Page 42 of A Whisper in the Shadows

“I’m so glad.” Tilda had to work to keep her own emotions at bay.

“I’m going to speak to the society administrators,” Hadrian said firmly. “They must return the funds that your husband paid into the Society. It’s the right thing to do.”

“That’s what I said, but they say it wasn’t their fault. Perhaps now Mr. Phelps is dead, things’ll be different.” Mrs. Cardy blinked at them. “Did ye know ’e was murdered?”

Tilda nodded. “Why do you think things will be better without him?”

Mrs. Cardy shrugged. “He was the one in charge. With ’im gone, perhaps the others’ll ’ave more sympathy.” She moved her attention to her daughter, who was eating her biscuit very slowly.

“How well did you know Mr. Phelps?” Hadrian asked. He regarded Mrs. Cardy with interest, and Tilda wondered if hisquestion was prompted by the vision he’d seen when he’d touched the woman—assuming he’d seen one of her memories.

“Only met ’im once.” Mrs. Cardy kept her focus on Susan.

Hadrian’s interest in the woman seemed to intensify. “When and where was that?”

Tilda felt certain he’d seen something to do with Phelps and was eager to hear what it was.

“Can’t recall exactly.” She glanced at Hadrian, and her gaze seemed wary.

“I hope you’ll tell us if you can remember the circumstances of your meeting with Mr. Phelps,” Hadrian said.

Mrs. Cardy didn’t respond.

Tilda took the woman’s silence to mean she was unlikely to reveal anything. Rather than press her on the subject of Phelps, Tilda moved to a new line of inquiry. “Are you aware of any others in your position? As a widow of a member of the Amicable Society, I mean.”

“Not widowed, but I know of a few others ’oo were sold memberships and are ill.” Mrs. Cardy looked toward Tilda and now seemed more at ease. “They’re trying to ’old on for the full year now they know there’s no money after six months like they were promised.”

“And none of you have any paperwork to confirm any of this?” Hadrian asked.

“Just a worthless certificate of membership,” Mrs. Cardy said. “I burned Gil’s.”

Tilda looked at Mrs. Cardy with sympathy. “Why did you think it was worthless?”

“The doctor said it didn’t matter that we ’ad it, that the rules were the rules. Blamed it on Eaton again.”

Tilda looked forward to Dr. Giles’s testimony at the inquest later and to potentially speaking with him herself. “Have any of the families you mentioned spoken to the police?”

Mrs. Cardy let out a sharp laugh. “Why would they bother? Police aren’t much ’elp to folk like us. The only reason they’re doing anything is because of my dear cousin.”

“I’d like to speak with these families.” Hadrian’s eyes flashed with outrage. “I’m a member of the society, and I want to see justice done.”

Mrs. Cardy sniffed. “Thank ye, Mr. Beck. Ye could try to speak with Joseph and Meg Lenton. They live down the court at Number Twelve.”

Hadrian nodded. “I’ll do that. You all deserve resti— To be put right.”

Tilda was certain he’d been about to say “restitution” and was proud of him for taking care to sound like someone from a lower class with decidedly less education. She looked to Mrs. Cardy. “We’ll take no more of your time.” Then she smiled at Susan as the girl finished her biscuit. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.”

“Thank ye, ma’am.”

“Walk them to the door, Susan,” Mrs. Cardy said. “Your baby brother is starting to fuss.”

Tilda glanced toward the cradle and saw that the smallest child was sucking on his hand. Tilda turned and walked back into the main room, to the front door.

Hadrian came around and opened it for her.

“Goodbye, Susan,” Tilda said before departing. Hadrian closed the door and followed her into the court.

When they’d moved a short distance from the house, Tilda turned to Hadrian. “Did you see something when you touched Mrs. Cardy? I think you must have, given your questions regarding Phelps.”