Page 8 of A Whisper in the Shadows (Raven & Wren #4)

But how would he convey what he learned to the inspector without revealing the manner in which he’d obtained that knowledge?

He couldn’t very well explain his ability to see others’ memories, nor did he want to.

That was his own secret, and there were only three people in the world who knew it: Tilda and two gentlemen—a father and son—who shared the same power.

The handshake was rather simple. The two men clasped hands, then Phelps showed them how to fan the fingers and hold them away from the other’s hand. Phelps then moved his fingers. “Like they’re feathers fluttering, you see?” he asked. The man copied Phelps.

“Very good,” Phelps said. “Shake once, then glide back and forth and side to side a bit, as if our hands and forearms are a snake slithering.” He demonstrated the movement, and the man smiled. “Now you try.”

The man repeated the handshake. Satisfied, Phelps congratulated him and moved to the next gentleman. As he proceeded down the line, he no longer needed to demonstrate first. The new members had watched and performed the shake without prompting.

When it was Hadrian’s turn, he clasped Phelps’s hand. The edges of his vision blurred as one of the man’s memories came into focus. Hadrian did not close his eyes, for when he did, that ended the vision.

He saw Phelps transfer coins from a purse to a metal box that already contained money.

Before Hadrian could try to determine where this was taking place or how Phelps might have been feeling, the handshake was over, and the memory disappeared.

Pain shot through Hadrian’s head, which he expected.

Hopefully, the headache would be short-lived.

After Maxwell shook Phelps’s hand, the new members returned to their seats.

The rest of the meeting was rather boring, as they discussed plans for a parade in July.

Someone suggested the ladies could organize a picnic.

Maxwell endorsed this idea, and Hadrian knew why.

It would involve Tilda in the matters of the society, assuming the planning happened soon, and that would be helpful.

Indeed, knowing that Tilda could not join the society, Hadrian wondered what her role in the investigation would be.

He supposed she could learn things from the wives.

He wondered if any of them in the common room were married to the administrators.

They seemed to be the men on which to focus their investigation.

If the society was, in fact, corrupt, they would be the likely culprits, along with the canvasser, Eaton.

Just before the meeting concluded, a man raised his hand.

Phelps called his name, and the man stood to ask what was happening with the possible corruption committed by the former canvasser.

This was met with murmurs and Phelps holding up his hands.

He said they were still looking into the matter and asked everyone to be patient. Then he adjourned the meeting.

As the gentlemen began to make their way from the room, Maxwell turned to Hadrian. “That was interesting. And helpful—it gives us the perfect opportunity to ask about Eaton and potential corruption.”

“Agreed,” Hadrian said eagerly. “I’d also like to ask a few questions about membership admissions.”

Nodding, Maxwell accompanied Hadrian to the front of the room, where the administrators were placing the items on the table into a crate. “We wanted to thank you for welcoming us into the Amicable Society,” Maxwell said with a smile.

“We’re delighted to have you,” Nevill replied with enthusiasm.

Hadrian stepped up to the table as Furnier pulled the purple cloth away and began to fold it.

“You mentioned there are new members who aren’t here this evening.

I’m curious how they’re assessed and admitted to the society?

I had the impression it was important to be present.

” He glanced at Furnier, who narrowed his eyes briefly.

“It is, but we understand it isn’t always possible with work and family,” Phelps said, sounding rather smooth.

“Is there another day and time when people may apply for membership?” Hadrian pressed.

“Not specifically,” Phelps replied. “If a member wants to recommend someone and that person can’t attend the meeting, they arrange to meet with one of us, and we conduct the membership interview and collect the entrance fee.

” He cocked his head and studied Hadrian a moment. “Why are you so interested?”

Hadrian summoned a brief smile. “Merely curious.”

“I’d heard there was a canvasser until recently,” Maxwell said. “What happened with him?”

Phelps’s jaw tightened. “His practices have come into question, and he is no longer with the society.”

“How unfortunate.” Maxwell’s brow creased. “Were some of those questionable practices to do with not having members sponsor the men he recruited and not conducting medical assessments?”

“In fact, we endeavored to have Mr. Eaton call on men whom members endorsed,” Nevill explained. “He would conduct the interview and collect the entrance fee.”

“What about having Dr. Giles assess their health?” Maxwell asked.

Phelps flashed a smile, but it did not reach his dark eyes. Indeed, his gaze held a glint of annoyance. “You must excuse us, Mr. Harwood. We need to clean up and be on our way.”

“Of course.” Maxwell inclined his head and turned from the table.

Hadrian bade the administrators good evening and accompanied Maxwell from the room. They found Tilda, who’d already excused herself from the other ladies, then left the pub together. They did not speak until they’d reached White Alley.

“How was the initiation?” Tilda asked.

“Ridiculous,” Hadrian replied. “Phelps wore a hat to make him look like a cock and then made the sound of one.”

“We heard that,” Tilda said with a chuckle. “The other ladies almost universally rolled their eyes.”

“Would you like to learn the handshake?” Hadrian asked.

She met his gaze with avid interest, and it was clear to Hadrian that she wanted to know if he’d seen anything. However, he couldn’t reveal that in front of Maxwell. “There was a handshake?” she asked.

“We’re not supposed to share any of that,” Maxwell said with faint disapproval. “It’s a secret for members only.”

Hadrian scoffed. “You’re not really buying into all that, are you?”

Maxwell allowed a smile, and it occurred to Hadrian that, without his facial hair, the man was rather attractive.

He also looked young, which made Hadrian think of Furnier’s comment that, at thirty, Hadrian wasn’t young.

He felt an irrational prick of irritation.

Was that provoked by the inspector’s youth?

“I found the ceremony ridiculous as well,” Maxwell said. “And it doesn’t seem as though it’s necessary. What I mean is, I don’t think every member is formally initiated.”

“I agree.” Hadrian nodded as he looked to Tilda.

“There were a few members who were recruited since the last meeting but who weren’t present tonight.

I found that odd after Furnier made a point of telling me I should attend a certain number of meetings.

But then Nevill seemed to disagree, so perhaps that isn’t a policy. ”

“Though I’ve just met Furnier, I had the impression he’s a stickler,” Maxwell said.

“Definitely,” Hadrian agreed. “I also found it odd that they required Maxwell and me to be proposed by existing members and yet employed a canvasser to recruit people who may not have been proposed.”

“That was why I asked the question,” Maxwell said.

“Though they did say they tried to have the canvasser call on houses recommended by other members. Still, I don’t know how they ensured that was the case.

Did you note how they didn’t respond to my query about the doctor’s approval of those members? ”

“I did.”

“It seems as though it may have been easy for a member to hide an illness,” Tilda said.

“Such as Mr. Cardy?” Hadrian wasn’t sure what Tilda was implying, if anything. “You think the Cardys perpetrated the fraud instead of the society?”

Tilda shrugged. “I think it’s possible Cardy lied about his illness in order to obtain benefits, and Mrs. Cardy could have lied to the society about being told there was a six-month eligibility policy in an effort to collect the money early.

I’m not saying I believe that’s what happened, just that we must think of this from all perspectives. ”

“You are correct,” Maxwell said with a hint of admiration. His gaze met Tilda’s, and she smiled at him.

Hadrian noted the connection between them and had to ignore another pang of frustration. He forced himself to think of the investigation. “I could easily have lied to Dr. Giles about my health. He did not conduct a physical examination. Is that odd for a friendly society?”

“I’m not certain.” Maxwell frowned. “I believe it varies. I wanted to ask more questions, specifically how they collect the weekly dues from people who aren’t in attendance.”

“I have the answer to that.” Hadrian shared what Furnier and Nevill had told him.

“When I mentioned I may not be able to attend every week, they said I would need to find a way to make my payments, as that is when they collect. I’m allowed to send it with someone, such as my brother-in-law here.

” He inclined his head toward Maxwell. “That means I must trust him not to steal it.” He added the last with a smile, but he realized he harbored an irritation toward the inspector.

Not dislike, exactly, but something about the man grated on Hadrian’s nerves.

“And I have an answer about whether it’s odd not to conduct a physical examination,” Tilda said.

“There was some discussion about Gilbert Cardy’s death and the fact that he was ill when he was admitted.

Everyone finds that strange—according to Mrs. Burley.

She is clearly the society’s gossipmonger. ”

“What else did Mrs. Burley say?” Maxwell asked with interest.

“That last week’s meeting was lively, as several people voiced concerns about ill members being admitted.

There is also a question as to why the Cardys may have misunderstood the eligibility period.

” Tilda looked from Maxwell to Hadrian. “Apparently, Mr. Phelps assured everyone that the administrators would deal with the issues. Did they address anything during your meeting?”

“No, they did not.” They reached Number Five, and Maxwell unlocked the door. He held it open for Tilda and Hadrian to precede him inside.

After closing the door, the inspector moved to light a lantern that sat on a small table against the wall, where the stairway rose. “If you give me your hand, Miss Wren, I will demonstrate the handshake.”

Tilda extended her hand, and Maxwell clasped it, fluttering his fingers. “Those are supposed to be feathers, and this is a snake.” He moved their hands and forearms, pumping forward and pulling back with a gentle glide.

Hadrian watched with a surprising sensation of disappointment.

He’d wanted to show her. He realized he would take any opportunity to touch Tilda.

They’d come so close last week before the inspector had arrived at her house.

Their hands had almost touched, and it was the most intimate moment they’d shared since they’d kissed several weeks ago.

Hadrian had been unaccountably disappointed that they’d been interrupted.

Now, as he watched her shake the inspector’s hand, along with the knowledge that they would be residing together under the same roof, Hadrian realized a horrible and undeniable fact, and perhaps the reason for why Maxwell troubled him.

Hadrian was jealous.