A Sudden, Fearful Death

"Of course there are." Her voice was harsh with anger and misery. "The worst of this is how Julia will feel about it. She will be destroyed. How can she ever feel the same about me, even if she truly believes it was the farthest thing from my wishes? I did nothing whatsoever to lead him to think I would ever be willing, and that is true, Mr. Monk! I swear it by all I hold dear-"

"I know that," he said, interrupting her. "That is not what I mean."

"Then what?" she demanded abruptly. "What else could be of importance beside that?'

"Why do you believe that it will never happen again?"

Her face was white. She swallowed with difficulty. She started to speak, and then stopped.

"Have you any protection against it happening again?" he insisted quietly.

"I-but…" She looked down. "Surely that was just one terrible lapse in-in an otherwise exemplary man? I am sure he loves Julia…"

"What would you have said about the possibility of it ever happening a week before it did? Did you know or expect him to do such a thing?"

Now her eyes were blazing.

"Of course not. That is a dreadful thing to say. No! No, I had no idea! Never!" She turned away abruptly, violently, as if he had offered her some physical attack.

"Then you cannot say that it will not happen again," he reasoned. "I'm sorry." He hovered on the edge of adding the possibility of becoming with child, and then remembered what Hester and Callandra had said. Marianne might not even be aware of how children were begotten, and he said nothing. Helplessness and inadequacy choked him.

"It must have cost you to tell me that." She looked back at him slowly, her face drained. "There are many men who would not have found the courage. Thank you at least for that."

"Now I must see Mrs. Penrose. I wish I could think of another way, but I cannot."

"She is in the withdrawing room. I shall wait in my bedroom. I expect Audley will ask me to leave and Julia will wish me to." And with quivering lips she turned and walked to the door too rapidly for him to reach it ahead of her. She fumbled with the knob, then flung it open and went out across the hall to the stairway, head high, her step clumsy.

He stood still for a moment, tempted to try one more time to think of another way. Then intelligence reasserted itself over emotion, and he went the now familiar way to knock on the withdrawing room door.

He was bidden to enter. Julia was standing at the central table before a vase of flowers, a long, bright stem of delphinium in her hand. Apparently she had not liked the position of it and had chosen to rearrange it herself. When she saw who it was she poked the flower in the back lopsidedly and without bothering to adjust it.

"Good morning, Mr. Monk." Her voice shook a little. She searched his face and saw something in its expression that frightened her. "What is it?'

He closed the door behind him. This was going to be acutely painful. There was no escape, no way even to mitigate it.

"I am afraid that what I told you yesterday was not the truth, Mrs. Penrose."

She stared at him without speaking. The shadow of surprise and anger across her eyes did not outweigh the fear.

This was like looking at something and deliberately killing it. Once he had told her it would be irretrievable. He had already made the decision, and yet he found himself hesitating even now.

"You had better explain yourself, Mr. Monk," she said at last, her voice catching. She swallowed to clear her throat. "Merely to say that is not sufficient. In what respect have you lied to me, and why?"

He answered the second question first. "Because the truth is so unpleasant that I wished to spare you from it, ma'am. And it was Miss Gillespie's wish also. Indeed, she denied it at first, until the weight of evidence made that no longer possible. Then she implored me not to tell you. She was prepared to accept any consequence of it herself rather than have you know. That was why it was necessary for me to speak to her this morning to tell her I could no longer keep my word to her."

Julia was so white he was afraid she would faint from lack of blood. Very slowly she backed away from the table with its bright flowers and reached behind her for the arm of the settee. She sank into it, still staring at him.

"You had better tell me what it is, Mr. Monk. I have to know. Do you know who raped my sister?"

"Yes, I am afraid I do." He took a deep breath. He tried one last thing, although he knew it would be futile. "I still think it would be better if you did not pursue the matter. You cannot prosecute. Perhaps if you were to find some other area for your sister to live, where she could not encounter him again? Do you have a relative, an aunt perhaps, with whom she could stay?"