Chapter 26 #3
Bree tapped her chin in contemplation. “I think ’tis safe tae say that Miss Whitlock did take the blue room staircase, since ’tis directly off her room.”
“But it doesn’t really make sense for Birnam to have,” Anderley mused. “His bedchamber is on the opposite side of the building.”
“He told us he came down the north staircase,” I replied.
“The oil of vitriol,” Gage said, switching topics.
“We now know that Miss Birnam brought a bottle that was likely the one used against Miss Whitlock. Several witnesses saw the Birnam maid, McClintock, place the bottle on a shelf in the laundry during late afternoon on the day in question. What we don’t know is who later removed it. ”
Bree crossed her arms. “Seems tae me it had tae be a member o’ staff. A maid or a footman or the like. Someone else woulda been noticed.”
“Not necessarily,” Anderley contended. “The staircase that leads up past the study and library is just around the corner. I reckon at the right hour, someone could slip in and out undetected fairly easily.”
Bree tilted her head to acknowledge this. “Early in the evenin’, most o’ the staff woulda been in the servants’ hall or kitchens, ’cept those waitin’ on the family and guests in the dinin’ room and drawin’ room. Nay one woulda been near the laundry.”
“Then that’s probably when he took it.” Gage sank deeper in his chair, running his index finger over his bottom lip in thought. “But how did he know about it? And what prompted him to take it?”
I worked at the fastening on my sapphire bracelet, having had enough of the way it had been irritating the sensitive skin on my wrist all night. “Was his intended victim truly Miss Whitlock or had he planned instead to attack Mr. Birnam? Don’t forget the forged note.”
Bree jolted forward. “But Birnam was late.”
I stilled, picturing the missive slipped under Birnam’s door in my mind. “He was late. And Miss Whitlock must have been early.”
“Was the original plan to attack Birnam and leave him for Miss Whitlock and you to find?” Anderley ventured. “Perhaps the killer even hoped Miss Whitlock would be blamed.”
Or me. The words remained unspoken.
“But how did the culprit expect not to be caught? Or did he not realize that an attack with oil of vitriol is rarely lethal?” I was baffled.
And so, it seemed, were the others, for at first no one put forth an explanation.
Why would you attack someone so viciously, but use a method where the victim could later identify you?
Had he or she expected to garner enough sympathy not to be convicted or to be given a light sentence?
Or had he simply not thought that far through his actions?
“Maybe…” Anderley began but then hesitated to continue. “Maybe he had another means to finish the job if the acid didn’t work.”
“You mean, perhaps he had a knife or a pistol?” The tone of Gage’s voice told me that he thought this idea held merit.
“Do we ken if anyone is carryin’ a weapon?
Anyone except you, that is.” Bree was speaking to Anderley, but the same statement could have been said about Gage, for I knew he often concealed a pistol on his person.
Even I had taken to tucking a Hewson percussion pistol in my reticule whenever I went out, though I had not done so here in my father-in-law’s home.
“I would imagine a number of the gentlemen packed knives and pistols, though they might not carry them while in the house,” Gage answered. “And of course, the armaments room is stocked with a number of rifles and assorted knives, but I’m not aware of any of them having gone missing.”
“Paget is carrying a rather wicked-looking blade,” Anderley supplied.
“So really, it could be anyone,” I summarized, feeling my spirits collapse along with my posture.
“Perhaps what we need is sleep,” Gage said, presumably after surveying all of our discouraged expressions, for I was not looking at him but the floor. “I’ll assist Mrs. Gage,” he told Bree before dismissing Anderley as well. “The two of you should also get your rest.”
I heard them file out and then Gage took hold of my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Come,” he said gently. “Let’s stop thinking for a while.”
“How on earth do you propose we do…?”
I never got to finish my sentence, for his mouth captured mine.
At first, I resisted, too exhausted and exasperated, but his gentle persistence lulled me into compliance and then eager participation as he tempted, teased, and coaxed me with his lips, his teeth, his tongue.
He always had been difficult to resist. When finally we separated, my heart beat faster, and my worries had dimmed in the face of the needs now making themselves known throughout the rest of my body.
“That’s how,” he said, answering my unfinished question. His pale blue eyes heated with intent. “Distraction is what you need, Kiera. What we both need.” He shook his head. “Or else I don’t see either of us getting much sleep tonight.”
He pulled me close again, exhaling a long breath. “So let’s set everything aside for the moment and just take comfort in each other.”
And so we did.