Chapter 11 #2
Lady Priscilla nodded. “There were others about, but I didn’t know anyone. I don’t know how I came to be there. I’ve been locked in a cupboard since I was taken.” She began to shake.
As they reached the top of the stairs, the duke’s thundering voice carried up to them from the hall below. “Priscilla!”
The young woman turned. Tilda feared she would lose her balance, for she was rather unsteady. Keeping a grip on Lady Priscilla, Tilda ensured she was safe and didn’t tumble down the stairs.
Her father raced up and swept the young woman into his arms. “My poor girl.” He didn’t even look at Tilda as he carried her up another flight of stairs.
“I want to see Mama,” Lady Priscilla said, sounding like a small child.
“And you shall,” the duke said kindly. As difficult as he’d been, Tilda knew he was driven by fear.
She was exceptionally glad his daughter had been delivered safely.
Indeed, Tilda felt slightly unsteady herself.
She’d been so worried this wouldn’t happen and now that it had, relief ran through her like a torrent.
Tilda followed them to Lady Priscilla’s chamber and stood just inside the door. A moment later, Hadrian and Teague joined her, so she had to move farther into the room.
“Were you able to speak to the driver?” Tilda whispered as the duke set his daughter down on her bed.
“Yes,” Teague replied in an equally soft tone.
“He picked Lady Priscilla up at The Galloping Goat, a coaching house off the Strand. She approached him looking just as she does now: confused and terrified, wearing a cloak over her nightgown, her hair in disarray. He could tell she was Quality and was glad to help her.”
“I don’t suppose there was anyone with her?” Tilda asked even though Lady Priscilla had said she was alone and didn’t know anyone.
Teague frowned and shook his head.
The duke turned and came toward them, his expression taut. “You must leave at once.”
“Please, Your Grace, it’s imperative we speak with your daughter,” Teague said earnestly. “I understand you’re worried about her welfare. We are too. However, time is of the essence if we’re to ensure Spring-heeled Jack doesn’t claim another victim.”
“We’re relieved Priscilla has been returned,” Alnwick said, his voice cracking. “I paid the ransom. I followed the instructions. We just want to put this behind us.”
“What if this happens to someone else?” Teague asked. “What of that young woman’s family? Are we to let this villain continue to abduct young women and demand a ransom?”
Alnwick clenched his jaw. “Why must it be now? Can’t you come back tomorrow? Priscilla needs a bath and to rest.”
And her mother, Tilda thought. “Because things are fresh in her mind. She may forget something between now and tomorrow. Please, Your Grace, we implore you. Put yourself in the place of the next victim’s father.”
“Papa, I don’t want anyone to suffer what I did,” Lady Priscilla said from the bed, her voice small but stronger than it had been a few moments ago.
The duke hesitated, and Hadrian stepped forward, his expression full of sympathy and kindness. “You know me, and you can trust Miss Wren and Detective Inspector Teague. We won’t tax Lady Priscilla.”
“Very well.” The creases in the duke’s brow deepened as he returned to the bed and spoke softly to his daughter. Tilda could not hear what he said.
“My girl!” A woman raced into the bedchamber, passing Tilda, Hadrian, and Teague. She wore a dressing gown and a cap on her head. A sob escaped her when she reached the bedside, and the duke stepped back as she cast herself over Lady Priscilla.
The duke walked toward them, his expression weary. “You will allow them a few minutes.”
“Of course,” Tilda said deferentially.
As Lady Priscilla and her mother cried together, Tilda had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Why had this kidnapping played out differently than Miss Chadwick’s?
Was it really because the duke had followed the directions he’d received, and the police had not been involved with the ransom delivery?
What if the duke had shared that he’d received a second note, and allowed them to execute a plan to capture Spring-heeled Jack instead of leaving a ransom, as they’d tried to do with Chadwick? Would Lady Priscilla have been killed too?
Tilda struggled to draw a deep breath.
After several minutes, the duchess stood and faced Tilda. “You may speak with my daughter for as long as I allow, and not a moment more.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Tilda approached the bedside as Lady Priscilla moved to perch on the edge of the mattress.
The duchess sat beside her and put her arm around her daughter. Tilda wondered if the woman would ever let her go again and wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.
Tilda started with a kind smile. “Thank you for speaking with us, Lady Priscilla. I won’t take too much of your time. You are exceedingly brave and strong.”
Lady Priscilla’s eyes were red from crying, but she was still rather pale. Tilda truly hated having to interview her now, but it was necessary.
“Are you wearing the clothes you were taken in?” Tilda asked.
“The nightgown is mine,” she replied softly. “I don’t know where the cloak or the boots came from. It’s strange, but these boots remind me of a pair that belong to a friend of mine.”
Tilda tensed upon hearing that and stored the information away for later. She looked to the duchess. “I’m sure Detective Inspector Teague would like to have these garments and the boots as evidence. They will help us catch the man who did this. Will you set them aside for him?”
The duchess nodded. Tilda glanced toward Teague who sent her a look of appreciation.
Tilda found it odd that Miss Chadwick had been found in a simple day dress, which was not the garment she’d been taken in, whereas Lady Priscilla still wore her nightgown. And someone else’s boots whilst Miss Chadwick’s feet had been bare.
Fixing her gaze on Lady Priscilla once more, Tilda gently asked, “Can you tell us what happened when you were taken from your chamber?”
“I don’t remember much, only that I was awakened when someone grabbed my arm.
All I saw was a dark figure standing over me, then a flash of blue before he put a cloth over my mouth and nose.
I smelled something sweet, almost unbearably so, and the next thing I knew, I woke up on a pallet in a small, windowless room. It was more a cupboard, really.”
Tilda was certain the kidnapper had used chloroform to render Lady Priscilla unconscious. “Do you have any idea how long you were asleep?”
Lady Priscilla shook her head. “When I awoke, I called for help. The door opened the barest amount, just wide enough so someone could push in a candle and a plate of bread and cheese. There was also hot milk with sugar.”
The duchess gasped. “Your favorite. How did he know that?”
“I don’t know, Mama. He didn’t ever speak to me. But he gave me hot milk with sugar whenever I woke up. It was a small comfort.” She leaned her head on the duchess’s shoulder.
It sounded as if Lady Priscilla had slept a great deal. Tilda suspected the sugar in the milk may have been used to mask laudanum, which, if dosed properly, would have kept her unconscious during her captivity. “What happened after you ate?”
“I fell asleep again. I slept most of the time.”
“You said the kidnapper never spoke to you. Did you ever see them?”
“No.”
That was unfortunate, but smart of the kidnapper. He’d been very thorough.
“Did you ever hear anyone talking?” Tilda asked.
“No.”
“Did you ever see Miss Delia Chadwick?” Teague asked, interrupting Tilda’s questioning.
Lady Priscilla lifted her head and blinked at Teague who’d stepped closer to the bed.
“No, why would I have seen Delia? It’s funny you would mention her, because I had a dream that I heard her scream.
But I dreamt many strange things whilst I was in that cupboard.
It was horrible. Also, these boots remind me of a pair Delia had.
” She lifted her feet briefly to display them.
“Do you recall when you dreamed of Miss Chadwick’s scream?” Tilda asked. “Was it soon after you were kidnapped?”
“I think so—the first day anyway.”
Tilda exchanged looks with both Hadrian and Teague. She wondered if Lady Priscilla had actually heard Delia scream. She turned her attention back to Lady Priscilla. “Have you any idea who abducted you?”
“Not at all. I can’t imagine who would do this to me.” Tears welled in Lady Priscilla’s crystal-blue eyes.
“We’re almost finished,” Tilda said. “Can you think of anything about your captor—the way they smelled, the size of them, anything at all?”
“I smelled tobacco, but it wasn’t smoke.” Lady Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “I heard him mutter something once. But it may have been a dream. I don’t know.”
Tilda held her breath, eager for the slightest clue, though the tobacco scent was a helpful confirmation of Hadrian’s visions. They could now investigate that with Teague without having to come up with a reason why. “What did he say?”
“Something about ‘just one more.’ I thought maybe they were eating biscuits.” She looked at her mother with a faint smile. “Like Cook’s lemon ones. When I was a child, I always asked if I could have just one more.”
Her mother smiled and stroked her daughter’s smudged cheek. “You may have all the lemon biscuits in the world, my dear. We’ll have Cook make some immediately.” She looked at Tilda. “Is there anything else?”
Tilda glanced at Teague who gave his head a slight shake.
She gave the duchess and Lady Priscilla a grateful smile.
“No. We just need the clothing and boots. Do you mind if we wait downstairs for them?” Tilda desperately wanted Hadrian to touch the items, especially the boots.
She also wanted to determine if a pair of Miss Chadwick’s boots—or any other items—had gone missing.
“I’ll send a maid down with them shortly,” the duchess replied.