Chapter 13
Whilst Hadrian had conducted his mental inquiries with the evidence, Tilda kept one eye on him as she engaged Teague and Wycombe in conversation to keep them distracted.
She watched as Hadrian moved from the nightgown to the cloak and noted his furrowed brow and unfocused gaze.
He was clearly lost in a memory that was not his own.
After several moments, he flinched. Deep lines creased his face just before he went pale.
He grabbed at the table but fell to the floor.
Tilda gasped as she dashed to kneel beside him. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was fast.
“Good heavens, what happened?” Teague hurried to join her. He crouched down on Hadrian’s other side. Wycombe came to stand over them.
“Fetch some cold water,” Teague said to the sergeant. “And smelling salts. We should have some downstairs.”
Tilda cupped Hadrian’s cheek and stroked her thumb along his cheekbone. “Hadrian,” she whispered. “Are you all right? Can you hear me?”
His lids fluttered open. His eyes were dazed. He appeared confused, his brow furrowing, but then he sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw. Tilda could see he was in terrible pain. She moved her hand to his forehead and gently massaged him. “Let’s get you home.”
“Do you know what’s wrong?” Teague asked.
Tilda looked over at him. “Sometimes he experiences headaches that are quite painful.” That wasn’t a lie. But she certainly couldn’t tell him the reason behind them. “He needs rest and some lavender.”
Teague frowned. “I don’t believe we have any of that.”
“There’s some in my reticule, if you wouldn’t mind handing it to me.”
Teague quickly stood and fetched her reticule. “I don’t want to look through your private things,” he said awkwardly as he handed it to her.
“That’s quite all right.” Tilda gave him a reassuring smile. She took her hand from Hadrian as she rummaged in her reticule to find the vial of lavender.
Hadrian watched her, his expression strained. She poured a generous amount of lavender onto her right fingers and massaged it as softly as she could into his brow and temples. Hadrian closed his eyes and finally began to breathe more easily.
After a few moments, Wycombe returned with a pitcher of water and a cup. “Couldn’t find the smelling salts, unfortunately.”
“We don’t need them,” Teague replied. “Pour some water, if you would.”
Teague knelt on Hadrian’s other side. “Are you ready to sit up?” he asked Hadrian.
“I suppose I must.” But Hadrian did not immediately open his eyes.
Tilda replaced the vial of lavender into her reticule. She and Teague clasped Hadrian’s arms which finally prompted him to open his eyes. They supported his back as they pulled him to sit up. He grimaced and groaned faintly.
“That must be a horrible headache.” Teague’s brows gathered with concern.
“I explained to him that you suffer these from time to time,” Tilda said, meeting Hadrian’s gaze intently.
“Yes,” Hadrian said in agreement. “I’m not sure what triggers them, but the lavender helps.”
“Is it a migraine?” Wycombe asked after he’d poured the glass of water. “My mother suffers those from time to time. They can be quite enervating.” He looked at Hadrian with sympathy as he held out the glass.
Tilda took it from the sergeant and held it up to Hadrian’s lips. “Drink some water, then I need to see you home.”
Hadrian glanced toward the table. “We don’t need to leave right away. You can’t be done with your investigation of Lady Priscilla’s things.”
“I am for now. You need to go home, and I’m making sure you get there.” She used a firm tone, for she was not going to brook an argument from him.
He drank quite a bit of water, then closed his eyes briefly again as Tilda handed the almost empty glass back to Wycombe. She watched him for a long moment before asking if he was ready to rise. He didn’t really look as though he could. “Can you stand?”
He opened his eyes and fixed on her. The lines carved along his brow revealed his pain. “I think so.”
Wycombe came forward. “Allow me.”
Tilda stood and moved to the side whilst Teague and Wycombe hoisted Hadrian to his feet.
“I can walk to the coach alone,” Hadrian insisted.
“Absolutely not,” Tilda said. “Please let Teague and Wycombe help you.”
“I’m fine.” Hadrian tried to take a step toward the door and had to reach for the table to keep his balance. Teague caught him, and Hadrian summoned a weak smile. “On second thought, I will gladly accept the assistance.”
“Good.” Tilda was glad her voice was steady for she was very worried. Retrieving the magnifying glass from the table, she dropped it into her reticule. She quickly grabbed her gloves and hat. “I’m going to rush ahead to prepare Leach to assist us.”
Hastening from the office, Tilda donned her accessories as she hurried down the stairs. She dashed outside, and Leach immediately jumped to the pavement from his seat on the coach.
Tilda held up her hand. “Don’t be alarmed, but his lordship collapsed in Detective Inspector Teague’s office. He has a monstrous headache, and we need to take him home directly.”
Leach’s eyes widened briefly, and he nodded. “Of course.”
Teague and Wycombe departed the station with Hadrian between them and walked him to the coach. Hadrian grasped the side of the doorway into the vehicle with his left hand. Leach took his right and the coachman used his other hand to boost him inside.
“Will he be all right by tomorrow?” Teague asked. “We’d planned for him to join me when I question Mr. Chadwick.”
Tilda wasn’t going to promise anything. “That depends on how he’s feeling. We’ll send a message in the morning if he’s not able to accompany you. Why don’t you and I plan to meet at Alnwick House first,” she suggested. “That will give Hadrian more time to recover.”
Teague nodded. “I can pick you up just before eleven. I don’t want to arrive too early, since I’m sure Lady Priscilla is recovering from her ordeal. That also gives me time to obtain Inspector Lea’s records from K Division.”
“Excellent,” Tilda said, eager to review them too. “I’ll see you then.”
Leach helped her into the coach, and she settled herself on the forward-facing seat. Hadrian was in the corner, his head resting against the side of the coach and his eyes closed.
“We can drop you off at home first,” he said without opening his eyes.
“Absolutely not,” she repeated. “Leach is taking us to Ravenhurst House.” She moved closer to him as the coach moved at a faster than usual pace. “What happened? Why did you swoon?”
“I saw a series of visions. The first was with the nightgown. I can confirm Lady Priscilla spilled her cup of milk on the bodice of the garment. Someone slammed a door and it startled her, which made her splash the contents of the cup. Strangely, I tasted the sugared milk, and there was definitely something else in the drink, probably laudanum.” His eyes remained closed as he relayed this information.
“That’s helpful to have our theory confirmed. What happened next?”
“That was all I saw from the nightgown, then I moved to the cloak. I saw Miss Chadwick. She was smiling and seemed not only to know the person whose memory I was seeing but was glad to see them.”
Tilda found that reaction to be odd. Why would Miss Chadwick smile at her kidnapper? Unless the cloak held someone else’s memories. “Any idea whose memory it was?”
“No, but it was a man, based on the hand. He caressed Miss Chadwick’s cheek, and I felt an overwhelming sense of love and affection for Miss Chadwick.”
“Love?” Tilda asked sharply. “I think we need to find out who that cloak belongs to. What about the hand? Did it match the one that wrote the ransom notes?”
“I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.” He exhaled. “The pain has made it difficult to recall the memory as crisply as usual. But the cloak must belong to the kidnapper. We can tie it to both women, and Lady Priscilla was wearing it when she was found.”
“And it doesn’t belong to her,” Tilda said darkly. “Yes, I think we must conclude the kidnapper was in possession of this cloak and that he felt love for Miss Chadwick.”
“Since she smiled at him, it’s possible she returned his affection,” Hadrian noted.
“It seems Miss Chadwick, like her friend, Lady Priscilla, may have had her own suitor. Perhaps they had planned to elope with her father’s money.
” Tilda shook her head. “But that doesn’t explain Lady Priscilla’s abduction.
” She let out an angry huff. “Every time we take a step forward, I feel as though we’re pushed back. ”
“Every step is important, even if we haven’t made great forward progress yet,” Hadrian assured her. “I wonder if Lady Priscilla knows about Miss Chadwick’s admirer. We should ask.”
“Good idea,” Tilda said, relaxing. “Thank you. You’re right, and I should not be frustrated. We’ll speak with Lady Priscilla tomorrow. Is that all you saw?”
“No, that vision faded and was replaced with something far more unsettling. Miss Chadwick was dead, her eyes open and unseeing. She lay on a wooden floor. The wounds to her chest were new and bleeding. With that memory, I felt horrible sorrow, a grief that could not be consoled.”
“It makes sense that someone who felt love for Miss Chadwick would be devastated by her death.”
“Yes, so it must have been the same person’s memories. I lost consciousness when the dark emotions overcame me.” He frowned deeply, then it turned into a grimace. He put his bare hand to his head.
“Is that more memories than you’ve ever seen in close proximity?” Tilda asked. “I think so, when we include the two you experienced at Alnwick House. You’ve never collapsed before—clearly it was too many in such a short period.”
“Yes, and I suspect it was because of the intensity of the emotions I felt from the memory with the cloak,” Hadrian said.
Tilda tried to make sense of whose memory Hadrian had seen. “What you describe doesn’t sound like the memory of someone who killed her, unless he’d done so in a fit of rage and experienced immediate regret.”