Chapter 2
“May I see that?” Tilda asked as she walked toward Chadwick with her hand extended. He placed the parchment onto her palm.
Hadrian moved to stand beside her so he could read the note over her shoulder.
Deliver the twenty thousand pounds to the hollow oak off the Spaniards Road in Hampstead Heath by midnight tonight.
Yours,
Spring-heeled Jack
“A man of few words,” Hadrian murmured.
Tilda immediately handed him the note along with a grimace of apology. Clearly, she meant for him to see what he would detect from the parchment despite telling him he shouldn’t use his power anymore that day.
As soon as he touched the paper, the room went dark.
He saw a small mahogany desk with a piece of blank parchment atop it.
A hand belonging to a man gripped a quill and hovered above it.
His nails were rough and a bit dirty, and his thumb and finger were dry and perhaps calloused.
Hadrian tried to determine an identifying feature, such as a ring or a scar.
All he managed to note was the edge of the man’s sleeve, but it was a nondescript brown coat.
Though he tried to see more of the desk, Hadrian was forced to close his eyes because the pain in his head had become too strong to bear.
Handing the paper back to Tilda, their gazes met, and he wordlessly communicated that he’d seen something.
Curiosity and anticipation simmered in her eyes, but he could not tell her anything now.
“Where is the envelope?” Tilda asked.
The butler handed it to her. Again, Hadrian looked over Tilda’s shoulder. The letter had originated from London WC. That wouldn’t be helpful, as that was a very large area.
“I should go to Hampstead Heath and pay the ransom,” Chadwick said.
“What’s this about Hampstead Heath?” Mrs. Chadwick’s voice came from the doorway.
Chadwick moved quickly to his wife and took her hand. “My darling, we’ve received a note about delivering the ransom.”
“What’s happened?” Mrs. Chadwick cried, her eyes moving wildly about.
Turning to Tilda, Chadwick held out his hand. She handed him the note, which he then showed to his wife. “This was just delivered with the post.”
“I don’t think it’s wise for you to deliver the ransom alone,” Tilda said as Mrs. Chadwick took and read the missive. “I think it would be far better if Lord Ravenhurst pretends to be you, and we organize a scheme in which we attempt to capture the kidnapper.”
“No, it must be me,” Chadwick argued.
“You should listen to them,” Mrs. Chadwick said, her hand shaking.
“Why?” Chadwick asked sharply as he turned toward his wife. “I only hired them because we hadn’t heard anything, and you were worried after waiting for two days. But now we know what to do. I’ll pay the ransom, and Delia will come back to us.”
Mrs. Chadwick clutched her husband’s sleeve. “It’s far too dangerous!” Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide. “How do we even know that Delia is all right, or that she’ll be returned?” She released Chadwick and waved the note. “This doesn’t say anything about how or when Delia will come back.”
“No, it does not, and I find that concerning,” Tilda said.
“This is potentially quite dangerous. What if Spring-heeled Jack takes your money and you along with it? Or worse? Please allow his lordship and me to develop a plan that will ensure Delia’s and your safety and that you keep your twenty thousand pounds.
This will also give us the opportunity to capture the kidnapper. ”
Chadwick huffed. “How do you propose to do that?”
“As Miss Wren said, I will pose as you.” Hadrian thought that was an excellent idea. They were of a similar height. “I’ll deliver an empty bag to the hollow oak.” He wasn’t sure if that had been Tilda’s plan, but she gave him a subtle nod.
“Someone will show up to retrieve the ransom,” Tilda said. “That is when we’ll attempt to capture him.”
“Attempt? What if you fail?” Chadwick asked. “I must be there.”
“I know you want to be. However, it isn’t safe,” Hadrian said firmly. “Furthermore, you’re too emotionally involved. As you should be. You’ve hired Miss Wren to find your daughter. If you don’t trust her to accomplish that objective, perhaps you should go to the police instead.”
“Absolutely not!” Chadwick shouted, prompting his wife to flinch.
Once again, Mrs. Chadwick grasped her husband’s arm, her expression beseeching.
“Benjamin, you agreed that we needed help, and you refused to involve the police because of that horrid note. Please let Miss Wren and Lord Ravenhurst do what they must. You do not need to be there. I don’t know what I would do if you were taken too. Please.”
Chadwick’s frame shrank as he let out a long exhale. “What is your plan? You can’t mean to catch him without help.”
“We will have assistance,” Tilda replied.
Hadrian knew they would have Leach, who had proven to be most helpful with their investigations.
They could also bring Brian, Hadrian’s burliest footman.
Would that be enough? What if the kidnapper also had assistance?
There could very well be more than one person responsible for Miss Chadwick’s abduction.
Mrs. Chadwick regarded Tilda and Hadrian eagerly. “You must report back immediately. I won’t be able to sleep until I know what transpired.”
“Of course,” Tilda assured her. “We will come directly here.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Chadwick attempted a smile, but her features just looked strained.
“I’d still rather accompany you,” Chadwick grumbled. “I have the twenty thousand pounds. You should take it with you.”
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Tilda said.
“Now, you must excuse us whilst we make the necessary plans.” She looked at Mrs. Chadwick with warmth, demonstrating the concern she always showed her clients and anyone who was in pain.
“May I have the note? I want to keep it with the envelope and the first note. These are important pieces of evidence and will help with prosecuting the kidnapper.”
Mrs. Chadwick handed it back to her. “What about interviewing the rest of the staff?”
“Hopefully that won’t be necessary because Delia will be returned this evening,” Tilda replied. “Our time will be best spent planning for tonight.”
Mrs. Chadwick clutched her hands tightly and nodded.
“We’ll be on our way then,” Hadrian said.
Chadwick still appeared very frustrated. Deep grooves lined his features, and his brows were drawn. “We’ll expect to see you tonight—with Delia.”
Hadrian didn’t want to point out that the ransom note made no mention of when or how Miss Chadwick would be returned. Did the kidnapper plan to leave her at the hollow tree?
Tilda preceded Hadrian from the study, and the butler followed them. When they reached the entrance hall, Simpson hastened to open the door.
Outside, Tilda slipped the letter and envelope into her reticule with her notebook. She looked over at Hadrian as they made their way to the coach.
“Do you really think we can capture the kidnapper?” Hadrian asked.
“I don’t know, but after seeing that second note, I strongly believe we need to consult with Detective Inspector Teague. I didn’t want to say that in front of Mr. Chadwick, of course.”
Hadrian was surprised to hear her say that. “But the kidnapper instructed us not to speak to the police, and you promised Chadwick you wouldn’t.” She’d made that vow earlier when the Chadwicks had called at her grandmother’s house to hire Tilda.
“We’re not making a report or formally involving the Met,” Tilda explained.
“We’re soliciting help from a friend, who happens to be a detective inspector with Scotland Yard.
I don’t think we can afford not to consult him.
Mrs. Chadwick asked a very good question—we don’t even know if Delia is all right.
That second note offered no information as to her welfare or when or how she’ll be returned.
When I promised Mr. Chadwick that I wouldn’t involve the police, I didn’t know all the information, rather the lack of information. ”
“Your assessment makes good sense, as does you not wanting to tell Chadwick. I don’t think he would have agreed with you.”
“Probably not.” Tilda’s features wrinkled in a brief grimace. She exhaled. “I’d like Leach and Brian to accompany us in addition to Teague and whomever he designates, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’m sure they’ll be amenable.”
Leach waited for them at the coach and opened the door. “I hope your meeting was productive.”
“To Scotland Yard with haste,” Hadrian said to the coachman. “We have a plan to execute tonight, and it involves you.”
Leach’s eyes lit with interest. “Always happy to do my part. What will we be doing?”
“Catching a kidnapper,” Tilda replied. “Specifically, Spring-heeled Jack. More accurately, someone claiming to be him.”
“I read a penny dreadful about him,” Leach said, his brows gathering. “I didn’t think he was a kidnapper. I should think he’d more likely save the hostage.”
“Why?” Hadrian asked.
“In the story, Spring-heeled Jack tormented the upper classes and rescued those in need. He was more of a hero than a villain.”
“‘Spring-heeled Jack’ is a myth. Someone dressed up as him thirty years ago and attacked a few young women,” Tilda said. “Since then, he’s been memorialized in stories and on the stage. Whatever he was or is, there’s a man—or woman—who kidnapped Miss Chadwick, not ‘Spring-heeled Jack.’”
“I’m eager to help any way I can,” Leach said holding the door of the coach.
“Thank you.” Tilda smiled at him as she climbed inside.
As soon as Hadrian sat down next to Tilda and the door closed, she turned toward him. “What did you see when you touched the letter?”
Hadrian related the vision. “I had to stop because my head hurt. I’m disappointed I couldn’t see anything more helpful. When my head is feeling better, I’ll try again.”
Her gaze shot to his forehead. “You had to stop on purpose? You’ve never had to do that before, have you?” she asked with concern.