Page 7 of A Whisper in the Shadows
This made Tilda think of how her mother might have felt when she’d married a young constable and set up their household. They’d been fortunate to have a little money that Tilda’s father had inherited from his grandfather, so they’d had a maid of all work. Even so, Tilda’s mother had overseen the household and handled a great many tasks. Though she’d never cooked. Tilda had learned what little she knew about kitchen work from that maid. She was not looking forward to preparing meals here and was rather hoping she wouldn’t have to.
Tilda set the basket of food on the scarred worktable in the center of the main room. She dipped her head into a doorway and saw the tiny scullery.
“The front is where the coal is stored, along with a cupboard with a cot,” Maxwell said, gesturing toward the opposite end of the kitchen. “In addition to the scullery, there is a narrow pantry and a small room for bathing.”
They went back up to the ground floor, then Maxwell led her up to the first. As they reached the landing, Maxwell turned hishead. “I’m pleased to report that one of my coworkers at the mercantile house has agreed to propose me for membership to the Amicable Society this evening.”
“That is excellent news. How is the job going?” she asked.
“Honestly? It’s drudgery.” Maxwell showed her into the front room, a small bedchamber. “I confess I would not want to do it permanently. Thankfully, I will only have to endure it a fortnight or less. I wouldn’t have bothered at all, but I thought it prudent to immerse myself in the ward. And since several society members work at the mercantile house, I’ve an opportunity to befriend them and hopefully gather information about how the society operates.”
Tilda was glad she didn’t have to go to a job as part of her disguise.
The bedchamber contained a somewhat narrow unmade bed, a dresser, and a chair. The curtains on the grimy window were old and in need of replacement. It did not look as though Maxwell was sleeping here. “There’s another bedchamber?” Tilda asked.
“Just one, at the back of the house. It’s smaller, and that’s where I’ve been sleeping. That could change, however. I’ve had an idea that could allow you to live here. If you wanted to.”
Tilda turned to face him. “I do, actually. What is your idea?”
“I confess I was concerned that someone may suspect you aren’t actually living here, so I’ve been trying to come up with a solution that would protect your reputation. You need a chaperone, and I know just the person. You recall that Sergeant Kilgore is overseeing this investigation. His wife works for the police as a searcher. She could live here as your ‘older sister’ and be your chaperone. She would also prepare meals and clean. I think her presence would provide you with the necessary propriety to preserve your reputation.”
Indeed, a married woman in residencewouldkeep Tilda’s reputation safe. And if Tilda didn’t have to cook or clean, she was definitely in favor. “That’s a brilliant idea. Is Mrs. Kilgore amenable?”
Maxwell inclined his head. “She is, in fact, and her husband is in agreement.”
Tilda wondered at the resources the City of London police were putting into this investigation. It was no small amount with Maxwell and his lodgings, hiring Tilda, and now reassigning another employee.
“Inspector Maxwell, I find it curious that so much is being invested in this investigation. Is the suspected fraud so great as to warrant this large amount of time and money?”
“It isn’t just the fraud, though that is bad enough,” Maxwell replied. “The friendly society is an extraordinary benefit to the Coleman Street Ward, and its success may spawn others in neighboring wards, which would be a good thing. A society like this binds people together and offers stability, as well as security. It’s really in everyone’s interest that we determine what went wrong here, if anything, and ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
That made Tilda even more glad she was working with Maxwell on this investigation. “It may be helpful to our investigation to have Mrs. Kilgore here, since it was her cousin’s husband who was a member of the Amicable Society and died.”
Maxwell nodded. “I had the same thought. And I’m sure it’s why she’s keen to help. My thought is that you and Mrs. Kilgore would each take a bedchamber, whilst I will sleep upstairs in the garret.”
“I don’t wish to displace you,” Tilda said. “I don’t mind sleeping upstairs.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it.” Maxwell smiled. “It’s no trouble at all. I’ll arrange for Mrs. Kilgore to join the household tomorrow.”
“Then I shall also move in tomorrow.” Tilda was not looking forward to having that conversation with her grandmother.
Maxwell started toward the door. “I should be on my way to work now. I’ll hurry back after to fetch you for the Amicable Society meeting this evening.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Tilda followed her “husband” downstairs to the front door, then waved at him as he departed. She made eye contact with a woman sweeping the stoop next door and smiled. The woman paused in her sweeping and seemed uncertain for a moment, then smiled in return.
Tilda went back into the house and looked about at all that could occupy her time today. She could spend the entire day in the kitchen and likely not complete all that needed to be done. There was also much to do and plan if she was going to take up residence tomorrow.
Unfortunately, she didn’t want to do any of that. Tilda realized her investigation had revealed one thing so far: she still wasn’t interested in actually being a wife.
Tilda and Maxwell walked along White Alley to Moorgate and found the Swan and Hoop. It was quite ordinary for societies such as the one they were investigating to meet in public houses.
They entered the pub and looked about the common room. Tilda noted that several people were gathered near a doorway to another chamber.
“There is Mr. Draper, my colleague.” Maxwell inclined his head toward a stocky man with light brown hair and a rounded chin. He stood with a woman who was only slightly shorter thanhim but several years younger. Tilda estimated him to be around thirty, whilst she appeared to be about Tilda’s age.
The man’s expression brightened with recognition as he saw them approach. “Evening, Harwood.” Draper held out his hand, and Maxwell shook it.
“Good evening to you, Draper. May I present Mrs. Harwood?” Maxwell gestured to Tilda.