William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea

proud of them.” He looked at her almost angrily.
    She looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry for what? Reminding me of something I was trying to forget? I know it. Don’t treat me like a fool.” He sniffed. “Why did you come, anyway? Is this about Dinah Lambourn?”
    “No.” She looked up at him. “Actually it started about Zenia Gadney.”
    “Who the devil is Zenia Gadney?”
    “The woman who was found murdered and mutilated on Limehouse Pier, over a week ago.”
    “What has that to do with Lambourn? Or opium?”
    “Nothing to do with opium, so far as we know,” Hester replied. “She bought the occasional penny twist, but so does half the population. Dr. Lambourn knew her quite well, well enough to go and see her once a month, and to support her financially.”
    “Stuff and nonsense!” Winfarthing said instantly. “Whoever said that is either malicious or a lunatic, or both.”
    “It was his sister, Amity Herne,” she answered. “But only after a little pressing. His wife agreed that she too was aware of it, but not of where Mrs. Gadney lived.”
    “Mrs.? Was the woman married?” he said quickly. “Or is that a courtesy title?”
    “Largely courtesy, I think, although people around her neighborhood thought she might be a widow.”
    “Supported by Joel Lambourn? A colleague’s wife fallen on hard times?” Winfarthing still looked incredulous.
    “Possibly,” Hester replied with some doubt. “When Dr. Lambourn died, it looks as if she might have taken to the streets to survive.”
    “How old was she?”
    “Middle forties, roughly.”
    “There’s something wrong in this,” Winfarthing said, shaking his head. “Somebody’s lying. Has to be. Are you suggesting this poor woman was somehow connected with Lambourn’s death?”
    Hester evaded the question slightly, answering with one of her own.
    “If he wouldn’t kill himself because his report was rejected, and he doesn’t appear to have had any fatal illness—or any illness at all, for that matter—then he killed himself for another reason,” she said. “Could that have been an affair with a prostitute that was about to be exposed?”
    Winfarthing’s face filled with acute distaste. “I suppose we never know people as well as we think we do. As a doctor, I have certainly learned that. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen—and heard.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps you would. But I still can’t see Joel Lambourn conducting an affair with a middle-aged prostitute in Limehouse.” His voice took on a more challenging tone, although it was the conclusion he fought, not Hester. “And if she were going to expose him, and he killed himself, that doesn’t answer your question as to who killed her, does it? Why do you care, girl? Was she one of the women in this clinic of yours?”
    She shook her head. “No. I never met her, or heard of her before this. Limehouse is a distance from Portpool Lane, you know. It’s the manner of her death that is the worst. It’s my husband’s case.”
    “Of course.” He grimaced, irritated with himself. “I should have worked that out. Well, I still find it hard to believe that Lambourn killed himself at all, over anything. I don’t mind some of life’s surprises, but I don’t like this one.”
    “The alternative is that Dr. Lambourn was murdered as well, by someone who wanted his report suppressed,” she said, watching his expression to judge what he thought of the idea.
    He nodded very slowly. “Possible, I suppose. There are fortunes made and lost in opium. I …” He hesitated.
    “What?” she said quickly.
    He looked at her, his face creased with sadness. “I would hate to think there is corruption deep enough to have a man like Joel Lambournmurdered, and labeled as a failure and a suicide, in order to cover up the misuse of opium and prevent a regulating bill that is much needed, not only for opium but for the sale of all pharmaceuticals.”
    “Does that mean you won’t consider the possibility?”
    He jerked forward in his chair, glaring at her. “No, it does not! How dare you even ask?”
    She smiled at him with rare charm. “To make you angry enough to help me,” she answered. “But discreetly, of course. I … I don’t want someone to find
you
on One Tree Hill with your wrists cut.”
    He sighed gustily. “You are a manipulating woman, Hester. Here am I thinking you were the only daughter of Eve who hadn’t the art to twist a man