Page 47 of Lady Gambit
“Has she received any visitors?” Dorian hoped there was a record in the files. One name would be enough. One name might be the only clue they needed.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Then who pays to keep her here?”
The man gave a nonchalant shrug. “A family member. They pay a lump sum to the board per annum. That’s what my predecessor said.”
Something strange was afoot.
Nora Adkins had the air of a person raised in the rookeries. Someone of modest means could not afford to keep a relative at Bethlem. Not for sixteen years.
Aware the doctor had no more information to impart, and keen to rifle through the files, Dorian asked him to escort them back to the office.
The Superintendent was waiting for them outside the apothecary shop in the hall. He marched towards them and handed Dorian a pile of papers bound with tatty string. “That’s all I have on Nora Adkins. Approach the board if you have plans to return. I’ll not have your visits unnerving the patients. Nora would still be in her cell if you’d not come to harass her.”
Desperate for them to leave, Powell gestured to the burly porter tapping his foot by the open front door.
Dorian found this weak attempt at intimidation amusing. “Your sly manner tells me you’re hiding something, Powell. For your sake, I hope I’m wrong. If you’re to blame for what happened here, it will be your neck for the noose.”
They left Powell quaking in his boots and walked to St George’s Road, where Gibbs had parked the carriage. Daventry’s man was a blunt fellow who made it clear he was a colleague, not their servant.
“Mr Daventry arrived with a note.” Gibbs reached down from atop his box and handed Dorian the missive. “We’ve a detour to make before we visit the Old Swan. I’m to take you to Nelson Square. It’s half a mile as the crow flies. The details are in the letter.”
While Miss Chance watched him intently, Dorian broke the seal and scanned the missive. “It appears your brother blackened Meldrum’s eye when questioning him this morning. Daventry believes the lord is hiding at his sister’s house in Nelson Square while the lady is taking the waters in Bath.”
Miss Chance was not surprised to hear of her brother’s violent outburst. “Is there any mention of a confession?” Her sudden laugh said she knew the answer. “Strike that from the record. Had Lord Meldrum given my brother cause to believe he was responsible for the shooting, he’d be preparing for a dawn appointment.”
He glanced at the paper in his hand, a visceral loathing taking command as he read the last few lines. “Meldrum denied any involvement but has made you an offer of marriage. He will make you mistress of Farnworth Park if Aaron agrees to clear his debts.”
The lady’s cheeks ballooned. “As if I would be so shallow as to accept. Surely he knows Aaron would never place money or reputation before the wishes of his kin.”
“Lord Meldrum is a respected man.” And one Dorian would likely throttle if he laid a hand on Delphine Chance. “Respected enough that people would overlook your status. Your children would hold an important place in society.”
She looked at him like he had two heads. “Whether I’m heir to a fortune or from lowly beginnings, I will marry for love. Shame on you for suggesting otherwise.”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “All the more reason we should keep a tight rein on our emotions. I would hate for you to regret giving me the gift meant for a man you adore.” His words lacked conviction. Having her had quickly become the only thing he coveted.
“You’re the man I admire most,” she said, offering every temptation. “Is that not a promising beginning?”
Gibbs coughed to gain their attention. “Can you have this discussion in the carriage? I’m paid to ferry you to Nelson Square, not listen to a lovers’ quarrel.”
“We’re colleagues, not lovers,” Dorian snapped.
“And I’m the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Move your arses.”
Dorian shot the man a stern look and opened the carriage door. He knew Gibbs was as coarse as they came but admired his honesty.
“When we question Lord Meldrum, we should focus on the facts,” Miss Chance said once they’d settled inside the conveyance. “We will use other methods to frighten the lord into confessing his sins.”
“What facts?” Dorian held the overhead strap as the vehicle picked up speed. “We know nothing about Meldrum except that he’s destined for the Marshalsea.” Although noblemen always found a way to save their rotten necks.
The aristocracy was a mischief of rats.
They gathered in cities, greed making them fat.
“We know he’s on Bethlem’s Board of Governors. I saw a letter on the physician’s desk.” She sounded proud of her efforts as she fixed her intelligent gaze upon him. “And we know he visited the hospital last night when Nora was reported missing.”
“We do?”
