Page 9 of Dark Tide Rising (William Monk 22)

She faced him squarely. “Please do not try to make me feel better. It is…condescending.”

He should have been irritated, but instead he felt the heat rising up his face.

She saw it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hooper. I am distressed and afraid. It seems not fair to you. You are trying to help me concentrate on facts that are painful. I would like to just sit here and weep, but I realize that would be embarrassing and quite useless.”

“I am also trying not to distress you more than necessary.”

For the first time, she smiled. It gave a great gentleness to her face. “I know. Are you going to try to get her back?”

“Yes. Mr. Exeter has managed to raise the money.” Perhaps he should not have told her, but he did not regret it even so.

“Oh…”

“You did not expect him to?”

She looked away. “I don’t know…I’m not sure.”

Hooper opened his mouth to suggest what she might be thinking, then knew he should not.

She was silent for a moment.

“I do not care for him,” she said very softly. “But I am glad he has. Please…please help him to make the exchange safely.”

“We’ll do anything we can. They want the money—he wants Mrs. Exeter back.”

She watched him for several long seconds.

He would not promise her that all would be well. The words were on the edge of his tongue, but he had learned better.

Oddly, the silence was not uncomfortable. He knew she understood.

Finally, he stood up. “Thank you, Miss Darwin.”

“Was it any use?” She rose also.

“It will be, when we have your cousin back and we can go after them without endangering her.”

She gave a tiny nod. “Thank you, Mr. Hooper.”

He took his leave and walked out into the clear, cold air blowing up from the river, but the warmth of the room stayed with him.

* * *

—

IT WAS LATER THAT same morning that Celia received her second visitor. She was having a cup of tea, trying to steady her racing imagination, wondering how Kate was, if they were being cruel to her, browbeating her—or worse.

“Miss Darwin,” the maid began nervously.

Celia looked up. “Yes…? I’m sorry. Did you speak to me and I didn’t answer?”

“No, ma’am. Mr. Latham is here, he says it’s important. I wasn’t sure whether you wished to see him.” The girl looked nervous. She adored Celia and knew that Maurice would upset her.

“It’s all right. Ask him to come in. I suppose you had better bring a second cup. The tea is still hot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She went out, almost brushing past him in the doorway as Maurice came in. He was no taller than average, but very robust, and had put on a little weight in recent years. He was about the same age as Celia. Kate had been the youngest of the three cousins, and an only child.

Maurice closed the door behind him, perhaps imagining the maid might listen in to the conversation. He was always suspicious where Celia thought he had no need to be. She would not say so, but she thought he was judging other people by his own standards.