Page 3 of A Whisper in the Shadows

“How shall we ensure that happens?” Tilda asked.

“You said ‘we’. Does that mean you agree to assist me?” Maxwell appeared hopeful.

“What compensation are you offering?” Hadrian asked before Tilda could do so, though she had already decided to accept the inspector’s offer.

Tilda gently pursed her lips toward Hadrian. Why was he cross? She wasn’t going to reside in White Alley with Inspector Maxwell, though, in truth, she was still privately trying to work out a way in which she could.

Maxwell again looked toward Tilda when giving his response. “Twelve shillings per week.” His gaze swept over Tilda. “I’m afraid I can’t provide reimbursement for your wardrobe. You must dress as the wife of a clerk earning about thirty shillings a week. I am hopeful you can find something suitable.”

“That is not a problem.” Indeed, most of Tilda’s outmoded wardrobe would suffice. She’d only recently been able to afford a few new ensembles from her investigative wages—largely due to what Hadrian had paid her to investigate the first two cases they’d worked on together.

The first had been to solve his attempted murder, and the second was to find the culprit of a murder for which Hadrianhad been a suspect. In truth, Tilda didn’t particularly care to waste money on her wardrobe, but her grandmother had convinced her that dressing well would convey her success as an investigator. Tilda had been hard-pressed to argue with that.

“I should be glad to assist you,” Tilda added, anticipation bubbling inside her.

“Splendid,” Maxwell said, with a smile that made him rather handsome. His beard and mustache directed more focus to his eyes, and they glimmered with good humor. “To answer your question about how we will find an existing member to vouch for me, I expect one of my coworkers at the mercantile house will agree. You and I will play the roles of a couple who wed a year ago and have just moved to the City for my new employment. I thought we could say that you make matchbooks at home. That would allow you to perchance conduct investigations in the neighborhood whilst I am working.”

“I confess I’m impressed you’ve gone to so much trouble for this investigation,” Tilda said.

“This case is very important to Sergeant Kilgore,” Maxwell noted solemnly. “I do find preparation and planning to be tantamount to success.”

Tilda was even more excited to accept this assignment. To work alongside a thoughtful inspector in this manner would be a brilliant experience. She could only hope it would lead to more work with the City of London Police.

“We are of a similar mind, Inspector.” Tilda smiled. “How long do you expect this investigation to take?”

“Sergeant Kilgore has asked that we endeavor to complete our investigation within a fortnight.” Maxwell grimaced faintly. “Indeed, he is insistent that we work as quickly as possible. This scheme is a considerable expense.”

“Is he undertaking it because his wife’s cousin is a potential victim of this fraud?” Hadrian asked.

Maxwell lifted a shoulder. “I can’t say, but I imagine that is a strong reason for his interest in this case.”

“When shall we begin?” Tilda asked.

“I am moving into the house in White Alley tomorrow, but you needn’t come until Monday as there is a meeting of the Amicable Society at the Swan and Hoop in the evening that we will attend, assuming I have sponsorship to join the society, which I anticipate I will.”

Tilda inclined her head. “Certainly. I will arrive early Monday morning before you leave for work.”

“That would be most agreeable.” Maxwell stood. “I’m delighted to be working with you, Miss Wren.”

“Shouldn’t you call me by my alias?”

“Mrs. Harwood,” he said with a smile. “I accepted the clerk position and obtained lodgings as Mr. Albert Harwood. Your given name is up to you, though I doubt we’ll use it much.”

Tilda had risen and so did Hadrian. “I’ll be Ivy.” When she was a child, Tilda’s only female friend had been named Ivy. She’d moved to Bristol when Tilda was eight. “I’m pleased you came to see me. You were prompted by seeing my name in the newspaper?”

“Yes, but I did speak with Inspector Teague about you as well,” Maxwell replied. “He recommended you most highly.”

Teague was the detective inspector Tilda and Hadrian had worked with several times at Scotland Yard. Tilda was delighted that he would recommend her.

“I look forward to working with you.” Tilda offered Maxwell her hand.

Maxwell shook it, then Hadrian thrust his hand toward him as well. “Inspector.”

“My lord.” Maxwell removed his glove to shake Hadrian’s bare hand.

Tilda watched as they shook and wondered if Hadrian was seeing any of the man’s memories. After suffering a concussion during an attack on his person several months ago, Hadrian had been gifted—or cursed, depending on one’s perception—with the ability to see others’ memories, either by touching that person or an object they had handled. It had been an incredibly useful skill during their investigations, but the power did not come without turmoil. The visions caused him headaches that increased in intensity when he experienced several in a short time frame.

It was also confounding, as this ability had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Shockingly, they had recently met a father and a son who possessed the same ability. Their experiences had been most helpful to Hadrian as he learned to navigate the new way in which he perceived the world.