Page 45 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

U pon returning to White Alley, Tilda, Hadrian, and Maxwell once again settled in the parlor to drink port. Tilda grew more anxious by the minute as she yearned to hear what Hadrian had seen.

Finally, Maxwell stood. “I should turn in. I have to be up early to work at the mercantile house. One last time.” He offered a weak smile. “Good night.”

He left the parlor, and Tilda waited until she heard his footfalls on the stairs before turning to Hadrian. Her pulse was already thumping. “Tell me everything you saw at the inquest.” She spoke in a low tone.

Hadrian glanced toward the staircase and stood from his chair, moving to the settle where Maxwell had been sitting. He motioned for Tilda to join him. This way, they could sit close together and talk quietly.

Tilda sat beside him and clasped her hands in her lap whilst she waited for him to speak.

“Waiting to tell you what I saw has been interminable,” Hadrian said with excitement.

“It seems to have something to do with Nevill.” She sucked in a breath as she voiced her suspicion. “Did you see him and Phelps kill Eaton?”

His eyes darkened. “Not quite. When I shook Nevill’s hand earlier, I saw him standing over Eaton’s body in Phelps’s parlor.

Phelps was there too. I can’t be certain there wasn’t anyone else present.

The vision was very quick since we were only shaking hands, but I can say that I saw Eaton dead.

He was on the floor, and his chest was covered in blood. ”

“Now we know where Eaton was killed,” Tilda said. “Do you have any idea when?”

“It was dark, and since Mrs. Burley saw Phelps and Nevill enter Phelps’s house Saturday evening and the coroner determined Eaton’s death to be late Saturday or early Sunday, I think we can deduce that the memory I saw occurred Saturday night.”

Tilda nodded. “What else do you recall about the vision?”

“Eaton’s chest was bloody, but there was no weapon in sight,” Hadrian replied.

“He could have been killed by the naval dirk—I’ll share more on that in a moment.

Or he could have been killed by one of Dr. Giles’s surgical instruments.

Just because I didn’t see the physician in the vision doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. ”

“What do you know about the dirk?” Tilda asked, hanging on his every word.

“When I shook Furnier’s hand, I saw a memory in which he stood in Phelps’s parlor. His gaze fixed momentarily on a naval dirk, such as Jarret described, displayed on the mantel.”

Tilda frowned. “I don’t recall seeing that either time we were in the parlor.”

“I don’t either, which makes me think it’s the murder weapon and was disposed of.”

“That makes the most sense,” Tilda said. “You learned so much today,” she said earnestly, but then felt a wave of concern. “Your head must have ached terribly.”

“I confess it did.” Hadrian’s brow creased in a brief grimace, and Tilda hated that he’d been in pain.

“I had a third vision when I shook Dr. Giles’s hand.

That is when I saw him using medical instruments, including a blade that could have been used to kill Eaton.

I also saw a memory in which he stood in the meeting room at the Swan and Hoop with Furnier and Nevill. ”

“But not Phelps?” Tilda asked.

Hadrian shook his head. “Furnier and Nevill were frowning, and Giles was waving his hands with agitation. I had the sense that Nevill was trying to placate him, but of course, I don’t know what they said. It flashed through my mind so quickly. I couldn’t make any more sense of it than that.”

Tilda was quiet a moment as she thought through everything he’d just revealed. “So we know Eaton was killed at Phelps’s house on Saturday night, and the naval dirk was probably the murder weapon. Both Nevill and Phelps were there. But none of that is evidence we can share with Maxwell or Chisholm.”

“That’s all right, in my opinion, since the best person is already on the case,” Hadrian said with confidence. “You.”

Tilda felt as though she was actually blushing, which was incredibly odd. “I have excellent help. Your visions have led us here. We just need to find evidence we can present.”

Hadrian chuckled. “We’ve been in this position before.”

Indeed they had. “I wanted to tell you that I managed to ask Mrs. Burley about Mrs. Cardy visiting Phelps. She confessed to me that she accompanied Mrs. Cardy to see him on Sunday, just as her husband told us. She also said I mustn’t reveal that, since she didn’t tell the police, nor did she disclose it during the inquest.”

“Did she say why she kept it to herself?” Hadrian asked.

“She didn’t want to give the police any more reason to suspect Mrs. Cardy. She is adamant Mrs. Cardy’s alibi is true.” Tilda smiled faintly. “She went so far as to say she was a likelier suspect in Phelps’s murder.”

“Whilst that is all good to know, I don’t know that we can definitely remove Mrs. Cardy from the list of female suspects who Burley may have seen going to Phelps’s house on Monday evening.”

Tilda gave him an approving nod. “You’re starting to sound like me. I do hope the night soil man will be able to testify that Phelps and Nevill used his cart Saturday night. But we still need to find evidence that Eaton was there—and was killed there.”

“Let’s see what the night soil man tells us,” Hadrian said. “I’m trying to determine Phelps’s motive for killing Eaton, if he was indeed responsible, or even partly responsible. It’s clear to me why Nevill or the doctor would kill Eaton—they learned of his swindle and became angry.”

“You’re assuming Nevill and the doctor were not in on the fraud,” Tilda noted.

“That is why these crimes are intricately tied together. Until we learn exactly who perpetrated the fraud and who was aware of it when, it’s hard to know for certain who has the best motive, or any motive, for killing Eaton and Phelps.

I do want to start our day tomorrow at the police station, speaking with Mrs. Walters.

I hope she can fill in the holes of the fraud scheme, at least somewhat. ”

“Provided Chisholm allows us to speak with her. And that you can persuade her to talk.” He gave Tilda a half-smile. “I have every confidence in the latter and will simply hope for the former.”

“We’re very close, Hadrian,” Tilda said softly. “I know this has not been our typical investigation, but I am very glad you made yourself a part of it. If you had not, I am certain I would have found a way to include you.”

Hadrian grinned. “That is most pleasing to hear. I confess I still worry I will be replaced by Maxwell.”

She wanted to reassure him. “I know you’re jealous of my partnership with him in this, but it’s really a three-way partnership with you, if that isn’t clear.”

Hadrian nodded. They sat for a moment in silence, and Tilda realized they were sitting as close as they had been that day in the coach some weeks ago when they’d kissed.

Sitting here in the quiet house, alone together, the excitement of investigative discovery simmering between them, Tilda could imagine kissing him again.

With triumph over their shared work and perhaps something more.

Tilda abruptly stood as an irrational fear—of something she couldn’t name—tripped through her. “I suppose we should go up to bed.” That sounded very wrong. “Not together. You’re welcome to stay down here. I’m going to go to bed.”

She hoped she didn’t sound flustered, but she was. She hadn’t meant to say anything provocative. And really it hadn’t been. It was just that her thoughts had taken a turn where they shouldn’t have. Not that Hadrian knew that. Nor would she tell him.

A small smile cracked Hadrian’s lips. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I’ll walk you upstairs.” He rose.

“You’re sure your head is all right?” Tilda asked.

“It still mildly aches—the port helped. I do have lavender upstairs and will sleep with it beneath my pillow.”

Tilda smiled. “I’m glad you thought to bring that with you.” She made a note to carry some with her, perhaps an oil. She wondered if smoothing it on his temples would help right after he had a vision. Now she was imagining herself massaging it into his skin, and her entire body trembled.

Exhaling, she left the parlor and made her way to the stairs. Hadrian ascended behind her, and on the landing, she turned to face him.

“I think we should call on Chisholm and make our inquiry with the night soil man as our true selves. I don’t want anyone to see Mrs. Harwood and Nigel Beck at the police station. We will enter through the back in any case.”

“I won’t complain about not donning the wig and facial hair,” Hadrian said with a grin.

Tilda looked forward to seeing the Hadrian she knew. “I do think we’re close to solving things.”

He cocked his head. “Do you? Every time I think an investigation feels that way, something happens to send us in a new direction.”

“We can’t seem to have a simple case.” Tilda gave her head a shake with a small smile.

Hadrian laughed softly. “No, we cannot.”

“Good night then,” she said.

“Good night, Tilda. Sleep well.”

His gaze lingered on her, and Tilda felt a warmth spread through her, almost as if he’d embraced her, which was silly.

She went to her room and closed the door. It took her too long to fall asleep, and she could not blame it entirely on the investigation.

T ilda had risen early so she could wash the dark powder from her hair.

It felt wonderful to have clean locks and to reveal her natural color.

She entered the kitchen and saw Hadrian waiting for her near the back door.

He looked very handsome with his dark hair and sparkling blue eyes.

His costume was still simple compared to what he wore as an earl, but he looked like him and not Nigel Beck.

His mouth spread into a wide smile upon seeing her. “I recognize you. It’s been some time.”

She laughed, and Mrs. Kilgore waved at them as they left.