Page 50 of Lady Gambit
Meldrum paled. He tried to hide his shock with a frown. “What has that madwoman escaping got to do with the attack on Miss Chance and her brother?”
Dorian shrugged. “Nothing. Everything. Please answer the question, my lord. Have you had any dealings with a patient named Nora Adkins?”
The lord mumbled his frustration. “I’m not permitted to discuss a patient with anyone outside the hospital. We’re bound by?—”
“Cursed saints! Tell them what they need to know.” Bertie gave an exasperated sigh. “Flynn is leading a criminal investigation. He’s well within his rights to demand the basic information.” He paused before blurting, “Meldrum is being blackmailed. He will show you the letters.”
Meldrum shot to his feet. “You damned fool! Why the devil did you tell them? I’ll be the laughing stock of the club. Flynn will use this to ruin me.”
The lord was doing an excellent job of that himself.
“Because you need professional help but are too stubborn to ask.” Bertie faced Dorian, a pleading look in his eyes. “Meldrum inherited the problem from his father. He’s had no choice but to comply with the demands. Heaven forbid the public learn that they’ve kept a sane woman locked in a cell for years. Let alone a peer is responsible.”
Miss Chance failed to stifle a gasp. “How dreadful.”
“I assure you,” Dorian began, wondering how Meldrum’s father knew Nora Adkins and what it had to do with Miss Chance, “you may speak in the strictest confidence. I shall use any information you have to find the culprit.”
Protecting Miss Chance was all that mattered.
If he had to protect this fop in the process, so be it.
After a brief debate, Meldrum left to fetch the letters.
Bertie wasted no time and was quick to spill the beans. “He’s terrified this Nora woman knows he’s the one keeping her in Bethlem. That’s the real reason he relocated to Nelson Square. He’s scared out of his wits.”
“Hewaskeeping Nora at Bethlem,” Dorian corrected. “She is currently at large in the city. There is one consolation. If Nora Adkins is mad, the public will help us find her.” Yet the woman’s shrewd actions said she might be entirely sane.
“The Superintendent sent Meldrum a note last night.” Bertie kept his voice low as he glanced at the door. “They’ve been paying him to turn a blind eye for years, but that’s beside the point. Find the blackmailer. He’s the one who wants the woman kept locked in a cell. Find him, and we’ll all sleep a little easier at night.”
Meldrum returned. His hands shook as he gave Dorian the letters. “The first one is dated August 1814. My father was on the Board of Governors at Bethlem. It’s around the time they were moving to new premises in St George’s Fields.”
The paper was tatty and foxed, and the ink had faded. The blackmailer wrote in large, bold strokes. He knew about the lord’s mounting debts and his affair with his wife’s cousin. He knew the lord had stolen money from a benefactor to pay his debts, money meant for the hospital’s relocation.
“My father found Nora Adkins with her hands and feet bound in a disused property in St Giles,” Meldrum said, gesturing to the letters. “He fed her laudanum and invented a story to haveher committed. When he died, more letters arrived, urging me to keep the pact or face ruin.”
Dorian flipped through the missives. “And you’ve been accepting money to keep Nora at Bethlem ever since?”
“A tea chest arrives every January filled with a hundred sovereigns.” Meldrum’s voice brimmed with shame. “Just like the agreement the blackmailer had with my father, the money is used for the patient’s keep.”
“Have you ever spoken to Nora Adkins?” Miss Chance said.
He turned to her and smiled as if the sight of her lightened his mood. “Once, in a futile attempt to discover the blackmailer’s identity.”
“Did she say anything that might help Mr Flynn discover her whereabouts?”
“One thing. She said all that mattered was finding Caterina.”
Chapter Eleven
The Old Swan
Long Lane, Smithfield
The old timber tavern had stood in Long Lane for two hundred years. It was an area popular with cloth merchants, and being a stone’s throw from Smithfield Market, it was a bustling hive of activity. Hawkers walked the street selling their wares. Grocers stood on the pavement arranging produce in carts outside their shop windows. Children and dogs darted about, getting under people’s feet.
Delphine looked at Mr Flynn as the carriage stopped outside the quaint tavern. He’d hardly said a word since Lord Meldrum grasped her hand and renewed his desire to make her his wife.
“How long have you lived here?” she said, breaking the silence.
