find out?" If she had any feelings under her exquisite exterior, like generations of her kind she had been bred to conceal them, never to indulge herself in weakness or vulgarity. Courage and good taste were her household gods and no sacrifice to them was questioned, nor too great, made daily and without fuss.
Monk ignored Runcorn's admonition, and wondered in passing how often he had done so in the past. There had been a certain asperity in Runcorn's tone this morning which surpassed simply frustration with the case, or Lady Shelburne's letter.
"We believe it was someone who knew Major Grey," he answered her. "And planned to kill him."
"Nonsense!" Her response was immediate. "Why should anyone who knew my son have wished to kill him? He was a man of the greatest charm; everyone liked him, even those who barely knew him." She stood up and walked over towards the window, her back half to him. "Perhaps that is difficult for you to understand; but you never met him. Lovel, my eldest son, has the sobriety, the sense of responsibility, and something of a gift to manage men; Menard is excellent with facts and figures. He can make anything profitable; but it was Joscelin who had the charm, Joscelin who could make one laugh." There was a catch in her voice now, the sound of real grief. "Menard cannot sing as Joscelin could; and Lovel has no imagination. He will make an excellent master of Shelburne. He will govern it well and be just to everyone, as just as it is wise to be-but my God"-there was sudden heat in her voice, almost passion-"compared with Joscelin, he is such a bore!"
Suddenly Monk was touched by the sense of loss that came through her words, the loneliness, the feeling that something irrecoverably pleasing had gone from her life and part of her could only look backwards from now on.
"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it deeply. "I know it cannot bring him back, but we will find the man, and he will be punished."
"Hanged," she said tonelessly. "Taken out one morning and his neck broken on the rope."
"Yes."
"That is of little use to me." She turned back to him. "But it is better than nothing. See to it that it is done."
It was dismissal, but he was not yet ready to go. There were things he needed to know. He stood up.
"I mean to, ma'am; but I still need your help-"
"Mine?" Her voice expressed surprise, and disapproval.
"Yes ma'am. If I am to learn who hated Major Grey enough to kill him"-he caught her expression-"for whatever reason. The finest people, ma'am, can inspire envy, or greed, jealousy over a woman, a debt of honor that cannot be paid-"
"Yes, you make your point." She blinked and the muscles in her thin neck tightened. "What is your name?"
"William Monk."
"Indeed. And what is it you wish to know about my son, Mr. Monk?"
"To start with, I would like to meet the rest of the family."
Her eyebrows rose in faint, dry amusement.
"You think I am biased, Mr. Monk, that I have told you something less than the truth?"
"We frequently show only our most flattering sides to those we care for most, and who care for us," he replied quietly.
"How perceptive of you." Her voice was stinging. He tried to guess what well-covered pain was behind those words.
"When may I speak to Lord Shelburne?" he asked. "And anyone else who knew Major Grey well?"
"If you consider it necessary, I suppose you had better." She went back to the door. "Wait here, and I shall ask him to see you, when it is convenient." She pulled the door open and walked through without looking back at him.
He sat down, half facing the window. Outside a woman in a plain stuff dress walked past, a basket on her arm. For a wild moment memory surged back to him. He saw in his mind a child as well, a girl with dark hair, and he knew the cobbled street beyond the trees, going down to the water. There was something missing; he struggled for it, and then knew it was wind, and the scream of gulls. It was a memory of happiness, of complete safety. Childhood-perhaps his mother, and Beth?
Then it was gone. He fought to add to it, focus it more sharply and see the details again, but nothing else came.
He was an adult back in Shelburne, with the murder of Joscelin Grey.