Chapter 26
After I’d informed them of Jemmy’s confession about his father, I left both Gage men to debate the issue while I went in search of Mrs. Taylor and Bowcott.
The next day, four dozen more guests were descending upon Bevington Hall, and I’d not conferred with either of the principal members of the household staff yet today to discover if they needed anything from me.
Though I’d had little doubt, I was still glad to discover that everything was well in hand, as were preparations for dinner that evening.
I wanted to go directly to the nursery to see Emma, but I’d spent so much of my time the past few days on the inquiry that I’d largely neglected our guests.
So I determined I should at least take a stroll through the public rooms to ensure that everyone was sufficiently comfortable and entertained.
Most of the gentlemen were once again gathered in the green drawing room and billiards room for the afternoon.
The rumble of their voices and congenial laughter seemed to indicate they were at least satisfied.
Lady Brougham and Lady Lyndhurst were seated on the back terrace in the shade, enjoying the cooler weather that had been ushered in by the brief rain shower that had dampened the lawn while I was belowstairs.
The clouds had since passed, and the afternoon sunlight made the water droplets sparkle so that the leaves and flowers seemed adorned with diamonds.
I conversed with the ladies for several minutes while they continued their needlework before returning inside.
I found the mauve drawing room empty except for Alana and Lorna, who appeared to be enjoying tea and a cozy tête-à-tête.
“Kiera,” Lorna cried upon catching sight of me. She patted the cushion beside her on the settee. “Come join us.”
I gladly accepted the invitation, wishing I could remain for more than a few minutes.
“You look run off your feet,” my sister declared, already pouring and preparing my tea the way I liked it.
I took the cup with a grateful smile before pressing a hand to my forehead. “I’ll take that as an indication I look as ragged as I feel.”
“No!” Lorna reassured me. “Just…a bit harried. And who can blame you?”
“I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting you, neglecting everyone,” I said with a sigh.
“For good reason,” Alana stated firmly. “I know we’ll all sleep better once Miss Whitlock’s killer is caught. That’s your top priority. As for the guests, they’re being well looked after. No one should be complaining. Now, drink your tea.”
I did as directed, a bit confounded to hear my older sister defend my actions after all the times in the past when she’d bemoaned my taking part in these macabre inquiries.
But Alana was nothing if not practical, and if the alternatives were having a locally appointed parish constable and his deputy investigate or allowing a murderer to walk free, she would choose me and Gage every time.
Lorna leaned forward, lowering her voice. “We’ve heard rumors. Is it true? Was Miss Whitlock truly Mr. Birnam’s daughter?”
I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised that this information had been spread—it was too scandalous to be kept quiet—but I was astounded, nonetheless. “Yes.”
“That explains a few things,” Alana remarked as Lorna shook her head sadly.
“Do you think that was the motive?” Lorna asked, aghast.
“We don’t know,” I hedged. “It seems to be a bit more complicated.”
“But you’d rather not discuss it just now.” Alana nodded. “We understand.”
I wasn’t certain that was the case, but I was grateful when they began to chatter about other things.
It at least allowed me to bask in the semblance of normalcy for a few minutes while I drank my tea.
In all the tumult and hustle, I’d had little time to anticipate the arrival of more friends and family the following day, but listening to them discuss who they looked forward to seeing elevated my own excitement.
Then one of them mentioned Lady Bearsden, and I recalled Lord Strathblane’s interest in reuniting with her after some years. Which made me think of his protégé.
“Have either of you observed anything noteworthy about Lord Milngavie?” I asked them during a lull in the conversation.
“Other than his outburst after dinner several nights ago…” Lorna glanced at Alana. “No.”
“He seems pleasant enough,” Alana confirmed. “Though obviously he has a temper when riled. And he strongly dislikes Birnam.” Her lips quirked. “But I do not hold that against him.”
“Most wouldn’t,” I agreed.
So then why would he be negotiating to make Birnam’s daughter his wife? Surely, there were other wealthy men eager to endow their daughters with large dowries in exchange for a title who were more palatable. Perhaps not as wealthy as Birnam, but near enough.
“What of his finances?” I queried, wondering if they’d heard something similar to Lord Gage and how widely his circumstances might be known.
“As I understand it,” Alana began carefully, “he inherited a great deal of debt from his distant cousin along with the title. But he’s also a sensible man and one accustomed to a more modest lifestyle, so he’s not entrenched with the notion of being some great lord with dozens of castles and manors at his disposal.
Philip said he’s already sold a number of minor properties and is moving to parcel off some of the land from his central estate.
He needs approval to break the entitlement on that land in order to do so, but Philip believes his case is strong and moreover practical, considering he didn’t run up the debts in the first place.
If approved, Milngavie should be able to recoup some of his losses and even expand the estate in the future with smart investments. ”
I was somewhat taken aback by the breadth of her knowledge until I realized: “Was that one of his goals in coming here? To confer with the other nobles and obtain their guidance on the matter?”
“And perhaps help influence the decision to allow him to break the entitlement in his favor?” Alana smiled. “Yes. Philip finds him to be a savvy fellow.” Her voice turned wry. “And far preferable to the scapegrace who held the title before.”
If all of this was true—and I had no reason to doubt Philip or Alana’s word on the matter—then it made it even more perplexing that Milngavie would be interested in making Birnam his father-in-law.
Unless Paget had lied. I frowned behind the brim of my teacup. But why?
“What was that row between Trevor and Mr. Thorndike about?” my sister asked, harking back to the incident in the garden. “He seemed to be accusing him of something.”
I finished my tea and leaned forward to set the cup on the tray. “Let’s just say that Thorndike had something he shouldn’t have and his excuse for doing so was less than satisfactory.”
“He is a deeply unpleasant man,” Lorna remarked almost offhandedly, her gaze focused on the delicate neoclassical frieze along the top of the wall. When this comment was met with silence as we waited for her to elaborate, she flushed and cleared her throat.
“How so?” I prompted.
“I just mean, you can tell how unhappy he is. That he seems to believe he’s entitled to much more than he has, and he’s frustrated by his inability to change that.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Or that’s how Alfie described it.”
Gage’s cousin wasn’t wrong, and if anyone should recognize this in Thorndike, it would be Alfie, for he’d exhibited similar feelings once upon a time.
Feelings that I knew he was now slightly ashamed of.
But Thorndike did not have the prospects Alfie had had.
And meeting a man like Birnam, a man who had been born with even fewer prospects than Thorndike, who nevertheless had succeeded in ways that Thorndike couldn’t contrive to achieve, must have only increased his bitterness and dissatisfaction.
What I couldn’t say was whether this had driven him to retaliate and what form this retaliation might have taken.
But it was something to be contemplated.
Having finished our tea, Lorna and Alana elected to join me as I climbed the stairs toward the nursery, each of us eager to see our children.
We spent a pleasant hour and a half in their company, despite Emma and Rory squabbling over a stuffed bunny, before we dispersed to dress for dinner.
For once, I was running ahead of schedule and arrived in the mauve drawing room to find it empty.
However, when I peered through the windows, I saw Lord Milngavie standing alone on the terrace, surveying the garden.
I crossed into the red saloon and out the doors to join him.
As I drew nearer, I realized he wasn’t scrutinizing the garden at all but rather a piece of paper. It was worn and creased, obviously frequently handled, and the brief glimpse I had of it seemed to suggest it was a list of names.
“Apologies, my lady,” he exclaimed at the sight of me, casually folding the paper and tucking it away in the inside pocket of his coat. In his other hand, he clutched a cheroot he’d been smoking, and he glanced about, evidently uncertain what to do with it.
“No need for that,” I demurred with a wave of my hand. “You couldn’t have known I would appear.”
“Perhaps not, but as I understand it, it’s still an abominable habit to expose a gentlewoman to.”
“I assure you, I’ve been exposed to much worse.” I smiled. “I have a brother, after all, and numerous cousins, several of whom you shall soon meet.”
During this declamation, he’d contrived to extinguish the cheroot and now straightened his appearance, smoothing his hair and adjusting his black evening coat.
“I suspect you are merely trying to set me at ease, but I shall accept your kind assurances, for not to do so would be even more unforgivable.”
I laughed. “My brother-in-law speaks highly of your intelligence, and I must concur. If you keep talking like that, you shall soon run circles around your cohorts in the House of Lords.”