Page 71 of A Whisper in the Shadows

He grimaced faintly. “You should probably know that I already have a headache. Carrying that lantern gave me several of what I think were Mrs. Walters’s memories. I saw her lighting the lantern and walking up the stairs and into the bedchamber. She felt anxious and rushed—which makes sense.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Tilda said, thinking he could just as easily have hidden that fact. “I don’t want you suffering. Perhaps we should look around so we can determine what you should touch.”

“First, I think we need to search for this diary.”

Tilda nodded. “Let’s start with the desk. I’ll take this side, if you want to take the other.” She opened the top drawer on the right side whilst Hadrian moved to the left.

They searched the drawers methodically, moving down each side and opening the corresponding drawers together. Tilda looked over at him to see if he found anything, and he did the same. By the time they reached the bottom drawers, she began to despair of finding the diary.

Hadrian leaned farther over to look into her drawer. “Your drawer is deeper than mine.”

Tilda glanced at his, which was open. “It is. Perhaps yours has a false bottom.”

Reaching into the drawer, Hadrian removed a few newspapers and set them on the floor. He moved his hands about the interior. “There’s a slight gap at the back. Let me see if I can squeeze my fingers into the space.” His features creased into a focused expression.

A moment later, he smiled as he lifted the bottom—the false bottom—from the drawer. “There it is.”

Tilda looked over his shoulder. “Is that the ledger you saw in your vision?”

He nodded as he set the false bottom atop the newspapers and removed the diary. Grasping the ledger, his eyes glassed over, and Tilda knew he was having a vision. On the one hand, she was sorry they’d hadn’t been careful about it—they needed to limit the number of visions he had. But on the other, she was excited about this discovery and was eager to learn what memory he might see.

Several moments passed as Hadrian stood there holding the ledger. Finally, he blinked and set the book onto the desk. He massaged his temple, and Tilda resolved to ensure he would not overtax himself.

“What did you see?” Tilda asked.

“It was murky,” Hadrian replied. “I think it was just the same vision I saw when I touched the desk and saw this ledger.”

“Nevill’s memory?”

“Yes. I saw the same claret sleeve and felt the same agitation. I did see Cardy’s name and Nevill pointing at it. He was angry.”

Tilda worried about his head. “Is the pain terrible?”

“No. It’s already fading. But why don’t you open the ledger?”

“Good idea.” Tilda opened the book and scanned the first page. There was a single name at the top with two numbers next to it, one of which was clearly a sum. Beneath that were dates and amounts. “This looks to be the record for a member called J. Barnett. The dates listed are a week apart, which could be his weekly dues.” Tilda pointed at the number closest to his name. It read twenty-nine. “What do you suppose that is? His age?”

Hadrian looked over her shoulder. Her back grazed his chest, and the contact distracted her momentarily.

“That amount next to his name looks like an entrance fee,” Hadrian said. “That’s the amount I paid.”

“Barnett did not pay an excess amount then.”

Hadrian shook his head. “It doesn’t appear so.”

Tilda turned the page, where there was an identical record for a different man. She turned a few more pages until she reached G. Cardy. The entrance fee was clearly too high. “There he is. And now we can see he was overcharged. I fear we may never learn why Eaton charged people what he did.”

“This has to be Eaton’s ledger—the one we’ve been looking for,” Tilda said.

Hadrian nodded. “But why would Phelps have it?”

“A very good question.” Tilda flipped through the rest of the ledger. The last several pages were empty. “From the dates of the weekly dues, it appears Eaton was recruiting members until a few weeks ago.”

“He stopped before Cardy died?”

“Yes, or one could interpret it as he continued to recruit until Cardy died,” Tilda said. “Or until his employment with the society was terminated.” She pivoted to face Hadrian. Hewas standing very close, but his proximity was not unsettling. Surprisingly, she found it welcome, perhaps because she’d narrowly avoided injury—or worse—a short while ago. “Do you think Nevill and Phelps were arguing in the memory you saw?”

His long, dark lashes swept over his blue eyes in a quick blink. It was an innocuous movement, but Tilda was bizarrely captivated.