Chapter 27
Gage had been correct. A good night’s sleep—and his thorough attentions—had helped immensely.
I woke refreshed and with a renewed determination to unmask Miss Whitlock’s murderer.
Even though I was no closer to figuring out the conundrum of who had done it or why, I at least no longer felt daunted by the task before me.
Of course, it may have also helped that I had so many friends and family members I looked forward to seeing.
We had asked our guests to arrive by four o’clock to allow them plenty of time to settle in and refresh themselves before the evening’s ball.
And to give our staff time to recuperate before taking up their duties for the ball.
Naturally, the exception to this was the kitchen staff, who were already hard at work preparing the evening’s meal when I stepped belowstairs after breakfast to confer with Lord Gage’s French cook to ensure all was in order.
One of the first of our new guests to arrive around midmorning was Lord Henry Kerr, my husband’s half brother.
I had but a few minutes to chat with him before I was being swept into the arms of my Aunt Cait, Uncle Duncan, cousin Morven, and the rest of their branch of the family.
Soon after, my dear friend Charlotte made her appearance, looking radiant, as always, on the arm of my cousin Rye.
In a few weeks, they were to celebrate their first wedding anniversary.
Close behind them hobbled Charlotte’s great-aunt, Lady Bearsden, escorted by one of our footmen.
From the manner in which she clung to his arm, you would have been forgiven for thinking she required assistance managing the stairs.
But although she was an octogenarian and carried a cane with a gold figurehead, I knew it was more the footman’s handsomeness than her knees that kept her gripping his arm.
The flush that had crested the young footman’s cheeks only confirmed it.
“Kiera, my dear,” she exclaimed upon seeing me, releasing the footman, who scurried back to his other duties. Her snowy white hair peeked out from beneath her bonnet. “I have been looking forward to this for ever so long!”
“The journey wasn’t too much for you?” I asked, knowing it was no small feat for someone her age, no matter how youthful she seemed.
“Oh, fiddlesticks! I would have traveled twice as far, if need be. Now where is that good-looking husband of yours.” Catching sight of him, her eyes twinkled with delight, and a flirtatious smile crossed her lips.
Amusement crinkled the corner of Gage’s eyes. “Lady Bearsden, what a pleasure. Now our joy is complete.”
She twittered as he bowed over her hand.
“Now aren’t you incorrigible,” she cooed.
“Much like my Lumpy.” Her much grieved late husband.
“But far better looking, God rest his soul.” Her gaze shifted to Lord Gage, who stood next to his son.
“I suppose he comes by it naturally. You always did have the ladies eating out of your hand.”
My father-in-law laughed as he made a show of bowing over her hand even more extravagantly than his son had.
Charlotte and I exchanged smiles, both glad to see her great-aunt in such good spirits. I knew she had taken ill in the late spring, and Charlotte had been worried about her slow recovery. However, Lady Bearsden seemed in fine form now.
“As I understand it, there’s an old friend of yours already here,” I told her. “He confessed delight at having the chance to reconnect with you.”
“Oh?” She seemed intrigued.
“Lord Strathblane.”
Her eyes lit with recognition. “Strathblane. Why, I haven’t seen that old rascal in, oh, it must be ages.” She glanced around her eagerly as if expecting him to appear. “It will be good to reminisce.”
“After we’ve rested and refreshed ourselves,” Charlotte said, urging her great-aunt deeper into the great hall.
“I’ll show them up,” I told Mrs. Taylor, seeing that no other carriages were queued or approaching. This would give me a chance to explain the distressing events of earlier in the week before the gossip reached their ears.
We’d just reached the south staircase when Lorna intercepted us, embracing Charlotte much as I had.
“The three hens are together again,” Lady Bearsden proclaimed with a delighted click of her tongue. “Why, you three remind me of my own brood at your age. Oh, the mischief we made. Lumpy was forever shaking his head at our antics.”
“Make,” Charlotte corrected with an arch of her eyebrows. “You still make mischief.”
Her great-aunt chuckled to herself, making Lorna and me turn toward each other curiously. However, Charlotte was tight-lipped, and Rye’s expression seemed suspiciously blank.
“Well, we had a rather unfortunate event occur earlier this week,” I began, knowing that at any moment I might be summoned away to greet another carriage full of arriving guests. But I didn’t even make it past this sentence before being interrupted.
“Kiera,” my brother-in-law called, emerging from the green drawing room where he must have been perusing the letter he held folded in his hands.
Philip drew up short at the sight of the others, pausing long enough to greet them properly, before turning back to me.
“I need to speak with you and Gage.” The word immediately was implied in his tone.
“Of course.” I hesitated a moment, realizing I couldn’t leave my last statement unexplained. “Lorna, would you…?”
She agreed, understanding I was asking her to do more than show them to their rooms. “Go on. I know where they’ve been assigned.”
I clasped her hand gratefully. “Thank you. I’ll see you all at tea,” I called over my shoulder as I hurried after Philip.
“What is it?” I asked him as we made our way down the corridor past the library.
“When you mentioned the spate of acid attacks that have been occurring in Glasgow and elsewhere, I took it upon myself to write to my secretary in London to see if he had heard anything about them. As you know, Cowper always has his ear to the ground.”
I nodded, recognizing that, in his position, Philip had to be made aware of the developments surrounding any number of subjects promptly, and as such he hired men like Cowper to keep him abreast of such issues.
“Well, he said that word is, a young woman had been attempting to make contact about the matter with my colleagues who have been involved with the revisions to the Factory Act.”
I turned to meet his gaze in astonishment. “Miss Whitlock?”
“I surmised the same thing.” His dark eyes were reticent. “Could that be what she wanted to talk to you about so urgently the evening of her demise?”
“That seems a logical assumption, doesn’t it?
” I replied as a sinking feeling filled my stomach.
For if Miss Whitlock had wished to speak with a member of parliament about the Factory Act, and she’d been afraid to do so, then it was possibly because she had something to report that Birnam would not like.
Perhaps something she’d learned during one of her visits to his mills and factories.
Philip and I found Gage and his father in his study.
The windows there overlooked the front lawn and the circular drive where all of our guests would be arriving.
We quickly informed them of the matters we’d already discussed as well as our own deductions.
I could feel Gage’s eyes on me, weighing and assessing how much this new information had rattled me, but I was determined to maintain my equanimity.
“Did your secretary mention which men she contacted specifically?” Lord Gage asked with a troubled frown.
“No. But I know that Strathblane is involved in the revisions,” Philip said.
This surprised me, for he’d not seemed to express any interest in the matter whenever Birnam or someone else brought up the Factory Act. Was this a feint or was he trying to hide something?
Then Philip’s voice turned wry. “Or he’s supposed to be.”
“You doubt it?” Gage queried.
My brother-in-law paused, seeming to choose his words with care.
“Lord Strathblane is nearing eighty and he’s noticeably slowed down.
One can hardly blame him. But…rather than retire from the field, he seems to be relying more and more heavily on the work of his secretaries and protégés, and calling their work and opinions his own. ”
“Then if Miss Whitlock did attempt to contact him, you think her correspondence may not have been handled by Strathblane but a secretary or protégé?”
“We should still ask him,” Lord Gage prompted, but his attention was then diverted by the cloud of dust presaging the arrival of another carriage filled with guests. “Later.”
The opportunity came much later, in fact.
Over tea. And by then, Lady Bearsden had remade Lord Strathblane’s acquaintance.
The two of them sat side by side on one of the settees in the red saloon, cackling like crows, appearing as if a day hadn’t passed since they’d last seen each other.
There was a decided sparkle in both their eyes which made me suspect they might not have just been acquaintances or even friends.
Whatever the case, in each other’s company they both looked a decade younger.
And it was nearly impossible to divert their attention to other matters.
My smile had turned strained as I’d tried and failed for a third time to get a clear answer from Lord Strathblane in regards to Miss Whitlock. Finally, I had to appeal to Lady Bearsden, pressing a hand to her arm. “My lady, please. I truly do not wish to intrude, but it is important.”
Lady Bearsden seemed to recognize the pleading note in my voice that Strathblane had missed. “Miss Whitlock is the young lady who was killed in such a dreadful manner?”
“Yes,” I gasped, glad that someone now grasped the seriousness of my query.
She turned to tap Strathblane in the middle of his chest with the fan she’d been wielding against the afternoon’s warmth. “Answer her, Miles. Did this Miss Whitlock write to you?”