Chapter 1 #3
Tilda started toward the window, though Hadrian was already ahead of her. He kept his back to everyone as he touched the frame. Tilda eyed him expectantly, hoping this time he’d see something useful whilst also worrying he would suffer a greater headache.
To give him more time, she turned to face the maid and the Chadwicks. Before she could speak, Mr. Chadwick snapped at Bannet. “You didn’t tell us about the window!”
“I forgot!” the maid cried, clearly agitated and perhaps defensive. Her cheeks flushed, and she chewed the inside of her mouth, twisting her lips. Her eyes flashed with heat. Was she angry?
“Did you notice anything out of place near the window?” Tilda asked.
“Anything that may have suggested someone climbed in from outside?” She glanced out the window and didn’t see a tree or anything that someone could have used to reach the window.
Perhaps Spring-heeled Jack had leapt from the ground, she thought sardonically. She did not believe that.
Bannet shook her head.
“Are you certain?” Mr. Chadwick demanded. “Your memory seems unreliable.”
Mrs. Chadwick touched her husband’s arm. “Don’t be cruel,” she murmured before looking at the maid. “It’s all right, Bannet. Please do your best to remember every detail. Anything at all could be helpful to Miss Wren.” She turned her attention to Tilda. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Tilda replied. “Any detail—no matter how insignificant—could be of assistance to our investigation.”
Finally, Hadrian turned from the window. His brow was creased and he brushed his fingers against his temple, which meant his head was still aching. She narrowed her eyes at him, hoping to wordlessly communicate that he mustn’t try to use his power anymore.
Tilda fixed her attention on Bannet once more. “Mrs. Chadwick thinks Miss Chadwick was likely wearing her nightclothes when she was taken. Can you describe what she was wearing?”
“Just a simple night rail—ivory muslin with a bit of lace and blue ribbon around the neck and the ends of the long sleeves.”
“Thank you.” Tilda split her gaze between the Chadwicks and Bannet. “What does a typical day for Miss Chadwick entail? What appointments does she keep, particularly regular ones? What about social events?”
Mrs. Chadwick clasped her hands around her handkerchief.
“She is in the midst of her first Season, so there are many social events. I would say we have engagements most days. We have one shopping day each week, usually Thursdays. She has riding lessons on Tuesdays and Saturdays, the pianoforte on Wednesdays, and watercolors on Mondays.”
As Tilda recorded the young woman’s schedule, she noted that she was busy nearly every day. Surely Sunday was reserved for church. That left Friday for her to be unencumbered. “What of Miss Chadwick’s associates and your friends, particularly those who’ve visited here?”
“What do you mean by that question?” Mr. Chadwick asked brusquely. “Are you implying our friends had something to do with Delia’s kidnapping?”
“Not at all. It’s helpful for us to have an idea of who’s been here.
The kidnapper targeted your daughter—he knew she lived here and how to strike.
” Tilda paused. “It’s odd that no one heard anything when Miss Chadwick was abducted.
We must investigate the possibility that she knew her kidnapper, hence she didn’t cause a ruckus. ”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Mrs. Chadwick said with great animation, her eyes widening and her cheeks flushing. “No one we know would do such a thing.”
“And why would Delia allow herself to be quietly kidnapped?” Mr. Chadwick snapped as his thick brows drew together with irritation. “She is not a shrinking violet, Miss Wren.”
Tilda made a note of that in her book. “I’m merely collecting information. The more I know, the better I can be of assistance. Can you think of anyone who might have conceived of this scheme?”
“Of course not!” Mr. Chadwick nearly shouted. Mrs. Chadwick grabbed his hand and gave him an imploring look. He took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing in a more moderate tone. “My apologies. We’re all upset. I hired you to find the person who conceived of this scheme.”
Frustration buzzed through Tilda, but she maintained a placid expression.
“It would be helpful if someone could provide me with a list of your daughter’s tutors, friends, and anyone else you think would be helpful for us to speak with.
This will allow us to determine if anyone from perhaps outside your circle was somehow inadvertently given information that may have led to this scheme.
With an investigation like this, it’s always wise to start at the center of the missing person’s life and work outward.
” At least, that was what Tilda’s father had said.
“That does make sense.” Mrs. Chadwick sent her husband an encouraging look, then released his hand.
Hadrian stepped forward, his expression smoothed into an amenable almost-smile. “Chadwick, I wonder if we might have a glass of brandy or whatever you have on hand. You can tell me about your inner circle.”
Tilda sent Hadrian a grateful glance. She wished she’d thought to pair him off with Chadwick.
Besides Chadwick being unhelpful and even obstructive, it was likely he would feel more comfortable conversing with the Earl of Ravenhurst—or at least offer him a deference he didn’t seem to want to give Tilda despite hiring her.
“That would be most welcome,” Mr. Chadwick said wearily. He almost seemed relieved. “We’ll go to my study.” He looked at Tilda. “You may meet us there when you’re finished to collect the first payment.”
“Thank you.” Tilda inclined her head, and Hadrian preceded Mr. Chadwick from the room.
“I must apologize for my husband.” Mrs. Chadwick wrung the handkerchief in her hands. “This has been so difficult, especially for him. He blames himself.”
“Why would he?” Tilda asked.
“He’s frustrated with himself, and with the staff, for not noticing or hearing anything,” Mrs. Chadwick replied.
“I’m to blame,” Bannet said, as a sob shook her shoulders. “Miss Chadwick is my charge.”
Mrs. Chadwick turned her gaze on the maid, her brow forming deep creases.
“You mustn’t think that. I suspect Delia was drugged or perhaps knocked unconscious, and that is why no one heard her.
” The woman’s chin quivered as she appeared to fight a wave of tears. She blinked several times and sniffed.
Tilda regarded the woman with kindness and understanding.
“That is certainly a possibility, but don’t think of that now.
I try never to move ahead of where the evidence takes me.
” She looked to the maid once more. “Did you tidy anything else in the chamber? I want to confirm there were no other signs of a struggle.”
Bannet frowned. “Do you think the unkempt bedclothes mean Delia struggled?”
“It’s a possibility, but I can’t say for certain, of course. Was anything else out of place or unexpected?”
“No. Everything was as it should be, except the bed. And the window being open, which wasn’t unusual.” She flushed as she looked toward Mrs. Chadwick. “I won’t blame you if you dismiss me for not recalling and mentioning that.” Her gaze dipped to the floor.
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Chadwick replied quickly. “It was a mistake anyone could have made. Of course we won’t dismiss you.”
“How was Miss Chadwick’s temperament the night before she disappeared?” Tilda asked. “Was there anything odd about her behavior?”
“Not at all.” Mrs. Chadwick frowned. “Why would she have acted differently? It wasn’t as if she knew she was going to be kidnapped from her bed. What a ridiculous question.”
Tilda knew they were upset and did not blame them for being…
vexing. “It may seem an odd query, but everything could be pertinent or nothing could be. For instance, what if your daughter was threatened and didn’t tell you.
She might have acted fearful or nervous.
I’m not saying that’s what happened, merely providing an example of why details that seem unimportant can actually be helpful during an investigation. ”
Mrs. Chadwick nodded, her features smoothing. “I see. I do apologize, Miss Wren. You seem very capable, which is why I wanted to hire you. I read about your brilliant role in the capture of the Levitation Killers.”
That case in particular had earned Tilda a bit of notoriety and, with it, a steady stream of clients. “I’m going to do everything I can to ensure your daughter is found and safely returned to you.”
“I’ll write out a list of Delia’s friends. I don’t know how they could help you, but I believe you know what you’re doing. I’ll go to my desk and meet you downstairs.” Mrs. Chadwick stood. “Bannet, please show Miss Wren to Mr. Chadwick’s study.”
“After you finish the list, I’d like to interview the rest of your staff,” Tilda said.
“Certainly.” Mrs. Chadwick departed.
Bannet led Tilda downstairs to the study where Hadrian and Mr. Chadwick were sipping brandy. They immediately stood as Tilda entered.
“I’ve a list of the Chadwicks’ closest friends, as well as the names of Miss Chadwick’s tutors,” Hadrian said.
Bannet didn’t linger. As the maid left, she passed the butler who went to speak with Mr. Chadwick. Tilda took the opportunity to go to Hadrian.
“Quickly, what did you see when you touched the window?” she asked.
“Nothing helpful. It was night, and I saw a reflection in the glass—it was only Miss Chadwick.”
“Her memory then,” Tilda said.
Hadrian nodded. “I had a brief sensation of excitement and happiness. I’m disappointed I couldn’t see anything of use, but I do wonder if the kidnapper was wearing gloves. That would explain not seeing any of his memories.”
“Good point.” Before she could comment on the Chadwicks’ agitation, Mr. Chadwick let out a gasp.
Tilda and Hadrian turned sharply toward where the man stood with the butler.
Mr. Chadwick held a piece of parchment, his hand shaking. He lifted his gaze to Tilda and Hadrian, his eyes wide. “This is from him—Spring-heeled Jack. I’m to deliver the twenty thousand pounds to Hampstead Heath at midnight.”