Chapter 17
The next morning, as Hadrian and Tilda rode together to Scotland Yard, she was glad he didn’t try to hold her hand again. Not because she didn’t enjoy it, but their intimacy, for lack of a better word, was becoming too regular and too…normal.
What would happen if they decided they ought to remain friends and professional associates and nothing more?
She wondered if they’d already moved too far past where things would become awkward if they didn’t forge a romantic future together.
It was likely their friendship and professional association would perish.
Tilda wanted to think about that even less than she wanted to think about how she could possibly agree to a public courtship, let alone marriage. She couldn’t even manage to get a private courtship right. They were supposed to be quietly determining if they would suit, but what did that even mean?
They knew they got along well together. They had similar values.
They certainly shared a primary interest in investigating.
But what did they share aside from their investigations?
How could she know if she would fit into Hadrian’s world?
She supposed she’d tried a few times—once at an event at Northumberland House for an investigation and a couple of teas with his mother.
However, those hadn’t been attempts to enter his world on a permanent basis. As his wife. She wasn’t sure she could do that, and she was even less sure she’d be accepted. Though, how could she know if she didn’t try?
This was why it was important that she attend dinner with his family tonight. If it went well, perhaps she would feel more at ease about the direction in which they were headed.
“You’re pensive this morning,” Hadrian noted. “Are you thinking about what we discovered last night or anticipating what we’ll learn from Teague this morning?”
“Both,” Tilda lied. She didn’t want to discuss what she’d really been thinking about. “It finally feels as though we’re gaining some momentum with this case.”
Hadrian grinned at her, and her belly did a flip. “Finally.”
They arrived at Scotland Yard and departed the coach. As they walked toward the building, they encountered Sergeant Wycombe. Tall and slender, he looked as though he could be younger than Hadrian but was actually a couple of years older.
The sergeant’s small blue eyes greeted them warmly. “Good morning, my lord, Miss Wren. Are you here to see Detective Inspector Teague?”
“We are,” Tilda replied. “And you?”
He walked with them to the door of the building. “Yes. I assume you heard about the Spring-heeled Jack sighting last night off the Strand?”
As Hadrian opened the door, Tilda stopped short and turned to face Wycombe. “What was that?”
“You haven’t heard.” Wycombe’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “I suppose it hasn’t made it into the newspapers yet. My apologies. I’ll tell you about it on our way up to Teague’s office.”
They continued into the building and made their way toward the stairs.
“Spring-heeled Jack appeared outside a chandler just around the corner from the Strand,” Wycombe said. “The theatres had just got out, so there was a crowd of people.”
“What happened?” Hadrian asked as they started up the stairs.
Tilda’s pulse raced. Was the kidnapper now committing attacks in public to mimic what had been done thirty years earlier?
“Witnesses say he appeared out of nowhere and breathed blue flame before he leapt up one story of the building in a single bound.” Wycombe kept turning his head periodically as he spoke.
“They described his cloak spreading like wings, and when he landed on the ledge, there was another flash of blue flame followed by a bright white flash. Then he vanished.”
“Sounds like quite a spectacle,” Tilda remarked at the top of the stairs. “Spring-heeled Jack just disappeared without attacking or kidnapping anyone?”
“That’s right.” Wycombe led them to Teague’s office.
“What was the purpose?” Tilda asked rhetorically.
“Sounds like the sort of thing he did when he first appeared thirty years ago—in the instances where he didn’t attack anyone,” Hadrian suggested as they arrived at Teague’s office.
“Perhaps this wasn’t the kidnapper but an impostor.” Tilda stepped into the office and Teague rose from behind his desk.
“Good morning,” Teague said. “Are you discussing Spring-heeled Jack’s spectacle last night?” He moved around the desk toward the seating area.
“Yes, and that’s precisely what I just called it.” Tilda sat in one of the chairs.
Hadrian looked to Wycombe. “You said it was just off the Strand?”
The sergeant nodded. “A side street.”
“Did this happen near a theatre?” Tilda asked.
“Around the corner from one,” Wycombe replied.
Tilda turned her gaze to Teague as he sat in the other chair opposite her. “What do you think this means?”
The detective inspector shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ll be going straight there to make inquiries after we discuss our discoveries from yesterday.”
Tilda desperately wanted to accompany him. “Would you mind if we came with you?”
“Not at all,” Teague replied. “I’m keen to hear what you learned—if anything—at the Brittania last night. Wycombe and I spoke with both His Grace and Vincent Chadwick about attending the theatre. The elder Mr. Chadwick refused to see us.”
“Not surprising,” Tilda said. “I’m glad the younger Mr. Chadwick was able to help. What did you learn?”
“Vincent said they attend the theatre quite often,” Wycombe said. “Their favorite theatre is the Adelphi, but he noted that Miss Chadwick preferred attending the Albion of late. The Alnwicks are not regular patrons like the Chadwicks. His Grace couldn’t name any particular theatre they preferred.”
“What of your inquiries?” Teague asked.
Tilda related what they’d learned from Mr. Jesson about the use of a leather costume with flame effects and how property masters like him were skilled in making various devices to create effects.
Of course, she couldn’t tell him about Hadrian’s vision that confirmed the kidnapper had something to do with the theatre.
Instead, she said, “Ravenhurst and I have a strong suspicion the kidnapper has some association with a theatre, and perhaps the Chadwicks’ frequent attendance supports that. I’m very interested in making inquiries at the Albion and the Adelphi.”
“In that case, it might be best if we divide ourselves today in order to accomplish more.” Teague braced his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward in his chair. “Would you mind visiting the theatres this afternoon instead of accompanying me and Wycombe?”
“Not at all. I’d be happy to.” Tilda tamped down a slight sense of disappointment—she couldn’t do everything.
Not when another kidnapping could be imminent, and they needed to move quickly to apprehend Spring-heeled Jack.
Furthermore, it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to conduct the inquiries at the theatres.
In fact, it made sense for her and Hadrian to do so after their discoveries last night at the Brittania.
Teague abruptly stood and returned to his desk where he unlocked the evidence drawer.
He withdrew something small and approached Tilda.
“You should take this cap with you as you make your inquiries. You probably should have had it last night. My apologies.” He placed the cap in Tilda’s outstretched palm.
“Perhaps we could meet later this afternoon to discuss our findings, if we’ve finished with our respective inquiries. ”
Hadrian grimaced faintly, and Tilda presumed he was thinking of his dinner. He would need to be home to dress and prepare—the things he’d suggested doing last night before going to the theatre. Tilda would not begrudge him those activities today.
If she was truly going to try to fit into his world, she needed to respect the work that went into it. If she couldn’t do that, there was no point in having any kind of courtship, private or otherwise.
After tucking the cap into a small inner pocket inside her reticule, she gave Teague an apologetic look.
“I’m afraid his lordship and I have an engagement this evening, so tomorrow morning would be preferable.
” She was aware of Hadrian sending her a small, secretive smile of both appreciation and something far stronger.
The glint in his blue eyes sparked a sense of yearning within her.
Teague clapped his hands on his knees and rose. “Tomorrow morning will be soon enough.”
Tilda and Hadrian departed and made their way downstairs.
“I want to start at the Albion,” Tilda said as they stepped outside. “I confess I wish we could also investigate the Spring-heeled Jack spectacle.”
“I’m curious about that too. However, Teague is right that we will accomplish more apart. At least there hasn’t been another kidnapping. Perhaps Spring-heeled Jack is done with that and has moved on to performing.”
“I hope there won’t be another kidnapping, but we don’t yet know if this Spring-heeled Jack who was seen last night is even the same person,” Tilda cautioned.
“I wonder how he made himself appear to jump a full story. There has to be some explanation of stagecraft, just as there was for the blue flame and the red eyes. Springs in his boots would have helped, but I doubt they would be enough to achieve that height. Jesson indicated lighting was the best form of trickery, but how would he manage that outside a theatre?”
“There’s bound to be some evidence as to how he achieved the feat,” Hadrian said. “We could certainly return to the Brittania today and query Mr. Jesson about how that might have been accomplished.”
Tilda nodded. “We could also ask the property master at one of the theatres we visit today. They may be able to tell us.”
“Good idea.” They arrived at the coach, and Hadrian directed Leach to drive them to the Albion Theatre off the Strand.
Once they were on their way, Hadrian turned his head toward Tilda. “Thank you for telling Teague we aren’t able to meet this afternoon. I wouldn’t have been able to accompany you, and I appreciate you making sure I’m included.”
“I couldn’t have gone either,” she said. “What I said is true—we have an engagement, and I must prepare.”
He smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing you socially this evening, and your grandmother. I’ll send Leach to fetch you.”
Tilda wasn’t surprised by the offer. He often sent Leach to drive her places when he couldn’t accompany her. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Leach would berate me if I didn’t ask him. In truth, he’d probably just do it anyway.”
Tilda laughed. “You make it seem as if your retainers are becoming loyal to me.” She thought of how the butler and his valet had deferred to her the other night.
“They like you very much, which is not surprising. In fact, if they didn’t feel that way, I might find them wanting.”
“They are your loyal people in your household,” Tilda said. “You can’t put me before them.”
His eyes held hers with a steady promise. “My dear, I can put you before everyone. Indeed, there is nothing I want more.”
Tilda shivered. His sentiment was lovely but also overwhelming.
It almost made her feel as if she were on a pedestal, which is how she’d thought of her father.
And she’d learned that loving someone that much came with a terrible potential for heartache and loss.
She never wanted to endure that again—nor did she want Hadrian to.
He’d already suffered the death of his brother.
Did that mean she never intended to love anyone again? It was already too late for that. She loved Hadrian quite fiercely.
She hadn’t sought or chosen love, but it had found her. She just needed the courage to fully embrace it.