A Whisper at Midnight (Raven & Wren #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

London, March 1868

T wo days ago, aspiring investigator Miss Matilda Wren received a request to assist with a sensitive case for a woman who wished to divorce her husband. Initially thrilled to have the opportunity for another paid investigation, Tilda was then shocked to see the identity of her new client: the former fiancée of her friend and associate, Lord Ravenhurst.

Rather, Hadrian, as he’d bade her to call him at their last meeting, which had also been two days ago. She hadn’t known about the investigation with his former fiancée until after he’d left her grandmother’s house where he’d taken tea with them. And she wouldn’t tell him.

The reason for the dissolution of their betrothal was both embarrassing and upsetting to Hadrian. He’d caught his fiancée in a compromising position. She and Hadrian had parted ways, and she’d married the man Hadrian had seen her kissing.

Tilda would not be responsible for bringing the woman back into his life or even his awareness. Indeed, she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to help this person, given her treatment of Hadrian, but Tilda needed the employment.

She lived in her grandmother’s household and managed the finances, which had recently improved from absolutely dire to uncomfortably sufficient. Her grandmother’s solicitor had found an account of funds that had been “lost” in the transition between solicitors. It wasn’t a great sum, but it permitted them to support the newest member of their household—Tilda’s grandfather’s cousin’s butler who’d been displaced by the cousin’s death.

It also ensured they could afford her grandmother’s medicine for her aching hands, so she could keep up with her beloved embroidery. The money also encouraged more restful sleep for Tilda, and for that, she was extremely grateful. Still, she was frugal and committed to making sure their circumstances did not reach a dire state ever again.

For that reason, she would accept this assignment to assist Hadrian’s former fiancée.

Taking a deep breath, Tilda stepped into the outer office of Mr. Forrest, the barrister who had requested her assistance and for whom she’d worked on several occasions. His clerk, Mr. Clarence, looked up from his desk and removed his spectacles. Setting them down, he smiled at her as he stood. “Good afternoon, Miss Wren. What a pleasure to see you.”

“Indeed, good afternoon, Mr. Clarence.” Tilda nodded warmly at the wiry man. In his early fifties, he had thinning gray hair and sharp, assessing brown eyes.

“Go right in, Miss Wren. Mr. Forrest is expecting you.”

Tilda stepped through the open doorway into the barrister’s spacious office. It was more like a small library, with bookcases lining two of the walls. He stood from behind his large oak desk and gestured toward the seating area near the hearth.

The barrister was a bear of a man who would have been suited for the Metropolitan Police. He possessed a thick, rugged build and kind blue eyes that were at odds with his imposing presence. His chin was somewhat long and tended to jut when he was contemplating something, which was quite often in his work.

“Welcome, Miss Wren,” he said with his usual engaging smile. “I’m delighted you are able to assist. This matter is quite sensitive.”

“I understand.” Tilda perched on the chair she usually sat in when Mr. Forrest summoned her to work on a case. “Your client is seeking a divorce on the grounds of cruelty and adultery?”

“Yes. Mrs. Chambers also says Mr. Chambers has stolen some of her jewelry and sold it, but once they wed, it became his property. She has no recourse there.” His tone was perfunctory, but there was a sympathetic gleam in his eyes.

Though it was perfectly legal for Mr. Chambers to do as he wished with his wife’s jewelry, Tilda would do her best to find it. But would Mrs. Chambers pay Tilda to do that investigative work? It was not part of her assignment from Mr. Forrest, and Tilda couldn’t afford to work for free.

Tilda couldn’t help feeling curious about this woman who’d once been betrothed to Hadrian. He’d said he was glad to have avoided an unhappy marriage, but he hadn’t mentioned his feelings toward Mrs. Chambers. Had he loved her? He’d indicated he was now content to be a bachelor, but was that due to not wanting his heart broken again?

Tilda wouldn’t want to take that risk a second time. In truth, she didn’t even want to take it a first time. For a woman, marriage meant losing her independence. That was far too high a price to pay, and for what? Whilst Tilda had seen a happy marriage firsthand, that of her grandparents, she’d spent far more time with an unhappy one, that of her parents. She’d long ago decided that she preferred to make her own way without having to rely on anyone else.

She was more than pleased to live as a spinster and build a reputation for conducting investigations. She’d already solved the murder of her grandfather’s cousin, as well as other murders that had been related—with Hadrian’s help.

Shaking thoughts of Hadrian from her mind, she focused on the barrister and the matter at hand. “What information do you have for me to begin?”

“Regarding the cruelty, Mrs. Chambers says her husband pushes and grabs her with force regularly. She has bruises, but I did not ask to see them.” He inclined his head toward Tilda. “I will leave that to you.”

That was one of her primary roles when conducting these investigations for Mr. Forrest. Tilda would note any wounds or marks on the woman’s body and write an affidavit detailing what she observed. They would then file a report with the Metropolitan Police.

“I will call on her as soon as possible,” Tilda said. “Is there a time that is convenient, so I won’t encounter her husband?” Presumably, Mrs. Chambers would not want to meet with Tilda while Mr. Chambers was at home.

Mr. Forrest’s mouth lifted in a brief smile. “As it happens, Mrs. Chambers would like you to call on her this afternoon—number twenty Catherine Place. Are you able to go there directly?”

That was a very nice street. Hadrian’s former fiancée had married well. “Certainly.” Tilda stood, eager to begin her investigation.

The barrister also stood. “Excellent. I look forward to your report.”

Tilda nodded and then saw herself out. After acknowledging the clerk once more, she made her way outside where she shortly caught a hack to Catherine Place.

Alighting, she surveyed the facade of the fashionable brick-and-stone terrace with its wrought-iron balcony on the first floor. She took a deep breath as she walked up the short stone stairs to the front door and knocked. A moment later, a stout butler answered.

Tilda smiled. “Good afternoon, I am Miss Wren. I believe Mrs. Chambers is expecting me.”

“Indeed.” He opened the door wider for her to step into the marble-tiled entrance hall. “If you’ll follow me.”

The butler led her into the staircase hall and up the stairs. While the furnishings appeared well made and elegant, the interior was not as grand as Tilda had anticipated. There weren’t many paintings on the walls, and the décor was minimal. Perhaps her expectations had been somewhat tainted by her recent visit to the excessively opulent Northumberland House where she’d attended an event with Hadrian several days ago.

In truth, she felt far more comfortable here than somewhere like Northumberland House or Hadrian’s residence, Ravenhurst House. She was not at all used to excess, even if her mother had often spent money that Tilda had later realized they didn’t have. Her mother liked nice things—clothing and accessories, linens, and furnishings. When Tilda’s father died, there’d been debt that her mother had accumulated, which Tilda’s grandfather had resolved, in part by selling many of those furnishings. That experience was a primary reason that Tilda refused to take on debt and chose to live as economically as possible.

Tilda refocused her thoughts as the butler took her to the drawing room. A woman—Mrs. Chambers, presumably—stood from a chair in the central seating area. Actually, it was the only seating area, though there were a few chairs scattered about the perimeter of the room and a chaise in one corner. Mrs. Chambers nodded toward the butler, who departed, then fixed her attention on Tilda.

“Good afternoon, I am Miss Wren,” Tilda said, walking farther into the room to join her new client.

“I’m so pleased you’ve come,” Mrs. Chambers said, her answering smile tentative and perhaps a trifle nervous. She was beautiful, with chocolate-brown hair and wide, amber-brown eyes. Delicate brows arched prettily, and her cheekbones were high and defined. Small, pink bow-shaped lips pursed gently as she gestured to another chair. Tilda could see why Hadrian would have been attracted to her. Assuming he had been. They hadn’t discussed that either, and there was absolutely no reason they should.

Mrs. Chambers’ gaze moved over Tilda and did not immediately focus on her. It was a slight reaction, but Tilda understood that her garb was outdated and that a woman like Mrs. Chambers might judge Tilda by her appearance.

“Would you care to sit?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

“Thank you.” Tilda lowered herself onto the cushion, then she removed a notebook and pencil from her reticule. “I will take notes whilst we talk,” she said. “Mr. Forrest has told me about your situation. I am sorry you are in a position where you feel dissolving your marriage is your only option. I know that cannot have been easy for you to decide.”

“It was not, particularly when so many people told me not to wed him,” Mrs. Chambers said bitterly, her expression one of angry defeat.

Tilda knew Hadrian had caught Mrs. Chambers kissing her current husband. Had Chambers coerced her? Would she have preferred to wed Hadrian but realized she could not after he’d witnessed her in a compromising position?

While those were interesting questions, Tilda needed to make sure she was adhering to the investigation and not satisfying her personal curiosity. “Why was that?”

Mrs. Chambers exhaled, her features drawing down into a near pout. “It’s a tedious story. Suffice it to say I was seduced by Louis and ended up with little choice in the matter. How I wish things had gone differently.”

Overall, that was a vague recounting of whatever had happened, particularly since Mrs. Chambers didn’t know that Tilda was aware of how things could have gone. Tilda decided it was worthwhile to learn how her client’s marriage had started and progressed to where it was now. “Did you not want to marry him?”

Taking a moment to respond, Mrs. Chambers seemed to have difficulty finding the words. “I did. However, I was fooled by him. I was swept up by his flattery and passion. That had seemed important to me.”

“You say you were fooled,” Tilda said. “Can I assume that flattery and passion did not continue?”

“They did not,” Mrs. Chambers replied firmly. “After several months, perhaps a year, I sensed his disinterest. Over time, that turned into dislike and our relationship became rather contentious. I think we both regret marrying one another, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry you regret your marriage.” Regardless of how Tilda might feel about Mrs. Chambers throwing Hadrian over for her husband, she had great sympathy for a woman who felt trapped. Who was trapped. “You do know how difficult it is to obtain a divorce, even now?”

“I do,” Mrs. Chambers said with a nod. “But I must try. Perhaps then my family will forgive me and welcome me back. Though I don’t hold much hope. They will likely shun me again, this time because I divorced.”

Tilda’s pity for the woman increased, and she decided she would help her, despite Mrs. Chambers’ history with Hadrian. “I will also hope they embrace you,” Tilda said. “The life of a divorced woman is difficult. Do you have a plan for what you will do if you are successful?” She didn’t add if your family doesn’t welcome you back , but that was the second part of that question.

“Not really.” She regarded Tilda with a fiery gaze. “He should have to provide me with a settlement, shouldn’t he? That is only fair since he received my dowry, not to mention the way he has treated me. He is unfaithful and he is … rough.” She dipped her head down to look at her lap.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tilda said. “Mr. Forrest did tell me about those things, but I am here to gather the specific details. Do you want to talk about Mr. Chambers’ infidelity first, or would you prefer to show me how he’s hurt you?”

Mrs. Chambers’ shoulders twitched. “Mr. Forrest said you would look at the bruises on my arms. Louis grabs me roughly and throws me down or pushes me. I have a cut on my head from the last time. I grazed the edge of a dresser before I hit the floor.” She lifted her hands to her dark hair and gingerly felt along the front left quadrant of her head. “Here.” She pulled her hair apart.

Tilda stood and went to look down at the exposed part of the woman’s scalp. There was a small, scabbed wound. “I see it. When did this happen?”

“Four days ago,” Mrs. Chambers replied.

Retaking her seat, Tilda wrote down the date the injury occurred and asked Mrs. Chambers to detail exactly what had happened. She waited expectantly as Mrs. Chambers lowered her hands to her lap.

She fidgeted her fingers a moment before meeting Tilda’s gaze. “I’d finally confronted him about his infidelity. I asked with whom he was having a liaison, but he only laughed at me and accused me of doing the same, which is ludicrous.”

Was it? Mrs. Chambers had been unfaithful to the man to whom she was betrothed.

Tilda would not make judgments. At least not yet. She was merely collecting information—and she could not trust that everything Mrs. Chambers said was the truth even if it was sympathetic. It was certainly only Mrs. Chambers’ perspective. “Why do you suspect his betrayal?”

“As I mentioned before, he grew disinterested in me within a year of marrying. He began to be absent more and more, particularly in the evenings. I would wait for him in his chamber, but I would fall asleep as he typically returned quite late. He was often drunk and sometimes smelled of perfume. He was never interested in lying with me those nights, so I would return to my chamber. We have not shared a bed in nearly three years.”

After making notes, Tilda looked over at Mrs. Chambers. “Let us discuss your suspicions of his infidelity. Do you suspect a specific woman, or does he carry on with a variety of women?”

“I think he visits a house of prostitutes or whatever they are called.” Mrs. Chambers sniffed. “However, the perfume I have smelled recently seemed expensive. I thought perhaps he had a mistress.”

As men often did, Tilda mused. “Did you recognize the perfume?” It would be difficult to find someone based on fragrance alone, particularly if it wasn’t specially created for a single person.

Mrs. Chambers shook her head. “It might have been floral? I confess I didn’t pay close attention to the specific fragrance.”

Tilda sought to confirm an important detail. “You don’t have any children from the marriage?” Mr. Forrest hadn’t mentioned any, and he would have, but Tilda wanted to make sure.

“No, thank goodness. I would not be able to seek a divorce in that case. It would be too difficult for the children.” She sniffed again and pressed her lips tightly together as if she were trying to contain her emotions. “I know it’s not helpful that I can’t prove he is being unfaithful, but hopefully you can.” Her expression was expectant.

“That is my job,” Tilda said in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. “Can you provide me with any information as to where he goes at night?”

“He belongs to Arthur’s.” Mrs. Chambers frowned at Tilda. “But he wouldn’t meet any women there.”

“No, but someone there might know where he goes after the club,” Tilda said, not that she would be permitted to go inside and ask. If Hadrian were assisting her again, he could do so, but she could not involve him in this matter. She’d have to find another way. “Is there anywhere else your husband goes?”

“I don’t know.” Mrs. Chambers wrung her hands before flattening them atop her lap. “He rarely tells me anything anymore. He supposedly works a great deal. He is opening a drapery shop with his partner, Edgar Pollard.”

Tilda wrote the name down. “Can you provide his address as well as where this shop is located?”

Mrs. Chambers gave her the man’s residential direction, but did not know the location of the shop, just that she thought it was on Oxford Street. “I should know where the shop is,” Mrs. Chambers said almost sheepishly. “However, I’m afraid I don’t pay much attention to what Louis says about his business endeavors, nor does he want me asking about them.”

Their relationship sounded rather horrid. Tilda gave her a sympathetic nod. “I’ll find out where the shop is located.”

“Did Mr. Forrest also tell you about Louis stealing my jewelry?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

“He did. I’d like to know when you realized items were missing, as well as a description of each one. Then I can publish a list in the newspaper. That may help us find them if they’ve been sold.”

“Does that mean you believe me?” Mrs. Chambers’ eyes were wide. “I didn’t think Mr. Forrest did. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. He said my jewelry became my husband’s property when we wed, but surely Louis can’t just take heirlooms that have been in my family for generations without my permission.”

“I’m afraid he can, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find them for you,” Tilda said. “However, since this is not part of the investigation I was hired by Mr. Forrest to conduct, I’m afraid you must hire me directly to search for your jewelry. Do you wish to do that?”

“I do.” There was a note of hesitation in Mrs. Chambers’ voice. “I just … have very little pin money left, and Louis doesn’t give me much anymore. I’ve borrowed the money to pay Mr. Forrest from a friend. Could I pay you by selling one of the pieces of jewelry after you find it?”

Tilda couldn’t really afford to do that. “My only concern is that if I can’t find any of it, I will not be paid for my time.”

“Of course. I’m sure my friend can lend me some additional funds.” Mrs. Chambers gave her an imploring look. “Please say you’ll find my jewelry.”

“I would be happy to, provided you can pay me,” Tilda said with an encouraging smile. “Are you certain your friend will loan you more money? I’m afraid I can’t work without compensation.” While that was true, Tilda found herself wanting to help Mrs. Chambers anyway.

“I understand.” Mrs. Chambers’ brow was deeply furrowed. “I will speak with my friend as soon as possible. I suppose we can wait to discuss the matter until I’ve paid you.”

Tilda hated that she couldn’t just agree to help her. The woman was in distress. “Please go ahead and tell me why you think your husband would take your jewelry.”

Perhaps Tilda was being foolish, but she would trust that Mrs. Chambers would obtain the necessary funds. Tilda simply couldn’t say no , not when the woman’s heirlooms had gone missing.

Mrs. Chambers shrugged gently. “I’m not sure, but perhaps he sold it to gain more money for his business venture. Or he gave it to his paramour—my jewelry began to disappear in December, and that’s when I first smelled that perfume.” Her lip curled, and Tilda saw a deep anger behind the woman’s expression.

Tilda wrote down Mrs. Chambers’ suppositions and then recorded a detailed description of the missing items as well as when they’d disappeared from her jewelry box. Looking up from her notepad, Tilda asked, “Is there anything else I should know?”

“I can’t think of anything just now. I should show you the bruises on my arms.” Mrs. Chambers rose. “We’ll go to my chamber.”

Tilda stood and followed her from the room. They went to the back corner of the first floor where Mrs. Chambers led her into a pretty bedchamber decorated in bright florals with a small seating area near the hearth. There was also a dressing area in the corner with a screen and a table with a mirror.

A maid came into the chamber through a narrow door in the opposite corner that was barely visible in the wainscoting and floral wallpaper. A few years younger than Tilda and Mrs. Chambers, she had round cheeks and hazel eyes. She wore a modest dark-blue gown and a white cap atop her dark-brown hair. The maid cast a nervous look toward Tilda as she entered.

“This is Clara,” Mrs. Chambers said. “I told her to listen for me as I will need her help to undress.” She moved behind the screen, and the maid followed her.

Tilda took the opportunity to look about the room. “Where is your jewelry box?”

“I finally hid it after the garnet necklace went missing a week or so ago,” Mrs. Chambers replied. “I still have some pieces left, and I refuse to allow him to steal any more. I should have hidden it after the first time.” She sounded bitter, and Tilda didn’t blame her.

Mrs. Chambers emerged from behind the screen. She’d removed her gown but still wore her petticoats and corset.

Tilda stepped toward her client and studied her left arm. There were faint bruises around the upper portion. She cocked her head to see the backside, and Mrs. Chambers rotated her arm in response. “Thank you,” Tilda murmured.

The bruises did look like those that would be caused by fingers digging harshly into the flesh. Tilda wrote down her observations then moved to the right arm where she saw similar bruises.

“Are there more?” Tilda asked.

“Not at the moment. I had one on my shoulder when he pushed me, but that was more than a week ago, and it’s faded.” She presented her right shoulder, and Tilda could see a very faint swath of yellow.

“I see the remnants,” Tilda said before recording it in her notebook. “Thank you, Mrs. Chambers. You can dress now.”

The woman retreated behind the dressing screen with the maid, and Tilda walked about the room. “How did those injuries occur?”

“The bruises on my arms came from an argument we had three days ago after dinner. I’d asked if he took my garnet necklace. I’d also asked him about the other jewelry when it went missing, but he always said he wasn’t to blame. Still, I wanted to ask him anyway—just to let him know that I know he did it.” She sounded angry and defiant.

Tilda appreciated the woman wanting to stand up for herself but wondered if it was worth the trouble. “Was he violent with you those other times you asked?”

“No. This violent behavior is relatively new.”

“When did that start?” Tilda asked as she wrote in her notebook.

“I suppose in December. He’s threatened me in the past, but he didn’t get rough.”

“Can you tell me what happened with the bruise on your shoulder?”

“I was in his study downstairs. He doesn’t like for me to go in there.” Mrs. Chambers emerged from behind the screen. “He told me to leave and pushed me. I hit the edge of the doorframe.”

Tilda noted what the woman said. “Can you take me to the study and show me where he pushed you?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Chambers started for the door as the maid came from behind the screen. She kept her head down as she walked to the door in the corner and departed.

Mrs. Chambers led Tilda back downstairs to a masculine room at the back of the house. She nodded toward a closed door. “My husband’s bedchamber is through there.”

Tilda nodded before looking about the room. There was a desk, a seating area, and several bookcases. “Where did he push you?”

“Against that doorframe,” Mrs. Chambers said, indicating the doorway from a small sitting room into the study.

Noting the location of the violence, Tilda wrote it in her notebook, then she startled as the door to the bedchamber opened.

A tall, lean gentlemen filled the doorway, his small eyes narrowing at Tilda and Mrs. Chambers. His dark, wiry hair was a bit disheveled, and his stock was crooked.

“What the bloody hell are you doing in here?” the man thundered.

Tilda noted that Mrs. Chambers flinched, but she didn’t move otherwise. This man had to be her husband.

“Why aren’t you at the shop?” Mrs. Chambers asked, her voice tinged with apprehension.

“Who the hell is she?” Mr. Chambers asked his wife, though he pinned his angry stare on Tilda.

Summoning a placid smile, Tilda replied, “Mrs. Chambers has enlisted me to assist her with some refurbishment ideas, and I’m afraid I insisted she show me the library. I do want to ensure I don’t introduce a style that doesn’t compliment the entire house.” Tilda closed her notebook.

Mr. Chambers stepped into the library and moved his attention to his wife. The nostrils of his long, sharp nose flared. “Refurbishment? What nonsense is this? There is no money for that whilst I have invested in this new venture. Nothing needs refurbishment anyway, and certainly not directed by someone in such outdated fashion.” His gaze swept over Tilda with open distaste before returning to his wife. “You are the epitome of wastefulness, my dear.”

Mrs. Chambers’ shoulders twitched. “You’re the wastrel, not me.”

Tilda again saw the woman’s defiance but hoped Mrs. Chambers would not pay a price for it.

Mr. Chambers’ gaze simmered with fury. Tilda noted that he clenched his hands into fists briefly. She was torn between wanting to beat a hasty retreat from the house and not wishing to leave her client alone with her husband.

“I need to return to the shop,” Mr. Chambers bit out. He grimaced briefly and brushed his hand over his abdomen, which Tilda found odd. Then he snapped his attention to Tilda. “I don’t wish to see you here again. There will be no refurbishment.” He stormed out of the study, striding between them and jamming his shoulder against his wife’s as he passed.

Tilda moved to the woman’s side. “Are you all right?”

Mrs. Chambers nodded even as she rubbed her shoulder where he’d bumped into her. “I’m fine. I think he must have had too much to drink again last night. He’s been feeling poorly of late because he indulges too excessively.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I can stay for a while if you’d like,” Tilda offered earnestly.

“That won’t be necessary. He’s gone now.”

Tilda frowned. “He will return, however. Do you have somewhere you can stay?” Tilda was truly worried for the woman’s safety. “You could stay at a hotel, even,” Tilda suggested, though it seemed money was an issue given what Chambers had just said. And if he was stealing his wife’s jewelry, that might indicate financial hardship.

“I’ll consider it, thank you.” Mrs. Chambers smiled, but the lines around her mouth revealed the agitation behind it.

“I’ll look in on you tomorrow, if you don’t mind,” Tilda said.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Chambers guided her from the study and to the entrance hall. “I appreciate your help. My situation has become untenable. I can’t continue like this.” Her eyes held an almost wild glint.

“I understand,” Tilda said, hoping to soothe the woman. “We’ll move toward a divorce with due haste. Just try to keep to yourself and be safe.”

As Tilda left the house, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. She would do her best to ensure it did not.