Chapter 24 #2
His face fell. “Though I don’t know yet how we’re going to convince her father to consent to our marrying.”
“You may have to do something drastic,” I cautioned him.
The proposition did not startle him, which told me that he’d already been contemplating it.
“Are you prepared to go to such lengths if necessary?” I pressed. “Even if it means forfeiting her dowry and gaining Birnam as an enemy?”
“Yes,” he avowed, but then vacillated. “Though I would rather not have to resort to such extreme measures.”
“Of course.”
Trevor was an honorable man, so having to do something as scandalous as elope would manifestly conflict with his nature.
“But there’s no need to resort to anything so extreme quite yet,” I assured him.
Or so we thought.
—
Much as I would have preferred not to accost Mrs. Birnam again in her boudoir, the following morning she left us no choice.
She didn’t come down to breakfast, and she rudely ignored our request for an audience with her.
As such, we had to resort to forcing our way past her maid, McClintock, and into her sitting room.
When we then discovered Mrs. Birnam had locked herself inside her bedchamber, I had to threaten to retrieve the key from our housekeeper before she finally consented to join us.
Though not without a great deal of complaining.
“And here, I’d thought I liked your family,” she grumbled, flopping down on the settee where she’d been seated the day before. “Well, I’m afraid I shall have to withdraw my approval.”
Gage and I shared a look of mutual disbelief. If the manner in which she’d treated us was meant to indicate approval, it was a wonder she had any acquaintances, let alone friends.
“We know your husband has withdrawn his consent for my brother to court your daughter. That he never intended to allow their union.” My tone sharpened. “And we know you were also aware of it before you traveled here.”
“Not until Matilda told me,” she admitted, smoothing her aubergine-hued skirts.
“And I must tell you, I was heartily disappointed. For I know my daughter is tremendously fond of Mr. St. Mawr. What’s more, I like him.
” She scowled at us. “Or I did.” She waved her hand as if to dismiss the matter.
“But this is all beside the point. Jeremiah wants a title for Matilda, and your brother does not have one.”
“Don’t you get a say in your daughter’s future?” I asked.
Her mouth twisted in scorn as she shared a look with McClintock, who stood off to the side. “What my husband wants, my husband gets.” She fluffed and smoothed her skirt again. “Even me.”
Sensing an opening to comprehend her better, I pushed for more information. “You didn’t wish to marry him?”
“I had my heart set on someone else. Until Jeremiah persuaded my father otherwise. Then I obeyed my father and did what was expected of me.” I couldn’t help but wonder if she regretted this, particularly when she frowned, gazing into the distance. “I wanted something different for Matilda.”
“What did you think of your husband’s proposal that my brother marry Miss Whitlock instead?”
Her brows snapped together. “I thought that Mr. St. Mawr was too noble to agree to such a scheme.” Her eyes narrowed. “No matter what wiles that girl used on him.”
An accusation I’d seen no evidence of.
“We also know that Portia Whitlock is your husband’s child,” Gage declared.
Mrs. Birnam’s eyes flashed with fire. “He told you, did he? Shared all the sordid details?”
“Hardly.”
The twist of her lips expressed doubt. “What of it? He bedded that whore of a woman, who foisted the child on the man she cuckolded and then dared to do the same to me.”
“You hated her,” I realized.
“Of course I did. Would you enjoy daily looking into the face of the reminder of your husband’s greatest betrayal?”
“But Miss Whitlock was not party to that betrayal,” I argued. “She couldn’t help the circumstances of her birth.”
She scoffed. “As noble as your brother, aren’t you?” She leaned toward me, her voice barbed with vehemence. “It didn’t matter. Not when she was being wielded as a weapon, thrown in my face.”
McClintock nodded in agreement.
“She could have married or sought employment elsewhere. She was determined to spite me.”
“But could she truly have done those things?” I countered. “Your husband controlled her dowry and her fate.”
“She had her mother’s wiles, my lady. I’m sure she could have contrived something, had she wished to.”
While I believed Mrs. Birnam was being unreasonable, I had to concede there was a grain of truth in what she was saying.
Miss Whitlock might not have wished to marry yet or seek employment elsewhere.
Not when she had this opportunity to get to know her father better and to possibly reconcile with her brother and sister.
But it had not worked out that way.
“Is that why you killed her?” Gage asked bluntly, evidently as tired of her acrimonious remarks as I was.
She huffed a scornful laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“You hated Miss Whitlock,” he persisted.
“You’d managed to get rid of her once, but now here she was back, and ruining your daughter’s life as well, being put forth as a bride for the man she loved.
You knew about the oil of vitriol Matilda brought.
” He glanced at McClintock. “We’re quite sure your loyal maid told you.
She probably fetched it back for you. Or did you ask Paget to take care of it? After all, he also loathed her.”
Mrs. Birnam bolted to her feet. “Lies! Lies and fabrications. I’m not going to let you pin this on me.
I’m not going to let Mr. Birnam.” She pressed an emphatic hand to her breast. “I have done nothing wrong. And I have nothing more to say to you.” With this she whirled away, stomping off in offended dignity, her maid trailing after her.
Apparently, we would have to see ourselves out.
“That could have gone better,” I said once the door had slammed behind them.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Gage ushered me toward the outer door. “She clearly has a temper and a vengeful streak, and she did admit to hating Miss Whitlock.”
“Yes, but none of that is proof she actually attacked her.”
“No,” Gage admitted in an undertone. “But it’s a start.”