Chapter 9
I finally tracked down Gage in the corridor outside our suite. It appeared he’d been looking for me as well.
“Do you have time to search Miss Whitlock’s room?” he asked as his gaze swept over my appearance, noting I’d yet to change for our excursion. He was already dressed in attire suitable for fishing, including dark breeches, tall boots, and a broad-brimmed hat.
“Yes. If we hurry,” I replied, not wanting to be excluded.
“I saw your brother and Miss Birnam pull you aside,” he said as we strode side by side down the corridor which spanned the western side of the house. It was lined with bedchambers. There was a question in his eyes.
I sighed, briefly recounting our conversation.
“I’ve heard a bit about these acid attacks on mill owners and masters. Though, as I understand it, sometimes the vitriol is also being thrown at the workmen, particularly when there are opposing factions of workers at odds in these disputes.”
This was an angle I hadn’t considered. “Do they think the mill owners are involved when it’s the workers who are injured?”
Gage’s pale eyes darkened with displeasure.
“I think it would be na?ve not to suspect that in some cases they’re at least aware of what their foremen are planning.
Now, whether that means Birnam is one of them, I can’t say,” he added, already anticipating my next question. “But it has to be considered.”
“Particularly since he owns one of the largest factories in the country to produce oil of vitriol.”
To say he had a readily available source was putting it mildly. Though just because he had the means didn’t mean he’d done it. Still, the notion sent a chill down my spine, for this was the man Trevor hoped would one day soon be his father-in-law.
As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Gage reached over to grasp my hand, squeezing it as I turned to look at him. “Don’t leap to that conclusion yet. We’ve still got a great deal of evidence to gather before we can point a finger at anyone.”
“I’m not sure your father would agree with you,” I said, cautiously broaching the topic as we turned the corner.
His brow lowered. “Yes, well, there are a lot of things Father and I don’t agree on. But I take your point.”
For all we knew, Lord Gage might be quietly convincing his political cronies and the local magistrate of Birnam’s guilt while allowing us to continue investigating.
It would be the neatest solution and resolve a number of problems, not to mention having the added appeal of silencing a man he simply didn’t like.
But for all my father-in-law’s faults, I struggled to believe he would actually be so heartless and vindictive as to allow a man to be convicted of a crime he hadn’t committed, no matter how much he might loathe him.
“I’ll speak to him,” Gage assured me.
I squeezed his hand in return. “We’ll speak to him together.”
Our eyes locked in solidarity as we reached the end of the corridor.
“Here we are,” he declared somewhat unnecessarily.
I realized we were near the northeast pavilion. The large suite of rooms at the corner had been assigned to Alana and Philip. The pair of doors before us led to two smaller bedchambers which overlooked the front drive. I’d nearly forgotten I’d assigned one to Miss Whitlock.
Interestingly enough, the staircase leading down to the blue room was situated but a few steps away. The one we’d theorized that the attacker might have taken to escape undetected. It was possible Miss Whitlock had also used the staircase to get to the blue room immediately below us.
Gage pulled the key from the inner pocket of his frock coat, but before he could insert it into the lock, the door opened under his touch.
“I thought you said the room had been secured,” I murmured in shock.
His voice hardened with anger. “It had.” He glanced around as if searching for something, perhaps a weapon. “Step back. If someone is still inside…”
I nodded, letting him know it wasn’t necessary to finish that statement.
Cautiously, he pushed open the door. I was glad to hear it was in good maintenance, issuing no squeaks.
Then silently he edged his way inside, keeping the wall at his back.
My heart pounded in my ears as I waited, wondering if I should go for help.
I looked toward the door to my sister and brother-in-law’s suite of rooms. Maybe Philip was inside. He might be able to assist.
Fortunately, Gage returned a moment later. “It’s empty now, but it’s evident someone was here before us.”
I followed him inside, unable to perceive at first what he meant.
The drapes were pulled shut against the bright day, but enough light filtered through the apricot fabric to allow us to see.
The bed was still made, though there was an indentation on one side of the counterpane that indicated someone had lain there recently.
The door to the wardrobe stood ajar, but that might have been Miss Whitlock’s doing or even Gage’s, for he’d undoubtedly been assiduous in his search, checking the furnishing for lurking intruders.
But then I saw Miss Whitlock’s writing desk.
It was a simple mahogany desk with brass details, a black leather inlay and an elevated sliding door compartment at the back.
I’d not known the secretary long, but I’d developed the impression of a tidy woman, one who took her work seriously.
However, the sliding doors were askew, revealing several crumpled pieces of foolscap, and the two small drawers below had been left open to show their contents of writing implements and supplies.
Meanwhile, the writing surface was bare save for a single sheet of paper dropped at an angle.
“Someone took all of her papers,” I concluded after turning over the lone piece remaining—an old invoice. Even the scraps of foolscap only contained arithmetic figures. “And did a thorough job of it. But why?”
“I think you know the obvious answer.”
I turned to face Gage, who was standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the room. “They must have thought there was something incriminating in them. But incriminating for the attacker or incriminating for Birnam?” I glanced at the old invoice again. “I suppose we’ll have to tell Birnam.”
Gage’s gaze met mine, his eyebrows arching. “Unless he’s the one who took them.”
I felt an initial pulse of surprise, but it swiftly faded. “Birnam doesn’t seem the type to let a locked door or a murder investigation stop him. Though I imagine it was a member of his staff who did the actual pilfering.” Probably his manservant, Paget.
Gage returned to the door, examining the lock. “Whoever picked it was skilled. I can’t see any scratches. I suppose it’s possible they got ahold of the housekeeper’s copy of the key,” he added as he straightened. “But if that was the case, why not lock the door when they were finished?”
“I think that’s improbable,” I said, joining him. “Mrs. Taylor keeps her set of keys together on one ring and she’s rarely without them.” I suspected she kept them close by even when she was at rest.
“Then they picked it, and they knew what they were doing.”
I could tell he was thinking of Paget. He’d said that he thought the valet had a shadowy past. Hopefully, Anderley would be able to confirm this and find out more.
Gage closed and relocked the door, and we began to retrace our steps.
“Tell me,” I said, threading my arm through his. “What did the men discuss over port yesterday evening?” I’d asked Alana and Lorna what the women were doing while I’d conferred with Miss Whitlock, but I wondered about the men as well.
He slowed his steps, seeming to consider his words before responding.
My tone sharpened. “Or was the topic something not fit for a lady’s ears?”
I knew men could sometimes be crass, even gentlemen, but I would not have expected my husband to stand for it.
He startled, turning to look at me. “No. That’s not why I failed to speak.
I was just trying to decide what might be relevant.
Someone inquired about the local trout and that was discussed, and Strathblane asked about Stratford-upon-Avon.
Apparently, he’s a great admirer of Shakespeare.
” The village where the bard was born lay just a short distance to the east, close enough for a day trip by carriage.
“Then Birnam didn’t attempt to turn the conversation to the subject of the Factory Act again?”
His tone deepened with wry humor. “He tried, but we mostly ignored him.” He tilted his head. “Though I couldn’t hear what was being discussed at the opposite end of the table.”
“I could.”
Both of us jumped at the sound of the voice directly behind us. We whirled about to find Alfie grinning back at us remorselessly.
“How long have you been following us?” I demanded to know, chagrined we hadn’t heard him approach.
“Long enough to know that you’re coaxing Seby to tattle on us.”
I rolled my eyes.
He leaned closer to me, lowering his voice further. “And that you have a naughty mind.”
I flushed, making his dark eyes twinkle brighter.
“What did you think we were discussing, Kiera, dear?”
“Don’t tease her, Alfie,” Gage ordered. “With you at the table she was undoubtedly right to be suspicious of the subject matter.” He began to turn away but then aimed a scowl at his cousin. “And don’t call me Seby.”
“Apologies, Sebastian,” Alfie replied, adding an extra syllable to my husband’s name like his snobbish mother had the tendency to do.
He fell into step behind us as we resumed our stroll toward the other end of the manor.
“But I can tell you what was being discussed by the other men.” He paused, clearly wishing for one of us to beg.
“And?” I finally appeased him by asking.
“Emeralds.”
I turned to peer over my shoulder at Alfie, confirming I’d heard him correctly.
“And copper.”
“Why emeralds and copper?” Gage queried, taking the bait for us this time.