A week had quickly come and gone since Thomas Moore's body was found by a passerby in the narrow alleyway behind Lansdowne Road, a single bullet to the left temple and stripped of all its valuables. The police investigating Thomas' murder believed it to be a mugging gone awry, an unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. With no further evidence and every suspect cleared upon interrogation, the investigation was very quickly losing momentum, despite the sometimes questionable efforts of the authorities.

The funeral was held on the third day following Thomas's death. For Adeline, however, the entire event was no more than a muddled blur of foggy faces and obscure condolences. Widows were often not permitted to attend the funerals of their deceased husbands, perhaps due to the likelihood of an hysterical display, but Adeline maintained a steady disposition while under the watchful eyes of her friends, family and acquaintances, withholding her tears and despair until she could be alone.

Just as she had every morning following Thomas's death, Adeline willed herself out of bed and forced her unwilling spirit to dress, beginning with her drawers, stockings and chemise. It was impossibly difficult to do even the most basic of tasks and she found herself questioning why they were even necessary to begin with. Sitting on the chair next to her vanity, Adeline slipped into her boots, proceeding to use her button hook to fasten them snugly to her ankles. Her corset, a split busk with slot and stud opening, made lacing up by herself much simpler, and she always insisted upon being as self-sufficient as possible. Adeline then proceeded to secure the bustle cage around her waist, tying the white silk strings into a tidy bow and moved onto slipping into her petticoat, corset cover and then foundation skirt. As her clothing increased in layers, so did it begin to shift in shade and form from white to black and silk or cotton to crape. Newly widowed, Adeline was expected to dawn full mourning attire for the next two years, an outward display of her inner feelings. The clothing, jet black, was symbolic of spiritual darkness, and she was no longer permitted to wear velvet, satin, lace or embroidery. Jewelry inlays were now limited to jet, a gemstone precursor to coal, also symbolic of deepest despair. Under her clothing, however, Adeline steadfastly wore the delicate gold chain and diamond inlay locket Thomas had gifted her while the pair were courting. Inside the locket, Thomas placed a poem he had written for Adeline when he proposed. To her, the necklace was far more symbolic of her love and loss than any ridiculous custom. It was upon Thomas' death that Adeline added to the locket a snippet of her departed husband's beautiful chestnut hair, coiling it gently around the poem, never to forget what was once hers. Once in her apron overskirt, Adeline slipped into and buttoned up her bodice then went about the tedious task of braiding, rolling and pinning up her thick, umber hair, then finished her ritual by dabbing onto her pulse points an orange flower and vanilla perfume.

Just as she had done every day, Adeline pushed through the motions of life, doing what was expected, ensuring that friends and acquaintances would not be made to feel uncomfortable or prone to gossip about the desperate state of the young widow up on Campden Hill. Appearances were everything, after all.

Adeline seated herself at her Mother's old, walnut writing desk that stood next to the picture window in her bedroom and wrote a letter to her cousin Catherine, who lived in Norwich with her husband and two children. Although she could not yet bring herself to express her deepest thoughts about Thomas's murder to her dear friends, she could and did detail them to cousin Catherine, feeling that the distance between them offered a modicum of safety from judgement.

Suddenly there came a soft rapping at her bedroom door.

'Come in,' Adeline invited without lifting her eyes from her letter.

'Beg pardon, Ma'am. Mr. Grant here to see you,' Brona announced softly.

Adeline turned tentatively from her writing desk, 'Thank you, Brona'

'Shall I prepare tea, Ma'am?'

'That would be lovely'

With a gentle nod, Brona left quietly to prepare the afternoon tea.

Adeline folded the letter she had written to her cousin, placed it delicately into a textured evelope, and then into a drawer, intent on sending it on its way in the morning. She descended the third floor stairs down into the entrance hall and into the parlour to greet her guest.

'Mr. Grant,' she addressed formally, as she laced her fingers together in front of herself.

'Mr. Grant? I do believe it was only last week that we addressed one another by our given names, Mrs. Moore,' he smiled with his thin lips and large, blue eyes.

'Of course, forgive me, Eli,' Adeline shook her head, 'I'm unaccustomed to the rules of etiquette for a widow'

'Well I believe a widow should be granted reprieve from proper etiquette, in any case,' Eli smiled warmly, 'Do forgive me for stopping by unannounced'

Adeline waved her hand, 'Nonsense, Eli, you're always welcome, besides, I've grown rather accustomed to unscheduled visitors this past week. Won't you sit?' She insisted, directing Eli to a chair situated beside the tea table.

With the steady flow of people who had been stopping by to lend their condolences and gifts of kind words about Thomas, Adeline simply left the tea table set out in the parlour in anticipation of daily visitors.

'Yes, of course, thank you,' Eli smiled.

'So, to what do I owe the pleasure?' Adeline queried, as the pair took their seats.

'I'm told that when a person experiences a loss, it is perfectly acceptable to offer a gift of condolence, you see, so I've brought one for you,' Eli explained as he reached into his vest and retrieved from it a small, wrapped gift.

'Oh, that was very kind of you, Eli,' Adeline noted, surprised, 'Thank you'

She carefully unfolded the colorful gift wrap to expose a book. It was a copy of The Passing Of The Storm And Other Poems, by Alfred Castner King.

'It's lovely, Eli, thank you,' Adeline simpered.

'I do hope you enjoy it,' Eli noted.

'Yes, I rather think I will,' she said softly, as she delicately flipped through the pages.

Brona paced lightly into the parlour, tea tray in hand. She placed the tray down, setting out the tea pot, cups, spoons, sugar and cream before returning to the kitchen to fetch desserts.

'I seem to recall Thomas going on about your fondness for books,' Eli smiled.

'Bit of a fanatic, really'

Brona soon padded quietly back into the parlour holding a tea rack full of drop scones and fruit cake to go along with their tea.

'Thank you, Brona,' Adeline smiled.

'Ma'am,' Brona dipped her head before leaving Adeline and Eli to themselves.

'So, what news of the outside world? I fear I've become rather a hermit as of late,' Adeline questioned.

'As to be expected, of course. There isn't much to report, I'm afraid. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer, so on and so forth,' Eli muttered before taking a careful sip of his tea.

'The corrupt and remorseless doggedly thrive,' Adeline added, gazing down at her cup.

Eli watched her tentatively for a moment and placed his cup down on the tea table, 'Adeline,' he paused, 'I understand you may have need for an executor to put Thomas's finances in order. I would like to offer my services, if you'll allow. It would be a pleasure to save you the burden of having to deal with such formalities yourself or being forced to pay a stranger of questionable intent to do the job'

'How kind of you to offer, Eli. It's true, I haven't been up to the task of sorting out Thomas's affairs. Your help would be exceedingly appreciated'

'It's settled then,' Eli smiled.

☆

Later on that afternoon, Adeline put on her black gloves and hat then left her home to brave the world outside and embark on a mission she still deemed too sensitive to inform her inner circle of.

She had, in previous days, been in contact with a man by the name of Mr. Lorem Grae who was known to solve unsolvable crimes in London. He was a self described private detective, and although he had a tawdry reputation among the upperclassmen, primarily due to his lower working class status, his investigative achievements preceded him.