'Til Death Do Us Part by Amanda Quick

the police because of a fear of scandal.
    The memento mori items and the bells had all been ordered by the customer while the women were still alive. The coffins had been ordered after the deaths.
    The description of the man who had delivered the bodies and paid the funeral directors for their discretion was always the same—a fine-looking, respectable gentleman, well-spoken and fashionably dressed. He claimed to be a distant relative of the victim who was willing topay well for the funeral directors’ discretion. But he had used a different name on each occasion.
    She opened a drawer and took out a sheet of black-bordered notepaper. She was not personally in mourning—her elderly husband had succumbed to a stroke over a decade earlier and she did not miss him in the slightest. But she always used black-bordered stationery for the same reason that she wore stylish black gowns. It was simply sound business to take advantage of every opportunity to advertise her wares.
    She wrote a quick message and inserted the notepaper into a black-bordered envelope. Then she went to the rear door of her shop and summoned one of the boys who slept in a nearby doorway. She did not want to risk sending her message by the post.
    She gave the envelope and a coin to the street urchin.
    â€œSee that this is delivered immediately. Wait for a reply. There will be another coin when you return.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    The boy, excited by the prospect of being able to afford a meal that night, took off at a run.
    Irene went back upstairs to wait for the response to her note. If there was one thing she had learned from J. P. Fulton, it was that there were a number of creative ways to increase one’s income if one remained alert to opportunities.
    Those engaged in the funeral and mourning goods trade were often in a position to learn dark family secrets. After all, nothing hinted at the truth like death. An unmarried daughter who died in childbirth? A woman beaten to death by a brutal husband? A husband who succumbed to an accidental dose of rat poison? All such secrets could be quietly interred with the body by an accommodating funeral director, assuming someone was willing to pay for the silence.
    Discretion was the key to a successful business.

16
    â€œI ’ M NOT SURE what to say,” Calista said.
    Eudora crumpled the hankie in one hand. “Something happened a few years ago—something quite dreadful. My brother saved me but in the process he was scarred for life. Because of those terrible marks on his face, the woman he loved ended their association.”
    â€œReally?” Calista frowned. “That seems rather unlikely.”
    â€œIt’s the truth. Trent has never loved another woman, not the way he loved Althea. As I said, there have been occasional, discreet liaisons in the past few years. But after Althea broke his heart, he never loved again.”
    â€œAnd you blame yourself.”
    â€œYes. Suffice it to say that the damage that was done to his face was intended to be inflicted on me.”
    â€œGood heavens. I had no idea.”
    Eudora mopped her eyes. “We never talk about it, not even within the family. But it’s always there, somehow, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œI understand family secrets. May I ask how old you were at the time of the . . . incident?”
    â€œFifteen. There are three of us but I’m the youngest. Our father died when I was twelve. Mother remarried when I was fourteen. Our stepfather proved to be a brute of a man. Mama was dreadfully unhappy. When she drowned in the pond many said she had suffered from lingering melancholia. But that wasn’t true. And then came the incident that scarred Trent for life. I won’t trouble you with the details. Suffice it to say that it all ended with him losing Althea.”
    â€œWho, exactly, was Althea?”
    â€œThe daughter of a family that lived in the same village. Althea and