Rose shrugged. “Slightly. I liked Mary very much, and it was difficult to do that and be more than civil to the rest of them.”
“They were at odds?”
“Oh, yes. You see, Jenny—that is her elder sister, Jenny Argyll—is completely devoted to her husband and children, as she has to be.” An expression of both irritation and surrender crossed her face.
“Has to be?” Hester asked quickly.
“I have no children to depend upon me, and a husband whom I would trust to the ends of the earth. But few women are as fortunate as I am, and Jenny Argyll is certainly not among them.” Rose shrugged again.
“I believe Alan Argyll is reasonable enough, but if he has faults, Jenny may naturally prefer not to be more aware of them than she is obliged to be. She will not appreciate her sister finding them for her, since she cannot afford to address them! When you are helpless, ignorance is a great comfort.”
“And Mary…did that?” Hester asked. “Either his faults were very grave indeed, or she was very insensitive.” A darker picture was forming at the back of her mind.
“I don’t know,” Rose admitted. “Of course, when we love someone, we don’t always exercise the best sense when warning them of what we perceive to be a danger. I do know that Mary broke off her own betrothal to Toby Argyll, Alan’s younger brother. She was candid about it to me.”
“Candid?” Hester pressed, uncertain what Rose meant. “You mean she told you why she broke it off? Was it something she learned of him?” She would rather not have known, but it could not be avoided now. “Was that what…”
“Oh, no!” Rose said quickly. “You mean did she learn that Toby had some part in her father’s death? And she couldn’t bear it? Is that what you are thinking?”
“Yes,” Hester admitted. “It might be enough to break one’s spirit, even that of someone very strong.”
“Not Mary.” Rose had no doubt in her voice at all. She was sitting upright in the chair now, back straight. “She wasn’t in love with Toby, not really in love, where her world would be plunged into darkness without him! She liked him well enough. She thought his was probably the best offer she would get. After all, how many of us really fall headlong in love with someone we can marry?” She smiled as she said it, her hands relaxed in her lap, and Hester knew that she was not including herself when she spoke. “Most women make an acceptable bargain,” Rose continued. “And Mary was realistic enough to do that. But believe me, breaking it off did not cast her into despair.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “In fact, I think that part of it was no small relief to her. She could refuse him with an easy conscience. No one would expect her to marry so soon after her father’s death, poor soul.”
“My dear, you should not repeat that,” Applegate warned.
“I shan’t,” she promised. Apparently she felt that telling Hester was a matter of honor, a debt to Mary she had no intention of neglecting. “She did not take her own life, Mrs. Monk. Nor did she believe that her father had done so; for him, it would have been not only a sin against the Church, but far worse than that—a sin against himself. And if it was true for him, then it must be true for her. I don’t know what happened, but I will do anything and everything I can to help you find out. Any information I can find, any door I can open, you have but to tell me. Perhaps we can still effect the reform she was working on, and save the lives of at least some of the men who would be killed if there were further accidents in the construction.”
“Thank you,” Hester said warmly. “I will call on you the moment I have a clearer idea of what to do.” She turned to Applegate. “What information was Mary Havilland going to bring you? What do you need to know before you can act?”
“Proof that the safety rules are not being kept,” he replied. “And I am afraid that proof will be very hard to find. Engineers will say that they have surveyed the ground and the old rivers and streams as well as is possible. Men who work with the machines are accustomed to danger and know that a degree of it is part of life. Just as men who go to sea or down into the mines live with danger and loss, without complaining, so do navvies. They would consider it cowardly to refuse or to show self-pity, and would despise any man who did. More than that, they know they would lose their jobs, because for every man who says he will not, there are a dozen others to take his place.”
“And lose arms or legs, or be crushed to death?” Rose demanded.
“Surely…” She stopped, looking to Hester for support.
Hester remained silent. What Applegate said was true. There were tens of thousands like the Collards: proud, angry, stubborn, desperate.
She stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Applegate. I will do all I can to find the proof Mary Havilland was looking for. As soon as I have something I shall return.”
“Or if we can help,” Rose added. “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Monk.”
?
?No!” Monk said firmly when she told him that evening. “I’ll pursue it until I find what happened to both Mary Havilland and her father.”
“There’s going to be a disaster if nothing is done, William,” she argued urgently. “Do you expect me to sit by and let that happen?” She made no reference to giving up Portpool Lane, but it hung unsaid between them.
They were standing in the kitchen, the dishes cleared away and the kettle pouring steam into the air as Hester prepared to make the tea.
“Hester, Mary Havilland may have been murdered to prevent her doing precisely that!” Monk said angrily. “For the love of heaven, isn’t that what you’ve just been telling me?”
“Of course I can see it!” she retorted as she yanked the kettle off the hob. “Are you going to stop your investigation?”
“Am I…? No, of course not! What’s that got to do with it?”
“It has everything to do with it!” she answered, raising her voice to match his. “You can risk your life every day, but if I want to do something I believe in, suddenly I’m not allowed to?”
“That is completely different. You are a woman. I know how to protect myself,” he said, as if it were a fact beyond dispute. “You don’t.”