Page 105 of A Whisper and a Curse
Tilda stepped inside and Hadrian again went to the bed. He pivoted to face Tilda as he touched the bedclothes. His gaze was unfocused, his features creased intently, as if he were watching something of great interest. She would not interrupt him, but she was eager to know what he was seeing—if anything.
As before, Hadrian blinked before focusing on Tilda. “It was a woman’s memory. She held the pearl earring from RathbonePlace in her hand. Or perhaps its mate. There’s no way to tell.” He frowned. “Whose chamber is this?”
“Perhaps we can find a clue to answer that.” The room only contained a bed, a small dressing table with a stool, and a narrow dresser. Tilda went to the table and opened the single drawer.
“What are you doing here?” A shrill voice filled the chamber.
Tilda glimpsed the pearl earring in the drawer and scooped it up before turning toward the door. Hadrian blocked her sight, which meant whoever was there had not seen what Tilda was doing. Tilda gently—and quietly—closed the drawer before moving to Hadrian’s side.
A very petite woman—even smaller than the man they’d met downstairs—glared at them. She wore an apron and a cap atop her sable hair. She wasn’t just short, but a dwarf like Mr. Timms. Now that they knew this was where the spiritualism society’s servants lived, Tilda realized who was likely inside the pedestals of the séance tables, making them move and producing raps to answer the mediums’ questions.
“We were looking for someone,” Tilda said pleasantly. “Ellen Henry?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not here. This is a private area. You should not be here.”
“We deeply apologize,” Hadrian said. “We shall take our leave.”
“I should say you will.” The woman stepped aside, but her expression did not lighten.
Hadrian waited for Tilda to precede him from the room. She hurried along the corridor and made her way to the stairwell, where she quickly descended. They walked into the shop where Mr. Timms now stood in front of the counter. He glowered at them as they departed.
Tilda stopped short and faced him. “Mr. Timms? We know you accept blackmail on behalf of the spiritualism society. If you share what you know, I suspect the police will view your assistance most favorably.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know anything. Take yourselves off now.”
Disappointed, Tilda turned from Timms and walked outside.
Hadrian came up alongside her as they made their way from the building. “That was bold.”
“I thought it was worth a try. I was hoping he might tell us who he’d accepted payments from or what he did with the money. I trust Teague will be able to persuade him to talk.” She looked over at Hadrian and held out her palm. “I found this in the drawer. Thank you for blocking me from the woman’s view so she couldn’t see me take it.”
Stopping, Hadrian stared at her hand. “That’s the match to the earring you found at Rathbone Place.”
“It is indeed.” She glanced at his forehead. Though she hadn’t seen him touch his temple or any other part of his head, she wondered if it ached following the two visions he’d seen upstairs. “How is your head?”
“Mildly aching. It’s not too bad.”
“Good, because I want you to hold this earring, but I didn’t want to ask if you were in terrible pain. I hate asking even when you have minor discomfort.”
He’d put his glove back on and now removed it again. Tilda deposited the earring in his hand.
His gaze became unfocussed once more. He twitched, then his eyes widened briefly. “I see Mallory with a woman—Miss Dryden. I am angry. No, furious. They do not see me.” He squinted. His head jerked back. He blinked several times as he dropped the earring back into Tilda’s hand.
“I was looking into a bedchamber,” Hadrian said. “Mallory and Miss Dryden were in the bed together. There was a mirror over the hearth, and I saw my reflection—a woman with blonde hair. That was Mercy Griswold’s memory.” Hadrian’s eyes darkened. “And she was wearing the pearl earrings you found at Rathbone Place and here today.”
Tilda glanced at the earring in her palm. “This belongs to Mrs. Griswold then. And Miss Dryden was the woman Mallory took up with after Deborah Frost?”
“It seems so,” Hadrian said with a nod. “But Mrs. Griswold was jealous. Or perhaps still is.”
Jealousy was a motive for murder, but neither Mallory nor Miss Dryden had been killed. “If she was jealous, do you suppose she was angry enough with Mallory to kill the mediums he recruited? I think we must pursue that idea.” Tilda tucked the earring into her pocket.
“What does it mean that those earrings belong to Mrs. Griswold?” Hadrian asked. “Does that make her a suspect in Mrs. Frost’s murder?”
“She could have simply lost the earring at Rathbone Place. What’s curious is why its mate was here in Ellen Henry’s drawer.”
“Agreed,” Tilda replied. Then she added wryly, “It’s not as if we have much else to go on at this point. We are at a frustrating dead end.”
Tilda looked back at the building. “I believe we’ve found where the spiritualism society’s domestic workers live. I wonder why they are here in Bedfordbury instead of living at the headquarters or one of the other properties. And what do you think of Mr. Timms and the woman who asked us to leave?”