Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

D onning the dreaded black gown after only one glorious day of freedom from it nearly drove Tilda to tears. Or would have if she was one for crying, which she was not.

She hadn't even come close last night when she'd informed her grandmother of Sir Henry's utter perfidy. Unfortunately, Grandmama had shed some tears, some in sadness but mostly in anger.

Tilda had vowed to her they would be all right, that she would find a way to ensure they were comfortable. Ravenhurst's payment for her investigative services certainly helped, but the investigation would not last forever. And now Vaughn was a member of the household—or she'd have to provide him with a retirement settlement. Tilda had decided not to tell her grandmother last night that they now had a permanent butler—that news could wait for when she was not so upset.

As she walked into the entrance hall to await Ravenhurst's arrival for their appointment with Dr. Selwin, Vaughn rose from his chair.

"No need to get up, Vaughn," she said. "I'm only waiting for Lord Ravenhurst to arrive."

"It's quite all right, miss. I needed to get up anyway. The parlor requires dusting."

"Mrs. Acorn will take care of that," Tilda said, waving him back down. "You should be resting as much as possible."

"Bah, I can dust, and Mrs. Acorn has a great many tasks already. Honestly, your household requires a butler. It's good that I am here." Tilda found him very dear and couldn't deny she didn't mind having him here. She just had to find a way to continue to support the addition.

Ravenhurst knocked on the door, and Vaughn shuffled to open it. "Good afternoon, my lord."

"Afternoon, Vaughn." Ravenhurst stepped inside. He carried a beautiful bouquet of bleeding hearts, camellias, and carnations.

"You brought flowers?" Tilda was slightly taken aback.

"I know how hard it was for you to don the mourning gown today." He gave her an apologetic smile full of warmth and understanding. Tilda's insides fluttered like a bird taking flight. "And yesterday was difficult. I hope these will cheer you."

Tilda took the bouquet, smiling. "They're beautiful. Thank you." She didn't tell him that the only person who'd ever given her flowers had been her father. Every year on her birthday, he gave her a posy, which was no small feat in November.

And now, she had to blink back stupid tears. Turning away from the earl, she handed the flowers to Vaughn. "Would you put these in a vase for me, please?"

"Of course, miss. They are as lovely as you." He smiled before moving slowly from the entrance hall.

Tilda faced the earl once more. "That was very thoughtful of you."

He smiled at her, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. There was a youthful quality to certain smiles he offered—the ones that appeared the most genuine. They seemed to originate from a place of warmth and joy. "You deserved something nice," he said. "You may want to grab your cloak. It started raining as I arrived."

Tilda fetched her cloak from the peg and drew it around her with the earl's assistance. He then held the door open for her, and they moved outside. She hurried to the coach as it was raining quite steadily.

When they were settled inside and on their way, the earl fixed his gaze on her. "I hope you won't mind my asking, but how did things go with your grandmother last night?"

"She was distressed to hear that Sir Henry had used her money to settle his gambling debts. Then she was sad. Then she became rather angry. In the end, she had a second glass of sherry."

Ravenhurst's brows arched. "That is not the norm, I take it?"

Tilda shook her head. "Rarely. Only to celebrate or if she is upset, the latter of which is almost never. At least not to the extent that requires a second glass of sherry. She didn't even have one after we learned Sir Henry had died. Or after I told her he'd been murdered."

"Well, I am sorry for that. Hopefully, she slept well anyway."

"She says she did. Thank you for inquiring after her." Tilda did not mention her worries about the household or Vaughn in particular. She preferred not to think about those concerns just now. She would rather focus on their upcoming interview with the doctor.

As it was a short journey to Harley Street, they were nearly there.

"I do hope Dr. Selwin is accommodating today," Tilda mused, though she knew it was incredibly unlikely. "However, I suspect he will try to keep our meeting short."

"I'm curious to see what he will present to us as evidence of diagnosing and treating Sir Henry's heart ailment."

The coach stopped outside his office, which was also his residence on the upper floors. The rain had let up a bit, but a persistent drizzle leaked from the clouds.

The earl departed and ushered Tilda inside. The clerk was wearing half-moon glasses today and peered at them over the top as they entered.

"Good afternoon," Ravenhurst said jovially. "I'm sure you remember us from last week. We're here for our appointment with Dr. Selwin."

The clerk removed her glasses and pursed her lips. "You do not have an appointment with him. You are meeting with me so that I may give you the dates of Sir Henry Meacham's visits with Dr. Selwin." She handed Tilda a paper with dates along with short descriptions. "Those are from the past year. I trust that will be sufficient."

"No, it will not," Ravenhurst replied brusquely. "How do we know these weren't fabricated? We want to see the diaries for these dates."

"I'm afraid I can't share those with you," the clerk said coldly. "Then you would see other patients' information."

"We promise we won't be looking at anything but Sir Henry's appointments," Tilda said in growing frustration. Which was silly. It wasn't as if she'd expected anything different. Except she had. She'd thought that Dr. Selwin would be here at least.

"I must insist we speak with Dr. Selwin," Ravenhurst demanded.

The clerk clasped her hands atop the desk and gave him a cool, patient stare. "He is not here."

Tilda folded the paper with the dates and tucked it into her reticule. "We'll return when he is."

Turning on her heel, she stalked to the door. Ravenhurst got there just before her and escorted her outside. He closed the door behind them with perhaps a tad more force than was necessary.

"I was expecting difficulty but not outright rudeness," Ravenhurst said.

Tilda looked toward the building. "She's probably lying about him being gone. I'll wager he's in his office."

Ravenhurst's eyes glittered in the murky afternoon light. "There is one way to find out." He turned abruptly and stalked back into the office. He bypassed the clerk entirely and went straight into the sitting room where they'd met Selwin last week. Then he went into the doctor's private office.

Dr. Selwin bolted up from behind his desk, turning the shade of a beet. "You can't just come in here!"

"We have an appointment," Tilda said politely as Ravenhurst closed the door.

"We require a bit of your time," Ravenhurst gave the doctor a serene smile, but Tilda could see the angry pulse in his neck. "Please sit."

Selwin dropped into his chair, his color fading, and his shoulders drooping. His hands were also shaking.

"We have questions for you regarding the night Sir Henry died," Tilda said, moving closer to the desk.

"I can't speak to you," Selwin said quietly, his voice a dark rasp laden with fear.

Ravenhurst dragged a chair from around the desk to sit close to the doctor. "You can and you must. It is clear to us that you have lied about Sir Henry's death. He was stabbed at Farringer's then brought here, wasn't he?"

Tilda was surprised by the earl's aggressive approach, but she didn't mind it. Indeed, there was something…invigorating about watching him take control and assume a position of authority.

Still ghastly pale, Selwin lifted his gaze to Ravenhurst, but only for a moment before dropping it back to his lap. "Yes. He was already dead when he arrived. His clothing was soaked with blood, and I could see it must have come from a wound to his right side."

"Who brought him?" Ravenhurst asked.

Tilda was mesmerized by Ravenhurst's manner. He stared fixedly at Dr. Selwin and spoke in a calm but demanding tone. He looked and sounded like a father disciplining a child. There was a sense of dominance about him but also of kindness.

"They worked at the club," Dr. Selwin replied shakily. "A couple of blokes carried him in and a third man, he was the one in charge, told me I needed to clean Sir Henry up and write a death certificate saying he'd died of natural decay."

"This man simply instructed you, and you complied?"

"He threatened me with a pistol, and one of the blokes waved his bloody knife around whilst the other returned to the coach. I assumed the knife was used to kill Sir Henry, and I feared I would be next." The doctor's voice trailed off to nothing.

"Did you invent Sir Henry's heart ailment for the death certificate?" Ravenhurst asked.

Dr. Selwin nodded.

Tilda's lip curled. "Which is why you couldn't just show us your diary or tell us last week when it was that you diagnosed Sir Henry. Why even bother with a death certificate? The cause of death would be recorded in the burial registry."

The doctor bent his head toward his lap. "The man in charge said it would ease things with the police."

Ravenhurst frowned at the doctor. "Why would the police be involved?"

"The goal was that they wouldn't." Dr. Selwin worried his hands, flicking his fingers then flexing his palms. "After I cleaned Sir Henry up, I took his body to his house where I delivered it to his butler and informed him what happened. I gave him the death certificate to provide to Sir Henry's next of kin."

Tilda stared at him, aghast. "Sir Henry was a patient of yours. I believe you took care of his wife when she became ill and died. Even if you were threatened, how could you treat him in this way?"

When Selwin lifted his head to look at her, she saw tears in his eyes. "He did not give me a choice. The man in charge made it clear he was not asking me but telling me what to do." He sent her a fearful look, and Tilda almost felt bad for intimidating him. "He also paid me a good sum."

Ravenhurst made a sound of disgust in his throat. "You've had ample opportunity since then, when you were not actively being threatened, to report the incident to the police," Ravenhurst said, still sounding calm while Tilda wanted to shake Selwin until his teeth rattled. "Or did you prefer to accept the money and remain complicit?"

Selwin's chin wobbled. He sniffed then wiped his hands over his eyes. "I am not proud."

"What are the names of these men who brought Sir Henry here?" Ravenhurst demanded.

"I don't know. They didn't say, and I didn't ask. The two men who carried him were in livery, as if they were footmen. The man in charge wore evening clothes—a black coat and white waistcoat."

Tilda looked at Ravenhurst the moment he looked at her. Their silent communication was that they both knew who this was—the manager of Farringer's, Dunwell, who they'd met. And Tilda would bet Fitch was one of the men in livery. Likely the one waving a knife around. She had to admit that was likely terrifying for the doctor. Still, Ravenhurst was right, Selwin could have reported the incident anytime in the past fortnight.

Ravenhurst turned his attention back to the doctor. "How much did they pay you?"

Selwin adjusted his gaze down once more and spoke quietly. "Thirty pounds."

That much! Tilda wanted to demand he give it to her as recompense. Instead, she glowered at him. "You must come with us to Scotland Yard now and repeat to the inspector what you told us."

Selwin shook his head violently. "Absolutely not. It's risky enough that I spoke to you. Those men are dangerous. They were very threatening when they were here. The one with the knife in particular. He was quite menacing. And he threatened to go upstairs and harm my wife." Selwin broke down completely then into great sobs.

"I understand you were frightened," Ravenhurst said soothingly. "But now is the time to make things right."

Selwin pivoted in his chair and opened a drawer in his desk. He dug into the back and withdrew a folded piece of parchment. "I received this day before yesterday, along with another ten pounds." He shoved the paper at Ravenhurst.

The earl glanced up at Tilda before he unfolded the paper. He read it aloud:

Remember that you must remain quiet. People who talk lose their tongues.

And more.

So do their family members.

Another sob leapt from Selwin's mouth. He clapped his hand over his lips and slid down in his chair. He looked utterly defeated.

Ravenhurst looked up at Tilda with a frown. She pursed her lips. What were they to do?

"I am leaving London for a while," Selwin croaked. "We're going to visit my wife's sister and her husband in Oxford." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose.

"You can't leave until you give testimony," Ravenhurst said darkly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I will ensure a constable is put on guard here so that you will be safe. I will arrange that immediately."

Selwin shook his head vigorously. "I will be gone within the hour. We've already packed, and the coach is being readied as we speak. You can't make me stay!" Selwin jumped up.

Ravenhurst slowly got to his feet. "No, we can't. But know that if you leave, you may also be charged with a crime. Indeed, I will do everything I can to ensure that happens."

Selwin turned gray. "Please. I never asked for any of this."

Tilda put her hand on her hip and glared at the doctor. "Sir Henry didn't ask to be murdered and have that concealed. Have you any care for right and wrong? For justice?"

"I do." Selwin's shoulders curled in, and his voice was small. "I will help you. Just let me take my wife to her sister's, then I will return tomorrow."

"If you don't, I'll make sure you're found and brought back," Ravenhurst said. He looked at Tilda, and his eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them.

"What about that note?" Selwin asked, his gaze moving to the paper in the earl's hand.

"I'll be keeping it." Ravenhurst moved toward the door and opened it, holding it for Tilda.

She pinned the doctor with a furious stare. "You should be ashamed. I pray your wife doesn't learn how poorly you've behaved. I doubt she would forgive you. I certainly won't."

Spinning on her heel, Tilda stalked through the doorway. She continued quickly to the outer office where she didn't spare even a glance for the clerk. Ravenhurst wasn't fast enough to open the exterior door.

Outside, she muttered a curse under her breath. "How can we just let him leave London?" she asked.

"Do you recommend I tie him up until Inspector Teague can arrive?" Ravenhurst guided her to the coach.

The rain had stopped but there was a cold wind. It felt refreshing against Tilda's heated face. "We should call on Teague." She hoped he was at Scotland Yard, for they really did require his help. Whomever was behind everything was a very dangerous person.

"I'd prefer to call on Mrs. Crawford first." He glanced at her gown. "You've gone to the trouble of wearing that garment you detest, so it seems we should ensure it wasn't for naught."

Tilda did not want to wear it again any time soon. "Yes, let's go visit Mrs. Crawford. Then we can inform Teague about Selwin's crimes. Do you think he'll be arrested?"

Ravenhurst lifted a shoulder and helped her into the coach as Leach held the door. "It's possible. I certainly won't advocate for leniency."

Tilda thought of poor Sir Henry, stabbed and carted off; the truth of his death concealed. Now they needed to determine why.