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Monk flung the front door open almost before the carriage had stopped. When Hester alighted he strode out into the street, disregarding the rain.
"Where have you been?" he demanded. "You're soaked and you look terrible. You were supposed to…" Then he saw the expression on her face and stopped. "What is it?"
Hester thanked the coachman and went inside. She was shivering again, so she sat down in the chair nearest the fire and huddled into herself. Now that she was no longer faced with Morgan Applegate's grief or Rose's urgent need, a profound sense of defeat settled over her. She wondered how she could ever have been so stupid as to think they could beat such vested interests. Her hubris had created her own downfall, and in her unthinking ignorance she had taken Rose with her.
"What happened?" Monk said again.
She described it as accurately as she could remember, although she left out a good deal of what Rose had said and summarized the rest. "Argyll must have put alcohol in her lemonade," she finished. "I don't know how-I didn't see anything more than his hand over it for a moment. After tonight's performance she'll have to disappear, and neither she nor her husband will be able to give evidence of anything. And we won't force anything out of Je
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 fu
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 ru
"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," Je
"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."
Je
"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 Je
"I… er…" Je
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, but it will pass. I don't believe any physical damage has been done to her, but the injury to her reputation will never heal."
"I imagine not," Je
"I wouldn't think of it!" Hester said quickly. "I have no idea what anyone could do that would help, or the faintest reason why you should compromise your own standing by attempting it."
Je
"I agree entirely," Hester concurred. "I knew you would have the compassion and the delicacy to understand."
Je
"I am so sorry," Hester added.
"Sorry?"
"Rose did not drink alcohol intentionally," Hester explained. "Or even knowingly. It was given to her by someone who wished to discredit her to a degree where she would not be able to appear in public in the foreseeable future." She had already decided that to blame Argyll immediately would be very bad strategy. She must adopt the line taken by the prosecution, the newspapers, and public opinion in general.
Je
Hester frowned, as if concentrating. "She must have been aware of her trouble," she replied. "It can hardly have happened in public recently, or we would all know of it; therefore it took her by surprise also. Someone else caused it. She drank only lemonade."
Je
Hester had not eaten them, but she should have thought of that. So should have Rose! "Would… would it be enough?" she said, to fill the growing silence. She was playing a game of wits, and she had no time to spin it out. The trial was drawing closer to its verdict, which would be issued any day. Rathbone's time was short, and once the defense started he might not be able to introduce new evidence. She hated having to be so brutal.
Je