Page 47 of A Whisper in the Shadows

She shifted in her chair and glanced furtively toward Mrs. Cardy. “There was a member who was admitted despite being quite ill. It is my understanding that you must be in good health to join the society. Unfortunately, he died, and his family was not given the benefit because he hadn’t been a member for a year. His wife insists he was told he could collect benefits after six months, so I believe there is some contention.” She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

“Who was the man who died?” the coroner asked. His gaze flicked toward Mrs. Cardy, indicating he knew, but wanted Mrs. Burley to state it for the record.

“Gilbert Cardy,” Mrs. Burley said, her shoulder twitching.

“Thank you, Mrs. Burley. Next, I should like to speak with Mr. Nevill.” The coroner pivoted to address the man.

Mr. Nevill looked somewhat pale. His hand stilled on his knee, wrapping around the front and clasping it.

“You are one of the administrators of the Amicable Society,” the coroner said. “What is your occupation?”

“I own a tailoring shop,” Nevill replied, straightening in his chair.

“And how did you come to meet Mr. Phelps?” Thetford asked.

“We were introduced by a friend of mine, Isaiah Jarret.” Nevill glanced toward one of the men in the witness row. “He is a longtime patron of my shop.”

Hadrian turned his head toward Tilda just as she glanced at him. They exchanged a meaningful look. He knew she was keen to hear what Jarret would say.

Thetford studied Nevill. “Did you become acquainted with Phelps because of the prospect of the Amicable Society, or did you become friends first?”

“Jarret had told me that he and Phelps were considering starting a friendly society. They were looking for a third person to help with the administration, and Jarret thought of me. I was interested. Phelps and I became friends because of that.”

The coroner nodded. “But Mr. Jarret did not become an administrator of the Amicable Society. Why not?”

Nevill rubbed his knee again and slid another glance toward Jarret. “He and Phelps had a disagreement as to the core beliefs of the society. Phelps wanted it to be focused on the ward and the people who live here. Jarret agreed with that but was also insistent that the society be teetotal. Phelps refused, and Jarret ultimately removed himself from the planning.”

Thetford seemed to think a moment and glanced at Furnier before addressing Nevill once more. “After that, you approached Mr. Furnier to be the third administrator?”

Nevill nodded. “He was also a client, as well as a bank clerk—the same as Jarret. Jarret would have overseen the financial matters, so I suggested Furnier to take his place.”

Thetford’s brows gathered together. “How was your relationship with Mr. Phelps? You said you were friends. Didyou ever disagree, particularly about matters pertaining to the Amicable Society?”

“We were good friends. I am greatly distressed by his death.” Nevill’s jaw tightened. “He was the primary driver behind the society.”

Hadrian noted that Nevill did not answer Thetford’s question. Since Hadrian had seen a vision in which Nevill and Phelps appeared to argue, Nevill’s prevarication seemed suspect.

“What about the matter of the ill members who were recruited and told they could collect benefits after six months?” Thetford asked. “How did that happen?”

“Walter—Phelps, that is—hired a canvasser. Timothy Eaton had worked for the Prudential Assurance Company, and we thought he would be an excellent person to help us grow the society quickly.” Nevill grimaced, his features creasing into deep lines. “However, it seems Eaton was recruiting members who were ill and lying to them about when they would be eligible for benefits.” He dashed a pained look toward Mrs. Cardy.

“That is unfortunate,” Thetford stated. “Why has the money collected from those members, such as Gilbert Cardy, not been returned to them?”

Nevill paled. “I, ah, you must ask Mr. Furnier. I do not manage any of the financial matters.”

Taking a deep breath, Thetford pivoted slightly. “Why did you accompany Phelps home the night of his death?”

“He invited me for a nightcap, which he often did after the meetings.”

“Why was Furnier not included?” Thetford asked.

A pink flush crept up Nevill’s neck and flooded his cheeks. “We knew Furnier would decline. He always preferred to return home with his wife following the meetings.”

“What time did you leave Phelps’s house that night?”

“Nearly eleven, as Mrs. Burley said.”

Thetford narrowed his eyes at Nevill. “Did you see anyone on the street?”