William Monk 19 - Blind Justice

they’re innocent of the particular charge they’re facing.”
    “Exactly. I can’t imagine he would risk his entire livelihood to betray Rathbone.”
    “Then who was it?” she demanded. “If it wasn’t Warne, then who could it be?”
    He settled a little deeper in his seat, relaxing weary muscles.
    “We don’t know for certain it wasn’t Warne. But Rathbone has enemies, Hester. He’s prosecuted some very important people, people who have friends and influence. And he’s defended a few people thatothers would rather see executed. He’s stirred up a lot of dirt, one way or another. He’s gone where his cases led him and has not been afraid whose toes he trod on. Some of them are going to be only too happy to come out of the woodwork now and kick him while he’s down.”
    Another, darker thought occurred to her. “Worse than that, William, what about the other people in the photographs? We don’t know who they are, and maybe Oliver doesn’t either, but
they
know. And who is to say Ballinger even had all the photographs. There may be people who think Oliver has their picture, but who don’t know for sure—I bet they’d rather see him destroyed and put away so there’s not even a chance that he’s a risk to them. London could be seething with enemies he doesn’t even know he has.”
    Monk was frowning. “But that would be stupid. Put his back against the wall and he’ll come out fighting. He would have nothing to lose. Even if he goes to prison he could have all the pictures published, just to get back at his enemies. That seems even riskier.”
    She stared at him intensely, her heart racing. She felt as if her throat were so tight she could hardly breathe. “William … where are the photographs?”
    He caught her fear instantly. “In his house, I suppose. I don’t know. Perhaps we’d better ask him and make sure they’re put somewhere else. Otherwise someone desperate enough could set fire to it. They could burn the servants alive, and Oliver, too, if they wait till he gets bail and goes back there.”
    “Yes. They should be in a bank vault or something. Just don’t bring them here!”
    He said nothing, his expression bleak.
    She looked at his face and saw no light in it. “I’m sorry. But, please …” She trailed off, more frightened than she wanted to admit. What had begun as a shadow was spreading far wider than she had foreseen. Was the trial of one man guilty of fraud worth all this?
    She had thought so at the time when she had listened to Josephine Raleigh and seen herself so clearly in Josephine’s distress. It was a chance to put right what she had failed signally to do for her own father.Taft was vicious, destructive … seeing now what he had been capable of, with his actions against his own wife and children, it was clear the extent of his disease of the soul was far greater than she had imagined.
    But if she had not meddled, then Taft and his family would still be alive, and Rathbone would be safe at home.
    And John Raleigh might be dead like her father.
    When do you walk away? How can you know?
    “We’ve got to help Oliver,” she said. “For Scuff as well as for himself.”
    Monk looked puzzled. “For Scuff?”
    “For heaven’s sake!” She was close to tears. She could feel them prickling in her eyes and the tightness getting worse in her throat. “Oliver is our friend, William! Scuff’s watching to see if we’re loyal to the people we care for, even if they make mistakes and everyone else turns against them.”
    He looked startled. “Does he think we’d do that to him?”
    “He doesn’t know!” she cried out. “He’s afraid! He’s terrified that love is conditional, that we love people only when they do the right thing, and that that applies to anyone.”
    Understanding flooded his face. “He’s only a child! You don’t …” He let out his breath in a sigh.
    “You were afraid,” she pointed out. “When you thought you killed Joscelyn Grey, you were afraid I’d abandon you.”
    He flushed slightly. “But you didn’t think I had!”
    “I didn’t think so. I didn’t know! But if you had, I wouldn’t have walked away.”
    “Were you that much in love with me?” he asked very quietly. “You never said so.”
    “No I wasn’t, you complacent oaf!” she cried in exasperation. “But even if you had killed him, I knew you were a good man, and I couldn’t leave you to hang for it. Even good people sometimes do stupid and ugly things.