Anne Perry - Defend and Betray

Monk asked the question he had been leading towards, the one that mattered most, and whose answer now he curiously dreaded.

“Who were Mrs. Carlyon's friends, if not Mrs. Furnival? I imagine she had friends, people she called upon and who came here, people with whom she attended parties, dances, the theater and so on?”

“Oh yes, sir, naturally.”

“Who are they?”

Hagger listed a dozen or so names, most of them married couples.

“Mr. Oundel?” Monk asked. “Was there no Mrs. Oun-del?” He felt surprisingly miserable as he asked it. He did not want the answer.

“No sir, she died some time ago. Very lonely, he was, poor gentleman. Used to come 'ere often.”

“I see. Mrs. Carlyon was fond of him?”

“Yes sir, I think she was. Sorry for 'im, I should say. 'E used to call in the afternoons sometimes, and they'd sit in the garden and talk for ages. Went 'ome fairly lifted in spirits.” He smiled as he said it, and looked at Monk with a sudden sadness in his eyes. “Very good to 'im, she was.”

Monk felt a little sick.

“What is Mr. Oundel's occupation? Or is he a gentleman of leisure?”

“Bless you, sir, 'e's retired. Must be eighty if 'e's a day, poor old gentleman.”

“Oh.” Monk felt such an overwhelming relief it was absurd. He wanted to smile, to say something wild and happy.

Hagger would think he had taken leave of his wits-or at the very least his manners. “Yes-yes, I see. Thank you very much. You have been most helpful. Perhaps I should speak to her ladies' maid? She is still in the house?”

“Oh yes sir, we wouldn't presume to let any of the staff go until-I mean…” Hagger stopped awkardly.

“Of course,” Monk agreed. “I understand. Let us hope it doesn't come to that.” He rose to his feet.

Hagger also rose to his feet, his face tightened, and he fumbled awkwardly. “Is there any hope, sir, that…”

“I don't know,” Monk said candidly. “What I need to know, Mr. Hagger, is what reason Mrs. Carlyon could possibly have for wishing her husband dead.”

“Oh-I'm sure I can't think of any! Can't you-I mean, I wish…”

“No,” Monk cut off hope instantly. “I am afraid she is definitely responsible; there can be no doubt.”

Hagger's face fell.”I see. I had hoped-I mean… someone else… and she was protecting them.”

“Is that the sort of person she was?”

“Yes sir, I believe so-a great deal of courage, stood up to anyone to protect 'er own…”

“Miss Sabella?”

“Yes sir-but…” Hagger was caught in a dilemma, his face pink, his body stiff.

“It's all right,” Monk assured him. “Miss Sabella was not responsible. That is beyond question.”

Hagger relaxed a little. “I don't know 'ow to 'elp,” he said miserably.”There isn't any reason why a decent woman kills her husband-unless he threatened her life.”

“Was the general ever violent towards her?”

Hagger looked shocked. “Oh no sir! Most certainly not.”

“Would you know, if he had been?”

“I believe so, sir. But you can ask Ginny, what's Mrs. Carlyon's maid. She'd know beyond question.”

“I'll do that, Mr. Hagger, if you will be so good as to allow me to go upstairs and find her?”

“I'll 'ave 'er sent for.”

“No-I should prefer to speak to her in her normal place of work, if you please. Make her less nervous, you understand?” Actually that was not the reason. Monk wished to see Alexandra's bedroom and if possible her dressing room and something of her wardrobe. It would furnish him a better picture of the woman. All he had seen her wearing was a dark skirt and plain blouse; far from her usual dress, he imagined.

“By all means,” Hagger concurred. “If you'll follow me, sir.” And he led the way through a surprisingly busy kitchen, where the cook was presiding over the first preparation for a large dinner. The scullery maid had apparently already prepared the vegetables, the kitchen maid was carrying dirty pots and pans to the sink for the scullery maid to wash, and the cook herself was chopping large quantities of meat ready to put into a pie dish, lined with pastry, and the crust ready rolled to go on when she had finished.

A packet of Purcel's portable jelly mixture, newly available since the Great Exhibition of 1851, was hying ready to make for a later course, along with cold apple pie, cream and fresh cheese. It looked as if the meal would feed a dozen.

Then of course Monk remembered that even when all the family were at home, they only added three more to the household, which was predominantly staff, and with upstairs and downstairs, indoor and outdoor, must have numbered at least twelve, and they continued regardless of the death of the general or the imprisonment of Mrs. Carlyon, at least for the moment.

Along the corridor they passed the pantry, where a footman was cleaning the knives with India rubber, a buff leather knife board and a green-and-red tin of Wellington knife polish. Then past the housekeeper's sitting room with door closed, the butler's sitting room similarly, and through the green baize door to the main house. Of course most of the cleaning work would normally be done before the family rose for breakfast, but at present there was hardly any need, so the maids had an extra hour in bed, and were now occupied in sweeping, beating carpets, polishing floors with melted candle ends and turpentine, cleaning brass with boiling vinegar.

Up the stairs and along the landing Monk followed Hagger until they came to the master bedroom, apparently the general's, past his dressing room next door, and on to a very fine sunny and spacious room which he announced as being Mrs. Carlyon's. Opening off it to the left was a dressing room where cupboard doors stood open and a ladies' maid was busy brushing down a blue-gray outdoor cape which must have suited Alexandra's fair coloring excellently.

The girl looked up in surprise as she saw Hagger, and Monk behind him. Monk judged her to be in her mid-twenties, thin and dark, but with a remarkably pleasant countenance.

Hagger wasted no time. “Ginny, this is Mr. Monk. He is working for the mistress's lawyers, trying to find out something that will help her. He wants to ask you some questions, and you will answer him as much as you can-anything 'e wants to know. Understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Hagger.” She looked very puzzled, but not unwilling.

“Right.” Hagger turned to Monk. “You come down when you're ready, an' if there's ought else as can 'elp, let me know.”

“I will, thank you, Mr. Hagger. You have been most obliging,” Monk accepted. Then as soon as Hagger had departed and closed the door, he turned to the maid.

“Go on with what you are doing,” he requested. “I shall be sometime.”

“I'm sure I don't know what I can tell you,” Ginny said, obediently continuing to brush the cape. “She was always a very good mistress to me.”

“In what way good?”

She looked surprised. “Well… considerate, like. She apologized if she got anything extra dirty, or if she kept me up extra late. She gave me things as she didn't want no more, and always asked after me family, and the like.”

“You were fond of her?”

“Very fond of 'er, Mr.-”

“Monk.”

“Mr. Monk, can you 'elp 'er now? I mean, after she said as she done it?” Her face was puckered with anxiety.

“I don't know,” Monk admitted. “If there were some reason why, that people could understand, it might help.”

“What would anybody understand, as why a lady should kill 'er 'usband?” Ginny put away the cape and brought out a gown of a most unusual deep mulberry shade. She shook it and a perfume came from its folds that caught Monk with a jolt of memory so violent he saw a whole scene of a woman in pink, standing with her back to him, weeping softly. He had no idea what her face was like, except he found it beautiful, and he recalled none of her words. But the feeling was intense, an emotion that shook him and filled his being, an urgency amounting to passion that he must find the truth, and free her from a terrible danger, one that would destroy her life and her reputation.