Page 30 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

“I would be interested in helping,” Tilda said fervently, slipping into her role as Mrs. Harwood, the eager wife of a member.

“I greatly admire your involvement with the Amicable Society. My husband and I are also deeply committed to its purpose. In fact, he would be interested in working for the betterment of the society. Do you think Mr. Nevill and Mr. Furnier will be looking for someone to take Mr. Phelps’s place? ”

Mrs. Atkins’s pale blonde brows drew together. “I’m not sure, but that’s not a bad idea. Perhaps you should allow me to present the idea to them. They may be more inclined to consider him if I give him my endorsement.”

Hadrian wondered if that was true or if Mrs. Atkins simply liked being the center of attention.

“Or perhaps your brother would be interested in being an administrator as well as the canvasser.” Mrs. Atkins smiled rather alluringly at Hadrian. “Dare I hope?”

“My talents are better suited to that of canvasser,” Hadrian said. “My brother-in-law is more business-minded and would make a better administrator. I am more…social.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Mrs. Atkins said. “I will speak to Furnier and Nevill about Mr. Harwood, though no one will be able to replace dear Walter—that’s Mr. Phelps. He bade me call him Walter some time ago.”

“You were close?” Tilda asked.

Mrs. Atkins nodded. “We became very good friends. Having both lost our spouses, we found solace in one another’s company.

And, of course, he’s the reason I became interested in supporting the Amicable Society.

I could see his passion for the ward and for helping people here. I knew I needed to be a part of that.”

“How exactly have you supported the society?” Hadrian asked. “You mentioned paying my salary, which is most generous of you.”

“I did make an investment at the start, but I expect to be repaid in the autumn. At least, that was my arrangement with Walter.” Mrs. Atkins lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Nobody knows, but I paid Eaton’s salary. That was between Walter and me.”

Hadrian wondered how Furnier, as the man in charge of the funds, wouldn’t have noticed that. Surely, he would have wanted to know how Eaton was being paid.

“You gave the money directly to Phelps?” Tilda asked, likely thinking along the same lines as Hadrian. Perhaps Phelps had told Furnier that he was funding Eaton’s salary.

Mrs. Atkins nodded before taking a sip of her tea. “Oh, that’s delicious. What do you think?” She looked expectantly at both Hadrian and Tilda. They exchanged a glance and, obligingly, each took a drink.

“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.

They walked in silence a few minutes before Tilda touched his arm. “Would you mind slowing down?”

Hadrian stopped altogether and faced her momentarily. “Apologies. I fear I am in a hurry to move away from Mrs. Atkins.”

“I do understand,” Tilda said as they started walking at a more normal pace. “She thinks rather highly of herself.”

“Indeed.” Hadrian’s shoulder twitched as he recalled the many uncomfortable moments of their interview with the woman. “She has quite a vision for the society. And she spoke as if she were jointly managing things with Phelps.”

“I noticed that too,” Tilda said. “What did you see when you touched the milk jug?”

“How did you know I saw something?” Hadrian was genuinely curious. He knew he hadn’t touched his head, despite being in pain for a time.

“Your expression went blank. It’s why I elbowed you. I was afraid Mrs. Atkins would notice.”

Hadrian nodded. “That is good to know.” Often when he had visions, he was not in a situation where others might be observing him. “I saw Phelps in Mrs. Atkins’s parlor with her. They were cozied up together on the settee. His hand was on her thigh. She seemed quite pleased about it.”

“I see.” Tilda’s eyes rounded briefly. “That certainly gives new meaning to what she said about Phelps being grateful to her. Goodness, perhaps she will expect something from you for paying your salary.” Tilda made a face of distaste.

“I considered the same thing, and that is precisely how I feel about it,” Hadrian said. “I did not have the sense she would expect that from your husband,” he added wryly.

“She did not seem as excited to hire him as she was you.” Tilda smiled sardonically. “Likely because he’s married. I do think Maxwell may have to try to obtain the position without a salary, just as Nevill and Furnier do.” She glanced over at Hadrian. “How’s your head?”

“It hurt at first, but the ache is gone now. I find the pain with visions doesn’t last as long as it once did.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Tilda said enthusiastically.

“I’ll walk you back to White Alley, and then I’ll head to the church to speak with Leach.

” Hadrian had arranged for the coachman to wait for him each afternoon for one hour at the St. Mary Aldermary Church to receive any directions.

Along with asking for the supplies, Hadrian also planned to direct Leach to have his secretary deliver money to Mrs. Cardy from an anonymous benefactor.

And he would send her the name of a doctor to whom she could take her sick child—as well as inform her that the expense would be paid.

Hadrian knew he couldn’t solve every problem, but he tried to help where he could.

Tilda paused as they approached Moorgate. “Nevill’s shop is just down Moorgate, isn’t it?”

“I believe so.” Hadrian pivoted toward her. “Are you suggesting we stop in?”

“I can think of several things I’d like to learn from him, starting with what Mrs. Atkins’s role really is with the society.” Tilda gave him a sly look. “And I’ve just the plan for us to find out. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”