Page 39 of A Whisper at Midnight

“No,” she replied crisply. “I suppose I am looking for the knife that was used to stab him, but a good investigator does not search with an end goal in mind. That is an excellent way to miss something. It is far better to look with open curiosity for whatever you may find.”

“Did your father teach you that?” he asked softly. He knew how much the man had meant to her and how much he’d taught her about investigation.

Hunched over the bed, she turned her head and met his gaze, but only briefly. “Yes.” She straightened. “What did you see in here earlier? With your ability, I mean.”

“I knew what you meant,” he said wryly. “The first vision was similar to the other one I had with the woman and Chambers. He was inviting her to his bed, but it wasn’t the same woman.”

Tilda looked at him shrewdly. “How do you know?”

“Because of what you asked me regarding her hands, I paid close attention. No wedding ring, and the nails were short andblunt, the hands roughened. She was not of the same economic class as the first woman I saw.”

Tilda’s nostrils flared, and he could see that this interested her. “Well done, Hadrian. Did you see anything else that might point to her identity?”

“I did, in fact,” Hadrian was eager to see her reaction. “She and Chambers were interrupted. I could sense her fear and anxiety. She leapt off the bed and scurried underneath to hide, grabbing some clothing as she went. I made out a white cap and a dark-blue garment. I believe she was a maid.”

Tilda’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “That is very helpful. I learned in my conversation with Clara that she was intimate with Chambers before he wed Beryl.”

Hadrian didn’t know Clara’s age, but he judged her to be younger than Tilda, who was twenty-five. “She had to have been quite young.”

“Just seventeen when she joined the household,” Tilda confirmed. “Chambers’ treatment of her is appalling.”

“I did not think my opinion of him could sink lower, but it has.” Hadrian was glad he wouldn’t ever see the man again. “You think I was seeing Clara in his bed?”

“Perhaps. What was your second vision?”

“It came when I touched that chair.” He considered putting his hand on the back of it once more, but the pain in his head had only just started to lessen.

“It’s no wonder your head was hurting after two visions. Does it still ache?” Her worry was evident in her tone and her expression.

“Yes, but it’s improving. Slowly.” He was pleased she’d asked. “I appreciate your concern. When I touched the chair, I saw a woman—a maid, I believe. She wore a cap and a dark-blue dress, like the one Clara wears. But this maid’s hair was blonde. She was quite attractive.”

“You didn’t recognize her?” Tilda asked.

“I did not.”

Tilda’s expression became contemplative, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I wonder if it was the maid who resigned her post recently—Martha Farrow. I spoke with Clara about her, but she wasn’t able to tell me much, such as why she left. I wonder if it’s possible that she was the maid in Chambers’ bed.”

“He was having an affair with her too?” Hadrian was thoroughly disgusted by the dead man.

“I don’t know, but given what we know of Chambers, it seems possible.” Tilda spoke with an edge of derision. She refocused on Hadrian. “Do you have any idea whose memory you were seeing when you touched the chair?”

Hadrian shook his head. “No, but the person gestured, and I saw a woman’s left hand and wrist. She wore a garnet-studded wedding band.”

Admiration sparked in Tilda’s gaze. “Hadrian, this is excellent information.”

Whilst he was pleased by her reaction, he could not escape his own frustration—that onlyhecould see what had happened. And through a wholly bizarre and inexplicable manner. “Except it only exists in my mind’s eye. It’s not proof we can use.”

“No, but we’ve no reason not to trust what you see. It hasn’t led us wrong yet.”

That was true. It bolstered Hadrian’s confidence whilst also making him wonder if the visions might mislead them someday. He hoped not. And he certainly hoped not now.

Tilda looked around the room in resignation. “I think we’re finished here. Is it possible the maid you saw in the second vision was the same as the woman who crawled under the bed with her garments?”

“It seems more than possible. Do you know what Martha Farrow looked like?”

“No, but we can ask Beryl,” Tilda said with a sly, brief smile. “I am quite eager to find Miss Farrow. Clara says her father is a solicitor in Stepney. I am hopeful we can find her through him. Alas, that will have to wait until tomorrow. I need to go home to my grandmother. She will wonder where I’ve been all day. I didn’t tell her when I would return, but she may be growing slightly concerned.”

“I can convey you home now, if you like.”