A sudden, fearful death (33 page)

Dora grinned suddenly and
startlingly, showing several blackened teeth.

"That's right. So you watch
yourself, miss! Or you could end up the same." And without warning she let
go, pushing Hester away with a little shove, and turned on her heel to march
away.

Hester's knees were so weak they
nearly buckled underneath her and she sank to the floor, feeling it hard and
cold below her, her back to the wall. She must look ridiculous. Then, on second
thought, everyone passing would only think she was drunk—not collapsed with
relief. She sat there for several more moments before climbing up, holding the
railing and swallowing hard before setting out again along the passage.

* * * * *

Monk exploded with anger when he
heard about it in his lodgings. His face was white and his eyes narrow and lips
drawn back.

"You stupid creature," he
said in a hard low voice. "You fatuous, dangerous, sheep-brained idiot!
Callandra said you were tired, but she didn't say you'd taken leave of what
little sense you have." He glared at her. "There's no point in asking
you what you thought you were doing! Quite obviously you didn't think! Now
I've got to go and look after you as if you were a child—a little child, not
even a sensible one."

She had been profoundly frightened,
but now she was sufficiently safe, she could give rein to anger also.

"Nothing happened to me,"
she said icily. "You asked me to go there—"

"Callandra asked you," he
interrupted with a curl of his lip.

"If you like," she said
equally quickly, and with a tight hard smile to match his. "Callandra
asked me in order to assist you in getting the information that you could not
have found yourself."

"That she thought I could not
have found," he corrected again.

She raised her eyebrows very high.
"Oh—was she mistaken? I cannot understand how. I have not seen you around
the corridors or in the wards and operating rooms. Or was that dresser who fell
over the slop pail yesterday you in heavy disguise?"

A flash of amusement crossed his
eyes but he refused to give way to it.

"I do not risk my life in
idiotic ways to get information!" he said coldly.

"Of course not," she
agreed, aching to hit him, to feel the release of physical action and reaction,
to contact him more immediately than with words, however stinging the sarcasm.
But self-preservation restrained her hand. "You always play very safe, no
risk at all," she went on. "No danger to yourself. To hell with the
results. How unfortunate if the wrong man is hanged—at least we are all safe. I
have noticed that is your philosophy."

In a cooler temper he would not
have responded to that, but his anger was still boiling.

"I take risks when it is
necessary. Not when it is merely stupid. And I think what I'm doing
first!"

This time she did laugh, loudly,
uproariously, and in a most undignified and unladylike fashion. It felt
wonderful. All the tensions and fears fled out of her, the fury and the
loneliness, and she laughed even harder. She could not have stopped even if she
had tried and she did not try.

"Stupid woman," he said
between his teeth, his face coloring. "God preserve me from the
half-witted!" He turned away because he was about to laugh as well, and
she knew it as surely as if he had.

Eventually, with tears streaming
down her face, she regained control of herself and fished for a handkerchief
to blow her nose.

"If you have composed
yourself?" he said, still trying to maintain a frigid expression.
"Then perhaps you will tell me if you have learned anything useful, either
in this operation or in any other?"

"Of course," she said
cheerfully. "That is what I came for." She had already decided,
without even having to consider it, that she would not tell him about
Callandra's feelings for Kristian Beck. It was a totally private matter. To
mention it would be a kind of betrayal. "The corridor is almost deserted
at that time of day, and the few who do pass along it are either rushed or too
tired to remark anything, or both. They didn't notice me, and I don't think
they would have noticed anyone else either."

"Not even a man?" he
pressed, his attention fully back on the case again. "In trousers and
jacket, rather than a dresser's clothes?"

"It's very dim. I don't think
they would have," she said thoughtfully. "One would simply have to
have turned one's back and pretended to be putting something down the chute. At
that time in the morning people have been on duty all night and are too
exhausted to mind anyone else's business. Their own is more than enough. They
are thinking of lying down somewhere and going to sleep. That's about all that
matters."

He looked at her more closely.

"You look tired," he said
after a moment's consideration. "In fact, you look awful."

"You don't," she rejoined
instantly. "You look very well. But then I daresay I have been working a great
deal harder than you have."

He took her totally by surprise by
agreeing with her.

"I know." He smiled
suddenly. "Let us hope the sick are suitably grateful. I expect Callandra
will be, and you can buy a new dress. You certainly need one. What else did you
discover if anything?"

The remark about the dress stung.
She was always aware of how very smart he was. She would never have let him
know—he was more than vain enough—but she admired it She also knew quite well
that she was seldom fashionable herself, and never really feminine. It was an
art which eluded her, and she had stopped trying. She would love to be as
beautiful as Imogen, as graceful and romantic.

He was staring at her, waiting for
a reply.

"Sir Herbert is very likely to
be offered a position as medical adviser to a member of the Royal
household," she said hastily. "I don't know who."

"Doesn't seem to be
relevant." He shrugged, dismissing it. "But I suppose it may be. What
else?"

"Sir John Robertson, one of
the governors, has financial troubles," she recounted in a businesslike
tone. "The chaplain drinks; not wildly, but more than is good for his
judgment at times, and his balance. And the treasurer has wandering eyes, and
hands, where the better-looking nurses are concerned. But he favors fair hair
and generous bosoms."

Monk glanced at her but forbore
from comment.

"Not likely to have bothered
Prudence, then," he observed.

She felt as if his remark had been
personal and included her.

"I think she could have dealt
with him very adequately if he had," she answered fiercely. "I
certainly could."

He grinned broadly, on the edge of
laughter, but he said nothing aloud.

"And did you discover
anything?" she inquired with raised eyebrows. "Or have you simply
been waiting to see what I would learn?"

"Of course I discovered
things. Are you requiring me to report to you?" He sounded surprised.

"Certainly I am."

"Very well. Both Geoffrey
Taunton and Nanette Cuth-bertson had excellent opportunity," he recounted,
standing a little more upright, like a soldier reporting, but he was still
smiling. "He was in the hospital that morning to see Prudence, and by his
own admission he quarreled with her."

"She was seen alive after the
quarrel," she interrupted.

"I know that. But there is no
proof he left the hospital. He did not catch the next train. In fact, he did
not return home until midday and cannot prove where he was. Do you think I
would bother to mention it if he could?"

She shrugged. "Go on."

"And Miss Cuthbertson was also
up in town that morning. She had been here since the previous night, when she
attended a ball at Mrs. Waldemar's house, which is in Regent Square, only two
streets away from the hospital." He was looking at her as he spoke.
"And curiously, after having danced all night, she rose very early and
was absent for breakfast. According to her, she went for a walk in the fresh
air. She says it was not to the hospital, but there is no proof of where it
was. No one saw her."

"And she had an excellent
motive in jealousy," Hester agreed. "But would she be strong
enough?"

"Oh yes," he said without
hesitation. "She is a fine horsewoman. I watched her the other day reining
in an animal any man would have trouble mastering. She has the strength,
especially if she took someone by surprise."

"And I suppose she could have
passed herself off as a nurse if she had a plain enough dress," she said
thoughtfully. "But there is nothing to prove that she did."

"I know that." His voice
rose sharply. "If there were I would have taken it to Jeavis."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing indicative."

"Then I suppose we had better
return to work and try harder." She rose to her feet. "I think I
shall see if I can learn more about some of the governors—and Sir Herbert and
Dr. Beck."

He moved to stand between her and
the door, his face suddenly completely serious, his eyes intent on hers.

"Be careful, Hester! Someone
murdered Prudence Barrymore—not in a fight and not by accident. He will just as
easily kill you if you let him think he has cause."

"Of course I will be
careful," she said with a quick rush of warmth. "I am not asking
questions, I am simply observing."

"Possibly," he conceded
doubtfully.

"What are you going to
do?"

"Investigate the student
doctors."

'Tell me if there is anything I can
do to be of help. I may learn something of them." He was standing close to
her, listening, watching her face. "They seem very ordinary to me so far,
overworked, eager to learn, arrogant toward the female staff, full of stupid
jokes to offset the distress they feel when people die and their own
inadequacy, always poor and often hungry and tired. They make bad jokes about
Sir Herbert, but they admire him immensely."

"Do you?" Suddenly he
seemed more interested.

"Yes," she answered with
surprise. "Yes. I think I do, now."

"Be careful, Hester!" he
said again, urgency mounting in his voice.

"You already said that, and I
promised I would. Good night."

"Good night ..."

* * * * *

The following day she had several
hours off duty, and used them to visit two people for whom she had formed a
considerable friendship. One was Major Hercules Tiplady, although the
"Hercules" was a secret between them which she had promised not to
reveal. She had been nursing him privately during his recovery from a badly
broken leg while she was involved in the Carlyon case, and she had grown
unusually fond of him. She did not often feel more than a regard and a
responsibility toward her patients, but for the ' major she had developed a
genuine friendship.

She had known Edith Sobell before
the case. It was their friendship which had drawn her into it, and through that
hectic time they had become very close. When Edith had left home it had been
Hester who had made it possible by introducing her to the major, and from that
had sprung his offer to employ her, a widow with no professional skills, as his
secretary and assistant to help him write his memoirs of his experiences in
India.

Hester arrived in the early
afternoon, without having given notice of her intention because there had been
no time. However, she was welcomed in with delight and an immediate abandonment
of all work.

"Hester! How wonderful to see
you. How are you? You look so tired, my dear. Do come in and tell us how you
are, and let us fetch tea for you. You are stopping, aren't you?" Edith's
curious face, at once plain and beautiful, was shining with enthusiasm.

"Of course she is
staying," the major said quickly. He was fully restored to health now and
walked with only the barest limp. Hester had never seen him active before, and
it was quite startling to have him upright and attending to her, rather than
her assisting him. All the marks of pain and frustration were gone from his
face and he still looked as scrubbed pink and clean and his hair stood up like
a white crest.

She acquiesced with pleasure. It
was a warm, very sweet feeling to be among friends again, and with no duties to
perform and nothing expected of her beyond tea and conversation.

"Who are you with now? Where
are you nursing?" Edith asked eagerly, folding herself into a large
armchair in a characteristic gawky mixture of grace and inelegance. It delighted
Hester to see it: it meant she was utterly at home here. There was no perching
on the edge of the chair, back straight, skirts arranged, hands folded as a
lady should. Hester found herself relaxing also, and smiling for no particular
reason.

"At the Royal Free Hospital on
the Gray's Inn Road," she replied.

"A hospital?" Major
Tiplady was amazed. "Not privately? Why? I thought you found it too
..." He hesitated, unsure how to say what he meant diplomatically.