Page 21 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

“I’ll make some space.” Mrs. Cardy moved a stack of garments and set them on another pile. Hadrian set the basket on the table and took a step back.

Mrs. Cardy looked through the contents of the basket and sucked in a breath. “This is all for us?” She eyed them with suspicion. “Ye didn’t steal these, did ye?”

“No, a wealthy benefactor donated them,” Tilda said. They’d decided that was what they would tell her. How else would they have candles, biscuits, jam, and smoked fish, among other things?

“Look at the candles here, Susan,” Mrs. Cardy said, her eyes gleaming with joy.

The girl smiled at her mother. “Ye look ’appy, Mama.”

“I am, my sweet. There are biscuits.” Mrs. Cardy’s tone held a poignant awe. She handed one to Susan and gave another to the boy at the table.

He took a bite, and a look of sheer rapture moved over his small face. Tilda’s heart wrenched.

“Is it good?” Mrs. Cardy asked with a laugh.

The boy nodded vigorously, then tried to shove the rest of the biscuit in his mouth. Mrs. Cardy clasped his hand and kept him from devouring the remainder. “Slowly, Bertie, slowly.”

Tilda looked to Susan. She was nibbling at the biscuit, taking very small bites. Her eyes glowed with wonder.

Mrs. Cardy looked back at Tilda and Hadrian. “This was very kind of ye. Please thank whoever gave ye these things. They can never know ’ow wonderful this is for my children.” The woman sniffed.

“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 his question 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.”

“I saw Phelps in his parlor. I had the sense Mrs. Cardy was angry. Phelps appeared perturbed and perhaps a bit…cold.”

“You saw Phelps where he was killed? That’s why you asked her when and where she’d seen him. You were trying to determine if she was there the night of the murder.”

“Just so,” Hadrian said. “I was not able to ascertain the time of day—not from a window or a clock.”

“What about his clothing? Was Phelps dressed the same as the night he was killed?”

Hadrian frowned faintly, his brow creasing. “I’m not sure if the garments were the same, but they were at least similar. The image came quickly and was gone before I could see everything I wanted to.”

“It’s all right. It’s still helpful to know she spoke to him,” Tilda said with a reassuring nod. “And you did try to discover the truth. Well done.”

“I had the sense she was unnerved by my questions,” Hadrian noted.

“I did too.” Tilda cocked her head. “Did you or Maxwell receive a membership certificate?”

“We did not,” Hadrian replied. “When Mrs. Cardy mentioned her husband had one, I became curious. We must ask one of the administrators about that. Should we stop and see the Lentons?”

“We may as well,” Tilda said.

They found the Lentons’ house and spoke with Meg Lenton. She did not invite them in, but she did show them the membership certificate her husband had received, though she now assumed it was worthless after what had transpired with the Cardys.

The certificate bore Joseph Lenton’s name and his date of admission. It wasn’t signed by anyone, nor did it contain any remarkable details.

“I rather expected the certificate to have the society’s cock and snake,” Hadrian said as they turned onto Coleman Street following their brief interview of Mrs. Lenton.

“It was utterly nondescript,” Tilda said. “It’s almost as if the certificate was an afterthought. Or not actually an official document issued by the society,” she added cynically.

“I’ll wager it’s the latter,” Hadrian said. “I don’t know if anyone besides Eaton is responsible, but Cardy, Lenton, and likely many others were fraudulently admitted to the society. I’m going to make sure Mrs. Cardy receives what she’s owed. I’ll cover the expense myself, if necessary.”

Tilda touched his arm and smiled up at him. “I’m not surprised you would do that, but thank you. I confess I’m quite moved by the Cardys’ plight.”

“As am I, and that was before I met them. Now, I am doubly so.” His eye twitched, and he touched his temple.

“Does your head ache from touching Mrs. Cardy?”

He nodded gently. “The pain is already starting to fade. It wasn’t a very long vision.”

“I was impressed with how you juggled the basket and were able to touch her hand for more than a fleeting moment.”

“I was doing my best,” he said with the flicker of a smile. “I can’t imagine Mrs. Cardy killed Phelps. Aside from not appearing strong enough, there is also the issue of her alibi. Susan told Inspector Chisholm that she and her mother were sewing together at home.”

“Unfortunately, even children can lie,” Tilda said, though she hoped that was not the case. She didn’t want Mrs. Cardy to be a murderer. Her children needed her.

And yet, Tilda could easily see how the woman might have been moved by fear and suffering to avenge her husband’s death.

In the heat of an argument during which Mrs. Cardy sought to regain what her family had lost and so desperately needed, she could very well have simply lost control of her emotions.

“I’m not sure I can blame the Cardys whatsoever,” Hadrian said with a flash of intensity.

She turned her head toward him. “Your anger at their plight is true, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.” He met her gaze. “You doubted that?”

“Not at all,” she said firmly. “It’s admirable. I was also most impressed with your ability to sound like someone with less education.”

“I nearly slipped up a few times.” He chuckled. “I’m even more impressed with your ability to take on various roles during our investigations.”

They arrived at White Alley and were surprised to find Inspector Chisholm waiting in the parlor. He held his hat and regarded them with a furrowed brow. His expression was rather grim.

Tilda did not think his visit was due to good news. “What brings you here before the inquest?”

“I’m hoping to see Maxwell. I don’t suppose you’re expecting him?” the inspector asked.

Tilda shook her head. “He’s meeting us at the Swan and Hoop.”

Chisholm nodded vaguely, and his brows drew together tightly. “I’m afraid we’ve another murder to contend with. A body was found on the banks of the Thames yesterday. We’re fairly certain it’s Timothy Eaton.”