Chapter 6
Despite her anxiety over Miss Chadwick’s continued absence, Tilda had managed to find sleep last night—likely only because she’d been so exhausted after rising so early the day before and making several inquiries in the afternoon.
This morning, she felt rested and eager to do her utmost to find Miss Chadwick.
At the Alsop house, they’d spoken to one of Jane Alsop’s sisters, but not the one who’d pulled her out of the doorway. Unfortunately, she did not reveal any information they hadn’t already learned from Mr. Hopkins.
They’d also called on Miss Chadwick’s tutors. Both were distressed to hear she’d been abducted. The pianoforte tutor, a gentleman in his late sixties, had just seen her last Wednesday, the day before Miss Chadwick was taken. He hadn’t noticed anything odd about her behavior.
The watercolor tutor, a middle-aged married man with small children, had broken down sobbing upon hearing the news of her kidnapping. His wife had come in to console him whilst Tilda and Hadrian attempted to complete their inquiry.
Neither tutor had offered any helpful information. They reported Miss Chadwick to be exuberant and delightful and said her abduction was a grave tragedy. Seeing their agitation hadn’t eased Tilda’s anxiety.
Tilda and Hadrian planned to call at Scotland Yard this morning to learn what Teague and Wycombe might have discovered with their inquiries, as well as share the information from their interview with Mr. Hopkins.
Then they would begin to call on Miss Chadwick’s friends.
Tilda watched through the front window in the parlor as Hadrian’s coach pulled up outside.
Pulling on her gloves, she turned and started toward the entrance hall but had to stop short as her grandmother walked into the parlor. “You’re off again this morning with Lord Ravenhurst?”
“Yes.” Last night, Tilda had told her grandmother a little about the case, that it was a kidnapping and the investigation wasn’t going well.
“I hope today brings better results,” her grandmother said with a kind smile. “I see the toll this is taking on you. The lines between your eyes have never been more pronounced.”
Vaughn greeted Hadrian in the entrance hall. Tilda’s grandmother pivoted so she could see the two men, then Hadrian appeared in the doorway to the parlor.
“I don’t suppose you can stay for tea when you return later?” Grandmama asked Hadrian.
“We can try, but we don’t know when we’ll return,” Tilda said. “If it’s not possible, we’ll have tea another day.”
“All right.” Her grandmother sounded disappointed. “You have to take a respite some time. You can’t work constantly.”
“We aren’t working constantly,” Tilda tried not to sound defensive and was fairly certain she’d failed. “This case is simply more urgent than the others.”
“I understand,” her grandmother said gently. “But you don’t need to accept every investigation.”
“I can’t afford to turn them down,” Tilda replied with perhaps too much frustration. “This is our livelihood, Grandmama.” Without her work, their household would fall into financial ruin. She flicked a glance at Hadrian, wondering what he was thinking.
He was well aware of their financial state, and whilst it had improved over the last few months, due to her increasing work as a detective, their household had also expanded.
When she’d met Hadrian, it had just been Tilda, her grandmother, and Mrs. Acorn, their housekeeper and cook.
Since then, they had taken on Vaughn, her grandfather’s cousin’s butler, who’d found himself without a position, after his employer had died.
And Clara, Tilda’s maid, had become unemployed when her mistress had returned to the country following the murder of her husband.
Whilst Tilda hadn’t really been able to afford additional retainers, she also hadn’t wanted to turn Vaughn out, not when he was at an age when he should retire and had no means to do so.
Clara was only supposed to join the household temporarily whilst looking for a new position, however Tilda’s grandmother loved having her there.
Though she was ostensibly Tilda’s maid, she did much to aid Tilda’s grandmother, and she lightened Mrs. Acorn’s load.
In the end, Tilda recognized she possessed a soft heart.
She found ways to keep everyone employed, and she didn’t regret it one bit.
Though, that meant she had to ensure a steady stream of work.
Unless she wanted to marry an earl, which of late had become an actual possibility.
Perhaps that was why Tilda hadn’t yet told her grandmother that she and Hadrian were courting.
Grandmama would almost certainly say it was the answer to all their problems, including those Tilda didn’t even think existed, such as her lack of a husband.
Grandmama and those in her generation believed women needed a spouse to ensure a good position and security.
However, Tilda desired her independence above all else.
That was, in fact, a major obstacle to any future she might share with Hadrian.
That and the fact that Tilda did not come from the same class and didn’t know the first thing about being a countess.
Another impediment to a marriage between them, and perhaps the primary one, was Tilda’s occupation. She did not see how a woman could be a countess and a private detective at the same time. And Tilda was not willing to give up her dream, especially not when things were going so well.
Rather, they had been—until this difficult case and the possibility that Mr. Chadwick might ruin her reputation. She sincerely hoped it was only a threat.
“I didn’t mean to cause any upset, my dear,” her grandmother said quietly. “I suppose I find things to worry about when I don’t need to.”
“It’s all right.” Tilda bussed her grandmother’s cheek before moving into the entrance hall. “I promise we’ll invite his lordship for tea soon.”
“Wonderful,” Grandmama said with a wide smile.
Tilda turned toward the door, ready to leave, but when Vaughn opened it, Sergeant Wycombe stood on the threshold, poised to knock. Tilda’s entire body tensed. She had a feeling this was very bad news, certainly because Wycombe wore a grim expression.
“Good morning,” Wycombe said with a nod toward Tilda’s grandmother.
“Good morning, Sergeant Wycombe,” Tilda said. “I expect you have news to share. Please come in.”
Sergeant Wycombe nodded, his features creasing into a grimace that did not bode well at all. “I’m afraid so.”
A sick feeling spread through Tilda’s belly. She pivoted and looked to her grandmother. “Would you mind excusing us, Grandmama?”
“Of course.” She turned and retreated to the back of the house.
Tilda walked back into the parlor on wooden legs and was followed by Sergeant Wycombe. Hadrian came in last, closing the door behind him. His features appeared as unsettled as she felt.
“It’s bad news, isn’t it?” Tilda braced herself.
Wycombe pressed his lips together. “I wish it wasn’t. We’ve found a body. It’s Miss Chadwick, I’m afraid. We identified the mole on the back of her neck, as described by her parents.”
Tilda managed to take a breath, though it wasn’t as deep as she’d hoped. She shook for a moment as horror and sadness raced through her. “Where did you find her?” The question scratched from her suddenly dry throat.
“Limehouse in Green Dragon Alley.”
Gasping, Tilda exchanged a look with Hadrian.
“Green Dragon Alley was the location of one of the attacks in 1838. Lucy Scales was walking home from her brother’s when Spring-heeled Jack approached her and spat blue flame in her face.
She was temporarily blinded and fell into a terrible fit. Her brother had to carry her home.”
“Hell,” Wycombe breathed. “I was not aware of that connection, and neither is Detective Inspector Teague, or he would have mentioned it. He’s in Green Dragon Alley now and sent me to fetch you. You look as if you were already heading out.”
Tilda nodded. “In fact, we were going to Scotland Yard.”
“Let’s be on our way,” Hadrian said urgently as he returned to the door and opened it for Tilda and the sergeant. They returned to the entrance hall where Vaughn opened the front door as they made their way outside.
Sergeant Wycombe had come in a police vehicle. “You’ll follow me?”
“Yes,” Hadrian replied before going to Leach and providing their new destination. He then helped Tilda into the coach.
They were quiet, a tense silence blanketing the interior of the coach as they started moving. Tilda had feared this result. Now, faced with it, she felt an overwhelming sense of failure.
After a few moments, Hadrian put his hand over both of Tilda’s, which were clasped tightly in her lap. “I’m so sorry, Tilda.”
“I failed her,” Tilda whispered, hating that she felt so emotional. She ought to maintain a calm and unemotional demeanor.
“You didn’t fail her. We didn’t fail her,” Hadrian said strongly. “The kidnapper received the ransom he requested and killed her despite that, which makes me think he never planned to return her. For all we know, she’s been dead all this time.”
Tilda tried to breathe deeply, to slow the rapid beat of her heart. “The Chadwicks will be devastated.”
“This is not your fault, Tilda.” Hadrian placed his hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head toward him. “Please don’t try to comfort me. I don’t deserve that. I mean, I don’t want that right now.”
Hadrian’s brow darkened. “I heard what you said. You absolutely deserve to be comforted, regardless of what you say.” He clasped one of her hands firmly and held it in her lap for the remainder of the ride.
Tilda was glad for his quiet support, but it didn’t keep her from wondering what might have happened if she hadn’t involved the police. As the coach slowed, she reminded herself that sometimes there was no good answer or path, that she could only do her best. She oughtn’t doubt herself.
This case was making that difficult.