Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
I t was mid-afternoon when they arrived at Scotland Yard. Hadrian escorted Tilda into the building, and she asked if Detective Inspector Teague was available.
A constable showed them to Teague’s office where the inspector was seated behind his desk. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood as they entered.
“I was just finishing lunch,” Teague said. “Busy day, and I’m only here for a short while.”
Tilda moved to stand near his desk. “We’re sorry to disturb you, but we’ve just visited the Jeffords’ boarding house in Spitalfields.”
“I take it you’ve something to share?” Teague said.
“Yes, but first I’d like to know why the inquest was postponed,” Tilda replied. “Did something happen?”
Teague tossed his napkin onto the desk next to a greasy paper wrapping that had likely once contained his lunch. “All I can say is that the coroner decided to do a more thorough post-mortem examination.”
“What prompted that?” Hadrian asked.
“I repeat that this is all I can tell you,” Teague replied, looking pointedly at both of them. “What did you learn in Spitalfields?”
Tilda removed the brooch from her reticule. “We found this in Martha Farrow’s room. Did your constable miss it?” She held the piece out on her palm.
A scowl twisted Teague’s features momentarily. “The constable hasn’t been there yet. We were shorthanded, and I needed a pair of men to search the Chambers’ house again from top to bottom.”
Tilda would have wagered the search had something to do with the additional post-mortem examination but didn’t ask. She could visit Beryl and hopefully find out what had taken place.
Teague picked up the brooch from Tilda’s palm. “Where did you find this?”
“In a dresser drawer. It belongs to Beryl Chambers,” Tilda said.
“You’re sure?” Teague asked, his brows arching.
“It matches the description of one of the missing items and was the last of the pieces to disappear—just before Martha Farrow left the household.”
“It would appear she stole it then.”
Tilda couldn’t tell him that Martha hadn’t stolen it, that Chambers had given it to her. However, Martha would have recognized it as belonging to Beryl. Not returning it to her was as good as stealing.
Teague turned the brooch over in his hand. “But why hasn’t she sold it? She could have used the funds to stay somewhere far nicer and safer than Flower and Dean Street.”
Tilda lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps she’d planned to do so and just hadn’t yet.” Except why wait? And since she hadn’t sold it, she must have had other funds to pay for her lodging the past several days.
“Did you learn anything else?” Teague asked.
Tilda wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him more, not when he was withholding information about why the inquest was postponed.
Teague must have sensed her hesitation. He glanced toward Hadrian who stood beside her. “If your goal is to convince me of Ravenhurst’s innocence, you should share any information with me that would help with that endeavor.”
“Does the inquest postponement have anything to do with Hadrian?” Tilda asked.
“Not that I am aware of, but this is an ongoing investigation.” He gave her a direct stare, his brown eyes fixed on her. “I have not yet learned anything that has proven Ravenhurst was involved in Chambers’ murder. If you have information that would help my investigation, I would appreciate you sharing it.”
“We interviewed Mrs. Jefford,” Tilda said finally. “As well as a pair of local women. All of them said Martha was carrying a child.”
“Bloody hell,” Teague whispered. “Was the father with her?”
“No, we suspect Chambers sired the babe,” Tilda said. “It just makes sense given what we know of him.” And definitely not because Hadrian had seen a vision that seemed to indicate Martha Farrow had shared Chambers’ bed. She glanced at Hadrian who gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
“I agree it makes sense,” Teague said. “Too bad we can’t question Miss Farrow.” He shook his head.
“And doesn’t that make you suspect her death was not an accident?” Tilda asked.
“It’s definitely suspicious. However, now that we know she was with child and that Chambers may have fathered the babe, we must also consider that she may have had motive to kill him.”
Tilda had thought so too. “I’d like to speak with her family at least.”
“You can try, but her father doesn’t have much to say about her. I called on him in Arbour Square earlier. He’s a solicitor at the Thames Magistrate Court.”
Hadrian crossed his arms over his chest as his brows pitched low over his eyes. “How on earth does his daughter end up as a maid and then living in a shoddy boarding house in one of London’s worst rookeries?”
Teague frowned. “She was expelled from her house at the age of sixteen because she was with child.”
Tilda wondered what had happened to that babe. Martha hadn’t had a child when she’d worked in the Chambers’ household. “How terrible for her to be turned out by her own family,” Tilda said quietly.
“Her father has not softened over the years. He showed no sadness for her death and even indicated he wanted to leave her to a pauper’s grave. However, his wife insisted they bury her in a plot.”
Tilda wished things had turned out differently for the young woman. And she was determined to find justice for Martha if she’d been pushed over that stair railing. She decided to tell Teague about the veiled woman—they needed all the help they could manage if they wanted to find her. “Mrs. Jefford said that Martha had two visitors. Once was a woman in a veil who called at least twice, including last evening. She arrived as they were about to have dinner, and Mrs. Jefford did not see when the woman departed.”
Teague arched a sardonic brow. “A woman in a veil? That’s not suspicious. Who was the second visitor?”
“We think it was Massey based on Mrs. Jefford’s description,” Hadrian replied.
“Well, that is interesting,” Teague said slowly, his gaze focused somewhere on the wall behind them as he appeared to be contemplating this latest bit of information.
“I’d like to speak to Massey, but he did not sleep at Beryl’s house last night, nor was he there this morning,” Tilda said. “I don’t suppose you would tell us where we may find him? I suspect he’s wherever he spends the nights he is not at the Chambers’ house.”
Teague hesitated, and Tilda began to grow frustrated. She’d shared a great deal of information with the man. “It’s rather sensitive,” Teague said at last.
Hadrian uncrossed his arms. “In what way?”
“He spends his free nights at a brothel called the Cock and Hen on Craven Street near Charing Cross.” Teague pinned them both with an intense stare. “It is not a typical brothel. He didn’t say what he does there, but I know they cater to a variety of tastes.” He focused on Hadrian. “You can’t take Miss Wren there.”
“I decide where I go, Inspector,” Tilda said crossly.
Hadrian gave Teague a cool smile. “You heard her.”
Teague nodded as he exhaled. “Why do you think Massey visited Miss Farrow?”
“They were friends, according to Beryl,” Tilda replied. “Friends who could have conspired to kill their employer.”
“Massey is not a suspect,” Teague noted. “Unless you’ve deduced something I have not.” He sounded dubious.
“Not yet,” Tilda said with a smile. “My suspects are Beryl, Pollard, Oliver Chambers, and Martha Farrow. Do our lists match?”
“I would add Lord Ravenhurst.” He cast Hadrian an apologetic glance.
Tilda saw Hadrian scowl from the corner of her eye. “I have eliminated him as a suspect. He does not have a strong enough motive, and I believe he was at home all night when Chambers was murdered.”
Teague’s brows slanted down. “Chambers apparently despised him and stole Ravenhurst’s fiancée. You don’t think that is enough motivation?”
“We’ve no idea why Chambers disliked Hadrian so much, and Hadrian certainly didn’t return the sentiment. He hardly thought of the man at all and definitely didn’t hold a grudge over losing Beryl to him. Indeed, Hadrian had decided he and Beryl didn’t suit, so Chambers, in fact, did him a favor.” Tilda didn’t clarify when Hadrian had made that decision, and it sounded as though he’d done so perhaps even whilst they were still betrothed. In fact, she had no issue with Teague interpreting it that way.
“I see. Well, that is helpful to know. I am still not ready to remove Ravenhurst from my list of suspects.”
Tilda hardened her gaze upon Teague. “So long as you also consider that it would benefit the killer if focus was directed at Ravenhurst, who is innocent.”
Teague inclined his head as he moved from behind his desk. “I understand. Now I must be on my way to Spitalfields to take an official report from Mr. and Mrs. Jefford.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Hadrian said.
“Thank you for the brooch.” Teague gestured toward Tilda with the piece of jewelry.
“We’ll see you at the inquest on Monday,” she replied.
They left Teague’s office, and Tilda couldn’t help feeling slightly frustrated. When they were outside and walking toward Hadrian’s coach, she finally said, “I am trying to think of why the coroner would postpone the inquest to conduct a more thorough post-mortem examination. What prompted him to do that? Or was he instructed to do that by someone else?”
“Who would have done that?” Hadrian asked.
“I’ve no idea. Coroners are often self-important, or so my father used to say. So, it’s perhaps more likely that the decision came from him. I just want to know why .”
They arrived at the coach, and Hadrian pivoted to face her. “I appreciate what you said to Teague about me being innocent.”
“I do trust him to be thorough in his investigation,” she said. “But I also felt the need to point out that there is focus on you when there needn’t be. You did not have a relationship with Beryl, and you did not wish Louis Chambers ill.”
He gave her a faint smile laced with understanding. “I’m sorry you’re aggravated.”
Tilda worked to push her annoyance aside and focus on what she could do to continue her investigation. “At least we can go question Massey now.”
Hadrian’s brow puckered, and his mouth tipped into a slight frown. “We’ve already survived one threatening environment today, should we really enter another?”
“Craven Street won’t be as bad as Flower and Dean,” Tilda said with a smile.
“Perhaps not, but the Cock and Hen may not be an appropriate place for you to visit.” He spoke cautiously, probably because he knew Tilda would disagree.
“I don’t care about such things,” she said perhaps a bit too sternly. “Particularly when I am conducting an investigation. Though in truth, I’ve no reason to visit a place like that when I am not.” She met his gaze and held it a moment. “Please don’t worry. You can take Leach’s pistol again if it will make you feel better.”
“I will,” Hadrian said before informing Leach of their destination.
“Happy to give you the pistol when we arrive, my lord,” he said with an affable nod before handing Tilda into the coach.
“Thank you, Leach.” She settled herself on the forward-facing seat as Hadrian sat down beside her.
As they began moving, Hadrian asked, “Is there any place you wouldn’t go in the effort of solving a crime?”
“Nothing comes to mind, but I suppose it would depend on the specific situation. For example, I am not sure I would have ventured to Flower and Dean Street after dark. At least, not without fetching my pistol first.”
“Perhaps I should start carrying a pistol,” Hadrian said.
“Don’t feel as though you need to. I am quite capable of seeing after myself.”
Hadrian looked over at her, his eyes dark and somewhat intense. “I will always protect you, whether you think it’s necessary or not. And don’t think to debate me.” He shifted his gaze forward, and Tilda regarded his handsome profile. The set of his jaw told her he was quite serious about keeping her safe.
Tilda wouldn’t quarrel with that. “I do think if I can manage an evening at Northumberland House, as we did recently, the Cock and Hen will be easy.”
This lightened Hadrian’s expression, and he laughed. “I don’t think they are comparable, but I understand your point. You are willing to venture wherever necessary to conduct your investigation.” He inclined his head. “I’m just glad you’re allowing me to come along.”
T he Cock and Hen appeared to be a somewhat respectable establishment. It was at least in better condition and tidier than most of what they’d seen earlier in Spitalfields.
Leach parked the coach across the street, and once again gave Hadrian his pistol.
Tilda took Hadrian’s arm as they made their way to the brothel, which looked rather like a tavern. It even had a common area with a bar. There were no customers, however, perhaps due to it being afternoon.
A middle-aged woman came from behind the bar and greeted them, her expression cautious. She wore an elaborate hairstyle that looked as though it were from another era but was also quite flattering. The color was a vibrant red, which made Hadrian think it was likely a wig. Her features were painted with cosmetics, and her lips were scarlet.
“Good afternoon,” she said with a dark, husky voice. “How can I help you?”
Hadrian wasn’t sure what to say, so he left the response to Tilda.
Smiling, Tilda inclined her head at the woman. “Good afternoon. We are looking for a young man called Massey.”
The woman fluttered her lashes and gave them a patient half smile. “What makes you think you’d find him here?”
“We know he is here,” Tilda replied. “If you would tell him that Lord Ravenhurst and Miss Wren wish to speak with him, we would be most obliged.”
Surprise flickered across the woman’s features at the mention of a nobleman. She dipped a brief curtsey to Hadrian. “Your lordship. Your need to speak with Massey must be urgent if you decided to come here. Why don’t you follow me to the sitting room, so you aren’t seen in the common area? I’m Mrs. Longbotham.” She led them to a doorway at the back of the common room into a short corridor and then into a room on the right, gesturing for Tilda and Hadrian to go in before her.
Windowless, the room was covered in mirrors and several bright lanterns ensured there was plenty of light. The furniture was boldly colored with red, orange, and a brilliant blue.
“Wait here, and I’ll see if Massey wishes to receive you.” Mrs. Longbotham turned from the doorway in a rustle of dark-bronze silk.
“Should we sit?” Hadrian asked.
“You can if you wish, but I’ll wait to see if Massey arrives,” Tilda said. “Rather, if he receives us.” She waggled her brows.
“Mrs. Longbotham seems rather formal for an establishment such as this,” Hadrian noted. She was dressed for an evening out, she’d curtsied to Hadrian, and she’d behaved as if they were paying a call at someone’s residence. “Her hair was rather astonishing, though I do suspect it is a wig.”
Tilda arched her brow at him briefly as she took a step toward him, so they were rather close. “You do realize that Mrs. Longbotham isn’t a woman,” she whispered.
Hadrian blinked. “Indeed? I found her attractive.”
“She is,” Tilda replied in agreement. “At least in my estimation.”
“But she is not a she,” Hadrian said despite visual evidence to the contrary. She certainly looked like a woman.
“Teague did say the Cock and Hen catered to a variety of tastes.” Tilda kept her voice low and looked toward the doorway. “I wonder if Massey will be dressed as a woman.”
Hadrian tried to imagine that and found he could. “I daresay he would also be attractive. Now I am wondering how I might look in a gown.”
Tilda surveyed him, her eyes moving over him from his boots to his hat. Heat pricked through him under the heady weight of her perusal. She looked abruptly away from him and took several steps toward the center of the room as her gaze moved around the space. He wondered if she’d felt the same blistering warmth.
A moment later, Massey entered the room. He eyed them both with considerable wariness. “How did you find me here?”
Tilda faced him. “Detective Inspector Teague told us.”
Massey’s face lost a bit of color. “What else did he tell you?”
“That this is where you spend your evenings off,” Tilda replied. “However, we are not here to trouble you about that. We have come to speak with you about Martha Farrow. You are aware she has died?”
The valet moved to the nearest seat—a chair with a red-and-orange floral pattern—and sank down as he covered his mouth.
Hadrian felt a surge of sympathy for the young man, as it seemed he had not known.
“I’m sorry,” Tilda said, moving closer to Massey and perching on a chair near his. “I should have revealed that information in a more sensitive manner.” She glanced up at Hadrian with a light grimace.
Joining them in the seating area, Hadrian sat in a third chair and angled himself toward Massey. “Please take all the time you need to acclimate yourself to this news. We understand from Beryl—Mrs. Chambers—that you and Miss Farrow were friends.”
Massey pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes. “We were. She was …” He cut himself off before saying whatever he’d meant to. He lifted his gaze to look at each of them. “Is that why the inquest was postponed? I went to the pub as I was summoned to do but learned it would take place on Monday instead.”
“We aren’t sure why it was delayed,” Tilda said. “We learned of Miss Farrow’s death just this morning when we arrived at the Chambers’ house.”
“I haven’t gone there today.” Massey wiped his nose. “I fetched some belongings yesterday. I didn’t think I should remain there now that my employer is gone.”
“But you could, I’m sure,” Hadrian said. “Why would you think you needed to leave?”
“Mrs. Chambers doesn’t care for me, and the feeling is mutual.” Massey’s lips pursed but he blinked the expression away before regarding them intently. “How did Martha die?”
“She fell over the railing at the house where she was lodging in Spitalfields,” Tilda said gently. “Did you visit her there recently?”
Massey’s gaze turned wary once more.
Tilda clasped her hands in her lap. “We know you did. We also know that Martha was expecting a child.”
Nodding, Massey dabbed the handkerchief to his eyes once more.
“Was your employer the babe’s father?” Tilda asked.
Massey sucked in a breath. “How did you know?”
Tilda exchanged a brief look with Hadrian. They could not reveal his visions, of course. “I wasn’t certain, but I appreciate you confirming that,” she said with a soft smile. “Do you know why she resigned her post?”
“You already know the answer to that,” Massey said. “She was with child. She couldn’t stay there.”
Hadrian thought of the visions he’d had, particularly of how the woman who’d received the brooch from Louis Chambers had felt. Martha Farrow was likely that woman, and she’d felt as though she’d been wronged. “But was leaving entirely her decision?”
“No,” Massey whispered. “She didn’t want to lose her position, which meant she couldn’t have the babe. She asked Mr. Chambers for money to take care of it, but he said he wouldn’t help her and that she had to leave. She refused, so he gave her one of Mrs. Chambers’ brooches and told her to sell it. He also offered to give her a reference.”
Hadrian wondered why Martha hadn’t sold the brooch.
Tilda gave the valet an encouraging smile. “We appreciate your telling us this, Massey. I found the brooch in Martha’s room at the lodging house. Have you any idea why she didn’t sell it?”
Massey rubbed his palms along his thighs in an agitated manner. “She tried, but the pawnbroker accused her of stealing it. He said someone like her wouldn’t have something that nice, and he would fetch the police.” The valet gave them a mournful look. “She was just trying to do what she could to survive. I know you’ll think she was foolish to lie with Mr. Chambers, but Martha thought she loved him. Her family had turned her out. She only wanted to be loved.”
“I’m sorry she struggled,” Hadrian said.
“When and why did you visit her at the lodging house?” Tilda asked.
“She sent me a note asking me to come, saying she needed money. I took her what I could. That was last Sunday.”
“Then you were aware of Mr. Chambers’ infidelity?” Tilda prompted. “You indicated to Detective Inspector Teague that you were not.”
Massey’s face flushed. “How could I not be?” His brows pitched in anger. “Mr. Chambers treated Martha horribly. After he turned her out, he lamented to me about what a strumpet she was and how she’d lured him to her bed. It’s as if he thought I wasn’t aware of what went on here.” His lip curled, and his eyes were darkly furious.
“Why did you lie about that to the inspector?” Tilda asked.
Massey shrugged as some of the vitriol left his expression. “I suppose I was trying to protect Martha. I don’t think she would kill anyone, but if the inspector knew she was carrying Mr. Chambers’ child and that he’d turned her out, I can’t imagine it would have looked good for her.”
“I understand protecting a friend.” Tilda darted a glance at Hadrian.
“Also, Mr. Chambers always told me to mind my own business as I expected others to mind theirs. I was not in the habit of sharing his secrets.” His gaze darted away for a moment. “As you have likely deduced, I have my own secrets I prefer to keep hidden.”
Hadrian wasn’t entirely sure what Massey’s specific secret was, nor was it his business. “Why were you so loyal to a man that you clearly dislike? Particularly after he died?”
The valet’s nostrils flared as he regarded them once more. “I had a good position. Chambers allowed me an entire night to myself once a fortnight. Do you know how difficult that is for someone in service to have? I can’t imagine you do.” His gaze lingered on Hadrian.
Massey was silent a moment, his features stoic. “Chambers would taunt me sometimes, saying it would be a shame if I ran into trouble whilst I was enjoying my night off. When he tossed Martha out, she warned me that Chambers would turn on me too if the need arose.” His eyes simmered with anger. “And before you ask—I didn’t kill him.”
“You said that Beryl did,” Tilda said. “Why do you think that?”
“She was just as bad as he was. They were horrid to one another—shouting at one another and harming each other. She beat him with her hairbrush once, left red welts on his neck.”
Hadrian clenched his jaw lest he gasp. This was shocking to hear.
Tilda glanced at him before looking back to Massey. “Was she also unfaithful?”
“Yes, I told the inspector that.” He looked at Hadrian. “I thought she was likely having an affair with you, given the way Chambers went on about you.”
“It is definitely not me,” Hadrian said sharply, keeping his anger in check.
Tilda touched Hadrian’s arm. “It was not Lord Ravenhurst. He was not in contact with Mrs. Chambers until she asked him for help the day before her husband was killed. Have you any other suspicions as to who her lover might be?”
Massey shook his head. “She wasn’t conducting any liaisons in the house, unlike her idiot husband.”
“Was Chambers carrying on with anyone besides the two maids?” Tilda asked.
“Not in the house.” Massey hesitated. “Though I did wonder if he’d had someone in his bed on one of the nights that I was gone last month. I smelled perfume on the linens—a strong floral scent, roses perhaps.”
Tilda recalled Beryl telling her about smelling perfume when they’d met the first time. “That is helpful—thank you, Massey. Can you tell us anything more about Martha? We are trying to determine if her death was truly an accident. It seems coincidental that she would die the day after Mr. Chambers.”
Massey shook his head. “I’ve told you everything.” His chin dipped, and he looked at his lap. “Martha wasn’t a bad person. She was a good friend to me. She knew my secret and kept it.”
“I am sorry Martha is no longer here for you,” Tilda said softly.
Massey sniffed and lifted his head, blinking away his emotion. “I’m just glad to be away from that household. I confess that Mr. Chambers had become difficult to work for. He’d been drinking excessively and was often ill the past fortnight or more. I was weary of cleaning up after him.” He grimaced. “I do wish I had a reference from him. Though I worry no one will want to hire me after what happened to my employer.”
Hadrian understood that this was a scandal, and that it may negatively impact Massey as well as the other retainers. “Perhaps I can help by offering my own recommendation.”
“Why would you do that?” Massey asked dubiously, his gaze narrowed.
“You should not suffer because your employer was murdered,” Hadrian said simply.
“That is incredibly kind of you, my lord.” Massey’s voice was small, his eyes grateful.
“I have one more question for you,” Tilda said. “A woman in a veil was seen at Martha’s lodgings the night she died. Have you any idea who else would visit her?”
Massey’s brow creased, and he pushed his hair back from his forehead. “A woman in a veil? No one from the Chambers’ household would have visited her. I was the only one who liked her. The housekeeper, cook, and Oswald are thick as thieves and never really took to the rest of us. They were already working in the house when Chambers assumed the lease.”
“What about Clara? She’s been with the household for some time. Did you know her well?”
“Chambers hired her on the year after I started. She was very timid and eager to please, which Chambers took advantage of.” His mouth twisted with disdain briefly. “I was glad when she stopped sharing his bed after he wed—and relieved that Chambers didn’t press her to continue. But we never became close.”
Tilda cocked her head. “Did Chambers pressure her to begin with?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think she could have killed Chambers?” Tilda asked.
“That would shock me, but then I don’t know her very well.”
“You don’t know me either, yet you think I would have an affair with another man’s wife,” Hadrian said, knowing he sounded sour. However, his life and reputation were at risk. “It would be helpful to me if you stopped reiterating that lie.”
Massey looked pained. “I do apologize, my lord. It’s clear Mr. Chambers didn’t care for you, and I should have realized he was more concerned with denigrating you than speaking the truth. I’ll understand if you would rather not help me as I search for a new position.”
“I will help you,” Hadrian replied. “I am not one to hold a grudge. I am not sure, however, if you’ll find a position where you can be gone overnight on a regular basis, but I will hold out hope for you. Have you considered employment where you are not in service? You could work in a gentleman’s club, perhaps.”
Surprise flickered in Massey’s gaze. “I had not considered that.”
“You may need to make some … adjustments if you took that path. You would not want to be seen living in an establishment like this.”
Massey nodded. “I understand.”
Tilda had one more question. “Did anyone ask you to say that his lordship was carrying on with Mrs. Chambers?”
The valet shook his head. “No. It was something Mr. Chambers said.” He twisted his lips. “And I repeated the lie thinking it was true.” He sent another apologetic look toward Hadrian.
“Thank you, Massey,” Tilda said with a kind smile as she rose. “You’ve been very helpful. We’ll see you at the inquest on Monday.”
Hadrian stood, and the valet did as well.
“I’m sorry for what I said about you,” Massey said to Hadrian before looking at Tilda. “Who do you think killed Mr. Chambers?”
“I don’t know yet,” Tilda replied. “But we will find the truth.”
They took their leave, and when they were outside, Hadrian escorted Tilda across the street to the coach. “I am rather hungry,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me for a repast at the pub up there?” He gestured toward the Strand.
“I should return home to my grandmother, but I confess I am hungry too. Let us have a quick meal, and we’ll review what we know, including our latest suspect.”
Hadrian arched a brow at her. “Who is that?”
“Massey, of course.”