Chapter 16
I moved to follow, worried that Birnam might require medical attention. Turning to scrutinize the archers as I loped forward, I noted their dawning realization and confusion, each of them glancing left and right at the men next to them.
Reaching Birnam, I spotted Paget grasping the shaft of the arrow. “Don’t pull it out!” I ordered him. “He could bleed to death.”
But once the people surrounding Birnam separated enough for me to see fully, I could tell that the arrow had not struck Birnam but the ground.
“Oh, thank God!” I panted, pressing a hand to my pounding heart. “Are you injured anywhere, sir?”
Birnam appeared stunned, but with Gage and Anderley’s aid was helped to sit upright. “I…I don’t think so.” He blinked rapidly, his bandaged hands held out in front of him.
“Your jacket, sir,” Paget cried.
He was right. There was a tear on the sleeve. I knelt to examine it, relieved to see it had not caught the shirt or skin beneath.
“It only tore the fabric,” I reported. “But still, too close for comfort,” I added worryingly.
“Who fired the arrow?” Lord Gage demanded to know as we all turned to gaze across the field, but the archers were still looking at one another in bafflement. “Who fired the arrow?” he yelled more loudly. Still, no one stepped forward.
I exchanged a concerned glance with Gage. Had this not been an accident? Had it been a second attempt on Mr. Birnam’s life?
Gage rose to his feet, gesturing for Anderley to follow him. “Had they all fired the same number of arrows?”
“It was the end of the round,” Alana replied, joining us.
Gage nodded and lengthened his stride, presumably intending to speak to the archers and collect their quills. Though I wasn’t sure that would tell us anything definitively. The archer who fired the arrow might have taken it from another contestant’s quill.
Paget was now helping Mr. Birnam to his feet. It appeared he’d recovered his wits, for he aimed a venomous glare at my father-in-law. “Was this your plan, Lord Gage? Silence me once and for all.”
“Don’t be absurd,” he replied scornfully.
“Is it? You’re the one who asked me tae judge.”
In order to keep Birnam busy so that Gage could interrogate Paget.
But Lord Gage mentioned none of this. “Because in your current state, you can’t hold a bow. It seemed logical to ask you to be the judge.” His lips curled with derision. “I thought you’d relish it.”
“Weel, I dinna relish bein’ shot at!”
“Gentlemen,” Alana interrupted. “This isn’t helping. Let’s return to the spectator area so that Mr. Birnam might have a seat and we can discuss this more rationally. Surely, it was an accident, and the culprit is simply too ashamed to come forward. Barring that, someone must have seen something!”
But no one had. Or at least, they wouldn’t admit to it. We’d all been too distracted by the ducks and Melbourne’s jest. We’d turned away from the archery range. Even the archers denied knowing who’d fired the arrow. They’d also been diverted.
Even after questioning each of the eight men individually, I could not sense artifice in any of them, though I’d never truly considered Philip, Trevor, or Alfie to be suspects in the first place.
Most of them seemed genuinely shocked, bewildered, and outraged—more so that someone would attempt such a thing than that they were being quizzed about it.
Collecting the quills ended up being a pointless endeavor, for the staff that had gathered the arrows after the ladies contest had not ensured each quill held the same number of arrows.
Considering it was supposed to be a friendly competition, this had seemed unnecessary.
As it should have been! Except for someone’s reckless actions.
I found my temper fraying the longer the day wore on and the more the heat climbed.
We had released most of the guests long ago, allowing them to return to the manor to escape the sun, which had emerged from the clouds, and to partake of the cold luncheon laid out in the dining room.
I, on the other hand, had been subsisting on tepid tea, for I could not stomach it hot.
Paget had been ordered to stay close to Birnam’s side until we figured out what had happened. It was the best we could do.
Trevor insisted on being the last archer interviewed.
I suspected this was as much about lingering to overhear what he could of the other discussions, but we did not argue.
Now it was just him, Gage, and me left, with Anderley lingering in the background.
Like all the others, he was baffled as to how he could have failed to see anything, but he had an important question to ask.
“Does this mean that Miss Whitlock was killed by mistake? That Mr. Birnam was the intended victim?”
I noted the glint of hopefulness in his eyes that he failed to hide. For if Mr. Birnam had been the target, then it was unlikely that any of the other Birnams had been the killer.
Gage turned to me, allowing me to respond to my brother.
“It would seem so.” I frowned. “And yet, I’m not entirely convinced.”
“But someone fired an arrow at Birnam, presumably trying to kill him, as close as that shot was,” Trevor contended.
“Yes, but…how did no one witness who fired the arrow?” I asked all three men. “Could the shot have come from a different direction?”
“Maybe?” Gage hazarded. But that would mean we were looking for a suspect outside our current list. The only person currently under consideration who had not been present was Ann McClintock, Mrs. Birnam’s maid.
I supposed it was possible she’d fired an arrow at Mr. Birnam from the shelter of the western woods, but the idea still seemed slightly mad.
Though the fact remained, someone had fired an arrow at Birnam.
“Maybe there was nothing to witness,” Anderley said, speaking up for the first time.
I turned to him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe the arrow wasn’t actually fired,” he explained. “Maybe Birnam ripped his own coat with one of the arrows littering the area near the targets and plunged it into the ground as he pretended to be knocked down.” He shrugged.
I turned this new notion over in my mind, examining it for flaws.
“It would explain why no one heard or saw the shot,” Gage conceded. “Just like no one saw him being hit.”
“But his hands,” Trevor argued. “He’s in too much pain to have managed such a thing.”
“You’d be surprised what the human body can endure when it or a loved one is threatened,” Gage declared, and I knew he was speaking from experience.
“If he thought one of his family members might be guilty of attacking and killing Miss Whitlock and afraid that they would be discovered, he might attempt something drastic.”
“I’d noted his pain seemed better managed today,” I confessed. “Though I don’t know what he used to numb it.”
“Probably whisky,” Gage suggested. “Did you not smell it on him?”
“You cannot genuinely believe that Birnam would stage an attack on himself,” Trevor exclaimed. “I know he can be a bit…difficult, but that’s madness!”
“I’m not saying he did.” I lifted my hands, attempting to soothe his agitation even as mine grew.
“And right now, for his safety and that of the rest of the guests, I think we must operate under the assumption that he genuinely was attacked. But I also don’t think we can dismiss the possibility that he feigned it in order to divert suspicion away from himself and his loved ones. ”
Trevor appeared as if he’d still like to dispute this, crossing his arms hostilely.
For me, this was suddenly the final straw. “Think whatever you want,” I huffed, pushing to my feet. “I’m going to eat.”
I strode furiously up the slope, growing a bit lightheaded by the time I reached the top from the exertion and the heat, and the fact I’d barely eaten that day.
So much so that I had to pause to catch my breath, pressing my hand to the wall in much the same place Gage and Anderley had interrogated Paget earlier.
“Birnam thinks Lord Gage is behind it.”
At the mention of my father-in-law’s name my ears perked up.
“That’s balderdash,” a second older male voice responded.
“Maybe. But where was his son? He didn’t take part in the competition.”
I’d heard Birnam make his allegation against Lord Gage, but I’d thought it would go no further beyond that.
However, here it was being discussed by these two men, who if I was not mistaken were Lord Milngavie and Lord Strathblane.
My irritation returned, particularly at hearing my own husband implicated.
Fortunately, Strathblane seemed sensible.
“He was standing in the crowd of spectators next to his wife. Came running as soon as anyone realized something was wrong.” He paused and I heard a wheeze of an exhale that suggested the men had been smoking.
Now that I’d noted it, I could also smell the faint tang of cheroots.
They must have been standing in the vestibule of the side entrance, just outside the billiards room.
“Can’t very well have fired an arrow out of that crowd with no one noticing. ”
Lord Milngavie seemed to give this some consideration. “What of his manservant? I’ve heard rumors he’s quite the capable fellow.”
“He came running from the area where the staff was congregated.” He made another puffed exhalation. “You don’t truly believe our host is behind it, do you?” Strathblane sounded aghast.
“No,” Milngavie answered easily after only a moment’s hesitation. “But I can’t seem to work out how anyone else did it either.”
He was clearly frustrated by this fact, and I listened more closely in case he had any further insights.
“You were nearest the spectators, so it’s understandable you wouldn’t have seen anything, but I was at the opposite end, Strathblane.
Farthest from the crowds. I can’t help but think I would have noticed had one of the archers raised their bow and fired despite all the distractions. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Then you think the arrow came from a different direction?” Strathblane queried.
“Maybe.”