Page 39 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)
H adrian held the door for Tilda as they arrived at the Swan and Hoop shortly before the inquest for Timothy Eaton was to begin.
They made their way to the private dining room where the inquest would be held and found that Maxwell was already there, along with Draper and a few others from the mercantile house.
Tilda pulled her pretend husband aside and told him everything they’d learned from Jarret earlier.
Hadrian felt another jealous pang as he watched them together.
He mentally chastised himself. Tilda had been hired to investigate this case with Maxwell.
That didn’t make them permanent partners.
It didn’t even mean they’d work together a second time.
But Hadrian wasn’t concerned about just that. He worried the two of them would enjoy working together so much that they would find a reason to continue doing so. Or that their connection would grow deeper than professional associates, just as his and Tilda’s had done.
Only Hadrian wished their relationship would progress even further.
Alas, it would not. Tilda had told him very specifically that her views on marriage hadn’t changed. So why was Hadrian worrying about Maxwell at all? Hadrian realized he was being irrational. Of course, generally speaking, matters of the heart weren’t logical.
Hadrian refocused his attention on their conversation as Tilda told the inspector about the note that Nevill had delivered, inviting Maxwell and Hadrian to speak with him and Furnier following the inquest.
Maxwell’s brows shot up briefly as he looked to Hadrian. “Are we to be offered positions?”
“That is my expectation,” Hadrian replied.
He scanned the room, looking for Nevill and Furnier, but decided they must already be in the inquest room.
However, Hadrian did see Ezra Clement. The reporter stood near the entrance to the inquest room.
Clement met Hadrian’s and Tilda’s gazes but kept his features neutral.
Tilda leaned toward Hadrian. “I look forward to speaking with him at the Lion’s Heart later,” she whispered.
They moved into the inquest room. The jury of twelve men sat along the far wall, and the coroner, Abraham Thetford, had lined up his witnesses along the wall by the door.
They included the society’s administrators, Nevill and Furnier, as well as Dr. Giles, and Hadrian also recognized Mrs. Vickers from the lodging house where Eaton lived.
Mrs. Atkins entered a moment later and took one of the witness seats. Hadrian had expected Amos Rippon, Eaton’s friend from the Prudential Assurance Company, to also be in attendance, but he was not.
Thetford looked over the room, which was not quite as crowded as it had been for Phelps, and called the inquest to order.
“We are here to investigate the death of Timothy Eaton, who was, until recently, the canvasser for the Coleman Street Ward Amicable Society.
He was found washed up on the banks of the Thames on Monday and identified on Tuesday, due to the absence of half the little finger on his left hand.
“His death was caused by a knife wound to the chest. I have determined the weapon used was a long, thin blade.”
Hadrian immediately thought of the dirk that Jarret had mentioned to Tilda and him earlier that day. He looked over at her, and she met his gaze, giving him a subtle nod. She was thinking the same thing.
Thetford went on to say that the weapon used to stab Eaton had not been found.
He first spoke with Mrs. Vickers from the lodging house, then moved through the rest of the witnesses with alacrity. None of them revealed anything that Tilda and Hadrian didn’t already know. The inquest concluded when the jurors rather quickly determined that Eaton had been murdered.
Hadrian immediately turned and, in hushed tones, told Maxwell about the dirk Jarret had mentioned.
Maxwell’s brow furrowed. “I reviewed the police report, and it included a description of the items found in Phelps’s house. I don’t recall anything about a naval dirk.”
“We didn’t see anything like that when we looked through the house after you left with Mrs. Walters the other night,” Tilda whispered.
“I should mention this clue to Chisholm,” Maxwell said, glancing toward the front of the room, where the inspector stood with Sergeant Kilgore.
“We need to speak with Furnier and Nevill,” Hadrian said. “They’re looking in our direction.”
“As much as I would like to come along,” Tilda said, “I will instead see what I can learn from Mrs. Atkins about Mr. Jarret and his early friendship with Phelps.”
Hadrian nodded, and Tilda went into the common room where Mrs. Atkins had gone. Hadrian and Maxwell walked to where Furnier and Nevill stood near the door.
“Let’s go into the common room,” Nevill said, gesturing for Hadrian and Maxwell to precede him. The four men walked to the corner, away from where people were clustered, to speak.
Nevill directed his attention to Hadrian first. “Mr. Beck, we would like to offer you the position of canvasser."
“I accept,” Hadrian said quickly.
“Excellent.” Nevill appeared quite pleased whilst Furnier merely nodded. “When can you start?”
“Right away,” Hadrian said. “I thank you very much.” He looked to Furnier and reached out to shake the man’s hand. Bracing himself, he worked to keep his expression normal, though this ought to be a relatively short vision—if he had one.
The common room became Phelps’s parlor. Furnier looked toward the fireplace mantel where a knife was displayed.
It was long and thin, just like what the coroner had described.
It had not been in Phelps’s house on either occasion that Hadrian had been in the parlor.
The handshake ended, and so did the vision along with it.
Hadrian moved on to shake Nevill’s hand. A pain sliced through Hadrian’s forehead. Nevill was also in Phelps’s house, but Hadrian did not see Furnier. He did see Phelps, who appeared distressed—he was pale, and his features were deeply creased.
Nevill looked down and a man lay prone on the floor of the parlor. Hadrian had never met the man, but he looked as Mrs. Vickers had described Timothy Eaton.
Blood soaked the front of his clothing and his eyes were open, staring into nothing.
The handshake ended and so did the vision. Hadrian managed to keep from gasping, but his heart was thudding madly. He closed his eyes briefly in a long blink to preserve what he’d seen. He could hardly wait to share it with Tilda. He glanced toward where she stood with Mrs. Atkins.
Hadrian couldn’t go to her now. They wouldn’t have any privacy to speak. Furthermore, he needed to continue with his inquiries, and that included shaking more hands and potentially seeing more visions. His head already ached terribly.
Focusing on Nevill and Furnier, Hadrian inhaled deeply to calm his still-racing heart. “I would like to speak with Dr. Giles. One of the first things I hope to do is identify those who should not be members because they’re ill.”
He wanted to say he would use the ledger that Eaton had created, but he couldn’t let them know that he had it. They would ask how it had come to be in his possession, and he could not explain that the police had allowed him to search Phelps’s house.
“You’ll need to identify the people Eaton recruited,” Furnier said.
His brows gathered in what appeared to be annoyance.
“I’m not sure how you will do that.” He glanced toward Draper, who stood with the other men from the mercantile house.
“I believe some of those people paid Draper at a weekly meeting. You could ask him if he knows the identities of any of those unfortunate people.”
“I’ll do that,” Hadrian said.
Furnier pursed his lips. “I should also add that we’re not sure how much longer Dr. Giles will remain with the society. He has indicated he may prefer to leave.”
“Why is that?” Maxwell asked.
Nevill glanced toward the doctor, who was speaking to someone Hadrian didn’t know.
“He doesn’t wish to be associated with the society since Phelps was murdered and Eaton was committing fraud.
He’d hoped the Amicable Society would boost his fledgling career and perhaps elevate his status, not ruin those things. ”
Hadrian recalled what Nevill had told him and Tilda about Dr. Giles not having the right “pedigree” to establish himself as a physician. Being the physician for a troubled friendly society would not support his goals.
“But we are going to turn things around,” Nevill declared with a smile. “I just feel it, especially if we have a third administrator who might be willing to work hard and instill confidence in the community.” He looked at Maxwell as he said this.
“Are you offering me the position?” Maxwell asked. “I would be honored.”
“We’re willing to give you a chance,” Furnier said, almost tersely. “Mrs. Atkins seems to think you would be a fine choice, but I can’t tell why she thinks so. Other than you are Mr. Beck’s brother-in-law. Apparently, that alone recommends you, at least in her opinion.”
Hadrian glanced toward where Tilda was speaking with Mrs. Atkins. The older woman was looking in his direction, and she smiled at him as their eyes met. Hadrian jerked his attention back to Nevill and Furnier.
“I’m glad for the chance to prove myself,” Maxwell said.
“The Amicable Society performs a necessary and benevolent service that I should like to further. I’m also committed to ensuring that Mrs. Cardy, and others who have paid into the society without any hope of collecting a benefit, are restored. ”