William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea

opposite wall he found philosophies, the complete works of Shakespeare, Milton’s
Paradise Lost
, and Gibbon’s
The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
. There were even a number of novels.
    He was still looking at them when Dinah Lambourn came in. The slight sound of her closing the door startled him and he turned to face her.
    “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “You have a most interesting selection of books!”
    “My husband’s,” she said quietly.
    Under normal circumstances she would have been a striking woman. She was tall, and had high cheekbones and a strong face, which now looked vulnerable, almost bruised with grief. She wore black unrelieved by any jewelry at all. Her rich, dark brown hair was the only color about her, apart from the dark blue hue of her eyes.
    Her sadness was so palpable Monk felt a stab of guilt again for having come to her with such a wretched question to ask. What sort of a man had Joel Lambourn been that he could have left a woman like this and gone all the way across the river and west to the Limehouse area to find a drab woman like Zenia Gadney? Was he weak, and Dinah overpowered his dull personality? Did he fail to answer her needs, emotionallyor physically, and he wanted some plain, ordinary woman who asked nothing of him? Or perhaps who dared not criticize?
    Or did he have a darker side that he had not wanted Dinah to know of?
    She was waiting for Monk to explain himself. How could he tell why he had come and cause her the least pain possible? And yet he must learn the truth.
    “Did you know a woman named Zenia Gadney, who lived in Copenhagen Place, in Limehouse?” he asked quietly.
    She blinked, as if the question puzzled her. She stood still for several moments, as though searching her memory. “No, the name is not familiar,” she said at last. “But you said ’did I know.’ Has something happened to her?”
    “I’m afraid it has. This is unpleasant, Mrs. Lambourn. Perhaps you would prefer to sit down.” He said it in a tone that made it more a request than merely a suggestion.
    She complied, slowly, her face going even paler, her eyes fixed on his. “How does that concern me?” Her voice trembled.
    “I regret to tell you that she is dead,” he answered.
    “I’m sorry.” It was a quiet murmur, but conveyed a feeling that went far deeper than mere good manners would require.
    “But you said you didn’t know her,” he responded, already a chill touching him.
    “What has that to do with it?” She lifted her chin a little. “I am still sorry that she is dead. Why do you come here? Limehouse is miles away, and the other side of the river. I know nothing about it.”
    “I believe your husband knew her.”
    Her grief almost slipped out of control. “My husband is dead, Mr. Monk,” she said huskily. “And I have never met Mrs.… Gadney.”
    “I know your husband is dead, Mrs. Lambourn, and I am deeply sorry for that.” He wanted to express condolences for what he was about to add to her grief, but it seemed shallow in the circumstances. “Those I spoke to said he was a remarkably fine man,” he went on. “However, it seems that he knew Mrs. Gadney quite well, and over a long period of time.”
    She had to clear her throat before she could force herself to speak. Her slender white hands were locked around each other in her lap.
    “What are you implying, Mr. Monk? When did this Mrs. Gadney die, and how? It must’ve been serious; if you came here despite the fact that you knew my husband has been dead for some little time?”
    “It appears that your husband met with Mrs. Gadney in Limehouse at least once a month,” he replied. He watched her face for shock, disgust, defensiveness, but he saw only grief that he was certain of. There were other emotions there as well, but he could not read them.
    “When did she die, and of what cause?” she asked very quietly.
    “Nearly a week ago. She was murdered.”
    Her eyes widened. “Murdered?” She could hardly say the word. Her tongue stumbled and there was horror in her eyes.
    “Yes.” He felt brutal. “You may have heard word of it, by the papers. There was a woman killed and her body mutilated, near Limehouse Pier.”
    “No. I had not heard.” Dinah Lambourn was now so pale he was afraid she might faint.
    “Would you like me to ring for your maid, Mrs. Lambourn?” he offered. “She could bring water, perhaps smelling salts. I am afraid I have brought very ugly news for you.