Chapter 11 #3
“Thank you very much for allowing us to speak with your daughter,” Tilda said warmly. “And thank you, Lady Priscilla. Will you please send word to Scotland Yard, or to me if you’d prefer, if you remember anything else?”
“I will,” Lady Priscilla said.
Tilda removed one of her cards from her reticule and set it on the table next to Lady Priscilla’s bed. “This is how you may reach me.” She smiled at Lady Priscilla before turning to rejoin Hadrian and Teague, who’d also retreated toward the doorway. The duke stood at the foot of the bed.
“Come, let’s get you in the bath now,” the duchess said to her daughter. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“Just my hands, Mama. The few times I was awake, I pounded on the door and asked where I was and why I was there, but nobody ever answered.” She turned her wide eyes to her father. “Why would someone do this to me? Just for money?”
“My dearest, some people are not fit to walk this earth,” the duke growled. He turned and moved closer to Tilda, Hadrian, and Teague, his gaze darting toward the door in a silent but clear communication that they ought to leave.
Teague addressed the duke, speaking softly. “May I return in the morning to ask a few more questions and see how Lady Priscilla is doing?”
The duke did not appear pleased. “If you must.”
“Thank you,” Teague said. “One last thing, you did receive a ransom note, and you lied about it?”
“Of course I did.” The duke’s eyes dared any of them to find fault with that. “I followed Spring-heeled Jack’s instructions to the letter.” He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “Seeing as how Priscilla came home to us, unlike Delia Chadwick, it’s a damn good thing I did.”
Teague pressed his lips together, then turned and left the bedchamber. Tilda and Hadrian followed him. They didn’t speak until they were downstairs in the entrance hall.
“I suppose we’ll wait here for the garments,” Teague said.
“Actually, why doesn’t Ravenhurst wait in the staircase hall? He seems to offend the duke and his household the least.”
Teague nodded. “Excellent observation.”
Hadrian met Tilda’s gaze, silently communicating that he understood her intent for him to see if the garments and boots gave him any memories. “What did you think of Lady Priscilla’s comments regarding Delia Chadwick?” he asked.
“I wonder if she may have actually heard Miss Chadwick scream,” Tilda said. “The timing could match since Lady Priscilla was taken early on Monday, and Miss Chadwick was killed that same morning.”
“That would mean they were kidnapped by the same person, which I think we all agree on.” Teague frowned contemplatively. “Miss Chadwick was suffocated. I’m trying to think what would have prompted her to scream preceding that manner of death. Did she anticipate what was coming?”
Tilda voiced her other thought. “I’m also curious about the boots. We must determine if they are missing from Miss Chadwick’s things and ask if anything else is absent.”
“I’ll speak with Chadwick,” Teague said. He frowned and rubbed his fingertips briefly against his forehead. “I’m certain he’ll be shocked to learn Lady Priscilla is home.”
“If you’d like me to accompany you to call on him, I’d be glad to,” Hadrian said before moving back into the staircase hall.
“What about the tobacco smell?” Teague asked. “That could be a clue.”
“Perhaps the garments have a scent,” Tilda suggested. She dearly hoped Hadrian would be able to see something when he touched them.
Cocking her head, she looked past Teague into the staircase hall and saw a maid deliver the items into Hadrian’s arms. The boots sat atop the nightgown which was folded on the cloak.
Hadrian’s hands were on the cloak as the maid went back up the stairs.
His eyes became unfocused, and it seemed to Tilda that he was experiencing a memory.
“I don’t know how we narrow down a tobacco scent to find where a kidnapping victim was held,” Teague mused. “But it’s something at least.”
“I’m curious as to why Miss Chadwick was found wearing a day gown instead of the night clothes she was taken in,” Tilda said.
“It seems these two victims were treated very differently.” Teague’s eyes narrowed with contemplation. “It’s bloody curious.”
Hadrian came back to the entrance hall. The lines between his eyebrows told Tilda he had a headache. “The garments smell like tobacco,” he said as he handed everything to Teague.
Teague’s nostrils flared. “Vincent Chadwick was lodging near a tobacconist in Richmond according to his letters to Lady Priscilla. Though after what you told me earlier, what would be his motive to kidnap Lady Priscilla and keep her locked in a cupboard? It’s one thing to think they eloped, but that isn’t what happened. ”
Tilda firmly agreed. “No, and there’s no motive for him to kill his sister, who was, in fact, aiding Chadwick’s secret romance with Lady Priscilla.”
“I wanted to question her about their relationship,” Teague said. “But not in front of her parents. I hope I can speak with her alone tomorrow.”
“I’ll come with you, if you think it may help,” Tilda said.
Teague nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“May we accompany you to Scotland Yard now to assess the clothing and boots?” Tilda asked.
“Certainly. I need to relieve Wycombe and the constables from their positions. Meet me in my office.” Teague gave Tilda a wry look. “I’d say you can wait until morning, but something tells me you won’t.”
She smiled. “Absolutely not.”
Hadrian held up his hand. “Before you go, what did you think of what Lady Priscilla heard, ‘just one more?’ Do you think that was a dream?”
“I don’t know, particularly since it appears she was drugged, but I’m concerned it means there’ll be one more kidnapping.” Teague’s gaze moved to Tilda. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and we must be ready for that to happen tomorrow.” Tilda felt the weight of another potential kidnapping of a poor young woman.
“I think we ought to publish a notice in the paper warning people to be on guard,” Teague said. “But then again, I’m loathe to cause another Spring-heeled Jack hysteria.”
“Judging from the crowd that gathered at Delia Chadwick’s inquest, it may be too late for that,” Hadrian noted.
“You’re likely right.” Teague’s mouth dipped into a grim frown.
“I believe Mr. Clement often works late at the Daily News,” Tilda said. “If we go there now, we may be able to ensure the notice is published in tomorrow morning’s edition.”
“That would be best.” Teague gestured with the items he held. “Do I need to accompany you, or can I meet you at Scotland Yard? I’d like to apprise Wycombe of what occurred.”
“We can manage it,” Tilda said, glancing at Hadrian who gave her a slight nod.
They parted ways, and Hadrian escorted Tilda to the coach where Leach was waiting for them.
“Is Lady Priscilla all right?” the coachman asked.
“She seems to be,” Hadrian replied. “It’s a wonder she was returned when Miss Chadwick was not.
We must go to the Daily News and ask that a notice be published, warning people to beware of Spring-heeled Jack, as he may attempt to kidnap another young woman.
After that, we’ll continue to Scotland Yard. ”
Leach opened the door of the coach. “Busy night.” He helped Tilda inside.
Hadrian followed, and Tilda barely waited for the door to close before turning to face him. “What did you see?” Her pulse thundered with anticipation.
Hadrian rubbed his temple. “Lavender first please, if I may.”
“Sorry.” Tilda should have offered that immediately. Leaning forward, she fetched the lavender from the compartment beneath the other seat, then held it out to hm.
“I like it better when you smooth it on,” he said with a hopeful smile.
That was the least she could do after callously asking about his visions before ascertaining his well-being. She removed the stopper and gently applied the oil to his temples. “That must have been quite a vision. I’m sorry I neglected to ask about you first.”
“I understand. You’re eager to know what I saw.” His brow furrowed. “When I touched the boots, I experienced a memory of removing them from someone’s feet.”
“Do you know who either of them were—the person having the memory or the person wearing the boots?”
“Unfortunately, no, but I recognized the hem of the gown. I’m almost positive it was the one Miss Chadwick was found wearing.”
Tilda sucked in a breath. “So those were her boots.”
“I believe so, but Teague should still confirm that with the Chadwicks. Actually, he must, since it’s not as if I can share what I just saw.
” Hadrian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The cloak was perhaps more interesting. I had a memory of taking it from a peg on a wall where many other garments hung. I smelled tallow, but not like a candle. It was more like…greasepaint. I recall the smell from Mrs. Longbotham’s dressing chamber at the Hen and Chicken.
” He referred to a gentleman who preferred to garb himself as a woman and went by the name of Mrs. Longbotham.
They had provided assistance to Tilda and Hadrian with disguises on more than one occasion.
Tilda slumped against the squab. “You could be describing Mrs. Longbotham’s dressing room—or anyone else’s.”
“So, that memory isn’t helpful at all?” Hadrian’s expression dampened.
“Not yet, but I hope it will be,” she said earnestly. “You experienced two memories. I’m so sorry I didn’t take care of you before jumping into the case.” She shook her head with regret.
He angled toward her. “Do not worry yourself. I’m fine.”
She slanted her gaze toward him. “You’re certain?”
“Quite.” His brows drew together. “Why don’t you look relieved?”
“This case is most aggravating. We must make progress. If we don’t, another young woman could go missing.”
“I know.” Hadrian caressed her cheek. “You’ll puzzle it out. You’re the most brilliant investigator I know.”
Tilda worked to keep her frustration and fear at bay. “Then why don’t I feel like it?”