Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
T he moment Hadrian clasped Tilda’s hand, her body reacted in a very peculiar manner. She tensed, but it wasn’t due to tension. Anticipation sparked and spread through her. The feel of his bare hand in her bare hand was almost … electric. It also felt shockingly right . And Tilda wasn’t at all sure what that meant.
Then he’d begun to whisper, his words coming fast and urgent. She heard his excitement and worked to keep her features still. This man with Beryl had been in Hadrian’s vision at Pollard’s shop.
He looked to be about Tilda’s age of twenty-five and was tall, though not as tall as Hadrian, who was a couple inches over six feet. His hair was dark and his nose long, just as Hadrian had described him from the vision he’d seen. But there was also something familiar about the man that Tilda couldn’t quite grasp.
Beryl’s attention fell on Tilda and Hadrian. Her gaze fell to their joined hands. Hadrian released Tilda at precisely the same moment she loosened her grip. She clasped her hands at her waist and tried not to notice that her palm was still tingling where he’d touched her.
“You’ve returned,” Beryl said. She briefly turned her head to the man at her side. “Allow me to present Lord Ravenhurst and Miss Wren.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man said, though he didn’t smile. “I’m Oliver Chambers. Louis was my older brother.”
That was why he looked familiar. Tilda saw it now—his face was the same shape as his brother’s, and the nose was identical. The younger Chambers had more hair than his brother had possessed, and it waved back from his face. His eyes were also gray instead of brown, and they weren’t as cold. Then again, Oliver Chambers wasn’t currently glowering or spewing insults at anyone.
Chambers went on. “I came to pay my respects to my sister-in-law.”
“That is most kind of you,” Hadrian said. “Please allow us to offer our deepest condolences on the loss of your brother.”
Us? Tilda wasn’t sure why he was speaking on behalf of her. They were a business partnership, not a romantic couple or family or anything else that should provoke him to include her in his sentiments. She wanted to set the disturbance aside, but it continued to needle the back of her mind.
“Yes, I’m very sorry for your loss,” Tilda said.
Chambers shook his head in a manner that seemed to indicate he was trying to clear it of something. “I’m rather shocked. A detective inspector came to tell me earlier, and I hastened here to see Beryl.” He looked over at her with a slight frown. “Such a tragedy to lose one’s husband so young.”
Beryl only glanced at him before looking at the floor for a moment.
“Don’t you have another brother?” Tilda asked. Where was he? Why hadn’t he accompanied his brother on this condolence call?
“Yes, but Daniel did not take the news well. He shut himself in his study with a bottle of brandy, I believe.” The younger Chambers brother grimaced. “I should return to him.”
“You reside together?” Tilda asked, knowing she was treading the line between genial conversation and unsuitable curiosity, particularly in this time of shock and grief.
“For the time being. I just returned to London in December.”
“He was a curate in Kent,” Beryl said. “But he decided the religious life didn’t suit him.”
Chambers turned and put his hand on Beryl’s upper arm, then pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Will you be coming to the inquest?” Tilda asked, again risking being overly inquisitive. She had to be since it was her job.
“Yes, I planned to go in support of Beryl,” Chambers replied. He looked to Hadrian. “I’m pleased that she has your support as well. I’ll bid you good day.” He inclined his head and went to the door.
When he was gone, Beryl wasted no time in asking if they’d brought the sleeping draught.
“Yes, and we also brought some accessories from Flanders,” Hadrian said. “I will fetch them from the parlor.”
Whilst he went to retrieve the items, Tilda asked Beryl how she was feeling. “Were you able to get some rest?”
“Not really,” Beryl said, and indeed she did not appear rested. There were lines around her eyes and mouth, and she was still somewhat pale. “I did lie down for a while, but then Oliver arrived. I am so glad he called.”
“You are close with your brothers-in-law?” Tilda asked.
“Just Oliver. He has always been very kind and considerate, things Louis turned out not to be. Their older brother, Daniel, is rather stoic. He’s difficult to know.” Beryl’s brows arched briefly. “I am surprised at how badly he took the news. I never credited him for having an excess of sentiment about anything.”
Hadrian returned with the boxes and the draught, which sat atop them. “Mr. Flanders gifted you the hats and gloves in the boxes. He and his daughter were distraught to hear of your husband’s passing.”
Beryl put her fingers to her mouth for a moment and blinked, appearing to have to subdue her emotions. Finally, she said, “How thoughtful of them. I hope dear Elinor wasn’t too upset. She is a sweet-natured girl.”
“She felt badly for you,” Tilda said gently. “And sends her condolences.”
“I will write them a note to be delivered along with a funeral invitation. Oliver is taking care of ordering those, though we can’t print them until I know when we can have the funeral.” Beryl wrung her hands. “The inspector couldn’t tell me when Louis’s body will be returned.”
“It shouldn’t be more than a few days,” Tilda said.
“I’m glad you are both here to help. Hadrian, I located the household ledger if you’re still willing to review it for me.”
“Of course,” Hadrian replied. “On that note, I hope you won’t mind my asking, but do you owe money to the druggist and the milliner?”
Beryl inhaled. “Did they tell you that?”
“No,” Tilda said. “Hadrian is only trying to help, and he’ll need to know if you have outstanding debts.”
Pink stained Beryl’s cheeks. “I don’t know how much I owe, but I haven’t made payments to them recently because Louis had cut my allowance.”
Tilda felt badly for the woman because she had no control over her finances, which meant she had no real autonomy at all. “It seems your husband may have been struggling financially.”
“Which explains why he stole my jewelry,” Beryl said with a flash of irritation.
“Are you certain he stole it?” Tilda asked carefully. “I know you think he did, but have you any evidence that it was him?”
Beryl opened her mouth, then closed it again, pressing her lips together. “I don’t have evidence. Isn’t it your job to find it?”
“Yes,” Hadrian said quickly. “However, Tilda can only do her job with the information that is available to her. Your belief that your husband stole your jewelry doesn’t particularly help her in any meaningful way.” He spoke kindly, and Beryl nodded.
“I’ve told her everything I know,” Beryl said.
“Is it possible someone else stole the items?” Hadrian asked. “Perhaps one of your retainers? I hate to make that suggestion, but I think you must consider it.”
Beryl’s gaze flew to him, her eyes widening. “None of them would do such a thing.”
“What about the maid who left your household suddenly?” Tilda asked.
“Farrow would not have stolen from me.” Beryl looked upward, her features creasing with concentration. “I just realized that nothing has gone missing since she left.” She sounded defeated, which Tilda could understand. It would be terrible to think someone you trusted had stolen from you. It might also be that Beryl was disappointed to learn that the culprit might not have been her despised husband.
“Do you know where I can find Farrow? Also, her first name would be helpful.” Tilda would track her down.
“Martha, but I have no idea where she could be. I believe she once told me that her family lived in Stepney. Perhaps you could find them?”
“I will try.” Tilda gave her an encouraging smile. “I would like to speak with your staff. Possibly whilst Hadrian reviews your accounts?”
Beryl nodded. “Yes, please talk to Clara. She is nervous about the inquest tomorrow.”
“I’d be happy to,” Tilda replied.
“She’s in her chamber at the moment. I can take you up there.” Beryl looked at the items Hadrian held. “Let me take those too. You can go to the study whilst I escort Tilda upstairs to speak with Clara.” She smiled at him as she took the boxes. The bottle of the tonic balancing on top wobbled.
Hadrian plucked it up and tucked it into the top box. “That will ensure it doesn’t fall as you go up the stairs.”
Beryl’s gaze softened as she smiled at Hadrian. “You are so thoughtful. The ledger is on Louis’s desk.” She turned toward the staircase hall.
Tilda exchanged a look with Hadrian. She wanted to speak with Clara alone. “Beryl, you should join Hadrian in the study. I’m sure he’ll have questions about the ledger.”
Hadrian nodded. “Yes, that would be most helpful.”
Beryl looked back over her shoulder. “Of course. I’ll be down directly.” She turned once more.
Tilda smiled at Hadrian and barely whispered, “Thank you.”
“Good luck,” he replied softly before Tilda followed Beryl. They did not stop at the first floor or the second. They climbed to the uppermost floor with its lower ceilings and narrow corridor.
Beryl glanced back at Tilda over her shoulder. “Clara’s room is at the end.”
When they reached her door, Beryl knocked softly. “Clara, Miss Wren has returned. Is now a good time for you to speak with her?”
“Yes,” came the reply. The door opened a moment later to reveal Clara. She fidgeted with her skirt, and her eyes were downcast.
Tilda felt sorry for her. Finding her employer dead had to be a shock. “Shall I come in?” Tilda asked, giving the young maid a gentle smile.
Beryl held the boxes slightly toward the maid. “Clara, the milliner sent black hats and gloves for me. Wasn’t that kind of him? When you’re feeling up to it, you can come down and unpack them. I know how much you like it when I have new things.”
“I will, Mrs. Chambers,” Clara said, and Beryl departed.
Tilda closed the door. “I understand you’re a bit apprehensive about the inquest tomorrow.”
The maid did appear worried, but also dubious, as if she wasn’t sure if she ought to trust Tilda. She gestured to the chair she’d vacated. “You can sit, if you like.”
“Thank you,” Tilda said. “Where will you sit?”
“I can sit on the bed.” Clara went to perch on the edge, her position that of a bird ready to take flight.
Tilda angled the chair toward Clara and sat down. “There is nothing to fear from the inquest. The coroner will ask the witnesses questions. And a jury will determine the cause of death.”
“But I will be questioned.” Clara chewed her lip. “I received a summons.”
“Don’t be nervous.” Tilda gave her an encouraging smile. “Just answer the questions. Can you do that?”
Clara nodded. “I already answered the constable’s questions earlier. Will they be like that?”
“Yes. Even more reason not to be nervous. You’ve already done this. Would you like me to ask some questions so you can feel comfortable?”
“Would you?” When Tilda nodded, the maid asked, “How do you know so much about this?”
“My father worked for the Metropolitan Police, and I am an investigator.”
Clara looked at her with admiration. “I didn’t know a woman could do that.”
“Most people don’t think they can,” Tilda said sardonically. “However, I work for a barrister who knows I am capable, and I’m starting to work as a private investigator on my own.” Never mind that all her clients so far had been the Earl of Ravenhurst. “Are you ready to answer some questions?”
Clara squared her shoulders and looked Tilda in the eye. “Yes.”
Tilda smiled. “That is an excellent way to present yourself—with confidence and enthusiasm. Now, when did you come to work here in the Chambers’ household?”
“Six years ago, when I was seventeen. I worked in the scullery for a few months, then became the maid when the other one left.”
“You were the only maid?” Tilda asked.
“Until Mr. Chambers married, and he hired a lady’s maid for Mrs. Chambers.”
“That was Martha Farrow who resigned her post? Then you became Mrs. Chambers’ maid?”
“Yes, though I still complete most of my regular duties as well.”
Tilda was glad for the chance to speak with her about the maid who’d left. “Did you know Farrow well?”
Clara clasped her hands in her lap, her body seeming to tense. “We weren’t close, but we talked and laughed together.”
“Do you know why she left?”
The maid shook her head. “It happened rather quickly. She told me she was leaving and was gone the next day.”
“Was there anything that occurred that might have prompted her to leave?” Tilda asked. “Perhaps she was unhappy here?”
Clara’s gaze shifted, and she chewed her lip again, indicating she was agitated, or so Tilda had gathered based on her behavior. “She didn’t say so. Massey seemed to know her better. You could ask him.”
Tilda made a note to do so. “I will. Do you know where Farrow is employed now?”
“No, but Massey might. Or you could ask her family. Her father does something with the law in Stepney.”
“Is he a barrister or a solicitor?”
Clara lifted her hand and gestured with enthusiasm. “A solicitor, I think.”
Tilda beamed at her. “Clara, you are doing very well.”
A smile lit Clara’s face. “Thank you. I am feeling much better. In spite of everything.”
“Would it be all right if I asked you a few more questions?” Tilda asked.
“Yes, please, this is helpful.”
“Excellent.” Tilda smoothed her hands over her lap. “You are aware of Mrs. Chambers’ jewelry going missing.” Tilda knew she was because Beryl had talked about it yesterday when Clara was in the room.
Clara’s brow creased. “She is very upset about it.”
“I would be too,” Tilda said. “She thinks Mr. Chambers stole it, but nothing more has gone missing since Farrow left. Do you think it’s possible she took the jewelry?”
“I suppose it’s possible.” Clara frowned. “I really couldn’t say.”
“That’s all right.” Tilda gave her a reassuring nod. “Can you tell me about Mr. and Mrs. Chambers? In your opinion, how did they get on?”
“Not terribly well. They argued, and Mr. Chambers sometimes grabbed Mrs. Chambers or pushed her.”
“Did you witness him doing any of that?”
Clara shook her head. “I didn’t, but Farrow told me not long before she left that she’d recently seen Mr. Chambers push Mrs. Chambers down into a chair.”
Tilda already wanted to interview Martha Farrow, but now it was absolutely necessary. Perhaps she’d also been summoned to the inquest. If not, Tilda would find her. And she had a place to start in Stepney with her family.
“Was it difficult working here knowing that about Mr. Chambers?” Tilda asked.
Clara hesitated. When she answered, she spoke in a near whisper. “I wasn’t sure I believed that was true. Mr. Chambers hired me to this position, and I am loyal to him.” She pressed her lips together tightly as if she was trying to keep from saying more. Her jaw tightened.
“I can understand that,” Tilda said gently.
“But then I saw the bruises.” Clara met Tilda’s gaze with a fiery anger. “I didn’t realize he could be that cruel. He was always very kind to me. Or what I thought was kind.” She looked away. A tear fell from her eye, but she quickly brushed it away.
Tilda had a bad feeling about what she might learn next. “How was he kind to you?”
Clara looked back at Tilda but then shifted her gaze to her lap. “He made me feel … special. My mother had died just before I came to work here, and my father left us a long time ago. I was alone, but he made sure I felt cherished.”
Cherished? “Like your father would have made you feel?” Except Louis Chambers was perhaps a decade older than Clara at best.
It took Clara a moment to respond. “No. Not like a father.”
Tilda tamped down her revulsion at what Clara might reveal. “Was he … intimate with you?”
Clara nodded. She wiped her cheeks and kept her head down. “Mrs. Chambers doesn’t know. She’d throw me out without a reference.”
“Your affair continued until Mr. Chambers died?” Tilda wanted to make sure she understood.
Snapping her head up, Clara goggled at Tilda. “ No. That stopped when they wed. I refused to lie with him after that, though he did try to persuade me to do so.”
“He ultimately left you alone?”
“I am sure he had other women.” Clara looked down once more and plucked at her skirt. “I think he sometimes took Martha to his bed, but I’m not certain.”
Martha became more and more interesting. Tilda dearly wanted to know why she’d left and whether she’d taken any of Beryl’s jewelry with her.
“Do you know about any of the other women?” Tilda asked. “Someone who was perhaps his paramour and might wear perfume?”
Clara’s forehead squeezed. “I can’t think of anyone, but I would not be surprised. I feel so foolish thinking he was such a kind man for so many years. Then, when I began to care for Mrs. Chambers, I could see the evidence of his abuse. She is better off without him,” she added fiercely, surprising Tilda with her vehemence.
“Thank you for sharing that with me, Clara. I would advise you to only share what you know tomorrow. The coroner doesn’t need to hear your opinions.” Especially not when they might draw attention to Clara as a suspect. Although, perhaps she ought to be.
“I’ll remember that,” Clara said eagerly. “Thank you for helping me. But please don’t tell Mrs. Chambers about how things were before she married Mr. Chambers.”
Tilda looked at the maid with sympathy. “It will likely come out at the inquest. I’m sorry. Perhaps it would be better if you told her beforehand, so she isn’t surprised.”
Clara paled. “I couldn’t,” she breathed.
“Would you like me to tell her?”
“She’ll toss me out.” Clara appeared stricken, almost panicked. “Probably without a reference.”
“I hope not, but if she does, I’ll do my best to help you find a new position.” Tilda sought to soothe the maid but also meant what she said—provided Clara had not been involved in Chambers’ murder. “Will you trust me to help you?”
Clara nodded. “I suppose I don’t have any choice.”
Tilda reached over and touched Clara’s hand, prompting the maid to meet her gaze. “I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you have a position—either here or somewhere else. Perhaps Mrs. Chambers won’t turn you out. It’s not as if you carried on with him after they were wed.”
Hoping to distract the young woman from worrying, Tilda returned to discussing the inquest. “The coroner will also ask you about finding Mr. Chambers this morning. You don’t need to go through that again with me. I’m sure it was most upsetting.”
“It was.” Clara wiped her brow. “I was expecting to find a mess but not like that.” She shuddered.
Tilda’s curiosity got the better of her, as it often did. “What sort of mess were you expecting?”
“Mr. Chambers had been drinking excessively the last several weeks.” Clara wrinkled her nose. “His chamber pot was disgusting.”
“Vomit?” Tilda wanted specifics, as unpleasant as they were.
“And the night soil was just …” Clara made a face. “Forgive me. He was very ill from drink.”
Tilda nodded. “I think I understand. I’m sure you won’t miss that.”
Clara actually smiled. “No, I will not.”
Tilda stood. “A hearty repast and a good night’s sleep will do wonders for you.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll be here tomorrow and will go to the inquest with Mrs. Chambers. If you have more questions for me, you can ask me then.”
“Thank you,” Clara said.
Tilda took her leave, closing the door behind her and hesitating a moment in the corridor. It seemed there were two new suspects: Clara and Martha Farrow. There was also more evidence that Louis Chambers was despicable. He’d preyed on a young retainer in his household. Perhaps two, if Martha Farrow had also warmed his bed.
When a murder victim was loathsome and disliked or even hated by a great many people, the list of those who would be pleased by his death was long.
Tilda had a great deal of work to do.