Chapter 3 #2
After several more minutes, Leach stopped the coach before they reached the area with the hollow tree. He’d ridden out on horseback earlier that evening to determine the location of the tree and choose where to let everyone, except for him and Wycombe, out.
Tilda, Hadrian, Teague, Constable Mercer, and Brian departed the coach. In a few minutes, Leach would turn around and drive to a place where he could conceal the coach. They’d proceed to the oak in a couple of hours.
Creeping through the trees and shrubbery, Tilda and the others sought locations in which they would wait and watch for Spring-heeled Jack. Brian and Constable Mercer would take positions near the road, whilst Teague, Tilda, and Hadrian planned to observe the oak.
It would be easy to hear a vehicle approach, assuming the kidnapper brought a vehicle.
Still, if he was on horseback, they ought to hear him.
Tilda couldn’t imagine he would come on foot, though she supposed he could do what they’d done—depart his mode of transport at some distance and walk the rest of the way.
The plan was for them to use the bit of light they had left in the sky to find their locations for surveillance. However, the moon would be bright, following last night’s full moon, and they could have light even in the darkness—depending on the clouds. Currently, the moon was quite visible.
“I see the oak ahead,” Teague whispered. “I’m going to climb this tree here. One of you should go past the tree and find a vantage point. The other should find a place somewhere between the road and the oak.”
Hadrian glanced at Tilda as they moved way from Teague. “I was hoping we would stay together.”
She shook her head. “We can’t afford to lose a vantage point. I have my father’s pistol, and I know how to use it. I can also climb trees very well.”
“I’d like to see that,” Hadrian said with the flash of a smile. “However, you should probably not climb a tree whilst your shoulder is still healing.”
Tilda sighed with disappointment. “Alas, you are correct.”
“At least let me walk you to where you’ll be so I know how to find you,” Hadrian said.
“What if I prefer that we walk to your location so I can be assured of your safety?” she countered with an arched brow.
He smiled. “I suppose we’ll have to duel it out.” Sobering, he held her gaze, and they paused briefly. “There is no one more important to me.”
The warm, giddy feeling blooming inside Tilda was still so new. She’d never felt the power of this kind of love before. “We’re going to be fine,” she said confidently.
They reached the oak. “We’re losing our light, and a cloud has moved over the moon.” Tilda gestured to her left, toward the road. “That’s a good cluster of hedges. I’ll hide there.”
Hadrian turned his head and pointed to the right, to another oak that wasn’t hollow. “I’ll climb that tree.”
“Good. Now we know where each other is,” she said.
Before she could turn, Hadrian snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her close. His gloved fingers touched her cheek as she tipped her head back and met his gaze once more.
“Please be safe,” he whispered before kissing her.
It was brief but lovely. Exuberant joy spread through Tilda again.
He released her. “I know I’m not supposed to do that, since we’re working.”
Tilda wasn’t going to complain. She hadn’t thought she was anxious about their scheme, but he’d settled her nerves.
“You too,” she said. “Be safe.”
They parted and went to their hiding places. The sun set completely, and they waited. They heard a few coaches on the Spaniards Road, but then all grew quiet as darkness settled over the heath.
The hours passed as the clouds moved about the moon, plunging them into darkness and revealing a bright, shining light. Finally, they heard a coach, which ought to be Wycombe arriving as Chadwick.
Tilda saw the light from the vehicle as it approached on the Spaniards Road. It stopped, and there was silence, followed by a lantern moving along the path from the road. That would be Wycombe. Tilda confirmed this as the sergeant moved into her line of sight.
Wycombe clutched the lantern with one hand and the empty ransom bag with the other. He plucked his way over the uneven ground to the hollow tree and deposited the bag inside. Setting the lantern on the ground, he began to pace.
Another hour or more went by before they finally heard another vehicle. Tilda’s pulse quickened. The men positioned near the road knew not to make a move on the kidnapper, as did Leach who would watch from his perch in the seat of Hadrian’s coach.
They all needed to make sure the kidnapper came to the tree—that way Tilda, Hadrian, and Teague could capture him, whilst the others apprehended anyone who might have remained with the coach, including—hopefully—Miss Chadwick.
Tilda strained her neck to see what was happening on the road, where the light from the coach gleamed, but couldn’t discern anything. The moon had vanished again.
Suddenly, the sounds of yelling carried over the heath. Tilda couldn’t distinguish what was being said, if anything. The sound of a pistol shot filled the air. Tilda gasped as her breath caught with fear.
For a brief moment, she wasn’t sure what to do—because she couldn’t see what was happening.
But a pistol shot was bad. Then she saw Teague spring toward the road.
Jolted from her uncertainty, she stepped from the hedge and turned her head to look toward Hadrian’s tree.
Hearing him hit the ground, she ran toward the light from the coach, Hadrian behind her.
The decision to wear trousers instead of a gown had been an exceptionally good one.
When she arrived, Teague was already there, as were Brian and Constable Mercer. Leach had joined them. A second coach was parked behind Hadrian’s.
The coachman from the second vehicle stood waving a pistol over a supine body on the ground. Tilda crept forward cautiously as Hadrian moved to her right. “Is that the kidnapper?”
“It’s Mr. Chadwick,” the coachman replied loudly, his voice panicked as he brandished the weapon.
Teague approached him. “Put down the revolver. What happened?”
The coachman lowered his arms. His eyes were wide in the light from the lantern, and his skin was pale with fright. “We came to deliver the ransom for Miss Chadwick.”
Frustration rose in Tilda. Why hadn’t the man listened?
A groan emanated from Chadwick. Tilda crouched down as he opened his eyes.
“Have you been shot?” she asked.
“No,” the coachman responded. “The beast hit him with his horrible claws, then stole the bag and leapt away.”
Indeed, Chadwick had a bloodied cut along his cheek. He put his hand to his head as he struggled to sit. Brian moved to help the man to his feet.
“Hit my head on the ground as I fell,” Chadwick said, sounding somewhat befuddled. “Where’s Delia?” Chadwick blinked, his eyes opening wider as he looked around wildly.
Tilda’s stomach clenched, both with hope and fear. “Did you see her?”
“No. The villain emerged from the shadows and jumped upon me.” Chadwick wiped his gloved hand across his cheek and winced.
“I fired my pistol at him,” the coachman said. “But I must have missed. I’m sorry, Mr. Chadwick.”
Pivoting, Chadwick rushed to his coach and looked inside. “Did he get the ransom?”
The coachman paled even more. “I’m afraid so.”
“The bastard has my money and my daughter.” Chadwick’s voice rose. Panic overtook his features.
“We’ll find your daughter,” Teague vowed.
Chadwick swung to face the inspector. “Who the bloody hell are you?”
“Detective Inspector Teague with Scotland Yard.”
“What?” Chadwick turned a furious glare on Tilda. “You weren’t supposed to involve the police. Now, my daughter hasn’t been returned, and it’s your fault, because we didn’t follow the plan as Spring-heeled Jack instructed.”
Tilda was taken aback by the man’s vitriol, but she reminded herself that he was incredibly distraught, and understandably so. She also stood by the decision she’d made to seek Teague’s assistance. It wasn’t their fault that the plan had been spoiled by Chadwick’s unexpected arrival.
“There’s no way the kidnapper knows the police are here,” Teague said calmly.
“This was all planned with the utmost discretion. We’re not identifiable as police, and the ransom note didn’t say you had to come alone.
I understand you’re upset that your daughter is still missing, Mr. Chadwick.
We’re going to find her. In the meantime, you ought to go home and tend to the scratches on your face. They look rather deep.”
Wycombe interrupted further discussion by returning with the fake ransom bag. “Nobody ever came to the tree.”
“Do we think the kidnapper was watching since before the sun went down?” Hadrian asked.
Tilda glanced at Mr. Chadwick, who appeared anguished as well as angry. And Teague was right, the wounds on his cheek needed attention.
“That’s possible,” Teague replied. “We know the kidnapper saw a second coach arrive when there was only supposed to be one.”
“He saw Chadwick depart the coach,” Leach said. “That’s when he attacked.”
Teague frowned. “Then it makes sense the kidnapper was watching. He saw the second coach, and Chadwick came out of it. Why wait for him to deliver the ransom to the tree?”
“We must presume he’ll return Miss Chadwick now that he has the ransom.
” Tilda worked to keep her voice even, though her body was shaking.
She’d never felt so powerless or ineffectual before.
Yes, Chadwick’s arrival had ruined their plan, but she ought to have planned for that.
The man had been insistent that he deliver the ransom, and after he’d backed down, Tilda should have realized he might try to come anyway.
“The kidnapper’s note was frustratingly vague regarding her return. ”