Twisted Root - Anne Perry [5]
For the moment Monk had a case himself, and he must make himself ready to go with Lucius Stourbridge.
The Stourbridge house in Cleveland Square in Bayswater was handsome in the effortless style of those to whom money is not of concern. Its beauty was restrained, and it had obviously been designed in an earlier and simpler age. Monk found it greatly pleasing and would have paused to admire it longer had not Lucius strode ahead of him to the front door and opened it without waiting for a footman or maid.
"Come in," he invited Monk, standing back and waving his hand as if to urge him to hurry.
Monk stepped inside, but was given no time to look around him at the hallway with its family portraits against the oak paneling. He was dimly aware of one picture dominating the others, a portrait of a horseman in the uniform of the Hussars at the time of Waterloo. Presumably he was some earlier Stourbridge, also of military distinction.
Lucius was walking rapidly across the dark tiled floor towards the farthest doorway. Monk followed after him, no more than glancing up at the finely plastered ceiling or the wide stairway.
Lucius knocked on the door and, after the slightest hesitation, turned the handle and opened it. Only then did he look back at Monk. "Please come in," he urged. "I am sure you will wish to meet my father, and perhaps compare with him all that I have told you." He stood aside, his face furrowed with anxiety, his body stiff. "Father, this is Mr. William Monk. He has agreed to help us."
Monk walked past Lucius into the room beyond. He had a brief impression of comfortable, well-used furniture, not there for effect but for the pleasure of the occupant, before his attention was taken by the man who stood up from one of the dark leather armchairs and came towards him. He was slender, and of little more than average height, but there was a vigor and grace in him which made him commanding. He was of similar build to Lucius, but in no other way resembled him. He must have been in his fifties, but his fair hair was hardly touched with gray and his blue eyes were surrounded by fine lines, as if he had spent years narrowing them against a brilliant light.
"How do you do, Mr. Monk," he said immediately, offering his hand. "Harry Stourbridge. My son tells me you are a man who may be able to help us in our family misfortune. I am delighted you have agreed to try, and most grateful."
"How do you do, Major Stourbridge," Monk said with unaccustomed formality. He shook Stourbridge’s hand, and looking at him a little more closely, saw the anxiety in the older man’s face that courtesy could not hide. There was no sign of relief that Miriam Gardiner had gone. For whatever reasons, he was deeply troubled by her disappearance also. "I shall do my best," Monk promised, painfully aware of how little that might be.
"Sit down," Stourbridge said, indicating one of the other chairs. "Luncheon will be in an hour. Will you join us?"
"Thank you," Monk accepted. It would give him an opportunity to observe the family together and to form some opinion of their relationships—and perhaps how Miriam Gardiner might have fitted in as Lucius’s wife. "But before that, sir, I should like to speak more confidentially to you. There are a number of questions I need to ask."
"Of course, of course," Stourbridge agreed, not sitting but moving restlessly about the room, in and out of the broad splashes of sunlight coming through the windows. "Lucius, perhaps if you were to call upon your mother?" It was a polite and fairly meaningless suggestion, intended to offer him an excuse to leave.
Lucius hesitated. He seemed to find it difficult to tear himself away from the only thing that mattered to him at the moment. His intelligence must have told him there were discussions better held in his absence, but he could not put his mind or his imagination to anything else.
"She has missed you," the elder Stourbridge prompted. "She will be pleased to hear that Mr. Monk is willing