Chapter 6
Lord Gage arched a single sardonic eyebrow. “Did Miss Whitlock send you a note as well?”
Gage turned his frown on his father.
“No, she made her request in person.”
This surprised both men.
“When?” my husband asked.
“After dinner. Before the gentlemen joined us in the drawing room,” I explained, crossing to the console to return the pen to the drawer.
“She wished to speak with me in private and was afraid we might be overheard. She asked if I would meet her later in the evening.” I crossed my arms, huddling into myself.
“I agreed and suggested the office next to the morning room.”
“Then she must have been intercepted here on her way to your meeting place.” Gage pulled me close to his side. “Did she tell you she was going to ask Birnam to join you?”
“No. That revelation was unexpected.”
“If it was even true,” Lord Gage muttered under his breath.
I couldn’t deny I’d wondered the same thing.
Gage’s brow furrowed with puzzlement. “Did she give you any indication why she wished to speak with you in private?”
“She asked if it was true that we conduct inquiries, and when I confirmed that we did, she intimated she might be in trouble, though she didn’t say why.” I frowned. “But one thing was quite clear. She was afraid.” I cast a fleeting glance toward where her body now lay. “Rightfully so, it seems.”
Guilt stirred inside me. Perhaps I should have dismissed my responsibilities as hostess and insisted we find someplace more private to speak when she first approached me. Maybe if I hadn’t been wrapped up in performing my duties to perfection, I would have recognized the danger sooner.
I knew this was an illogical thought. How could I have known the matter was so urgent? How could I have known that it might lead to her death? But the guilt remained anyway.
As if sensing this, Gage rubbed his hand up and down my back. “Did you see anyone?”
“I came down the south staircase. I thought I might find you or your father in either the library or study, but the only person I saw was a footman extinguishing the lamps. He was still there when I went for help.” I focused on Miss Whitlock’s feet, shaking my head.
“If only I’d not dawdled. If only I’d gotten here sooner. ”
Gage pulled me tighter to his side. “Then you might have been attacked as well.”
“Sebastian is right,” Lord Gage agreed, his demeanor softening. “Whoever did this was clearly consumed by rage. A rage that was probably stoked over some time. After all, an acid attack requires some degree of premeditation and planning. It’s not as if he simply picked up an object to hand.”
Gage eyed the empty bottle. “We’ll need to speak with your staff to see if any oil of vitriol is missing from the manor stores or if the killer planned far enough in advance to bring it with him.”
“Or her,” I countered. Such an act could have just as easily have been committed by a woman.
“Yes.”
My gaze returned to the blush skirts spilling across the carpet and then up reluctantly to the once lovely face still staring sightlessly up at the ceiling for I’d not wanted to risk touching her. “But first, what is to be done with Miss Whitlock?”
Neither seemed to know how to answer at first, nearly as affected as I was by the tragedy of what had been done to the secretary. Her life had been snuffed short in such a horrifying way.
Finally, Gage inhaled a taut breath before addressing his father. “What officials need to be informed?”
“Wixford is the local magistrate. I’ll speak to him.
He’s a fair man, and not one to cut off his nose to spite his face.
I imagine he’ll be more than happy to leave the investigating to us, considering our reputations and the rank of many of our guests.
” His features settled once again into a fierce scowl at the reminder of all that was at stake.
“Though, of course, there will still need to be a coroner’s inquest. With any luck, Wixford and his constable won’t insist on dragging any of our more illustrious guests into it. ”
It was implied that Birnam was not one of those he considered “illustrious.”
Unlike in London and Edinburgh and other large cities where metropolitan police forces had been established, crimes in rural areas were still regulated by the old system of peacekeeping, under the authority of a local magistrate.
Not that any of Britain’s police forces were particularly well equipped to investigate crimes after the fact.
They had been established to keep the peace and prevent crime. That was their primary function.
This was why agencies like the Bow Street Runners in London still thrived, because they specialized in detection.
Or they were supposed to. But corruption was rife, and witnesses were sometimes intimidated or outright fabricated.
Consequently, the wealthy, noble-born, and even royalty often preferred to turn to Lord Gage and his son.
In their minds, rank conveyed trustworthiness, though our previous inquiries had proven this to be a prejudicial and patently false assumption.
Those who were to the manor born were just as capable of violence and perfidy.
They were simply more likely to get away with it because those with the power to do something about it looked away.
“I suppose you’ll want to make an announcement to the other guests,” Gage said.
“Yes, but not tonight.” My father-in-law’s shoulders bowed, his face appearing fatigued. “Tomorrow morning is soon enough.”
I wanted to urge him to take a seat, but I knew he would not thank me for my concern. He was a stubborn man. Even more so than his son.
Gage glanced over his shoulder at the console table. “You’ve seen everything you need to?” Evidently, he’d recognized the reason I’d been holding the steel-tipped pen.
“Yes.” I hesitated to continue in front of Lord Gage.
Though he was fully aware of and now empathized with my past, and while he even recognized the usefulness my knowledge brought to our inquiries, I preferred not to remind him of it, lest he revert to his previous disgust over the matter.
But then I realized he would have to be told what I’d discovered.
“She had no defensive wounds. At least, none that were visible after the…burns.” I stumbled over my words as I pictured in my mind the painful injuries I’d examined.
“It’s clear she lifted her hand to shield her face when the acid was thrown at her.
But I don’t think the killer actually got that close to her. ”
Gage’s eyes glinted with compassion. “He wouldn’t have needed to, would he?”
“No.”
He could have stood several feet away and still managed to throw the acid accurately in her face.
“What of her other injuries?” Lord Gage asked, eyeing Miss Whitlock’s body as if it were a snake that might leap up and bite him.
Grateful that he at least wasn’t looking at me in the same way, I replied, “They are, I imagine, as to be expected.” I shrugged.
“To be honest, I’m not familiar with the wounds caused by burns, particularly acid burns.
But given how quickly she succumbed, I suspect she must have inhaled or ingested some of the vitriol. Enough that it proved fatal.”
It was difficult not to think this might have been a blessing.
Otherwise, she might have lived in constant agony for days or even weeks before expiring.
For as severe as the burns were, the likelihood of her recovering from them was minuscule.
Even then, she would have been severely impaired and continuously at risk of deadly infection.
It would only have ever been a matter of time.
“Do you wish to be sure?”
I turned to meet my husband’s gaze, knowing what he was asking. Did I want to perform an autopsy, or a partial one?
Though it might have been better not to, I couldn’t help but glance at Lord Gage’s face. But rather than the contempt and disgust I’d anticipated, he merely returned my gaze with one that was attentive.
“No,” I said after a moment of consideration. “It’s true, an autopsy might tell me precisely how she died, but we already know what caused her death. Further examination of her nasal passages and throat is not going to help us figure out who did it or why.”
Gage accepted this answer with a nod, trusting in my greater expertise in this area. This was something I knew from experience that few men would do, and just one of the many reasons I loved him. “Then why don’t you go on up to bed. It’s been a long day.”
“For all of us,” I chimed in to say, darting a look at his father, who stood staring down at the floor, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
“Yes, there’s nothing more you can do until tomorrow. The killer has long fled, and short of dragging everyone from their beds and insisting on searching their rooms…”
Lord Gage aimed a sharp look of displeasure at his son, letting him know he was not about to insult his guests, particularly men like Lord Melbourne and Lord Brougham, in such a manner.
“…we’ll simply have to wait until morning to do more.” He raised his eyebrows at his father, telling him he should have known better than to think he would attempt such a stunt. “The footmen and I will remove Miss Whitlock’s body to the cellar.”
I opened my mouth to caution him about the vitriol, but he held up a hand to forestall me, now arching his eyebrows at me.
“Carefully. I’ll also speak with Dr. Clarke after he’s finished with Birnam and ask Bowcott to secure any additional oil of vitriol that may be on the premises and check the manor’s supplies.” His mouth firmed. “If the murderer got it belowstairs, we’ll know soon enough.”
I had to admit, he had everything well in hand, and I was tired. My emotions were all a jumble in my breast, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I could no longer suppress them. I would prefer that happened in private. So I agreed with a weary sigh. “If you’re sure?”