A Breach of Promise - Anne Perry [115]
She scowled at him. “Look at Gabriel and Perdita.” She clenched her hands. “He’s been taught to be brave, never to explain, never to ask for help. He’s been given a hero’s image to live up to, and he’s riddled with guilt because he thinks he can’t. And she’s been taught to be helpless and stupid because that’s what men want, and all she should do is be a sweet-natured, obedient ornament.” Her face was puckered, all her muscles tight. “And she has to sit by and watch him hurt, because he thinks he should be looking after her, and he can’t even look after himself.”
She drew breath. “And that idiot Athol Sheldon bumbles around telling them it would all be all right if they just behaved normally and forgot the grief and pain and the horror as if it never happened and all those people never died. It’s a mockery of the reality of life. It makes me so angry I could …”
She was at a loss for words. He could not remember ever seeing that before. He wanted to say something to show he understood and felt the same anger and loss.
He also thought, against his will and with a curious, sharp hunger, of all the things she had said about joy and not being alone, of having the opportunity to share with someone the bonds of honesty and familiarity which are the deepest of all friendships, the losing of the barriers of fear, which divide.
He reached forward and took her hands and held them in his, quite gently, feeling after a moment her fingers respond. It was not a strong grasp, not a clinging, just a knowledge of the other’s being there, a gentleness for which there were no words, perhaps even a memory of many other times when they had felt the same but had remained separate.
It was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs which disturbed them. Hester pulled away slowly, turning to the door as Perdita came in.
“Oh!” she said, seeing Monk. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hester … I don’t know what to do. It’s just impossible. I can’t manage this!” She was obviously on the edge of tears, her face pink, and she was breathing rapidly. She behaved as if she had already forgotten Monk was there or simply was past caring.
Hester was on the very edge of losing her temper. Monk could see it in the rigidity of her body, especially her neck. When she spoke her voice was brittle.
“Well, if you really can’t, perhaps you had better give up,” she answered. “I don’t know quite what that means. I suppose you do or you wouldn’t have said it. Have the staff look after Gabriel, and you lead a separate life. I don’t know whether you could afford it financially. Maybe Athol would help? Or if you ask him, Gabriel would release you from the marriage altogether. He offered to before. You told me that when I first came. Only then, of course, you said you wouldn’t dream of it.”
Perdita looked as if she had been struck in the face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slack.
“I’m sure you could marry again,” Hester went on ruthlessly, her voice getting harder and heavier. “You are very pretty—in fact, quite beautiful—and you have a very docile and agreeable nature … just what most men want—”
“Stop it!” Perdita shouted at her. “You mean I’m stupid and cowardly, and no use for anything but to do as I’m told! I’m fine when everything is all right. I can simper and smile and flatter people and be obedient. I can keep my place and make anyone feel comfortable … and superior. But when something goes wrong, and you need a woman with courage and intelligence, I just run away. I don’t think of anybody but myself. How I feel … and what I want.” Her lips were trembling, but she did not stop. She gulped and swallowed, glaring at Hester. “Then you can step in, all brave and unselfish. You know what to do, what to say. You’re never afraid, never confused. Nothing ever revolts you or makes you want to run away and pretend it never happened!”
Her voice was rising high and becoming louder. The servants must have been able to hear her as far as the kitchen. “Well, I’ll tell you something, Miss Perfect Nurse! Nobody wants a woman who is never wrong. You can’t love somebody who