William Monk 15 - Dark Assassin

death, and now of Mary’s and his own brother’s, albeit he did not intend the latter. Surely you must see that in that case he is a most dangerous man and will not hesitate to harm you if he has the chance. And please do not be rash enough to suppose you can outwit him!” He turned to his wife, touching her shoulder. “And for you, my dear, I am afraid I forbid you to endanger yourself in this way.” He smiled—a sweet, gentle gesture that lit his face, making his emotions unmistakable. “Or in any other way.”
    Rose’s eyebrows shot up. “Good gracious! What on earth do you imagine I am going to do? Go down a sewer and accuse some engineer of carelessness? Or perhaps visit Mr. Argyll in his mourning and tell him I think he is a murderer? Really, Morgan, credit me with a little sense! Mrs. Monk is primarily concerned with the safety of navvies, and that is a very right and proper thing for a member of Parliament’s wife to care about as well—especially the wife of the member who is most involved with this work.” She rose to her feet and stood facing him very patiently. “I shall be sociable and charitable. Mrs. Monk does great work for the poor and has served with Miss Nightingale, nursing soldiers. Who more appropriate to take with me when considering the injured?”
    He looked bewildered. She had robbed him of argument, and yet he was obviously unhappy. Hester wondered why he was still quite clearly afraid for her.
    “I promise you we shall not behave inappropriately,” Hester said to him, wishing to make him feel less apprehensive, but also knowing that without Rose’s knowledge of Alan Argyll and of what Mary had already discussed, she had little chance of success.
    There was something Applegate wished to say, and yet obviously he felt restrained. He looked at Rose again. “Please be careful.”
    “Of course I shall be careful!” she said with the very slightest edge of irritation. “I am merely going to visit some of the men who have been injured in the past, and to whom Mary might have spoken.” She looked at Hester. “What could we take them that would be useful and not condescending?”
    “Honesty,” Hester replied. She took a deep breath. “And perhaps a less fashionable gown?”
    “Oh!” Rose blushed, glancing down at her beautiful dress. “Yes, of course. This is quite inappropriate, isn’t it! Will you excuse me for fifteen minutes? I’m sure I can find something better. Morgan, please don’t spend the time trying to persuade Mrs. Monk that I am not suitable for this task. It would be humiliating for me. I like her, and I wish to impress her as competent.” She gave him a dazzling smile and kissed his cheek.
    “Thank you, my dear.”
    Hester mastered her expression with difficulty, reaching very quickly for a handkerchief and coughing into it to hide her smile.
    Morgan Applegate blinked also, but he did not say anything.
    After Rose had changed, Hester suggested that although it would take a little longer and definitely be a great deal less comfortable, it would be wiser if they were to travel by public omnibus rather than in Rose’s carriage. The day was viciously cold, with intermittent sleet and snow piling in dirty drifts at the edges of gutters and walls and causing the drains to overflow, so everything was wet underfoot.
    “Of course,” Rose agreed, her face reflecting momentary distaste. “I shall appreciate my carriage more next time, I suppose.” Then she realized that Hester almost certainly did not have a carriage. “I’m sorry!” she said, a tide of color washing up her cheeks.
    Hester laughed. “I had a carriage before I went to the Crimea,” she told her. “Before the war my family had very comfortable means.”
    “You lost it in the war?” They were walking briskly down the street towards the omnibus stop.
    “My father did,” Hester replied as they passed two women going in the opposite direction. “He was cheated out of it by a man who made a fortune doing that. He was an ex-army officer invalided out. A hero, so people trusted him.”
    There was a quick sympathy in Rose’s face, but she did not interrupt.
    “My father took his own life.” Hester found it difficult to say, even so many years after. “But there was no question about it. He felt it was the only honorable way to act…in the circumstances. My mother died shortly afterwards.”
    “Oh!” Rose stopped still in the street, ignoring the spray of icy water from a passing