Dark Assassin - Anne Perry [111]
He was startled. “You’re…why are you apologizing? What else is there that you haven’t told me, Hester?”
She stared at him. “Nothing! But they knew who I was, that I’m your wife. Aren’t policemen’s wives supposed to behave rather better than that?”
He gazed at her, wide-eyed, then he started to laugh. It was a deep, full-throated howl of incredulous hilarity.
“It’s not that funny!” she said indignantly.
But he laughed even more, and there was nothing she could do but lose her temper or join him. She chose the latter. They stood together in front of the fire, the tears running down their cheeks.
“I think you had better forget politics,” he said at last. “You aren’t any good at it.”
“I’m not usually as bad as this!” she defended herself, but without conviction. There was still defeat in her eyes.
“Yes, you are,” he replied, suddenly gentle again. “I think you should go back to nursing. At that you are superb.”
“No one will have me,” she told him ruefully.
“Yes, they will. In Portpool Lane, every one of them loves you—even Squeaky Robinson, in his own way.”
There was disbelief in her face, hesitation, then hope. “But you said—”
“I know. I was wrong.” He did not add anything because she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, kissing him long and hard.
TEN
In spite of her personal joy, Hester woke in the morning with the utmost remorse over Rose. She packed up Rose’s borrowed clothes and returned them. Her army experiences had taught her something of the suffering incurred after overindulgence in alcohol, and she knew how to minister to those afflicted. She spent several hours doing what she could for Rose, to both her and her husband’s intense gratitude, then she wished them every possible happiness and took her leave.
She arrived at the Argyll house shortly after noon.
“Good morning, Mrs. Monk,” Jenny said with some uncertainty when Hester was shown into the withdrawing room.
“Good morning, Mrs. Argyll,” Hester replied with a slight smile. “I thought that after last night’s disaster you would naturally be concerned for Mrs. Applegate. I know that you and she were friends.” A fraction of a second later she realized she had already put it in the past. “And I owe you something of an apology. Had I been aware of her susceptibility, I might have been able to prevent it. There are some people to whom even a drop of alcohol is a kind of poison.”
Jenny cleared her throat. She was obviously profoundly uncomfortable. She was still wearing black, of course, but relieved at the neck and wrists with lavender. She was not handsome, as Monk had said Mary was, but the possibilities of life, passion, and laughter were still there in her face, masked by discretion.
“I suppose it must be.” She sounded acutely uncertain, but she could hardly ask Hester to leave, unless she was prepared to be inexplicably rude. “It is something of which I have no knowledge.”
“I hope you never have to,” Hester said warmly. “I learned when I was caring for injured soldiers, and those facing death on the battlefield.” She saw Jenny’s face pinch with momentary pity. “When one is facing decisions that are almost unbearable,” Hester went on, as if now there was some kind of bond between them, “some of us do not easily find the courage to do what is right, if it might cost us all we hold dear. I am sure you have the sensitivity to understand that, Mrs. Argyll.”
“I…er…” Jenny appeared to know that the conversation was leading somewhere she did not wish to go. There was a purpose in Hester’s bearing she could not have mistaken. This was no idle call.
Hester forced open the crack of opportunity. “I am sure you are looking for the kindest way to enquire how poor Rose is this morning,” she lied. “I have been to see her; she is in great discomfort,