him, may I ask?'
'An incompetent and insufferable nincompoop!'
'Which of course you told him?'
Hester glared back at her. 'Certainly!'
'Quite so. I think he had more of the right of it than you did. I don't think he is incompetent. He has been given an extremely difficult task. There were a great many people who might have hated Joscelin, and it will be exceedingly difficult for a policeman, with all his disadvantages, to discover which one it was-and even harder, I imagine, to prove it.'
'You mean, you think-' Hester left it unsaid, hanging in the air.
'I do,' Callandra replied. 'Now come, we must settle what you are to do with yourself. I shall write to certain friends I have, and I have little doubt, if you hold a civil tongue in your head, refrain from expressing your opinion of men in general and of Her Majesty's Army's generals in particular, we may obtain for you a position in hospital administration which will not only be satisfying to you but also to those who are unfortunate enough to be ill.'
'Thank you.' Hester smiled. 'I am very grateful.' She looked down in her lap for a moment, then up at Callandra and her eyes sparkled. 'I really do not mind walking two paces behind a man, you know-if only I can find one who can walk two paces faster than I! It is being tied at the knees by convention I hate-and having to pretend I am lame to suit someone else's vanity.'
Callandra shook her head very slowly, amusement and sadness sharp in her face. 'I know. Perhaps you will have to fall a few times, and have someone else pick you up, before you will learn a more equable pace. But do not walk slowly simply for company-ever. Not even God would wish you to be unequally yoked and result in destroying both of you-in fact God least of all.'
Hester sat back and smiled, lifting up her knees and hugging them in a most unladylike fashion. 'I daresay I shall fall many times-and look excessively foolish-and give rise to a good deal of hilarity among those who dislike me-but that is still better than not trying.'
'Indeed it is,' Callandra agreed. 'But you would do it anyway.'
8
The most productive of Joscelin Grey's acquaintances was one of the last that Monk and Evan visited, and not from Lady Fabia's list, but from the letters in the flat. They had spent over a week in the area near Shelburne, discreetly questioning on the pretense of tracing a jewel thief who specialized in country houses. They had learned something of Joscelin Grey, of the kind of life he led, at least while home from London. And Monk had had the unnerving and extremely irritating experience one day while walking across the Shelburne parkland of coming upon the woman who had been with Mrs. Latterly in St. Marylebone Church. Perhaps he should not have been startled- after all, society was very small-but it had taken him aback completely. The whole episode in the church with its powerful emotion had returned in the windy, rain-spattered land with its huge trees, and Shelburne House in the distance.
There was no reason why she should not have visited the family, precisely as he later discovered. She was a Miss Hester Latterly, who had nursed in the Crimea, and was a friend of Lady Callandra Daviot. As she had told him, she had known Joscelin Grey briefly at the time of his injury. It was most natural that once she was home she should give her condolences in person. And also certainly within her nature that she should be outstandingly rude to a policeman.
And give the devil her due, he had been rude back- and gained considerable satisfaction from it. It would all have been of no possible consequence were she not obviously related to the woman in the church whose face so haunted him.
What had they learned? Joscelin Grey was liked, even envied for his ease of manner, his quick smile and a gift for making people laugh; and perhaps even more rattier than less, because the amusement had frequently an underlying caustic quality. What had surprised Monk was that he was also, if not pitied, then sympathized with because he was a younger son. The usual careers open to younger sons such as the church and the army were either totally unsuitable to him or else denied him now because of his injury, gained in the service of his country. The heiress he had courted had married his elder brother, and he had not yet found another to replace her, at least not one whose family considered him a suitable match. He was, after all, invalided out of the army, without a mer- chandisable skill and without financial expectations.
Evan had acquired a rapid education in the manners and morals of his financial betters, and now was feeling both bemused and disillusioned. He sat in the train staring out of the window, and Monk regarded him with a compassion not unmixed with humor. He knew the feeling, although he could not recall experiencing it himself. Was it possible he had never been so young? It was an unpleasant thought that he might always have been cynical, without that particular kind of innocence, even as a child.
Discovering himself step by step, as one might a stranger, was stretching his nerves further than he had been aware of until now. Sometimes he woke in the night, afraid of knowledge, feeling himself full of unknown shames and disappointments. The shapelessness of his doubt was worse than certainty would have been; even certainty of arrogance, indifference, or of having overridden justice for the sake of ambition.
But the more he pulled and struggled with it, the more stubbornly it resisted; it would come only thread by thread, without cohesion, a fragment at a time. Where had he learned his careful, precise diction? Who had taught him to move and to dress like a gentleman, to be so easy in his manners? Had he merely aped his betters over the years? Something very vague stirred in his mind, a feeling rather than a thought, that there had been someone he admired, someone who had taken time and trouble, a mentor-but no voice, nothing but an impression of working, practicing-and an ideal.
The people from whom they learned more about Joscelin Grey were the Dawlishes. Their house was in Primrose Hill, not far from the Zoological Gardens, and Monk and Evan went to visit them the day after returning from Shel-burne. They were admitted by a butler too well trained to show surprise, even at the sight of policemen on the front doorstep. Mrs. Dawlish received them in the morning room. She was a small, mild-featured woman with faded hazel eyes and brown hair which escaped its pins.
'Mr. Monk?' She queried his name because it obviously meant nothing to her.
Monk bowed very slightly.
'Yes ma'am; and Mr. Evan. If Mr. Evan might have your permission to speak to the servants and see if they can be of assistance?'
'I think it unlikely, Mr. Monk.' The idea was obviously futile in her estimation. 'But as long as he does not distract them from their duties, of course he may.'
'Thank you, ma'am.' Evan departed with alacrity, leaving Monk still standing.
'About poor Joscelin Grey?' Mrs. Dawlish was puzzled and a little nervous, but apparently not unwilling to help. 'What can we tell you? It was a most terrible tragedy. We had not known him very long, you know.'
'How long, Mrs. Dawlish?'
'About five weeks before he… died.' She sat down and he was glad to follow suit. 'I believe it cannot have been more.'
'But you invited him to stay with you? Do you often do that, on such short acquaintance?'
She shook her head, another strand of hair came undone and she ignored it.
'No, no hardly ever. But of course he was Menard Grey's brother-' Her face was suddenly hurt, as if something had betrayed her inexplicably and without warning, wounding where she had believed herself safe. 'And Jos-celin was so charming, so very natural,' she went on. 'And of course he also knew Edward, my eldest son, who was killed at Inkermann.'
'I'm sorry.'
Her face was very stiff, and for a moment he was afraid she would not be able to control herself. He spoke to cover the silence and her embarrassment.
'You said 'also.' Did Menard Grey know your son?'
'Oh yes,' she said quietly. 'They were close friends- for years.' Her eyes filled with tears. 'Since school.'
'So you invited Joscelin Grey to Stay with you?' He did not wait for her to reply; she was beyond speech.
