Chapter 28
I told Gage this, and while he didn’t seem to feel the same necessity to locate Milngavie I did, he still conceded to my wishes.
Deeming it was late enough in the evening that our absence from the receiving line would not be remarked upon, we left Lord Gage to greet any late arrivals and spread out to circulate among the crowd spaced throughout the various rooms of the manor.
He set off down the corridor toward the green drawing room where card tables had been set up and the red saloon while I mingled with those gathered in the great hall.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and part of me was relieved to see that Miss Whitlock’s murder and the ensuing investigation had not dampened everyone’s spirits.
However, another part of me was rather saddened by how little Portia Whitlock’s passing appeared to have affected the world.
It seemed the lights should be at least a little dimmer, the joy just a bit more subdued.
But then these people were not of her social strata.
Most of them hadn’t even known of her existence.
I supposed it was foolish to expect any show of emotion.
I was gliding past a group of matrons surveying the dancers when I spied Anderley in the doorway. He was clearly searching the crowd for someone, and as I moved toward him, he nodded, stepping to the side out of sight. When I joined him, he was hovering near the entrance to the dining room.
“I finally cornered Armstrong,” he said.
“What did he say?” I asked, conscious that Milngavie’s valet might possess critical information about his employer.
“He swore he doesn’t know anything about Milngavie’s correspondence.
That it’s not part of his duties. But he admitted that he must have mentioned the bottle of vitriol McClintock left in the laundry on the same evening it occurred while he was shaving Milngavie before dinner.
” He arched one sardonic eyebrow. “I gather he’s a chatterer. ”
“He’s certain?”
Anderley straightened, sensing the earnestness of my request. “Yes. He swears he never spoke of it again until Milngavie asked him about it a few days later and instructed him to tell us what he’d seen.”
Then Milngavie had known about the bottle of oil of vitriol before Miss Whitlock was murdered. He had known and when it had not come to light earlier had sought to misdirect us by having his manservant helpfully inform us of its existence and where it had come from—a Birnam staff member.
“Tell Gage,” I directed Anderley, suggesting where he could most likely be found. “And then help us locate Milngavie.”
He nodded, hurrying off while I returned to the great hall, intent on locating Lady Bearsden.
I’d last seen her dancing with Lord Strathblane, but the music had since switched to a quadrille, and I did not spy either of them in the figures.
Happily, I did spot Charlotte conversing with my Aunt Cait.
“Have you seen your great-aunt?” I inserted myself into their conversation to ask. They both turned to me in surprise.
“Kiera,” Aunt Cait proclaimed, recovering first. “You’re flushed, dear. Is anything amiss?”
“No, of course not,” I replied with a forced smile that was probably far from convincing, not wishing to cause a scene. “But I do need to speak to Lady Bearsden. To ask her a question.”
If Charlotte found my answers odd or stilted, she didn’t let on. “Last I saw her, Auntie was headed out to the terrace for some fresh air.”
“Thank you!” I exclaimed, striding off before I could be waylaid by anyone else.
Slowing my steps, I sauntered into the red saloon, finding a number of guests partaking of the refreshments laid out on the central table or scattered about the room engaged in discussion.
I smiled at a number of them as they glanced toward me but avoided being drawn into any conversations.
Exiting out onto the terrace, I heard Lady Bearsden’s musical laughter coming from the right.
Lord Strathblane passed me as I made my way in that direction, bowing shallowly as we crossed paths before continuing inside.
“Kiera, dear,” the older lady proclaimed at the sight of me, gesturing toward the chair opposite hers at the wrought iron table. “Come sit with me for a moment. Miles has just gone to fetch me some more ratafia. You look flushed, dear. Have your hostess duties been running you ragged?”
I ignored her queries, but took the seat, leaning across the table toward her. “Lady Bearsden, you mentioned being Lord Milngavie’s neighbor.”
“Why, yes.” She waved her hand in the direction her companion had gone. “Strathblane was just telling me what a bright future he anticipates for this Milngavie despite the disadvantages of his early life.”
“Yes, though Milngavie told me he doesn’t see them that way.”
“Truly?” She seemed much struck by this, and I felt the pulse of irritation I imagined anyone born to less status or wealth must feel whenever the nobility assumed their lives were nothing but toil and tribulation, or perhaps somehow less worthy.
But Lady Bearsden’s next remark proved I’d misjudged her.
“I would have thought that after what happened to his brother, he would feel quite differently.”
“His brother?” I repeated, for Milngavie had said nothing about having a brother. He’d only mentioned his cousins to me.
“Oh, yes.” She leaned across the table toward me. “It’s quite tragic. He was injured in a terrible accident while working in one of the mills. And just eight years old!” She sat back, tapping her chin. “From what I recall, he died soon after.”
My heart stilled at the tragedy of it, and then it began to race as all the pieces began to coalesce. “Who owned the mill?”
She blinked at the strident tone of my voice, forcing me to repeat my question.
“Who owned the mill where his brother was injured?”
“Why, I don’t think I know.” She turned toward an approaching figure. “But perhaps Strathblane…”
“Who owned the mill where Milngavie’s brother was injured?” I turned to demand of him.
He fumbled the glasses he held, nearly dropping them. “The mill?” he repeated somewhat stupidly. “His brother? I don’t think I know.”
Rather than waste any more time trying to explain, I hastened back into the saloon, trusting they would forgive my rudeness later once I’d enlightened them.
Once Milngavie learned we were asking questions about him, as he must inevitably, there was no telling how he would react.
Particularly if his target all along had been Birnam.
Entering the house, I nearly collided with my husband. “Slow down, Kiera,” he proclaimed, grasping my upper arms, lest I topple over. “What’s the rush? Anderley already spoke to me. And just because…”
“It’s Milngavie,” I hissed, conscious of the eyes and ears surrounding us.
Something in my tone must have alerted him to the fact this was no longer a supposition, for he ceased trying to dissuade me.
I briefly explained what I’d just learned from Lady Bearsden, providing the context from my earlier tête-à-tête with Milngavie.
“Why would he mention his cousins working in a mill but not his brother? Why hide that truth from me if there wasn’t a very good reason to conceal it? ”
Gage’s brow had lowered in concern as he turned to survey the others in the room. “We need to find him.” His gaze returned to mine. “But not cause a panic.”
I inhaled a ragged breath, trying to slow my heart rate. “Right.”
“He’s not in the card room. Let’s check the drawing room and the great hall again.”
But after making a circuit of both, he was still nowhere to be found.
“Where could he have gone?” I asked, talking to myself as much as my husband. We had greeted him earlier in the evening when he arrived, but neither of us had seen him since. Could he have gone somewhere quieter? Perhaps the library or his bedchamber.
It was then that Trevor wandered over carrying two glasses of punch. “Have either of you seen Matilda?” he asked in evident confusion.
My stomach pitched.
“She was just standing under the balcony in the great hall waiting for me, but now I can’t find her.”
Gage sent me a speaking glance, letting me know he was entertaining the same fear.
“What?” Trevor demanded to know. “What is it?”
While Gage sought to explain about Milngavie, I searched my brain and our surroundings for inspiration.
Though I’d ignored her at first, I took another look at Mrs. Birnam seated near one corner of the red saloon.
She was watching us but trying not to draw our attention.
Her gaze jerked to the side whenever I peered her way. I had to wonder why.
Trusting the men would follow, I approached the formidable woman.
She turned to receive us with a sour expression, making it clear she did not wish our company.
This I could ignore. It was the smug note hinted at in the corner of her lips that made my skin flush, and my chest tighten, making it difficult to draw a full breath.
“Mrs. Birnam, where is your daughter?”
She opened her fan to ply it before her, taking her time in answering. “I don’t know what makes you think I’m answerable to you, but your continuous intrusions into my and my family’s lives are tiresome.” She waved the fan in dismissal. “Now, go away.”
My heart rate spiked, her answer all but confirming my worst fears. “Where are Matilda and Milngavie?” I demanded.
She turned away. “That is none of your concern.”
“It most certainly is,” Trevor interjected, slamming the cups he held down on a nearby table, heedless of how their contents sloshed over their sides. “Because he killed Miss Whitlock.”
This seemed to give her pause.
“Where is she?” Trevor demanded, his voice rising so that we were now gaining an audience. “I swear that if you don’t tell me…”
“He took her out into the gardens.”
Mrs. Birnam scowled at her son, who was seated a short distance away.
He rose to his feet to nod toward the French doors. “That way.”
Trevor and Gage immediately began to move off in that direction while I trailed after them.
“My lady!”
I turned back toward Jemmy as he hurried toward me. I was anxious to be away.
His eyes were wide with worry for his sister. “It was Milngavie who told me about that folly.”
I grasped his arm in gratitude, for it was a large garden, and with night having fallen, it was dark beyond the lanterns which had been lit nearest the house. “Come with us,” I urged him.
He hesitated for a moment but joined me as I scurried through the doors out onto the terrace. Our footsteps pounded down the steps after Gage and Trevor, entirely heedless of how much attention we were now attracting.
“He may have taken her to the folly,” I explained to Gage once we’d caught up with him.
It was as good a guess as any, for I’d met him myself as he was returning down that path one morning. Though he might not have waited until he reached the folly to harm her. After all, the woods were dark, and each moment longer they were gone, the more at risk he became of discovery.
I supposed it depended on his intentions. Did he intend to somehow lure Birnam out here or was he simply planning to kill Matilda in vengeance like he had Miss Whitlock? The latter filled me with terror, for he might act more quickly. Indeed, the deed might already be done.
The very thought threatened to halt me in my tracks, but the knowledge that Matilda’s fate lay in our hands kept my feet moving as I led them in the direction I prayed they’d gone.
Gage peeled away to issue instructions to a footman, hopefully requesting he fetch reinforcements in the form of Anderley and possibly Philip and Lord Gage.
By the time I’d passed the line of shrubbery, Gage had returned carrying two lanterns.
I glanced at him in question. “He’ll see us coming long before we see him.”
“Yes, but the sound of the four of us moving through the forest is already likely to alert him, and this way at least he can’t sneak up on us in the dark.”
I couldn’t fault his logic, but I did wish I had my Hewson percussion pistol with me. It would have made a rather bulky accessory to my ball gown, it was true, but at least I wouldn’t now be weaponless.
“Are you armed?” I asked, curious if at least one of us was prepared.
“Yes. It seemed…prudent.” One corner of his lips curled wryly. “And regrettably, I was correct.”
A loud cracking noise resounded behind us, causing Gage and me to whirl around. However, it was only my brother now wielding a sizable branch he’d apparently rent from a nearby tree. “Now I’m armed, too,” he proclaimed with deadly intent, leaving me in no doubt that he would use it if necessary.
Jemmy eyed him with misgiving but then glanced about on the forest floor as if looking for a similar weapon.
Rather than respond, Gage and I turned to resume our progress. For what could we say? The woman Trevor loved was in danger. Of course, he would be desperate to protect her however he could.
“If Milngavie is nearby, he may have heard that,” Gage warned me in a low voice.
There was no need to tell me, for I’d already had the same thought.
My eyes peered into the woods surrounding us, trying to peel back the shadows crowded under its canopy to see what might lurk beyond.
The only sound was that of our shuffling through the leaves and undergrowth and the crunch of twigs.
The temperature had cooled considerably, and I found myself longing for a shawl to cover my bare arms and décolletage.
The air was scented with damp earth and the stench of my own fear, for the nearer we drew to the folly, the more apprehensive I became that we would discover something dreadful. That we were too late.
Eventually, we neared the final curve in the path around which I knew the folly would emerge.
I could already hear the faint trickle of the stream as it tumbled over the artificial cascade.
At first, we could see nothing but the squat form of the building, but then as we drew nearer, the folly’s windows caught the lantern light, and the outline of a figure emerged in the doorway.
No, two figures. The second had an arm locked around the torso of the first, holding her back against him.
In his other hand, he clutched a knife to her throat.