or mebbe not? ’ave yer thought as mebbe she were ’is own mistress, like?”
    “Yes, of course, I have.” A coldness touched her. “You mean that Mercy knew that, perhaps even knew her?”
    “In’t wot I wanna think,” he said sadly. “Nor wouldn’t I wanter think as mebbe that’s why she come ’ere ter ’elp—”
    “Just to murder Ruth Clark?” Hester refused to believe it. “She was here for days before Ruth was killed. If that’s what she came for, why would she wait?”
    “I dunno. Mebbe she wanted ter argue the Clark woman inter leavin’ the family alone?” he suggested, his face pinched with weariness. “But p’r’aps the Clark woman ’ad ideas o’ becomin’ Mrs. Louvain? Or mebbe just o’ bleedin’ ’im o’ money. Miss Mercy could a bin protectin’ ’im.”
    “No.” This time she was quite certain. “He doesn’t need anyone to do that. If Ruth Clark was trying to blackmail him, or get money in any way, he’d simply have dumped her in the river