The Shadow in the Glass by JJA Harwood (any book recommendations txt) 📕

gentleman says he knows you, Miss Hartley. I’m sure you would not be so rude as to deny him the pleasure of a dance while I steal Charles away.’

The Inspector watched them steadily, a still, dark spot in a writhing sea, ready to wreck ships and drown sailors.

‘I couldn’t possibly. I’ve lost my dance card.’

Lady Winstanleigh laughed. ‘My dear girl, that happens all the time! We would never ban young ladies from the ballroom for something so small!’

A muscle worked in Charles’s jaw. ‘I won’t allow it.’

Lady Winstanleigh’s eyes gleamed. In his work suit, Inspector Hatchett was a cuckoo among the ravens, shabby next to the gleaming blacks of the gentlemen. His hands were rough, his face was lined. And here he was, asking for Eleanor in her pretty ballgown and sparkling jewels. Whatever story Lady Winstanleigh ended up telling was sure to be salacious. Better to soften the blow.

Eleanor disentangled herself from Charles’s arm and gave his hand a quick squeeze. ‘It’s all right, Charles. Lady Winstanleigh is quite correct. When I become a hostess, I shall always remember her civility towards all her guests.’

Lady Winstanleigh flushed. Charles didn’t let go of her fingers. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course. Go on.’

Charles let himself be led away. The Inspector stared at her, eyes burning, and held out an arm. She took it, and they walked onto the dance floor amid a flurry of whispering. Eleanor held the Inspector at arm’s length, his hands like manacles.

The music began to play.

He danced like a soldier. Back and forward with mechanical precision, heels brought sharply together, jaw set. His spins were more like about turns. He was making her look foolish, dragging her all over the dance floor. Why was he here? What had he found out?

‘Well, Inspector, this is—’

‘I know what you’ve done.’

Eleanor stumbled on her backwards step. The black-eyed woman. Had she appeared to him too? Given Eleanor away? No, she couldn’t have – the black-eyed woman never showed herself to anyone but Eleanor. The black-eyed woman had been standing right next to him and he hadn’t noticed. He couldn’t have seen her.

‘Forgive me, but I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Yes, you do,’ he hissed. ‘Turn yourself in. Don’t keep up this farce any longer.’

‘What are you implying?’

He leant forward and whispered in her ear. ‘I am not implying anything, Miss Hartley. I am accusing you of murder.’

She froze. The dance moved on without her. The Inspector dragged her along and she stumbled forward, chest suddenly tight.

‘What?’

‘Lizzie Bartram. Flora Cleary. Frederick Pembroke. All dead by your hands.’

Eleanor flinched. The black-eyed woman. She’d been the one who’d killed them while Eleanor had been … where had she been? Asleep. Of course, she’d been asleep.

She forced a smile. ‘Come now, Inspector. I am seventeen years old. A young girl like me could never be capable of—’

‘Yes, you could.’

Could she? No, of course she couldn’t. If she’d killed them, she would have remembered. But she’d been – asleep, she must’ve been asleep.

‘And what evidence do you have for such an accusation?’

‘Miss Hartley, less than a year ago you were a servant in disgrace. These doors should be closed to you – they were, just weeks ago! And yet here you stand, with a gentleman fiancé and enough money to fix all his problems. How convenient.’

‘I’d hardly call that evidence, Inspector. It is not my fault if Fate has been kind to me.’

His face twisted. ‘Fate is not at work here! You murdered for money and social standing, and now you intend to reap the rewards.’

Eleanor forced her hand not to tighten on the Inspector’s shoulder. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t murder. Her feet tangled in her underskirts; why had she had so much to drink?

‘What on Earth makes you think that?’

‘People you dislike have an unfortunate tendency to die.’

‘Perhaps you ought to act like more of a gentleman, then.’

‘Is that a threat? Or should I take that as your confession?’

‘Neither. There’s nothing to your ridiculous theory. What could I have possibly gained from killing my friends and guardian?’

The music swelled. With her head spinning, it pressed against her ears. The Inspector gave a tight, humourless smile.

‘An end to Miss Bartram’s torments? Mrs Cleary’s considerable wealth? Freedom from the unwanted attentions of your guardian? Your treasures lie before you, Miss Hartley, and I know what you have done to get them.’

‘And what was that?’

‘You killed Miss Bartram. I spoke to the staff at Granborough House; they all knew how she hated you. For a time you were our prime suspect, until you conveniently remembered Miss Bartram’s argument with the butcher’s boy.’

‘How dare you!’

‘You then began an illicit relationship with Mr Charles Pembroke, which became public knowledge after you miscarried his child, and Mr Frederick Pembroke sent you away in disgrace.’

‘Inspector, really, I—’

‘You were determined to become a rich woman,’ the Inspector continued, ‘and so you set out to ingratiate yourself with your wealthy neighbour. But when she found out the truth about your past, you killed her before she could write you out of her will. Miss Hill tells me you didn’t even pretend to mourn.’

‘How can you even think such things!’

‘But that still wasn’t enough,’ the Inspector hissed, ‘because your guardian, Mr Pembroke, controlled all your money. You knew he would spend it, you knew he could stop you from marrying his son, and so you killed him.’

‘Don’t,’ Eleanor spat, blood rushing in her ears, ‘don’t you dare …’

‘You’re a murderess, Miss Hartley,’ the Inspector continued. ‘The blood of three people is on your hands.’

Suddenly, the black-eyed woman was visible through the dancers. She smiled, far too wide. Such a nuisance, Eleanor remembered.

Eleanor’s fingers were crushed inside the Inspector’s hand. ‘I would never—’

‘Then who did?’

‘How should I know? You are the policeman!’

‘All the evidence points to you. You are the only one who stood to gain from their deaths!’

They were spinning far too fast. ‘Evidence? You have no evidence!’

‘I do. Adelaide Hill has confirmed you lied to Mrs Cleary and withheld her reference. Bessie Banbury saw