Chapter 7 #2
“Yes, Anderley and I suspect something similar. Which could account for his accent and lack of polish, but not his dubiousness.” He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair.
“Unless Paget’s prior service was dubious in nature.
That’s why I’ve asked Anderley to uncover what he can about the man. ”
Emma moved along the wall, passing behind her father’s chair before emerging on the other side and ambling toward the window.
“So at this point it’s unclear whether Miss Whitlock left Birnam a note or not,” I clarified. “Though your father evidently believes it’s fabricated. What do you think?”
Gage exhaled a long, exasperated breath.
“Honestly, I don’t know. On the one hand, it seems a ridiculous fabrication.
One that can be easily disproved if he fails to produce the foolscap she wrote it on.
But to believe she did write it and that the note is now lost, we must also accept that someone entered Birnam’s room and took it from his desk. ”
“I see what you mean.” Any other explanation didn’t make sense.
None of Lord Gage’s staff would have ventured into Birnam’s chamber at that hour, and if they’d had cause to be there, they wouldn’t have taken or discarded any papers, even if they had fallen to the floor. They were too well trained for that.
I didn’t know what the answer was to this conundrum, so I pressed on. “What of Birnam’s hands? Did Dr. Clarke see to them?”
Emma stood at the window, reaching up toward the sill, but she wasn’t tall enough to see out.
“Up, up!” she demanded, and Gage rose from his chair to lift her so that she could look out at the pond.
It was one of her favorite places on the estate, and she was soon quacking in her own peculiar way like the ducks that swam there. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Clarke covered Birnam’s hands with some ointment and wrapped them,” Gage said in answer to my question. “But he warned that lesions may form, and the damage could take considerable time to heal.”
I watched my husband with our daughter, grateful that Emma could not comprehend what we were talking about and that she would never remember it. The day was coming when that would no longer be true.
Soon enough, she grew tired of looking out the window and demanded to be put down. Gage complied and then glanced at the black ormolu clock on the mantel. The morning was already advancing rapidly, and there was much to be done.
“Before I ring for Anderley, you should know that, as far as Bowcott and the rest of the staff could tell, there was no oil of vitriol missing from Bevington Hall’s stores.”
I straightened. “Then the killer must have brought it with them.”
Gage’s voice was grim. “Which means he—or she—must have planned this.”
For why else would someone have traveled with a bottle of sulfuric acid? It served no practical purpose except industrially and as an ingredient in some cleaning agents or as a replacement for sour milk when bleaching cloth.
I shuddered at the thought of someone plotting to disfigure Miss Whitlock, for we couldn’t be certain that their objective had been murder. More often, oil of vitriol maimed and defaced. Rarely did it actually kill. Though the victims had to live with the pain and scars the rest of their lives.
“If it was premeditated, then we might be able to eliminate a pool of suspects,” I ruminated, though I didn’t like where my thoughts were leading me.
“Not everyone would have known Miss Whitlock would be here.” In fact, only the Birnams, for Lord Gage’s political cronies hadn’t known the factory owner would be present, let alone of the existence of his female secretary.
The notion that any of the Birnams might be capable of such an act left me cold, especially knowing how Trevor felt about Matilda.
“That’s assuming Miss Whitlock was the intended target.”
I blinked up at Gage. “You mean…?”
He nodded. “It’s possible Mr. Birnam was the original target, but something made the attacker alter his plans.”
The image of Miss Whitlock’s frightened visage swam to the front of my mind, the way her gaze darted about the great hall and up to the balcony, wary of eavesdroppers.
Had someone been listening? Had they feared Miss Whitlock knew something and was going to reveal it?
If Gage was correct, there had to be some sort of catalyst to convince the attacker to change his target.
I shook my head, for casting Mr. Birnam as the original victim still presented the same obstacle.
“But no one but my family and the Birnams themselves knew they would be here. Surely, your father didn’t alert…
” I broke off, able to tell from Gage’s strained expression that this assumption was also incorrect. “You mean, he did?”
“He may have informed some of his political friends.” He turned to the side, watching Emma arch up on her tiptoes as she tried to grasp the fireplace tools stored out of reach behind the strategically placed screen keeping her away from the dormant hearth. “In fact, I think it very likely he did.”
I knew nothing should surprise me about my father-in-law at this point, but this was unexpected.
However, matters were never straightforward when it came to Lord Gage.
“Yes, but will he confirm he did so?” I queried pointedly.
For we knew from past bitter experience that Gage’s father was not opposed to protecting his high-ranked friends.
The pleat that formed in Gage’s brow told me my husband was also skeptical about his father being forthcoming and that it wounded him to even have to consider the possibility.
Their relationship had progressed far during the last year but not far enough for him to be entirely certain when all was said and done where his father’s loyalties would lie.
Wanting to shift the direction of his thoughts, I crossed to the bellpull and tugged. “If you finish dressing before I do, will you make sure Bowcott has closed off the blue room. Though I’m sure he has matters well in hand, I forgot to direct him to do so last night.”
“It’s already done,” Gage said. “And breakfast is to be served in the dining room.”
I exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”
“I also secured the empty bottle found next to Miss Whitlock’s body in the cellar with her remains and ordered the door to her bedchamber locked until we’ve had a chance to search it.”
“You seem to have thought of everything,” I replied as he drew near. “Thank goodness one of us kept their head.”
“From what I could see, you never lost your good sense, though you had every reason to do so. It was quite the shock.” He searched my face now in concern, but uncomfortable with his regard, I turned to watch Emma, who had returned to the window.
“How will we tell the others?” I asked softly, more comfortable focusing on the logistics of the day than the emotions stirring within me.
His hands clasped my arms gently. “I suspect most of them will already know by the time they come down to breakfast. The staff is useful in that regard.”
“Except that they deprive us of the opportunity to observe everyone’s reactions to the news.”
“In this instance, I don’t know if that would have done us much good. Given the severity of the injuries and the fact that death might not have been the intention, I imagine the culprit would not have much difficulty feigning distress.” His voice was stark.
I lifted my hand to his unshaven cheek, feeling the bristles that had grown overnight against my palm.
He took this as the invitation it was meant to be and lowered his head to press his lips firmly to mine.
But he didn’t deepen it, for this kiss was one of comfort rather than passion.
All too soon, we were interrupted anyway, by Emma tugging at our legs and then a rap on the door undoubtedly from a member of our staff.
We shared a tender, long-suffering smile, prolonging the moment a few seconds more before he bent to pick up Emma and I called out for the knocker to enter.