Page 117 of A Whisper in the Shadows
This revelation was met with surprised murmurs and a few gasps.
Maxwell rose. “I am Inspector Maxwell with the City of London Police. I was charged with infiltrating the Amicable Society and investigating it from within. I was aided by Mrs. Harwood and Mr. Beck, who are private investigators. We hopeyou will forgive us for the deceit, but it was necessary to discover what happened. Perhaps surprisingly, I have found that I am quite invested in the Amicable Society now. I’ve discussed matters with Mr. Furnier and Dr. Giles, and I will be staying on as an administrator. The Coleman Street Ward is my home, and I’m eager to support this fine endeavor—and ensure there is no further corruption.”
“Can’t do better than an inspector in charge,” someone called out.
This was met with murmurs of agreement.
“I agree,” Furnier said. He gestured to an empty chair behind the table. “Please come and join us, Inspector Maxwell.” Furnier went on to apologize for his part in not coming forward immediately when he’d learned of Phelps’s corruption. “My aim has been, and will remain, the success of the Amicable Society and the prosperity of its members.”
Cries of “huzzah” rang through the room, and the business meeting soon commenced, complete with the odd rituals Hadrian and Maxwell had described to Tilda last week. She could hardly believe that was only a week ago.
However, there was one thing missing. She turned to Hadrian. “I thought there was a hat of cock feathers?” she whispered.
He chuckled softly. “Perhaps Phelps was the only one who would wear it.”
Following the meeting, Mrs. Atkins cornered Hadrian. Tilda was going to rescue him, but Maxwell asked if he could speak with her. “Would you join me in the common room for a few minutes?”
Nodding, Tilda left the meeting room with him. He guided her to an alcove in the farthest corner where there was a private table.
“Do you mind if we sit?” he asked. “I’m a bit fatigued.”
“You should have rested another day,” Tilda said, sliding into a chair.
He smiled as he sat. “It warms me that you care so much.”
“I’m very glad the poison will not have lasting effects. And I’m pleased that you’ll be staying on with the society.”
Maxwell lifted a shoulder. “I can’t really explain it, but through this assignment, I’ve developed a connection to the ward that I didn’t have before. I’ve decided to live at Number Five permanently.”
Tilda blinked at him in surprise. “That is a large house for just you.”
“Actually, I was hoping it wouldn’t be just me.” He leaned slightly forward over the table, his eyes glowing with anticipation. “I know this is sudden, but I’ve come to admire you greatly, Miss Wren. And I believe we work well together as an investigative team. So well that I also believe we would make an excellent team in matrimony. It is my greatest hope that you will consent to be my wife.” He smiled.
Her surprise was now shock. Tilda had not expected this at all.
Maxwell continued. “Before you answer, let me present my argument. I am not asking you to become a housewife. I recognize and, indeed, admire your passion for investigation. I support your continued work as a private investigator, and perhaps we will continue to partner together on cases for the police. We should generate enough income to hire someone to cook and clean, so you won’t have to do those things.” He looked at her expectantly, but Tilda was too flabbergasted to respond.
“I realize it’s a change for you to move here from Marylebone and your grandmother. However, perhaps she could live with us too.”
Tilda immediately thought of her grandmother’s household. Number Five White Alley would not support a housekeeper,maid, and a butler—her grandmother’s house barely did that. Furthermore, Tilda could not uproot her grandmother from her home.
But could Tilda make that change? There was an unexpected appeal in his proposal. He saw her as an equal and valued her as a person with her own plans. He was also a very good man. Maxwell was kind, handsome, caring, and they shared many of the same principles. If she wanted to marry, Maxwell would be an excellent match. Her grandmother would be ecstatic. So much so that she may even consider leaving Marylebone.
But marriage meant surrendering her independence, and Tilda had no desire to do that, no matter how much sense a match with Maxwell might make.
Maxwell put his hand to his head briefly. “I forgot the most important part. I’ve grown to care for you, Miss Wren. I greatly respect your intellect and am drawn to your kindness and warmth. It would make me beyond happy—and proud—to call you my wife.”
His words were incredibly flattering, and they brought her reluctance into sharp relief. Her independence notwithstanding, she did not feel “drawn” to Maxwell in any similar fashion. If anything, his words provoked a startling realization: shewasdrawn to someone else.
And she’d nearly lost that person, which had jolted her. Tilda had been scared she would lose Hadrian, not just as a partner, but as a vital part of her life. Which he had very much become.
The acknowledgment shook her.
Tilda blinked. She focused on Maxwell across the table. He was attractive and clever, and she liked him immensely. But she didn’t want to marry him.
“You are a wonderful man, Inspector Maxwell. And you will make some lucky woman very happy someday.”
His features fell, and his lips lifted into a sad smile. “However, you are not that woman.”