evening, sir.”
Breeland did not move. His face was pale, his hands clenched at his sides. But before he could find the words to retaliate, the door opened behind him, and Merrit Alberton came in.
Her gown was deep pink, her fair hair elaborately coiled but now in some disarray. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes brilliant. She ignored Monk, glanced only briefly at Breeland, but deliberately stood close beside him. She addressed her father.
“What you are doing is immoral! You have made a mistake in offering the guns to the Confederates. You would never have thought of doing it were they rebels against England!” Her voice was rising higher and sharper all the time in her indignation. “If we still had slavery here, would you sell guns to slave traders so they could shoot at our army, and navy, even our men and women in their own homes, because we wanted all people to be free? Would you?”
“That is hardly a comparison, Merrit-”
“Yes, it is! The Rebels keep slaves!” She was shaking with emotion. “They buy men and women, and children, and use them like animals! How could you sell guns to people like that? Have you no morality at all? Is it just money? Is that it?” Almost unconsciously she was moving even closer to Breeland, who was watching with an almost impassive face.
“Merrit-” Alberton began.
But she cut him off. “There’s no argument can justify what you are doing! I am so ashamed of you I can hardly bear it!”
He made a gesture of helplessness. “Merrit, it is not so simple as-”
Again she refused to listen. She still seemed unaware of Monk’s presence. Her voice rose even more shrilly as her outrage drove her on. “Yes, it is! You are selling guns to people who keep slaves, and they are at war with their countrymen who want to prevent that and set the slaves free.” She flung her arm out furiously. “Money! It’s all about money, and it’s pure evil! I don’t know how you, my own father, can even try to justify it, let alone be part of it. You are selling death to people who will use it in the worst possible cause!”
Breeland moved as if to put his hand on her arm.
At last Alberton’s temper gave way. “Merrit, be quiet! You don’t know what you are talking about! Leave us alone.…”
“I won’t! I can’t,” she protested. “I do know what I am talking about. Lyman has told me. And so do you, that’s the worst of it! You know, and still you are prepared to do it!” She took a step towards him, ignoring Monk and Breeland, her face crumpled, brows drawn down. “Please, Papa! Please, for the sake of all the enslaved, for the sake of justice and freedom, above all for your own sake, sell the guns to the Union, not to the Rebels! Just say you can’t support slavery. You won’t even lose any money … Lyman can pay you the whole amount.”
“It’s not about money.” Alberton’s voice was also louder now, and sharp with hurt. “For God’s sake, Merrit, you know me better than that!” He ignored Breeland as if he had not been present. “I gave my word to Trace and I won’t break it. I don’t agree with slavery any more than you do, but I don’t agree with the Union’s forcing the South to remain part of it under their government either, if they don’t want to! There are lots of different kinds of freedom. There’s freedom from hunger and the bondage of poverty as well as the sort of slavery you’re talking about. There’s-”
“Sophistry!” she said, her face flooding with color. “You’re happy enough to live here and make your own way. You aren’t standing for Parliament to try to change our lives to stop hunger and oppression. You’re a hypocrite!” It was the worst word she could think of, and the bitterness of it was in her eyes and her voice.
Breeland stared coldly at Alberton. It seemed at last he understood that he would not change his mind. If all that Merrit had said did not affect him, there was nothing else for him to add.
“I am sorry that you have seen fit to act against us, sir,” he said stiffly. “But we shall prevail, nevertheless. We shall obtain what we need in order to win, whatever sacrifice it requires of us and whatever the cost.” And with only a glance at Merrit, as if knowing she would understand, he turned on his heel and strode out. They heard his footsteps move sharply across the wooden floor of the hall.
Merrit stared at her father, her eyes hot and wretched. “I hate everything you stand for!” she said furiously. “I despise it so much I am ashamed that I live under your roof or that you paid for the food in my mouth and the clothes on my back!” And she too ran out, her feet light and rapid, heels clattering across the floor and up the stairs.
Alberton looked at Monk.
“I am profoundly sorry, Monk,” he said miserably. “I had no idea you would be subjected to such unpleasantness. I can only apologize.”
Before he could add anything further, Judith Alberton appeared at the door. She looked a little pale, and quite obviously she had overheard at least the last part of the argument. She glanced at Monk, embarrassed, then at her husband.
“I am afraid she is in love with Mr. Breeland,” she said awkwardly. “Or she thinks she is.” She watched Alberton with anxiety. “It may take a little while, Daniel, but she will think better of this. She’ll be sorry she spoke so …” She faltered, uncertain what word she could use.
Monk took the opportunity to excuse himself. He had said all he had meant to about his enquiry. The Albertons should be permitted privacy in which to resolve their difficulties.
“I shall keep you informed of everything else I hear,” he promised.
“Thank you,” Alberton said warmly, holding out his hand. “I … I am very sorry for this unpleasantness. I am afraid emotions run very high in this American affair. I think we have barely seen the beginning of it.”
Monk feared he was correct, but he said no more, wishing them good night and allowing the butler to show him out.
He woke confused, wondering for a moment where he was, struggling to separate the persistent noise from the last shreds of his dream. He sat up quickly. It was daylight, but shadowy and thin. The noise continued.
Hester was awake. “Who can it be?” she asked anxiously, sitting upright, her hair falling around her shoulders. “It’s quarter to four!”
Monk climbed out of bed and grasped his dressing gown. He put it on hastily and went through to the front of the house, where the knocking was now louder and more persistent. He had not bothered with boots or trousers. Whoever it was seemed so desperate they were determined to wake someone even if it meant disturbing the entire neighborhood.
Monk fumbled for a moment with the lock and then opened the door.
Robert Casbolt stood on the step in the thin dawn light, his face unshaven, his hair rumpled.
“Come in.” Monk stepped back, holding the door wide.
Casbolt obeyed without hesitation, and began speaking even before he was over the threshold.
“I’m sorry to disturb you in such a frantic manner, but I’m terribly afraid something irreparable may have happened.” His words stumbled as if he could barely control his tongue. “Judith-Mrs. Alberton sent me a note. She is beside herself with worry. Daniel left shortly after you did and he has not returned. She said Breeland was there yesterday evening and was very angry indeed … even threatening. She is terrified that … I’m sorry.” He brushed his hand across his face as if to clear his vision and steady himself. “What is worse is that Merrit has disappeared too.” He stared at Monk with horror in his eyes. “She seems to have gone straight up to her room after the quarrel with her father. Judith assumed she would stay there, in temper, and probably not come down until morning.”
Monk did not interrupt.
“But when she was unable to sleep with anxiety over Daniel,” Casbolt went on, “she went to Merrit’s room- and found her gone. She was nowhere in the house, and her maid looked and said a bag and some of her clothes were gone … a costume and at least two blouses. And her hairbrush and combs. For God’s sake, Monk, help me look for them, please.”
Monk tried to collect his thoughts and form some clear plan as to what to do first. Casbolt seemed close to the edge of hysteria. His voice was erratic and his body so tense his hands clenched and unclenched as if stillness were unbearable.
“Has Mrs. Alberton called the police?” Monk asked.
Casbolt shook his head very slightly.
“No. That was the first thing I suggested, but she was afraid if Merrit has gone to Breeland that she would be involved in scandal and it would ruin her. She …” He took a deep breath. “Honestly, Monk, I think she is afraid
