Page 100 of A Whisper in the Shadows
“Mrs. Atkins?” Hadrian suggested.
“Seems like she might have just sent them to you,” Maxwell cracked.
Tilda laughed as Hadrian rolled his eyes.
“Well, they are delicious, whoever sent them,” Maxwell said. “That was very thoughtful. I must say, I’ve enjoyed many things about this investigation, including the sense of belonging that many people here seem to feel. We have something like that at the police station, but it’s not quite the same. I’ll probably be back there soon enough, as this investigation is winding down.”
Hadrian wouldn’t walk away without ensuring things were made right. That was not an investigator’s job, but Hadrian hated thinking of people like Mrs. Cardy and her children suffering as a result of the money swindled from them. He also thought of Eaton’s sister in the orphanage and didn’t want her going to a workhouse. “I will not consider our work done untilwe have restored the funds that were stolen from everyone who was cheated by Eaton and Phelps.”
“You still plan to meet with Draper to determine who those people are?” Maxwell asked.
“I do,” Hadrian said. “I will set that up with him after the meeting, I hope. We’ll see how things progress.”
Tilda gave them a rueful smile. “I hope the plan goes well. I’ll be sorry to miss its execution.”
“We will share every last detail,” Hadrian promised.
“All that matters is that you obtain Nevill’s confession,” she said.
They went into the pub. Mrs. Furnier and Mrs. Draper were sitting together at a table near the door to the meeting room. “I’ll join the ladies,” Tilda said. “At least I brought mending to pretend to work on today.”
“We’ll see you after,” Maxwell said.
He and Hadrian made their way to the open door into the meeting room.
Nevill, Furnier, and Draper were already there. Nevill looked a bit pale, and he was not his usual smiling self. Hadrian assumed he’d spent some time today being interviewed by Inspector Chisholm and wondered how that had gone. Hadrian knew without a doubt that Nevill had not been forthcoming about his role in Eaton’s death and would have had to maintain his deceit when speaking with Chisholm. He was likely spent.
“We can sit, if you’d like.” Furnier gestured to a table arranged with six chairs. “We’re just waiting for Dr. Giles.”
Draper looked toward the doorway. “Here he is.”
Dr. Giles strode inside, assessed the room, and closed the door. He removed his hat and set it on a hook near the door where others had put theirs. Hadrian added his hat to the wall, and Maxwell did the same.
Furnier positioned himself at the head of the table, and Nevill sat to his left. Draper sat beside Nevill, whilst Hadrian and Maxwell took the chairs opposite them. This left the seat at the other end of the table open for Dr. Giles. However, he didn’t sit. He moved to stand behind the chair and braced his hands on top of the back.
“Would you like to sit so we may begin?” Furnier asked with an arched brow.
“I don’t need to sit.” The doctor’s mouth was set in a firm line. The muscles of his neck were tense, and his brows pulled together. His blue eyes sparked with high emotion. “I would like to resign from the Amicable Society. When I accepted Phelps’s offer to work with the society, I never envisioned the disaster it would become. Desperate people cheated of their money. Two people dead.” Dr. Giles shook his head. “I can’t imagine why you all want to continue, but I do not. I don’t think the Amicable Society is salvageable.”
“I can’t disagree,” Furnier said, which seemed to surprise both Nevill and Draper, who swung their heads toward him.
Draper even gasped. “We can’t abandon the society,” he argued. “It provides a much-needed service for the ward.”
Dr. Giles cut his hand through the air. “There are other burial societies.”
“But our Amicable Society is more than that,” Draper said. “We help people in time of illness, and we, as members, look out for one another. We are a friendly society, and that is much more than a simple burial club.”
“We are a friendly society founded on decidedly unfriendly intentions,” Dr. Giles said darkly.
It sounded to Hadrian that Giles knew Phelps had started the society with ill intent. Did all of them know?
“What are you saying?” Draper asked. “That the Amicable Society was never meant to be a friendly society?”
Furnier shot Dr. Giles a frigid stare. “Let us not revisit what’s happened. Dr. Giles, if you would like to disassociate yourself from the Amicable Society, we cannot force you to stay, nor will we try. Perhaps we should all take your lead and step away from this failed endeavor.”
Draper looked earnestly about the table. “I believe we can start fresh with new leadership.” He pinned his gaze on Furnier. “We have Mr. Beck and Mr. Harwood to help. We can move forward with the picnic and plan other events that will instill confidence and a sense of brotherhood within the ward.”
Brow furrowing, Furnier contemplated Draper’s heartfelt plea. “I did envision Mr. Beck working as an officer of goodwill, perhaps even more than recruiting new members.”