Chapter 1 #2
Mr. Chadwick glowered into the fireplace, then turned his head as Tilda and Hadrian moved into the chamber. His heavy-lidded eyes fixed on them. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” He spoke gruffly, and though he had a thick black and gray mustache, Tilda could see his mouth was drawn tight.
Tilda withdrew her notebook and a pencil from her reticule. “Can we begin with you providing a clear description of your daughter, including what she was wearing.”
“We have a photograph.” Mr. Chadwick swept a small, framed portrait from the mantel and handed it to Hadrian. Hopefully, he did that because Tilda was already holding her notebook and not because he saw Hadrian as in charge.
Hadrian moved closer to Tilda and held the photograph so they could both see it. Since he still wore his gloves, he would not experience a memory. Miss Chadwick was very pretty, with a heart-shaped face and the hint of a smile.
“What color is her hair?” Tilda asked.
“Light brown,” Mrs. Chadwick answered. “She has a milky complexion—it’s quite enviable.
And beautiful rosebud cheeks.” She sniffed.
“Her eyes are a delightful brown, not blue like mine, nor are they lighter like Benjamin’s.
They have a golden sheen.” She looked at her husband who nodded in response.
“They remind me of my favorite tawny port,” Mr. Chadwick said with a faint smile that quickly disappeared. “Can’t drink that just now,” he added gruffly before coughing.
Mrs. Chadwick dabbed at her eyes. “She’s of average height and is fortunate to have a very slender waist. The modiste loves to dress her.”
Tilda recorded the description in her notebook and looked back at the Chadwicks with a serene expression. “Does she have any attributes or perhaps marks on her skin that stand out?”
“She has a dark mole on the back of her neck,” Mrs. Chadwick replied. “I’d estimate it to be the size of the top of your pencil there.”
“And what was she wearing when she went missing?” Tilda asked gently.
“Her nightclothes, I presume.” Mrs. Chadwick pressed the handkerchief to her nose as she drew a stuttering breath. “I don’t know precisely what she was wearing, but Bannet will.” They’d mentioned Miss Chadwick’s maid, Bannet, when they’d called at Tilda’s earlier.
“We’d like to speak with the maid,” Tilda said.
“Simpson, the butler, has gone to fetch her,” Mr. Chadwick said. “She’s resting upstairs. There’s not much for her to do with Delia gone.” He twisted his face, pulling his mouth to the side as if he were trying not to succumb to emotion.
“May we go into the bedchamber to look around?” Tilda asked, glancing toward Hadrian.
Mr. Chadwick gestured toward the door leaning into the next chamber. “Please.”
Mrs. Chadwick began to rise, but Tilda stepped toward her.
“If you don’t mind, his lordship and I would like a few moments to investigate without interference.
We’ll invite you in when we’re ready to ask further questions.
” She gave the woman a warm, hopefully supportive smile before preceding Hadrian into Miss Chadwick’s bedchamber.
The room was also decorated with yellow floral wallpaper and ivory furnishings.
There were many touches of gilt—a lamp on the bedside table, the mirror hanging over the mantel, the decorations on the marble fireplace.
As Tilda looked about the chamber, she realized there wasn’t a thing out of place.
Frowning, she moved toward the bed, which was hung with golden velvet curtains. “They’ve made up the bed.”
“They’ve disturbed any clues that might have been left,” Hadrian noted.
“It’s unlikely the state of the bedclothes would have told us much, but we’ll never know.
” Tilda tamped down her mild disappointment as she turned her attention to the table beside the bed.
In addition to the gilt lamp, there was a book, The Woman in White, and a silver filigree hairbrush.
Tilda confirmed the color of Miss Chadwick’s hair from the strands that clung to the bristles.
“May I?” Hadrian held out his hand—he’d removed his gloves—and Tilda gave the brush to him.
She glanced toward the doorway, hoping no one would walk in until they were invited.
Tilda had specifically stated they wanted to be alone so that Hadrian could try to see Miss Chadwick’s memories.
If they were exceptionally lucky, he would see her memory of the abduction and be able to identify the kidnapper.
Hadrian’s gaze went blank, as if he were asleep with his eyes open. The more skilled he’d become at using his ability, the more altered he appeared. Consequently, they endeavored to keep others from observing him in that state.
After several long moments, he blinked. “Nothing helpful.” He pressed his lips together as he set the brush back on the table.
“I’m going to look at her dressing table,” Tilda said. “Perhaps you should touch the bedclothes in case they haven’t been entirely changed, just tidied.”
“It’s worth a try.”
Tilda moved away. She didn’t need to watch him employ his ability.
Miss Chadwick’s oak dressing table had several drawers and an oval mirror.
Beginning with the center drawer, Tilda searched the contents of the table.
She found all manner of beauty implements.
Indeed, Miss Chadwick had multiples of many items, which seemed extravagant to Tilda.
The drawers were quite full. Until she opened the fifth and final one, the lower drawer on the right side. It held a few letters and nothing else.
Tilda withdrew the three envelopes and perused the exterior. They were addressed to Miss Chadwick, but they had no return address. That wasn’t terribly uncommon. Tilda removed the first letter. It was signed, “With love from Vin.”
The letter revealed Vin to be her brother. Earlier, the Chadwicks said they had two sons—one who was traveling and one in the navy. Since this envelope had not originated with the navy, Tilda concluded the missive must be from the traveling brother.
Tilda read the other two letters. “These are from one of her brothers. They aren’t very long as he appears to be concerned with just two things.”
“What are those?” Hadrian asked as he joined her at the dressing table.
“Vin’s gratitude for some favor his sister was performing and anger toward their parents.
In the last one, Vin begged Miss Chadwick not to turn against him.
He said he couldn’t bear to lose her faith and assistance.
Tilda tucked the letters back into the envelopes and returned them to the drawer before closing it.
“Should I touch them?” Hadrian asked.
“I don’t want you to overwhelm yourself,” she said with concern. “Did you learn anything from the bed?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Hadrian shook his head, then winced.
“Has your headache worsened?” Tilda was now especially glad she’d returned the letters to the drawer without handing them to Hadrian.
“I’m not seeing anything noteworthy.” His brow creased with frustration.
“I see her parents. I see who is probably her maid. I see Hyde Park. I see a ball. I see the theatre. Everything is fleeting and benign. I don’t feel any strong emotion whatsoever, and certainly not the fear I gleaned from the ransom note. ”
“Well, that’s disappointing. But at least your ability hasn’t disappeared.” She smiled at him, but he shuddered.
“I don’t like to think of that happening again. Not when we need it.”
“I suppose we should invite the Chadwicks and the maid in.” Tilda went to the doorway and saw that the Chadwicks had been joined by a woman around thirty years of age. She was dressed like a maid, in a dark blue gown and a stiff, white apron. Her sable hair was pinned up beneath a white cap.
“This is Bannet, Delia’s maid,” Mr. Chadwick said.
“Please come in so we may discuss what happened two days ago.” Tilda pivoted away from the door to give them space to enter the bedchamber.
The Chadwicks came in first, followed by Bannet, whose hands were clasped tightly before her. Mrs. Chadwick immediately went to sit in a chair near the hearth, as if she didn’t have the energy to stand. Mr. Chadwick stood beside her, his expression as dark as it had been since they’d arrived.
Tilda turned her attention to the maid. “I’m Miss Wren, and this is Lord Ravenhurst. We’re investigating Miss Chadwick’s disappearance.”
“She didn’t disappear,” Mr. Chadwick said. “She was taken. We have a note stating there is a ransom.”
“We know, Mr. Chadwick,” Hadrian replied calmly. “Bannet, can you tell us about finding that note?”
“It was there.” The maid pointed toward the pillows. “I came in to wake Miss Chadwick at nine, as always, and she wasn’t in bed. I found the note instead.”
Tilda moved to stand next to the bed. “I presume the bed wasn’t in this state when you arrived that morning. Did you change the linens?”
“I did. It seemed wrong to leave them after they’d been touched by a villain.” Bannet shuddered.
“Was there something on the bedclothes?” Tilda tried not to let her excitement show. Perhaps the maid had seen evidence of the kidnapper and that’s what she meant by “touched.”
“Not that I saw. I just imagined him stealing poor Miss Chadwick from the bed.” Bannet bit back a sob, then composed herself before continuing. “The linens were tossed about, which was unlike her. Sometimes, the bed looked as if she hadn’t even slept in it.”
“I told you she was a tidy sleeper,” Mrs. Chadwick said.
“So, two mornings ago, the bed looked different.” How Tilda wished the maid had left things as she’d found them in order to preserve any evidence. “Can you tell me if anything else in the room seemed odd that morning?”
The maid gestured to the window that faced the back. “The lower sash was open the barest amount, but sometimes Miss Chadwick likes to take the morning air. It could be that she didn’t close it entirely.”