Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
H adrian rushed to catch Beryl before she hit the floor. Sweeping her into his arms, he saw that her lashes were already fluttering.
“Take her to the parlor,” Tilda suggested.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Teague said, his brows plummeting with concern.
Hadrian continued toward the parlor where he laid Beryl onto the settee, propping a pillow between her head and the arm of the settee. She was still pale, her lips parted and her long, dark lashes curling against her ivory flesh.
He felt badly for her. Not just for losing her husband, which was horrible, but because she’d apparently been mistreated by him. Again, he wondered if she regretted choosing Chambers over Hadrian.
A part of him hoped she did. Her behavior had caused him embarrassment and upset. He found he was upset again, after all this time, especially now that he knew what a blackguard Chambers was. That Beryl had preferred someone like him to Hadrian stung his pride.
He reminded himself that he was pleased with how things had turned out. After seeing them together, he hadn’t wanted to marry her—first out of anger, and then because he realized he hadn’t ever loved her. And apparently love was important to Hadrian.
Before he could follow that thought, Beryl’s eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment to focus on Hadrian. “What happened?”
“You fainted,” Hadrian said.
“Do I need to fetch smelling salts?” Tilda asked as she entered the parlor. Her gaze fell on Beryl. “I suppose not.”
Teague stood behind Tilda, his concern evident in his expression. “Is she all right?”
“She’ll be fine,” Hadrian replied. “We’ll take care of her.”
Visibly relaxing, Teague nodded. “My apologies, Mrs. Chambers. I should have been more circumspect with my speech.”
“Thank you,” Beryl said quietly without looking at Teague. The inspector inclined his head toward Hadrian, then returned to the back of the house.
Beryl worked to sit up. “Does that inspector really think I murdered my husband?”
Hadrian helped her to a sitting position, then he sat down beside her. “He didn’t say that. He said you were a suspect.”
“Try not to fret,” Tilda said. “It is usual for the spouse of a murdered person to be suspected of the crime.”
“That may be, but it is most distressing.” Beryl rubbed her fingers over her furrowed brow. “I didn’t kill Louis.”
“You did want to divorce him, however,” Hadrian said.
Beryl turned her head toward him. “I was going to tell you about that today when you came. I’m so glad you did. I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“Your note conveyed your urgent need.”
“Desperation, you mean,” Beryl said with a trace of humor.
“Why did you write to me of all people?” Hadrian asked.
“When Miss Wren suggested I find somewhere to stay for my own safety, I immediately thought of you. You always made me feel safe.” Beryl met Hadrian’s gaze with a faint smile. “I couldn’t very well write to my parents. Nothing has changed between us since I wed Louis. I do have a friend I could ask, but she is already helping me in other ways.” She glanced toward Tilda, who’d perched on a chair across from the settee. “How are the two of you acquainted?”
“I hired Tilda for an investigation,” Hadrian replied. He didn’t want to explain the specifics just now. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about what Beryl had said. He was glad that he made her feel safe, but that wasn’t his responsibility—they were not close.
“What a coincidence,” Beryl said.
“Indeed,” Tilda murmured. “Regarding my investigation into helping you secure a divorce, that is no longer necessary.”
“That is true.” Beryl shook her head. “I still can’t quite believe I’m free.”
Hadrian was glad Teague hadn’t accompanied them. He would likely interpret her comment poorly.
Beryl fixed her gaze on Tilda. “What of my missing jewelry? You will still conduct that investigation, won’t you?”
“I have already had the list of items published in a few newspapers. Hopefully, someone will contact Mr. Forrest with information.” Tilda paused briefly.
“Why not you?” Beryl asked. “He didn’t seem to think I could recover my heirlooms.”
“I’ve arranged for him to be the liaison,” Tilda replied. “Because I don’t have an office to field inquiries.”
Hadrian wondered if she wanted that someday.
“I haven’t yet spoken to my friend about borrowing more money,” Beryl said to Tilda. “However, now that Louis is dead, I should be able to pay for your services from the household account.” Beryl smiled, appearing relieved. But then she grimaced. “Except I don’t know how to access those funds. Perhaps you might help me, Hadrian?” She batted her lashes, and Hadrian clenched his jaw.
“I will help you,” Hadrian replied. Doing so would allow him to assess Chambers’ financial situation which would be helpful to Tilda’s investigation.
Beryl exhaled. “Thank you. Louis did not keep me informed about our finances. He said it wasn’t my business. He gave me pin money every quarter, but the amount has steadily decreased since we wed, particularly in the last several months. My wardrobe is woefully unprepared for the Season, not that we attend many gatherings. Still, I try to look my best.”
Beryl looked quite fashionable. Hadrian flicked a glance toward Tilda, whose wardrobe was sinfully out-of-date. He hoped she would be able to improve upon that now that she and her grandmother had some extra funds. Hadrian had supplied the funds to a solicitor who’d handled Tilda’s grandmother’s finances, but they didn’t know. Tilda never would have accepted the gift from Hadrian, especially not after he’d already compensated her for her investigative work.
“Now I will need black gowns,” Beryl said with great agitation, her features creased with worry. “How am I to do that when I can’t leave the house since I am newly widowed?”
“Perhaps your friend can help you?” Tilda suggested.
“I will ask her. She lives next door—Mrs. Styles-Rowdon.” Beryl shook her head. “One would think it would be easy for me to obtain new gowns easily since my husband is opening a drapery shop.”
Tilda’s gaze narrowed slightly and shrewdly. “You will likely have a stake in the business since your husband was investing.”
Beryl’s eyes lit. “I hadn’t considered that. I honestly know nothing about the endeavor.” Beryl shook her head. “Louis didn’t want me to. I feel so foolish.”
Hadrian gently touched her arm. “Do not judge yourself harshly. We will speak with his partner.”
Beryl relaxed, her entire frame settling against the back of the settee. “Thank you, Hadrian. I am so grateful for your presence.” She looked to Tilda. “And yours, Miss Wren, or may I call you Tilda as Hadrian does? How lucky I am that you know one another and can work together to help me.”
Tilda’s brow arched as she darted a look at him. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was—that Tilda was working to help him . Still, he didn’t think Tilda’s investigation would lead to discovering that Beryl killed her husband. In that way, he supposed Tilda was helping her too.
“Tilda is fine,” Tilda replied, perhaps a bit tightly. “I can help you best by collecting information. Can you tell me about last night? When did you last see your husband?”
Beryl squeezed her hands together. “At dinner. Louis was in a very disagreeable mood.” She gave Tilda a wary look. “You saw him yesterday. He was like that but worse.”
“That must have been difficult,” Tilda said softly. “When did he arrive home? For the second time, that is.”
“I think it was around half seven,” Beryl replied after hesitating a moment. “We typically have dinner at eight. Then he’s off to his club or wherever he goes afterward. He was late to dinner. I didn’t say anything about that, but he tried to goad me into an argument.”
“In what way?” Tilda asked.
“He is often late, particularly since he partnered with Mr. Pollard. I used to comment on it, but I stopped several months ago because he never apologized and always grew angry. Last night, he wanted to know why I wasn’t badgering him. He seemed more agitated than usual.”
Hadrian thought of how Chambers had behaved with him last night at the club. “He was often agitated?”
“Of late, I would say he was irritable. There were also many nights when he didn’t come home for dinner at all.” Beryl looked away from both Tilda and Hadrian. “Honestly, that was nice.”
“Did anything happen at dinner?” Tilda asked.
Giving her head a shake, Beryl met Tilda’s gaze. “He told me again that he wasn’t going to pay for any refurbishment and asked why I would even have someone here to discuss such a thing. I apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again. Then I tried to ask about the financial situation. I was very gentle. I tried to be, anyway. I asked if he’d put too much into the shop.” She paused to take a breath. “That was when he became particularly angry. He said that was none of my concern. Then he stormed out.”
Tilda scratched the pencil across her notebook and then looked up, leaning slightly forward. “What time was that?”
“Before the last course was served, so before nine.”
“And was that the last time you saw him?” Tilda asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her expression was one of engagement but also deep thought. Hadrian had seen it on her many times, and he knew she was noting every detail Beryl said.
“Yes,” Beryl said with a nod. “I finished dinner, then I had a bath and read a book until I retired, probably just after eleven. Clara would know for sure.”
“After you retired last night, did you hear anything odd downstairs?” Tilda asked.
“The inspector asked if I heard any loud noises or perhaps shouting.” Beryl sucked in a breath and brushed her hands along her skirt. “I didn’t hear a thing. It’s so upsetting to think that someone was down here … killing Louis. And I slept through the entire event. I often take a sleeping tonic, and I sleep like the dead.” She grimaced and murmured, “Poor choice of words.”
Hadrian touched her arm again, but this time he let his fingertips rest against her sleeve a moment. It occurred to him then that he could take her bare hand in his. Would he see or sense something? There was only one way to find out.
He moved his hand down her arm and clasped her hand. She turned her face toward him, her eyes open now. She appeared surprised but also grateful. Her hand closed around his. He braced himself in case he saw a vision or felt something from her touch, but there was nothing.
“I know this is upsetting for you,” Hadrian said. “And I’m sorry you’ll have to go through it all again tomorrow.” He tried to sense something from touching her, but there was still nothing, so he released her hand.
“It will be worth it if they can find who killed him. I wonder if I need to be afraid to stay here.” Beryl looked to Tilda.
“I don’t think you need to be afraid,” Tilda said firmly. “Whoever killed Louis did so and left without troubling any of the rest of you.”
Beryl sniffed. “I think the killer must be someone Louis knew. Perhaps someone I know. I do think it could have been his paramour, whoever she is.”
“You said Clara found Louis in his bed?” Tilda asked.
Beryl nodded. “Each morning after waking, I have a small repast in my room—tea and toast, or the like. I was in the midst of that when I heard Clara scream. She goes into Louis’s bedchamber each morning to stoke or light the coals in his hearth. That was when she found him. I ran downstairs upon hearing her.”
Tilda looked at her with sympathy. “Did you go into his bedchamber?”
“Yes. The butler and housekeeper were also there, as was the cook. Mrs. Dunning—the cook—was consoling poor Clara.”
“Is that the entirety of your staff? Along with your husband’s valet,” Tilda added. At Beryl’s nod, she went on. “Have you a lady’s maid?”
“I did, but she left nearly a fortnight ago.” Beryl’s lip curled faintly. “Louis said that Clara could fill Farrow’s role of lady’s maid in addition to her other duties. The housekeeper also took on additional tasks that Clara had been performing before my maid departed.”
Tilda’s fair brows drew together. “Why did your maid—Farrow, is it?—leave?”
“Yes, Farrow. I don’t know.” Beryl shrugged. “She resigned her post rather suddenly. I’d no idea she was thinking of leaving. Thankfully, she waited to do so until the day after the last dinner party we hosted. Still, it was most inconsiderate of her to resign without notice.” Beryl looked at Hadrian. “Why would it matter why my maid left?”
Before he could answer, Tilda spoke. “I find it’s best to gather as much information as possible, even things that may seem unrelated or unimportant.” A placid smile lifted her lips briefly. “Who sent for the police?”
“That was Oswald, the butler.”
Tilda’s brow furrowed, then she took a deep breath, her features smoothing. “I do have a question that may be a little upsetting for you, Mrs. Chambers, and I apologize. I know you said Mr. Chambers accused you of having an affair. Was that, by chance, true?”
Beryl’s cheeks flushed pink. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Because I must, even if I suspect the answer is no .”
Beryl gripped her hands more tightly together. “Louis was horrid, but I would never be disloyal.”
Except she had been. With Chambers when she was betrothed to Hadrian. His gaze met Tilda’s briefly. She seemed to be thinking the same thing.
Hadrian realized he could not entirely trust Beryl, even if he wanted to. She’d long ago demonstrated her infidelity, and it was likely that had not changed. That made him wonder what else she may be lying about.
He glanced toward the doorway, half expecting to see Teague standing there expectantly. He transferred his gaze to Tilda. “Should we leave soon?”
“Yes,” Tilda said with a nod.
Beryl put her hand on his sleeve. “You can’t go. I have questions about the inquest.”
“We can come here beforehand tomorrow,” Tilda suggested. “Perhaps we can talk to everyone and put your mind at ease.”
Hadrian suspected Tilda wanted to interview everyone. Doing so while preparing them for the inquest was rather ingenious.
Beryl’s features relaxed, but there was still an edge of tension in her posture. “That would be most helpful, thank you.” She looked at them both earnestly. “I was hoping I might impose on you to complete a couple of errands for me. I require a black hat and a few pairs of black gloves. Would you be able to fetch those from my milliner? Flanders on Regent Street.”
Tilda looked to Hadrian. He lifted a shoulder as he replied to Beryl. “We’d be happy to help. What is the other errand?”
“I’m in need of more sleeping tonic,” she said almost sheepishly. “I find I need it most nights, and I’m afraid tonight I will have much difficulty sleeping. You must visit my druggist, Newbold, in Leicester Place. Mrs. Styles-Rowdon recommended him. You’ll find him a bit thorny, but his sleeping tonic has done wonders for me. I’ve an account there, as well as at Flanders,” Beryl added.
“We can fetch that as well,” Tilda said kindly. “And we’ll bring everything back here later.”
Beryl’s frame slumped gently against the back of the settee. “Thank you.” She turned her head toward Hadrian. “I could not have borne this day without you.”
“I’m glad we could help in your time of need.”
Beryl turned to Tilda. “Thank you as well. You’ll let Mr. Forrest know there is no need for a divorce?” She stood, and Hadrian leapt to his feet.
“I will.” Tilda rose. “I hope you can find some rest.”
Beryl departed the parlor.
Tilda fixed her gaze on Hadrian. “Did you see anything when you touched her?”
“No. I wish I could understand this bloody ability so that I may control it.” He exhaled. “I am sorry it has not been helpful to you today.”
“It’s all right,” she said with a smile. “I am glad you are not suffering a headache.”
“Are you looking forward to visiting her druggist and milliner?” Hadrian asked.
Tilda’s mouth quirked up. “Of course.”
“You can also speak with Leach before we leave. So you can ascertain my alibi,” he added.
“I will, but I know you didn’t kill Chambers.”
“Thank you for that,” he said softly, grateful for her faith in him.
“I can’t believe I missed your coach when I arrived,” Tilda said as they walked to the entrance hall.
“Leach may have taken a turn around the block to keep the horses fresh. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Hadrian pulled his gloves from his pocket and drew them on. He opened the door, and they stepped outside into the cool March day.
The coachman inclined his head toward Tilda. “Good morning, Miss Wren. It’s a pleasure to see you.”
“I am also pleased to see you, Leach,” she said with a smile.
Hadrian pursued his goal of providing an alibi. “Leach, what time did you drive me home from the club last night?”
“It was just after eleven, my lord. Just as I told the constable.”
“And we went directly home,” Hadrian said, flicking a glance at Tilda.
Leach looked at him as if he’d knocked his head again. “Yes. I told the constable that too.”
Hadrian smiled at Tilda. “Satisfied?”
“Yes, but I took you at your word.”
“I’m sorry to hear your friend’s husband died,” Leach said with concern.
“You will hear more about this unfortunate situation as Miss Wren will be investigating, and I will be providing assistance once more.”
“Can’t say I’m sorry to see more of Miss Wren,” Leach said, extending a warm smile to Tilda as he opened the door to the coach.
“Thank you, Leach, you are most kind.” Tilda climbed into the vehicle.
“Tilda, do you mind if we stop by Ravenhurst House to fetch the letter that Beryl sent me?”
“Not at all,” she replied.
Hadrian instructed Leach to drive them to the druggist in Leicester Place after Ravenhurst House, then climbed into the coach. Tilda had taken the forward-facing seat, which he’d insisted she do when they’d first become acquainted. He was glad to see she hadn’t forgotten.
As Hadrian settled against the squab, he reveled in the comfort of being with Tilda and in the anticipation of working with her again.
“We are partner investigators once more,” he said.
She inclined her head. “Indeed we are, though I am sorry it’s necessary. I truly wish you hadn’t been drawn into this situation with Mrs. Chambers.”
“You may as well call her Beryl since she’s to call you Tilda,” he noted wryly. “I confess I wish I hadn’t been drawn into this matter either. I was quite content to not see or deal with Beryl or her husband again.”
“Was it terrible for you when the betrothal was dissolved?”
“If you’re asking whether there was a scandal, yes, though it could have been much worse. No one knew about them embracing at the ball. Miraculously, I seem to have been the only witness.”
Tilda cocked her head. “Then why was there a scandal? I am not well-versed in Society.”
“Because we ended the betrothal. That is generally not done. Once a couple is engaged to marry, they are allowed to be more familiar with one another, and a woman may suffer because of that.”
“Of course, the woman would suffer,” Tilda said with a faint cluck of her tongue. “I can’t imagine Beryl was unaffected?”
“Since she married, she fared better than most women.”
“They are ruined?” Tilda made a noise in her throat that was rather unladylike. “How horrible that a woman—or a man—can’t have a change of heart. Surely, it’s better to do that before the wedding than after.” Her brows drew together. “I hope it wasn’t terribly taxing for you. I’m going to do my best to make sure this doesn’t draw you into another scandal.” Her gaze locked with his, and he saw her commitment clearly.
His pulse quickened. “Thank you.”
“I will do my utmost to solve this case as quickly and as quietly as possible.”
“If anyone can, it’s you.”