in thought. I have learned much from him, Mr. Monk. His integrity was something I admired intensely, and I wished to pattern myself upon it. He was truly a man to whom true goodness was the highest aim, above wealth or status or the pleasures of his success.” He leaned towards Monk. “And he understood goodness! He did not mistake it for some new absence of outward vice. He knew it for honor, generosity, loyalty, tolerance of others and the gift of gratitude without a shred of arrogance.”
Monk was surprised, not only by what he said but by the depth of his emotion.
“You speak very well of him, Mr. Niven, considering that he is largely responsible for your present misfortune,” he said, rising to his feet.
Niven stood also, his face flushed pink.
“I have lost my wealth and my position, sir, but not my honor. What I say is no less than I have observed.”
“That is apparent,” 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 naïveté. 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 a long 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 wherea 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.
Monk was surprised, not only by what he said but by the depth of his emotion.
“You speak very well of him, Mr. Niven, considering that he is largely responsible for your present misfortune,” he said, rising to his feet.
Niven stood also, his face flushed pink.
“I have lost my wealth and my position, sir, but not my honor. What I say is no less than I have observed.”
“That is apparent,” 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 naïveté. 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 a long 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 wherea 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.
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