it's not a crime to allow someone to masquerade as a man while being a woman. Unless it is for the purpose of fraud, of course."
"But this wasn't!" Perdita said quickly. "She was selling her designs to Mr. Lambert, and it shouldn't matter whether she was a man or a woman for that!"
"Mr. Lambert won't take the matter any further," Monk said with a smile. "Unless he can blame someone for her death- then he will."
Gabriel was surprised. "Can he?"
Monk shrugged. "I doubt it. I thought for a little while it might somehow be murder, but that doesn't make sense, either for motive or opportunity."
"I suppose we should be pleased... I think." Hester came farther into the room at last She met Monk's eyes, searching, behind her words, to see what he felt. "I don't know if I am. I hate to think of her... so..." She did not finish the sentence.
Gabriel shot a glance at her over Perdita's head, but Perdita turned also.
"I know what you mean," she agreed. "But we cannot help. If you wish to see Mr. Monk alone for a little while, I shall stay and keep Gabriel company." She smiled self-consciously. "For once we were not talking about India. I have plans to alter the garden a little and I was telling him about it. I shall draw it out, once he agrees. Perhaps I shall even paint it."
Monk bade them good-bye, and Hester took him to the withdrawing room, where the parlormaid served them with tea and hot buttered crumpets. Monk was surprised how much he enjoyed them. He had been too angry and disturbed to think of luncheon.
"So there's really nothing more you can do for Keelin Melville, is there?" Hester asked, biting into her crumpet and trying very carefully not to drop butter down herself.
"No, it seems to be finished," he agreed. "Gabriel is correct: there are some things we'll never know, and we don't have any right to." He took a second crumpet.
"What are you going to tell Mr. Lambert?"
He looked at her across the tea tray. What did she expect of him? There was nothing to follow, nothing else to pursue.
She was waiting, as though his answer mattered.
"Nothing!" he said a little sharply.
"What other cases have you?" She looked interested, holding the crumpet up regardless of the butter dripping onto the plate.
"Nothing of any interest," he said ruefully. "Trivial things which won't mean anything, people looking for fault when there is only error or inarticulateness." The prospect was tedious but unavoidable. It was part of the daily routine between the larger cases, and it paid his way so well that he relied very little on Callandra Daviot's kindness now. Their original agreement-that he would include her in all the cases of complexity or unusual interest as reciprocation for her assistance in times of hardship-had worked extremely well, to both their advantage.
"Oh, good." Hester smiled and put the rest of the crumpet into her mouth before it lost all its butter. "Then you will have time to look a little further for Martha's nieces."
He should have known she was leading to that. He should have foreseen it and avoided it. How naive of him.
The smile was still on her face, but less certain, and her eyes were very direct.
"Please?" She did not use his name or stretch out her hand to touch him. It would have been easier to refuse if she had. She presumed intolerably upon friendship by not presuming on it at all.
"There is hardly any chance of success," he argued. "Do you realize what you are asking?"
"I think I do." Now she looked apologetic without actually saying so. "It will be very difficult indeed. No one will blame you if you can't find them. Please just look..."
"They're probably dead!"
"If she knew that, then she could mourn them and stop worrying that they are alive somewhere, suffering and alone, and she was doing nothing to help."
"Hester!" he said exasperatedly.
"What?" She regarded him as if she had no idea what he was going to say.
There was no point in arguing with her. She was not going to give up. He might as well agree now as in half an hour, or tomorrow, or the day after.
"I'll try," he said warningly. "It won't do any good."
"Thank you..." Her eyes were soft and bright, and she looked at him with a kind of trust he would never have believed could be so fiercely, uniquely precious.