Chapter 8 #2
Tilda turned her attention to the duke, who’d filled his glass and returned to his chair.
“If the kidnapper follows the same pattern as with Miss Chadwick, you can expect to receive a second note tomorrow that will provide instructions for the ransom. If you choose to accept assistance from us and the Met, you will notify us once you receive it.”
The duke contemplated his whisky before responding. “I don’t want the police involved.”
“It’s possible they already know,” Hadrian said. “Since we heard about Lady Priscilla’s disappearance, it’s not implausible to expect the police have been informed.”
A rather vulgar curse spilled from the duke’s mouth. Hadrian glanced at Tilda, but she didn’t react.
“I just want my daughter back.” The duke’s hand shook as he lifted his glass. He managed a large gulp of whisky. “You think Priscilla and Miss Chadwick were kidnapped by the same man?”
“I don’t like to make assumptions, but I’m inclined to think so,” Tilda replied. “The note you received is identical to the one left at the Chadwicks. I suspect that when the two are compared side by side, the handwriting will match. Does Lady Priscilla have any suitors?”
“Lord Farnsworth. I called on him to make sure he and Priscilla hadn’t run off, which I strongly doubted, and I was right. This was before I knew about Miss Chadwick being kidnapped. Farnsworth was distressed to hear Priscilla had been abducted.”
“I’m curious why you thought they’d eloped when the note clearly indicated a ransom,” Hadrian said.
The duke looked up at him, his eyes cloudy. In that moment, he appeared very much a father in agony. “I suppose I was hoping it was nothing worse than that.” He sounded sad and disappointed.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t,” Hadrian said quietly.
Tilda tucked the ransom note into her reticule and withdrew her notebook along with a pencil.
“It would be helpful to know Lady Priscilla’s daily schedule—what activities she engaged in, where she went, who she saw, any events she attended recently.
We’d also like to know who her close friends are. ”
“Why do you need to know all that?” the duke asked with irritation.
“It helps us identify potential suspects and motivations they might have for kidnapping your daughter and seeking a ransom,” Hadrian replied.
The duke glowered. “I can’t really tell you what her days are like. Her mother would have to do that, and she isn’t currently able. I believe she’s taken laudanum to help her sleep.”
“Can you tell us how and when Lady Priscilla was discovered missing?” Tilda grasped her pencil, poising it above her notebook.
“Yesterday morning, her maid went to wake her as usual, and Priscilla wasn’t there. The maid found the note and screamed the bloody house down.”
“May we speak with the maid?” Tilda asked.
“If you must.” The duke sounded resigned.
“We’d also like to look through Lady Priscilla’s chamber for clues,” Hadrian said. “Will you permit us to do that?”
The duke’s eyes turned sad again. Standing, he sloshed a bit of whiskey over the rim of his glass onto the front of his coat. He moved, staggering slightly, to the bell pull. “I’ll have the butler show you up to Priscilla’s room, and he’ll fetch her maid.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Tilda slipped her notebook and pencil back into her reticule.
Nodding faintly, the duke waved his hand at them as if to shoo them away, before collapsing back onto his chair where he nursed his drink once more.
The stern butler appeared and led them upstairs to the second floor, where Lady Priscilla’s bedchamber was located. “I’ll fetch her maid.” He left Tilda and Hadrian alone in the room.
Tilda turned to Hadrian. “What did you see when you touched the note?”
“How do you know I saw something?”
“I can tell you’re in pain.” She reached up and smoothed her gloved fingertips along his brow. “We’ll apply the lavender as soon as we’re back in the coach.”
Hadrian smiled. How he loved her care and attentiveness.
“The vision was in the same place as before—with the man writing—but I was able to see more.” Hadrian related every detail.
“I just don’t understand the tobacco. It’s not overpowering, which it would be if someone were using it.
Perhaps there’s a tobacco warehouse or a shop nearby.
” He pulled his gloves on lest he be tempted to touch something else.
“That’s a good clue, but I don’t think we can use it to find this place,” Tilda said. “I’m not familiar with the author you mentioned. Did you say it was Enfield?”
“That’s right. I don’t know the name either, and unfortunately, I didn’t see a title. I’ll check my library to see if I have anything by the author.”
Tilda blinked at him. “Your library is large enough that it might contain a work by an author you’ve never heard of?”
Her wonder made Hadrian feel slightly self-conscious. Their backgrounds were so different, and yet he was more comfortable with her than anyone else of his acquaintance. “It is. You’re welcome to visit it anytime.”
“I may do that,” she said. “You said the mirror was silver filigree. I recall that Miss Chadwick had a silver filigree brush. I don’t suppose they matched?”
Hadrian sucked in a breath. “Now that you mention it, the mirror sparked something in my mind, but I was distracted by the sudden onslaught of fury. It’s possible the silver filigree was the same, but I honestly can’t say for sure.
” He was suddenly quite frustrated and wanted to handle the note again, except he knew that wouldn’t be wise just now with the pain still throbbing in his head.
“Perhaps it will come to you,” Tilda said encouragingly. “It’s interesting you sensed irritation and anger as opposed to the fear you felt with the first note the Chadwicks received.”
“The sentiments were completely different.” Hadrian’s shoulder twitched.
“In fact, there was a distinction between the irritation, which I strongly believe was directed toward whatever was behind the doorway, and the subsequent rage, which seemed to have more to do with the note. It felt very personal and specific, but I don’t know why. ”
“Perhaps Miss Chadwick was behind the doorway, and the kidnapper was irritated with her?” Tilda suggested. “And the note made him angry…he was irritated with one of his captives and felt fury toward another?”
“Don’t those emotions make it seem as though these crimes weren’t committed for money alone?”
“Exactly,” Tilda said with a nod, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“It’s unfortunate we can’t share these observations with Teague, but we can use them to inform our inquiries.
” Whilst his visions were helpful, they themselves were not evidence they could use.
They either had to provoke someone to confess what Hadrian had seen or find other avenues of proof.
They turned their attention to Lady Priscilla’s beautiful bedchamber, lavishly furnished with a gilded four-poster bed draped in pale pink silk damask.
The walls were covered in richly patterned flocked paper, and as with the study, the ceiling had been painted, but it did not look as though it had been done by the same artist. The design was a feminine floral motif originating from and inspired by an ornate carved rose in the center of the room from which descended a cut-glass chandelier.
As Tilda moved toward the gilded dressing table, the maid entered, her expression tentative. She was in her early thirties, with light brown hair pulled up tightly beneath a white cap. Her eyes were wide with apprehension.
Changing course, Tilda turned and addressed the maid with a warm smile. “You’re Lady Priscilla’s maid?”
She nodded. “I’m Harper.”
“Harper, I’m Miss Wren and this is Lord Ravenhurst.” She turned her head briefly toward Hadrian before continuing to speak to the maid. “Can you tell us about when you discovered Lady Priscilla was missing?”
The maid clasped one of her hands with the other whilst she spoke.
“I come in every morning between nine and ten, depending on how late Lady Priscilla was out the night before. I bring chocolate and toast with lemon curd.” She paused, her features creasing.
“However, yesterday, when I entered her room, I knew right away something was wrong. I went to the bed and saw she wasn’t in it.
There was a note on the pillow. I read the note, and I apparently screamed, though I don’t remember doing so.
” She wrung her hands. “I’m terribly worried about Lady Priscilla.
I heard her friend, Miss Chadwick, was kidnapped and that she’s…
I can’t say it.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Were they close?” Tilda asked.
The maid blinked and dashed her hand over her eyes. “I would say so. They visited one another a few times a week, and they went on shopping excursions together. Lady Priscilla’s stories about the events she attended often included Miss Chadwick. I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Is there anything you can tell us about the things the two of them did together?” Tilda asked. “Any particular activities they enjoyed or places they frequented?”
“They usually promenaded in the park once or twice a week with their mothers,” the maid replied. “And, of course, they saw one another at Society events. Lady Priscilla felt a bit sorry for Miss Chadwick.”
Tilda sent a curious glance toward Hadrian. “Why?”
“Because of her stutter. Lady Priscilla befriended her and has helped Miss Chadwick try to conquer the difficulty.”
“That was kind of her,” Tilda said. “His Grace told us Lady Priscilla has a suitor. Did Lord Farnsworth call here often?”
“Just once, so far. Their courtship was new. Lady Priscilla was reluctant to be courted again so soon.”
“Again?” Tilda asked sharply.
The maid nodded. “She had a different suitor earlier in the Season, but His Grace did not approve of him. He wasn’t even really a suitor—he called once, and His Grace made it clear he would not be considered.”