Chapter 2 #3
While it wasn’t all that unusual for men of importance to travel with their secretaries, it was uncommon for them to be female.
In fact, it was practically unheard of. Not that I necessarily disapproved.
For I believed a woman could do just as good a job as a man, especially at such an endeavor.
But her presence raised questions, particularly when the women in his family reacted in such a manner.
It was also rare for a secretary to be invited to associate with the guests.
After all, they were employees brought with the gentlemen to do a job.
But their status fell into the hazy realm between traditional staff and social equal, much like governesses and stewards.
As these people were often individuals of a genteel and well-educated upbringing who simply did not possess the means required not to hold employment, they were at times asked to step in to help round out uneven numbers at a dinner party or such, but usually as a last resort.
In all my time at Bevington Park, I’d only eaten a meal with Lord Gage’s private secretary, Mr. Thorndike, once.
It was under this pall of uncomfortable silence that the younger Mr. Birnam and Miss Whitlock arrived.
The tension must have been obvious, for they both halted in their tracks as if hitting a wall.
Jemmy recovered more quickly than Miss Whitlock, albeit with little grace.
He darted a sullen look at his father before retreating to a chair in the far corner, ignoring his mother’s request for him to join her on the settee.
Miss Whitlock, for her part, seemed on the verge of turning tail and running, but then she straightened her spine and slowly advanced into the room.
She was young—certainly no older than Jemmy’s four-and-twenty years and perhaps several years shy of that.
Her coloring was fair, her clothing demure, and while she would never be called a great beauty, she was more than passingly pretty.
Recognizing my duty as hostess, I crossed the room to smooth matters over and reassure her of her welcome. Though I was forced to wait as Mr. Birnam urged her to fill the plate he thrust at her, even going so far as to plunk several sandwiches onto it unbidden before striding off.
“I am glad to see you are much improved,” I told her with a smile. “Long carriage rides can be quite trying, can’t they?”
Her gaze scoured my face, seeming to search for any evidence of anger or displeasure, and finding none, her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, my lady,” she replied in a well-modulated voice. “I’m ever so grateful for your kindness and that of his lordship’s staff.”
“This is why we need to get these steam locomotive railways built,” Mr. Birnam declared loudly. “ ’Twill shorten the journey cross-country by half.”
“The Liverpool and Manchester Railway has reduced the trip between the two cities from nearly a full day to just two hours,” Trevor supplied, and then the pair of them were off again, absorbed in their growing passion for the machines.
For in addition to his highly profitable mills and factories, Mr. Birnam was heavily invested in efforts to transform transportation across Britain.
Trevor was fascinated by the locomotives and had invested, to a lesser degree, also convincing Philip and Gage to purchase stocks.
However, that did not mean they shared the other men’s enthusiasm for the topic.
“Have you been able to acquire everything you need?” I asked Miss Whitlock, unused to providing for the requirements of a secretary.
“Yes, thank you. And I was introduced to Mr. Thorndike this morning and told he could assist me, if necessary.”
There was a note in her voice that was overly bright, and being acquainted with Lord Gage’s personal secretary, I suspected it might have something to do with him.
Having been subjected to his condescending view of women who dabbled in art, I could only imagine that his reaction to a female secretary had not been as congenial as one might wish.
“Well, please do not hesitate to ask if he is unable,” I told her, striving toward an evenhanded approach.
She hesitated but for a moment before nodding. “I will.”
I found myself wanting to ask her a number of questions.
Who was her family—for it was obviously genteel—and where did they come from?
How did she come to be employed as Mr. Birnam’s personal secretary?
And what was her relationship like with the other Birnams, for there was definitely some strong undercurrent between them?
But I didn’t know how to politely broach any of these queries.
And then Alfie was standing on my other side, jostling me with his elbow like an annoying brother as he selected a few tea cakes.
Though I had not liked him when we first met, finding him petulant and spiteful—and I’d been prepared to never fancy him considering how he’d tormented Gage when they were boys—a tragic and terrifying incident out on the moors had forged a bond between us that had transcended all that.
Of course, it also helped that he and Gage had made their peace and his marriage to Lorna seemed to have tamed him.
Somewhat. Now he treated me more like a little sister, alternately teasing and pestering me and then turning overprotective.
As such, by the time I’d finished badgering Alfie about taking all the fairy cakes, in response to which he’d merely flashed a roguish grin and popped another into his mouth, I discovered that Miss Whitlock had glided away.
I noted she’d chosen a seat near the windows, far from any of the Birnams. Lorna went to join her.
A move that, while kind, seemed to invoke a rather strong reaction from Mrs. Birnam, whose flushed face and tight lips suggested she was withholding an outburst.
Given her continued disparagement of Lorna, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was reacting to something she saw as being similar between the two women.
Was Miss Whitlock also illegitimate? Or were Mrs. Birnam’s suspicions more insidious?
I didn’t like to nurse the thought, particularly when it was rather an unworthy one and there was no proof of anything untoward.
But Mrs. Birnam’s glacial stare could not be ignored.
Alfie, on the other hand, had no such qualms.
“I wouldn’t have thought the mushroom had it in him. Do you think he’s tupping her right under his wife’s nose?”
Gage, who was standing on his other side, and I both turned to glare at Alfie not only for the rude comment but for the reluctant admiration we detected in his voice. His saving grace was that he’d spoken softly enough that no one else appeared to have heard him.
“I’m sure that is none of our affair,” Gage uttered quellingly.
Alfie was undaunted. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”
“Yes, but would that not be a curiously bold move on his part?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, even though it earned me a glare from Gage also. “Foolish even.”
Yes, gentlemen and other men of means were known to keep mistresses, but they did not normally flaunt them in front of their wives.
Such things were simply not done. And Mr. Birnam was here to court political favor from Philip, Lord Gage, and his political connections.
That much had been made very clear over the past two days.
Surely, he would not jeopardize that by foisting his mistress upon us in such a thin guise.
My eyes trailed over the assemblage toward the corner where Jemmy still sat, arms crossed morosely. For the most part, he kept his attention directed at the floor, but periodically he shot a scowl in the direction of Miss Whitlock.
“Maybe Mr. Birnam’s designs lay in a different direction,” I posited. After all, he had sent his son to collect Miss Whitlock. Perhaps that was intentional. If so, Miss Whitlock’s connection to the Birnams must be more than coincidental.
I wondered if Trevor knew. At the moment, he seemed oblivious to everything but his conversation with Mr. Birnam.
Even his near-fiancée and the daggered look Jemmy sent his way when Mr. Birnam praised Trevor for something clever he’d said escaped his notice.
Clearly, there was some animosity and jealousy there as well.
Perhaps my brother should tread with more care.