Page 51 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

T ilda had tried to stop Mrs. Atkins from storming into the meeting, but the woman was adamant that she be allowed to participate. Now, it seemed she’d entered at the precise moment when Hadrian and Maxwell had orchestrated Nevill’s confession.

Tilda quickly met Hadrian’s gaze. He gave her an infinitesimal nod that told her they’d executed the plan.

Nevill was seated at the table, his head bent and his shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

“Pull yourself together, man,” Furnier snapped. He looked down his nose at the distraught Nevill. “Did you and Phelps kill Eaton together? And then you killed Phelps? I wouldn’t have imagined you could be capable of murder, but it seems I was wrong.”

Nevill lifted his head and wiped his hands over his face. He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I swear I didn’t kill anyone.”

Maxwell fixed his gaze on Nevill. “What—rather, who—was in the night soil cart? We know you borrowed it along with Phelps.”

“And don’t say it was a pig,” Hadrian warned.

Tilda wanted to join in the interrogation, but her participation would draw questions.

Whilst she and her partners acknowledged it was possible their true identities may come to light before the end of the evening, they hoped to remain in disguise for a little while longer.

Hadrian still hoped to ensure the people who were cheated by Eaton and Phelps were financially restored.

“It was Eaton in the cart,” Nevill said, looking and sounding defeated.

“But I didn’t kill him. Phelps did. He came to my house and told me I had to help him with a problem, but that first we had to stop at my shop to fetch some fabric.

He didn’t explain anything. He was a friend in distress, so I complied.

“What on earth are you saying?” Mrs. Atkins shrieked. “What night soil cart? What happened to the pig?”

“There was no pig,” Tilda said softly. “Mr. Nevill is confessing that he helped Mr. Phelps with a problem, and it appears that may have been disposing of Mr. Eaton’s body.”

Mrs. Atkins sucked in a breath as her hand fluttered before her chest. “I feel faint.”

Hadrian bolted from his chair and pulled it toward Mrs. Atkins. She sat down soundly, and Hadrian had to keep it steady.

“My fan…” Mrs. Atkins managed as she held up her reticule with a shaking hand.

Tilda opened the reticule and retrieved a fan, which she opened and handed to Mrs. Atkins. But the woman didn’t take it. She glowered at Tilda in silent remonstration. Clearly, Tilda needed to fan her. Clenching her jaw, she did as the woman wanted.

Hadrian exchanged a suffering glance with Tilda before returning to stand near the table.

“Please continue,” Maxwell prompted Nevill. “You owe everyone here the complete truth.”

Nevill gave a faint nod. “We arrived at Phelps’s house, and Eaton was dead on the floor of the parlor. There was a great deal of blood.” Nevill’s face turned green.

“Why didn’t you fetch a constable?” Furnier demanded.

“I wanted to, but Phelps swore it was an accident.” Nevill wrung his hands, and the pitch of his voice rose.

“He was afraid he’d hang. He said he’d caught Eaton in his corruption and confronted him.

Eaton came at him, and Phelps grabbed his knife from the mantel to defend himself. I-I believed him.”

“But you don’t believe that’s true now?” Maxwell asked.

Nevill shook his head. “The night Phelps died—when I went back to his house after the meeting—I learned he’d been part of the original swindle.”

Tilda stopped fanning Mrs. Atkins and stepped toward the table between Hadrian and Maxwell. “How did you discover his role?”

Nevill blinked at her, as if he was surprised to hear her ask the question.

Tilda simply hadn’t been able to remain quiet another moment.

“When he went to pour the wine, I noticed a diary on his desk. It was open, and I saw a name at the top of the page that I didn’t recognize.

But there were amounts listed, and I could see they were entrance fees and weekly dues, only for more money than we typically charge. ”

Tilda and Hadrian looked at one another. That had to be the ledger they’d reviewed.

“At first, I thought it must have belonged to Eaton, and he’d catalogued the members he’d recruited, as well as the amount of money he’d charged,” Nevill continued. “However, it was written in Phelps’s handwriting. It was his recordkeeping. He knew about the corruption.”

“And you discovered his deceit,” Maxwell said with a frown. “That would have been an excellent motive to kill him. You were, apparently, the last to see him alive.”

Nevill did, in fact, appear quite guilty.

“I didn’t kill him,” Nevill cried, his eyes wide. “And I didn’t kill Eaton. I did help take his body to the Thames, and I lied about that. I’m so ashamed.” Tears streamed down his cheeks once more.

“You’ll go to prison for that,” Furnier said.

“You definitely won’t be part of the Amicable Society anymore,” Draper declared.

Giles stared at Nevill in cold fury. “When you told us Phelps and Eaton had worked together to swindle the society, you could have told us the entire story but didn’t. How can we trust anything you say?”

Nevill put his hand on his heart. “I swear I’m telling the truth now. I will go to the police, and I will tell them everything.”

Maxwell stood. “Nobody here is without blame. You all agreed to keep the corruption quiet.”

“We saw no point in having it made public,” Furnier said tightly. “It wouldn’t solve anything and would only drag the society further into the mud. The best we could do was try to make things right and move forward.”

“I had nothing to do with any of this, but I don’t disagree with them trying to protect the society,” Draper said.

“It shouldn’t fall apart because of the corruption of two terrible men.

” He turned his head toward Nevill. “I even understand what you did in helping Phelps. You were trying to protect the society. That’s probably why you killed him too.

He ruined everything and dragged you into it. ”

Nevill shook his head wildly. “But I didn’t kill anyone!”

“I agree with Draper,” Furnier said quietly. “It only makes sense that you killed Phelps. If you truly cared for the society and those of us associated with it, you would confess your guilt and end this nightmare.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone,” Nevill repeated, his voice pitching down as he lowered his gaze to the table. He sniffed and rubbed his hand across his nose.

“I am sorry it’s come to this,” Furnier went on. “But I just don’t see how the society can recover.” He looked to Maxwell and Hadrian. “I’m afraid your services will not be needed.”

Hadrian locked his gaze with Furnier’s. “I’m committed to ensuring that the people who were cheated receive their money. Don’t you have a lockbox with the society’s funds?”

“I do,” Furnier replied. “With the society ceasing to operate, we’ll have to refund everyone’s money, not just those who were cheated, and there isn’t enough since Eaton and Phelps stole some of it.”

“We’ll have to find an equitable way to refund the fees,” Hadrian said. “Unless a benefactor or benefactress wants to step in to help.” He glanced toward Mrs. Atkins where she sat in the chair.

“This is a travesty,” she cried. “I’m not giving money to a failing, corrupt society.”

Tilda thought it seemed as if the Amicable Society was well and truly dead.

“We can rebuild the society,” Draper insisted. He looked to Furnier. “I will help you.”

“I appreciate your zeal, Mr. Draper, but I’m afraid it’s too late,” Furnier said sadly. “Please help Mr. Beck in his endeavors to return the money, and I will also do my part.”

Mrs. Atkins stood and moved toward the table, her gaze fixing on Draper. “We will find a way to start a new society.” She shifted her attention to Hadrian and smiled, in spite of the tense mood in the room. Tilda resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Can I count on you to join us, Mr. Beck?” Mrs. Atkins asked.

“Certainly,” Hadrian replied after a moment’s hesitation. “You should accept Draper’s help too.”

Tilda could see that Hadrian had debated whether he should commit, knowing their time in the Coleman Street Ward was coming to an end. Though, if Nevill was telling the truth, Phelps’s murderer was still at large.

She looked about the room and reckoned the culprit had to be there, whether it was Nevill and he was lying, or perhaps it was Furnier, or Dr. Giles, or even Mrs. Atkins.

What of Mr. Draper? They hadn’t considered him before, but he seemed very invested in maintaining the society.

She also couldn’t completely discount Mrs. Walters, though the woman claimed to have told the complete truth.

Still, people like her and Nevill could not be entirely trusted after they were found to have lied about so much.

“Someone must alert the police about Nevill,” Giles said. “I’ll fetch a constable.”

“You don’t need to,” Nevill said, rising in a wobbly fashion. “I will turn myself in.”

Dr. Giles sent him a dubious glower. “Forgive me if I don’t trust you. I’m fetching a constable.” He stalked from the room.

Mrs. Furnier and Mrs. Draper had come into the room but stayed near the doorway. Now, they each went to their husbands. Mr. Draper embraced his wife, whilst Mr. and Mrs. Furnier clasped hands briefly. The Furniers whispered to one another, and Tilda wondered what they were saying.

Hadrian leaned toward Tilda. “Do you believe Nevill’s claims of innocence?” he whispered.

“He’s made himself very unreliable. The evidence leads to him. Nevill looks unsteady on his feet. Perhaps you should help him sit down.” She didn’t want to outright ask Hadrian to touch Nevill in the hope of seeing the murder, not with Maxwell standing so close.

Hadrian’s eyes lit with understanding. “I’ll do that.” He moved around the table to where Nevill stood with his head down.