Cain His Brother by Anne Perry Page A

Monk acknowledged with an inclination of his head.
    “Thank you for your time.”
    “I fear I have been of little service.” Niven moved towards the door.
    Monk did not explain that he had not expected to learn anything of Angus from him, but only to make some estimate as to the likelihood of Niven's having harmed Angus himself. Niven was a man of quick intelligence, but also a certain naivete. It would be an unnecessary cruelty to suggest that now.
    Monk expended some further effort trying to learn more of Angus from various social and professional acquaintances, but nothing varied from the picture already painted. The Stonefields had enjoyed several pleasant friendships but entertained little. Enjoyment seemed to be within the family, with the exception of the occasional evenings at concerts or the theater. Certainly their manner of living was very well within their means, although those means must now be growing considerably thinner as she was unable to draw from the business. And since he was nominally still in charge, Genevieve was unable to exercise any jurisdiction herself, or to claim any inheritance.
    “What am I to do?” she said desperately when Monk called on her at the end of along and fruitless day, now nine days since Angus's disappearance.
    “What if you never find… Angus's body?” There was a crack in her voice and she was keeping her composure only with a visible effort.
    Monk longed to comfort her, and yet he could not lie. He toyed with it. He turned over in his mind all the possibilities, seriously considering each.
    And yet he could not force the words out.
    “There are other ways of satisfying the authorities of death, Mrs.
    Stonefield,” he answered her. “Especially where a tidal river like the Thames is concerned. But they will require that all other avenues are explored as well.”
    “You will not find anything, Mr. Monk,” she said flatly. They were standing in the withdrawing room. It was cold. The fire was not lit, nor were the lamps. “I understand why you must do it, but it is a waste of your time, and mine,” she continued. “And I have less and less left as each day goes by.” She turned away. “I dare not spend money on anything but necessities, food and coal. I do not know how long that will last. I cannot think of things like boots, and James is growing out of his. Already his toes press against the leather. I was about to purchase them…” She did not add the rest; it was obvious, and she did not wish to say it again.
    “Will you not consider accepting Lord Ravensbrook's offer, at least temporarily?” Monk asked. He could understand her reluctance to be dependent upon someone else's kindness, but this was not a time to allow pride to dictate.
    She took a deep breath. The muscles tightened in her neck and shoulders, pulling the fabric of her blue, checked dress till he could see the line of stitches at the seam.
    “I don't believe it is what Angus would have wished,” she said so quietly he barely heard her. She seemed to be speaking as much to herself as to him. “On the other hand,” she went on, scowling in concentration, “he would not wish us to be in want.” She shivered as if the thought made her cold, and not the room.
    “It is only just over a week, Mrs. Stonefield,” he pointed out as gently as he could. “I am sure Lord Ravensbrook would advance you sufficient funds for immediate necessities, against the estate, if you do not wish to accept a gift. There cannot be much else that will not wait. If the boots have served until now-”
    She swung around to him, her eyes frightened, her hands clenched. “You don't understand!” Her voice rose with a high pitch of fear in it. She was accusing, angry with him. “Angus isn't going to come back! Caleb has finally mur- dered him, and we shall be left on our own with nothing! Today it is just a matter of being a little careful with food. No meat except on Sundays, a little herring or bloater, onions,