Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
“ T here’s no knife in my chamber,” Beryl said crossly.
Tilda didn’t spare a glance for Beryl as she gestured toward Clara. “Show me, please.”
Clara turned, and Tilda looked toward Hadrian, who gave her a slight nod. She followed Clara and knew that Hadrian would be behind her.
On the stairs, he moved up alongside Tilda. “Wouldn’t the constables who searched the house the other day have found this knife?”
Tilda lifted a shoulder. “I would hope so, but it’s possible they missed it.”
When they reached Beryl’s bedchamber, Tilda saw that a dresser drawer was open.
“It’s in the drawer,” Clara said, but she did not go to the dresser.
Tilda moved toward it, and Hadrian joined her. Lying at the back of the drawer, partially obscured by handkerchiefs, was a knife such as one would use in a kitchen.
Carefully, Tilda moved the handkerchiefs so she could see the knife more clearly. The blade was long and thick—and clean.
Tilda turned her head to look at Clara. “You just found this today?”
“I didn’t notice it before. There are usually stacks of handkerchiefs, but Mrs. Chambers has been going through them rapidly the past several days.”
“Move,” Beryl said loudly as she elbowed her way past Clara into the bedchamber. “What is this about a knife?”
Mrs. Styles-Rowdon followed Beryl into the room, whilst Clara had moved just inside the doorframe, her expression still one of fright or disbelief. Or both. The others who’d been in the dining room, including the housekeeper and Joanna Pollard, loitered outside the bedchamber.
Beryl moved to the other side of Hadrian and looked into the drawer. “Where on earth did that come from?” She turned and glared at Clara. “Did you put that there?”
Clara gasped. “I did not.”
Tilda fixed her attention on Beryl. “Are you saying you did not put this knife in your drawer?”
“Of course not.”
“And why would you think Clara did?” Tilda asked.
Beryl threw up her hands. “Who else comes into my room?”
“You must consider that people who are not expected to be in your bedchamber may have been. Just as you must consider that someone outside this household may have come into this house to both poison and stab your husband.” Tilda looked around at everyone, her gaze lingering on the housekeeper. “Is there any way someone could gain access to the house without anyone noticing?”
Mrs. Blank pursed her lips. “Sometimes the back door is left unlocked. I told the detective inspector about that, just as I told him I don’t know if it was unlocked the night Mr. Chambers died. May I look at the knife? To see if it is from the kitchen.”
“You can tell?” Tilda asked.
Mrs. Blank nodded, and Tilda gestured for her to come to the dresser. Peering into the drawer, the housekeeper frowned. “That is definitely Mrs. Dunning’s missing knife. There’s a chip in the blade down near the handle. It’s why she didn’t use it as often as the others.”
Tilda surveyed the knife and saw the chip to which Mrs. Blank was referring. “Thank you, Mrs. Blank. Would you mind fetching Mrs. Dunning so that she can confirm? I would also ask that you or Oswald ask his lordship’s coachman to inform Detective Inspector Teague of what we’ve found.”
Nodding, Mrs. Blank left—after casting a look of derision toward Beryl.
Beryl waved her hand toward the dresser. “I did not put that knife there, nor did I kill my husband.”
“I think it’s time you tell us the truth about your marriage,” Tilda said evenly.
“I don’t know what you want to know,” Beryl said somewhat defiantly. “I’ve told you everything about our marriage.” She looked at Tilda as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You saw the bruises Louis gave me.”
Mrs. Styles-Rowdon moved to stand beside Beryl and lightly touched her arm.
“I did,” Tilda replied. “However, I did not see the injuries you gave him.”
Beryl gasped. “Who told you such lies?”
Tilda resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Beryl’s obvious dissembling.
“We understand you hit Louis on occasion,” Hadrian said softly but firmly. “With your hairbrush.”
“And with his walking stick once,” Mrs. Styles-Rowdon said, which provoked another gasp from Beryl who sent her friend an accusing glance. Mrs. Styles-Rowdon gave her friend a sad look. “I’m sorry, Beryl. It is the truth.” The woman looked back to Tilda and Hadrian. “You must know that Louis was a beast. Beryl was only defending herself.”
Tilda wasn’t sure she believed it was only that, but she did think that Beryl and Louis’s marriage had been most contentious.
Hadrian locked his eyes with Beryl’s. “You must realize that you are the primary suspect in Louis’s murder. Withholding information will not help you, and I must say that the presence of this knife in your bedchamber will only make matters worse.”
Tilda agreed with everything Hadrian had said. Indeed, she wondered if Teague might arrest Beryl when he arrived. She had plenty of motive and opportunity, and the evidence against her was mounting.
“I don’t know where the knife came from,” Beryl insisted. “Someone had to have put it there.” She glowered toward Clara.
The maid looked at Tilda. “Do I need to stay?”
“Not in here, no. But the inspector will want to speak with you when he arrives,” Tilda said.
“Thank you.” Clara hurried from the room without looking in Beryl’s direction.
Tilda glanced toward the dresser. She didn’t plan to disturb the knife. Teague could collect it when he arrived. Before that, however, she needed Hadrian to touch it.
Turning her back to Beryl, she motioned for Hadrian to step closer to the drawer with her. “You must touch the knife before Teague arrives,” she whispered. “You may not have another chance.”
“Of course.”
Tilda shielded him as best she could as he reached into the drawer. He closed his hand around the handle. Frowning, he moved his fingertips to the dull side of the knife and slid them along the blade.
After a moment, he withdrew his hand. “Nothing,” he muttered.
“That’s unfortunate,” Tilda murmured.
The housekeeper returned with the cook who said, “Mrs. Blank said Clara found my missing knife.”
“It’s in the drawer here,” Tilda said. “We are not going to remove it until the detective inspector arrives. Can you verify it’s yours?”
Mrs. Dunning came to the dresser and looked inside. “That’s mine. I chipped the blade a year or so ago when I dropped it.” She shook her head. “I was not pleased with myself.”
“And how long has this been missing from your kitchen?” Tilda asked.
“Since Friday when the inspector asked me if anything was missing. I can tell you what I told him, that I used it on Wednesday. I remember because I only use it for certain things, one of which is cutting bone. I had to do that last Wednesday.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dunning,” Tilda said. “You can go back downstairs, though the inspector may wish to speak with you when he arrives.”
The cook sent a nervous glance toward Beryl on her way out the door. The housekeeper accompanied her.
Teague arrived a short while later with a pair of constables. He retrieved the knife from the drawer and confirmed that it belonged to Mrs. Dunning. He then questioned Beryl about how the knife may have come to be in her dresser. After that, he spoke with Clara.
Ultimately, as Tilda expected, he took Beryl into custody.
She wept as the constables led her from the house.
Tilda told Teague they would come to Scotland Yard, as she still needed to tell him about Louis Chambers selling Beryl’s jewelry to the pawnbroker.
As Hadrian guided her to the coach, he said, “I had quite a conversation with Daniel Chambers.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it on the way.”
“I also need to tell you about the vision I saw when I helped Joanna Pollard to stand.”
Tilda nearly missed the step as she climbed into the coach. How had she failed to notice Hadrian having a vision?
H adrian sat beside Tilda in the coach and removed his hat, tossing it on the opposite seat. He wiped his hand across his brow.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice your head was bothering you,” she said. “My investigative skills are failing me.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment. There was a great deal happening today.” He gave her a faint smile. “My headache is fading.”
“Good.” She sounded relieved. “Now tell me about the vision.”
He laughed softly, glad that it didn’t hurt to do so. “Because I was touching Mrs. Pollard, I know that what I was seeing and feeling was her memory. She was at the lodging house in Spitalfields with Martha Farrow.”
Tilda’s eyes rounded briefly. “Joanna Pollard is the woman in the veil?”
“I believe so because Martha looked as though I was seeing her through a film. She advanced on the maid, but that was all I saw before Mrs. Pollard released my hand.”
“You didn’t see if Mrs. Pollard pushed her?”
“I did not, unfortunately.”
“Did you feel anything?” Tilda asked.
“Rage. Mrs. Pollard was most definitely angry with Martha. I’ve no idea why, of course.” Hadrian exhaled with frustration. “I wish I could hear the thoughts that go along with a memory and not just the emotions.”
“Still, this is significant. We must speak with Joanna Pollard again. I’d like to call at the shop tomorrow.”
Hadrian’s brows arched briefly. “Am I invited?”
“Of course. What happened with Daniel Chambers?”
Hadrian leaned back against the squab. “I finally know why Louis Chambers despised me. Apparently, I stole a woman he was interested in when we were at Oxford.” His lips twisted into a brief smirk. “I barely even remember him from Oxford—we did not attend the same college. I certainly don’t recall whatever woman I ‘stole’ from him. He never forgot, however.”
“All this time, he’s held a grudge against you for something of which you were not even aware?”
“So it seems. The worst part is that he stole Beryl from me as an act of revenge. You recall Pollard saying Louis didn’t really want to marry.”
“I do.” Tilda gave him a stony look. “Just when I thought my opinion of Louis Chambers could not sink any lower, it does.”
“Quite. Daniel Chambers confirmed what his brother said about Louis being terrible at managing his finances. Both he and Beryl were spendthrifts.”
“Was he aware that his brother had a mistress?”
“I’m not sure, but I did inform him that Louis had stolen Beryl’s jewelry and given it to his paramour. I hope that was all right. I wanted to see his reaction.”
Tilda’s brows dipped. “And what was it?”
“He wasn’t surprised, just disappointed, I think. He said he attended their dinner parties until about six months ago when he could no longer watch Louis’s financial recklessness. I have the sense he hoped his brother would change.”
“After all we’ve learned about their spending habits, I am surprised their house isn’t more lavishly decorated. It’s nice enough, but compared with your house … well, there’s no comparing.” She glanced away, and he wondered if his house intimidated her. Their experiences were quite different, particularly in how they lived day to day. However, he did not see that as something that divided them. He hoped she didn’t either.
“You can’t compare Ravenhurst House to the Chambers’ residence or to very many others. It’s been in my family for generations and is filled with items collected over those generations. And there are substantial coffers to ensure it is elegantly appointed, as every countess has endeavored to ensure.”
“I should hate for that to be my responsibility,” she said with a faint shudder. “I’m quite content with a house my grandmother’s size—and with its amenities and decor. Or lack thereof,” she added with a smile.
Hadrian had his answer. Tilda absolutely saw them as coming from distinctly different places. Perhaps this was why she bristled against him paying her to conduct business. She would hate knowing that he’d replenished her grandmother’s fund after her grandfather’s cousin had carelessly used every shilling for himself.
Which was why he would never tell her.
They fell quiet for a short while. Finally, he brought up the question that was most bothering him at the moment. “Do you think Beryl is lying about putting the knife in her drawer?”
“Are you asking if I think she stabbed Louis after all?” Tilda leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling of the coach a moment. “Whilst she has maintained her innocence and speaks convincingly, I remind myself that I have been sympathetic to her since I was hired to help her.” She turned her focus to Hadrian. “You and I both are inclined to believe she did not kill her husband, and if she did, that she may have been justified. But murder in the manner Louis was killed cannot be rationalized. She was not actively defending herself. She likely poisoned him and then, frustrated that it took too long, stabbed him.”
Hadrian couldn’t disagree with any of that. “I hate thinking she did that, but it does seem most likely. Yet you remain interested in investigating Mrs. Pollard.”
Tilda smiled. “Because I have unanswered questions, particularly why she would visit Martha Farrow. How did she even know the maid?”
“You are incredibly thorough,” Hadrian said. “Anyone would be lucky to hire you.”
They arrived at Scotland Yard and departed the coach. Inside, they were shown to Teague’s office, but he was not there. They were assured he would arrive shortly.
After a few minutes, the detective inspector joined them. “I appreciate you sending for me. I thought today would be for mourning. My mistake.”
His office was large enough for his desk as well as a small seating area with two chairs near a hearth. There was a third chair positioned near the desk, which Teague dragged to the other two. He motioned for them to take the two chairs whilst he sat in the one that he’d brought.
“Is Beryl being charged with Louis’s murder?” Tilda asked.
“Not yet, but probably. The cook is certain the knife that was found is the one that went missing from the kitchen.” Teague frowned. “Its presence in Mrs. Chambers’ dresser drawer is rather damning.”
Tilda arched her brow at Teague. “Your constables didn’t find it the other day?”
“No, in fact they are insistent it wasn’t there. I am inclined to believe them, but then where was it and why was it moved to the drawer?”
“Someone could have put it there since your constables searched,” Tilda said. “You already know that the back door to the house is sometimes left unlocked.”
“That would mean someone is trying to ensure Mrs. Chambers is blamed for the murder,” Teague replied. “Who do you think that would be?”
Tilda clasped her hands in her lap. “I can’t answer that yet. Our investigation is ongoing. We did learn why Louis Chambers was holding a grudge against Hadrian.” She turned her head toward him.
Hadrian explained what Daniel Chambers had told him.
“Did Mrs. Chambers know about this? Was she aware her husband married her out of spite?” Teague shook his head. “That does not help her case.”
No, it did not. If she knew. “We have not discussed the matter with her,” Hadrian said.
A knock on the door prompted them all to look in that direction.
“Come,” Teague responded.
The door opened to reveal a constable in a blue uniform. He was young and tall, his expression earnest. “Detective Inspector, there is a man here who wants to see you. Says his name is Oliver Chambers.”
Teague looked over at Hadrian and Tilda, his brows arching. “Wonder what this is about.” He stood. “Bring him here.”
Teague moved the chair he’d been sitting in back to where it had been, then went to stand behind his desk. A few moments later, Oliver Chambers came in carrying his hat, his face lined with worry.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Chambers,” Teague said. “What brings you here on the day of your brother’s funeral?”
Oliver Chambers straightened, pushing his shoulders back as he faced the inspector. “I came to confess to Louis’s murder. I killed him.”