Page 1 of A Whisper at Midnight

CHAPTER 1

London, March 1868

Two days ago, aspiring investigator Miss Matilda Wren received a request to assist with a sensitive case for a woman who wished to divorce her husband. Initially thrilled to have the opportunity for another paid investigation, Tilda was then shocked to see the identity of her new client: the former fiancée of her friend and associate, Lord Ravenhurst.

Rather, Hadrian, as he’d bade her to call him at their last meeting, which had also been two days ago. She hadn’t known about the investigation with his former fiancée until after he’d left her grandmother’s house where he’d taken tea with them. And she wouldn’t tell him.

The reason for the dissolution of their betrothal was both embarrassing and upsetting to Hadrian. He’d caught his fiancée in a compromising position. She and Hadrian had parted ways, and she’d married the man Hadrian had seen her kissing.

Tilda would not be responsible for bringing the woman back into his life or even his awareness. Indeed, she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to help this person, given her treatment of Hadrian, but Tilda needed the employment.

She lived in her grandmother’s household and managed the finances, which had recently improved from absolutely dire to uncomfortably sufficient. Her grandmother’s solicitor had found an account of funds that had been “lost” in the transition between solicitors. It wasn’t a great sum, but it permitted them to support the newest member of their household—Tilda’s grandfather’s cousin’s butler who’d been displaced by the cousin’s death.

It also ensured they could afford her grandmother’s medicine for her aching hands, so she could keep up with her beloved embroidery. The money also encouraged more restful sleep for Tilda, and for that, she was extremely grateful. Still, she was frugal and committed to making sure their circumstances did not reach a dire state ever again.

For that reason, she would accept this assignment to assist Hadrian’s former fiancée.

Taking a deep breath, Tilda stepped into the outer office of Mr. Forrest, the barrister who had requested her assistance and for whom she’d worked on several occasions. His clerk, Mr. Clarence, looked up from his desk and removed his spectacles. Setting them down, he smiled at her as he stood. “Good afternoon, Miss Wren. What a pleasure to see you.”

“Indeed, good afternoon, Mr. Clarence.” Tilda nodded warmly at the wiry man. In his early fifties, he had thinning gray hair and sharp, assessing brown eyes.

“Go right in, Miss Wren. Mr. Forrest is expecting you.”

Tilda stepped through the open doorway into the barrister’s spacious office. It was more like a small library, with bookcaseslining two of the walls. He stood from behind his large oak desk and gestured toward the seating area near the hearth.

The barrister was a bear of a man who would have been suited for the Metropolitan Police. He possessed a thick, rugged build and kind blue eyes that were at odds with his imposing presence. His chin was somewhat long and tended to jut when he was contemplating something, which was quite often in his work.

“Welcome, Miss Wren,” he said with his usual engaging smile. “I’m delighted you are able to assist. This matter is quite sensitive.”

“I understand.” Tilda perched on the chair she usually sat in when Mr. Forrest summoned her to work on a case. “Your client is seeking a divorce on the grounds of cruelty and adultery?”

“Yes. Mrs. Chambers also says Mr. Chambers has stolen some of her jewelry and sold it, but once they wed, it became his property. She has no recourse there.” His tone was perfunctory, but there was a sympathetic gleam in his eyes.

Though it was perfectly legal for Mr. Chambers to do as he wished with his wife’s jewelry, Tilda would do her best to find it. But would Mrs. Chambers pay Tilda to do that investigative work? It was not part of her assignment from Mr. Forrest, and Tilda couldn’t afford to work for free.

Tilda couldn’t help feeling curious about this woman who’d once been betrothed to Hadrian. He’d said he was glad to have avoided an unhappy marriage, but he hadn’t mentioned his feelings toward Mrs. Chambers. Had he loved her? He’d indicated he was now content to be a bachelor, but was that due to not wanting his heart broken again?

Tilda wouldn’t want to take that risk a second time. In truth, she didn’t even want to take it a first time. For a woman, marriage meant losing her independence. That was far too high a price to pay, and for what? Whilst Tilda had seen a happymarriage firsthand, that of her grandparents, she’d spent far more time with an unhappy one, that of her parents. She’d long ago decided that she preferred to make her own way without having to rely on anyone else.

She was more than pleased to live as a spinster and build a reputation for conducting investigations. She’d already solved the murder of her grandfather’s cousin, as well as other murders that had been related—with Hadrian’s help.

Shaking thoughts of Hadrian from her mind, she focused on the barrister and the matter at hand. “What information do you have for me to begin?”

“Regarding the cruelty, Mrs. Chambers says her husband pushes and grabs her with force regularly. She has bruises, but I did not ask to see them.” He inclined his head toward Tilda. “I will leave that to you.”

That was one of her primary roles when conducting these investigations for Mr. Forrest. Tilda would note any wounds or marks on the woman’s body and write an affidavit detailing what she observed. They would then file a report with the Metropolitan Police.

“I will call on her as soon as possible,” Tilda said. “Is there a time that is convenient, so I won’t encounter her husband?” Presumably, Mrs. Chambers would not want to meet with Tilda while Mr. Chambers was at home.

Mr. Forrest’s mouth lifted in a brief smile. “As it happens, Mrs. Chambers would like you to call on her this afternoon—number twenty Catherine Place. Are you able to go there directly?”

That was a very nice street. Hadrian’s former fiancée had married well. “Certainly.” Tilda stood, eager to begin her investigation.

The barrister also stood. “Excellent. I look forward to your report.”

Tilda nodded and then saw herself out. After acknowledging the clerk once more, she made her way outside where she shortly caught a hack to Catherine Place.

Alighting, she surveyed the façade of the fashionable brick-and-stone terrace with its wrought-iron balcony on the first floor. She took a deep breath as she walked up the short stone stairs to the front door and knocked. A moment later, a stout butler answered.