Chapter 14
Tilda was waiting for Detective Inspector Teague when he arrived the following morning. Her thoughts were on Hadrian, as they’d been all night.
Sharp had been kind enough to send her a note last night and another this morning to inform her that Hadrian was doing well.
He’d awakened claiming to feel normal, however Sharp had indicated his doubt to Tilda along with a description of Hadrian.
He had dark circles beneath his eyes, and Sharp was concerned he hadn’t slept well.
The valet had closed the note with a promise to keep a close eye on Hadrian and keep Tilda informed.
Tilda briefly wondered what the Ravenhurst House staff thought of her and Hadrian’s relationship, since she was so involved with caring for him. They’d not only seemed perfectly accepting of her behavior last night, they’d deferred to her. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“How is Ravenhurst?” Teague asked as they settled into the growler he’d hired to convey them to Alnwick House in Upper Brook Street.
“Better,” she replied. “I received word from Ravenhurst House. He’s being well cared for.”
“Will he be joining us later at the Chadwicks’?” Teague asked.
“I don’t think so.” At least she hoped not, given what Sharp had written that morning. Tilda eyed a worn notebook on the seat next to Teague. “Were you able to obtain Inspector Lea’s notes from K Division?”
“I was, in fact.” Teague picked up the notebook. “Wycombe collected this a short while ago. Apparently, Inspector Lea left several to K Division when he retired. This is the one that contains his notes about the Spring-heeled Jack attacks.”
“I’m so pleased Wycombe was able to obtain them. Have you read the contents?”
“Not in detail, but I did read that Lea watched an experiment at the London Hospital which demonstrated that blue flames are not proof of a supernatural creature. Anyone can chemically create blue fire.” Teague’s eyes gleamed with excitement.
“It’s extraordinary. In the experiment, a man blew through a small tube that contained spirits of wine as well as sulfur, and he held a lit match at the end. The result is blue flame.”
Tilda smiled. “How simple. I knew there was an explanation.” She looked forward to reading the notebook herself. “I’d love to see how that works in practice.”
“I would too,” Teague said eagerly. “I’m keen to try the experiment later at Scotland Yard if you’d like to join me and Wycombe.”
“I most certainly would.” Tilda couldn’t help thinking Hadrian would enjoy that too. Perhaps she’d see if he was feeling well enough to come. Except she probably shouldn’t. He ought to rest until he was fully recovered.
As they turned into Upper Brook Street, Teague shifted his attention to the window and twitched with surprise. “That looks to be Ravenhurst’s coach.”
Tilda craned her neck to see out the window.
It was indeed Hadrian’s coach. He was not supposed to be here.
In fact, even if he’d been well, this interview was to be conducted by just her and Teague.
Hadrian wasn’t supposed to join them until the Chadwicks, at which time Tilda planned to wait with Leach.
Tilda barely waited for the growler to stop before bounding out and marching to Hadrian’s coach.
Leach stepped down to the pavement to meet her. “My apologies, Miss Wren, I tried to convince him not to come. Everyone did.”
Tilda groaned softly with frustration. “I suppose the earl gets to do whatever he wants.”
Leach moved to open the door, and Hadrian was there, ready to step out. He looked tired. Tilda hadn’t ever seen such dark purple swathes beneath his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Tilda wished he’d continue to rest.
Hadrian moved onto the pavement. “I promised I wouldn’t come if I still had a headache, and I don’t.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and studied his forehead as if she could discern whether he was in pain or not. She had to concede; he did not visually appear to be hurting, but then again, if he were, he was likely trying very hard not to show it.
“Tilda, if you were in my position, would you really have been able to stay home?” he asked softly.
He had her there. “You must promise not to use your skill,” she whispered, since Teague was standing not far behind her. “Do you swear?”
“I do,” he said earnestly, his gaze holding hers.
She exhaled and stepped back, pivoting to welcome Teague into their conversation. “It appears Ravenhurst is feeling fit.”
Teague smiled. “Glad to hear it. Though, we weren’t expecting you here at Alnwick House.”
“I thought it might be helpful for me to distract the duke and duchess so the two of you could speak with Lady Priscilla alone. You can’t very well question her about Vincent Chadwick in front of her parents.
” Hadrian smiled briefly. “I suppose you could, but I would rather you not be responsible for exposing Lady Priscilla’s secret epistolary affair. ”
“This is an excellent point, and I’m glad you thought of it,” Teague said. “Let’s go in, and afterward, we’ll tell you about Inspector Lea’s notes.”
Hadrian’s brows shot up. “You found them?”
Teague held up the notebook, which he carried, along with the letters, in his left hand. “Wycombe fetched them this morning.”
“Lea wrote about an experiment he witnessed to create blue flame,” Tilda explained. “We’re going to recreate it this afternoon.”
“Now, I’m especially glad I joined you.” Hadrian smiled.
Tilda walked beside him as they approached the door and murmured, “Me too.”
Teague stepped aside for Hadrian to knock.
The butler shortly opened the door and swept his gaze over each of them. “You’ve returned.”
“Yes,” Hadrian replied. “We’ve come to inquire after Lady Priscilla’s welfare and ask her a few more questions, if she’s feeling up to it. The duke is expecting us.”
“He mentioned you might call.” The butler opened the door wide and gestured them inside. “We’ll go up to the drawing room.” He led them upstairs to the room overlooking Upper Brook Street.
There was no one present, but the butler said he would fetch the duke and duchess along with Lady Priscilla. Whilst they waited, Teague shared the specifics of the information regarding the blue flame replication in Lea’s notes. Hadrian listened raptly.
“I’d like to read the notes myself,” Hadrian said, and Tilda knew he wanted to handle them in the hope of seeing one of Lea’s memories. Except Lea was dead now, so that was unlikely.
Still, he might see someone else’s memory that could be helpful. Not today, though. She wouldn’t permit it.
The duke came into the drawing room alone. He also appeared tired. The flesh beneath his eyes was darker than Hadrian’s.
“I’m afraid Lady Priscilla will remain abed all day, but she has consented to speak with you.
” The duke did not appear pleased by that.
“She very much wants to help capture her kidnapper, so her mother and I will allow you a very short visit. The duchess is with her, and when she says the interview is over, you will leave at once.”
Tilda was glad Lady Priscilla wanted to help them since it seemed her parents did not seem to care whether they caught the kidnapper.
“We deeply appreciate Lady Priscilla’s help,” Teague said. “Please pardon Miss Wren and me whilst we go speak with her. Lord Ravenhurst will remain with you.”
As they made their way to Lady Priscilla’s chamber, Teague glanced at Tilda. “How are we to persuade Her Grace to leave?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll try to think of something,” Tilda replied.
They reached the bedchamber, and Lady Priscilla was sitting up in the bed.
Her hair looked as if it had been washed and now hung in a plait against her shoulder.
She wore fresh clothing, of course, and looked much better than she had last night.
Her cheeks were pink and her features were smooth rather than distressed.
Her Grace sat in a chair beside the bed.
She pursed her lips slightly at Tilda and Teague.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us again this morning.” Tilda stood near the bed, and Teague remained slightly behind her. She smiled at Lady Priscilla. “I hope you’re feeling better today and that you were able to get some rest. You certainly look well.”
Lady Priscilla smiled. “I am, and it’s lovely to be in my own bed.”
“We were hoping to ask you a few questions about your suitor.” Tilda sent a meaningful look toward Lady Priscilla, then turned her attention to the duchess. “Would it be possible for us to speak with Lady Priscilla alone?”
Her Grace appeared reluctant, her brow creasing. “I think it’s best if I stay.” She fixed her gaze on her daughter.
Lady Priscilla clasped her hands in her lap. “It’s all right, Mama.”
“But I don’t want to leave you.”
“It’s only for a few minutes,” Lady Priscilla said.
“I don’t know why I have to leave.” Her Grace’s lips pursed again as she rose from the chair and moved closer to her daughter.
“I don’t want you to hear anything more about what happened, Mama.” Lady Priscilla briefly touched her mother’s hand. “It’s too upsetting for you.”
“All right. I won’t be gone long.” Her Grace walked—very slowly—from the room.
Teague mostly closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar.
Tilda moved closer to Lady Priscilla, and Teague joined her farther down the bedside, leaving some space between them. Perhaps he was trying to make Lady Priscilla more comfortable by not crowding her.
“Thank you for ensuring your mother left,” Tilda said.
Lady Priscilla’s shoulder lifted. “Well, you looked at me strangely, and I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It was,” Tilda confirmed with a nod. “You see, we wanted to speak with you about your previous suitor, Mr. Vincent Chadwick.”
“Oh, my poor Vincent!” Lady Priscilla’s jewel-like green-blue eyes widened as her features tightened with worry. “He must be so worried about me.”
“I’m sure he’ll be relieved when he learns you’ve returned,” Tilda said.
“How will he know?” Lady Priscilla asked.