Page 61 of A Whisper in the Shadows

“It’s lovely,” Tilda said with a smile.

“Very good,” Hadrian agreed. “Would you mind if I added just a bit more cream?” He reached for the small jug before Mrs. Atkins could.

“Of course,” their hostess said.

The minute he touched the china, a vision rose in his mind. He saw Phelps in this very room. He sat on a settee facing Mrs. Atkins. Hadrian was certain he was seeing her memory. Who else’s would it be?

Phelps was angled toward her, his arm on the back of the settee. He smiled at Mrs. Atkins, his gaze warm, with perhaps a touch of longing. Looking down, Hadrian saw that Phelps’s other hand was touching Mrs. Atkins’s thigh. In the memory, Mrs. Atkins was both flattered and pleased.

Hadrian felt a gentle nudge against his arm. That had to be Tilda. He blinked, which ended the vision, then poured cream into his cup and set the jug back down on the tray. Pain sliced through his forehead sharply, and he took a sustaining sip of tea.

“One of the witnesses at the inquest yesterday said that Phelps wasn’t from London,” Tilda said. “Do you know where he came from?”

“Reading,” Mrs. Atkins replied. “He left there after his wife died. Since his grandfather had always spoken warmly of the Coleman Street Ward, Walter came here.”

“He must have had considerable means to make such a move,” Hadrian said.

Mrs. Atkins wrinkled her nose, but then smiled almost smugly. “We ought not speak of people’s money, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Walter seemed to do fine for himself, though he was clearly in need of my financial support to fulfill his vision for the society. I was more than happy to contribute. He was very grateful.” She looked at Hadrian. “Just as I’m sure you will be glad when I pay your salary to become the new canvasser. When do you think you will start?”

Hadrian wasn’t sure he cared for her innuendo. Perhaps she meant nothing by it, but given the memory he’d just seen, he had to wonder if Phelps had been required to demonstrate some kind of gratitude to his benefactress. It could be that Phelps hadn’t minded doing that, but Hadrian most certainly did.

“I would like to start immediately,” Hadrian said. “I’m keen to identify others who may have been defrauded by Mr. Eaton.”

Mrs. Atkins scowled. “Oh, that man! It’s a good thing he’s dead, for he has maligned this wonderful society.”

Hadrian noted that Mrs. Atkins took pleasure in Eaton’s demise. He exchanged a look with Tilda, who clearly concluded the same.

“I want to ensure that Mrs. Cardy and the others are paid for the money they put into the society and can never hope to regain,” Hadrian added.

“You think there are others—members who were admitted though they were ill?” Mrs. Atkins blinked at him.

They knew there were others because Mrs. Cardy had confirmed it. But Hadrian didn’t think they ought to disclose that. He glanced toward Tilda to see what she thought.

She met his gaze with an infinitesimal nod. “It doesn’t make sense that Eaton would have only accepted Cardy,” Tilda said. “If his goal was to earn money, I should think he would have continued to recruit people.”

“That does make sense,” Mrs. Atkins said before shaking her head. “It’s a terrible shame. Walter was so thrilled to have a canvasser to increase the society’s numbers quickly, and it seemed to be working. We had no idea Eaton wasn’t following the society’s policies. I suppose we ought to refund anybody who paid money, particularly since people like Mr. Cardy shouldn’t have been admitted in the first place.”

Mrs. Atkins spoke as if she were a co-administrator with Walter Phelps. Hadrian wondered if Furnier and Nevill were aware of that, and if so, what they thought of her involvement.

He also caught her rather cavalier attitude regarding the Cardys’ money. “Poor Mrs. Cardy is suffering a great deal,” Hadrian said somberly. “She has five children to feed, and one of them is now sick.”

“Hmm, yes.” Mrs. Atkins sighed softly, then sipped her tea. Setting her cup down, her eyes lit with purpose as she regarded Hadrian once more. “I must send a note to Mr. Furnier about your employment, and I will call on Mr. Nevill tomorrow at his shop. I will ensure you are working as the canvasser by the end of tomorrow.”

No, Mrs. Atkins was not at all moved by Mrs. Cardy’s plight. Hadrian decided he didn’t care for the woman.

Tilda inclined her head toward Mrs. Atkins with deference. “That is most kind of you.”

“It is,” Mrs. Atkins replied. Her eyes brightened even more, and her lips parted as she sucked in a quick breath before smiling. “Do you know what would be wonderful? We could grow beyond the Coleman Street Ward.”

“But it’s the Coleman Street Ward Amicable Society,” Hadrian said. “I believe the purpose of the society is to serve the residents of the ward.”

Mrs. Atkins lifted a shoulder. “We could just as easily call it the Atkins Amicable Society. I must speak to Nevill and Furnier about this idea as well. Don’t you worry, this will all come together, and the society will be more successful than ever. Don’t you agree?”

“Whatever we can do to help more people would be most agreeable,” Hadrian said diplomatically.

Tilda sipped her tea whilst casting Hadrian a dubious glance.

A short while later, they left Mrs. Atkins’s house after securing her promise to also speak with Furnier and Nevill about engaging Maxwell as the third administrator. Hadrian did not think the benefactress was as enthused about that prospect as she was of paying Hadrian’s salary.