Chapter 29
We stumbled to a halt as the seriousness of the situation became clear, then slowly began to advance again, not wanting to provoke Lord Milngavie into pressing his knife into the tender flesh of Matilda’s neck.
Her eyes were wide with terror, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his arm, but she didn’t dare speak.
Meanwhile, Milngavie’s face had transformed into a twisted mask of rage.
He scanned us as we approached, his eyes flashing with fury. “Where’s Birnam?”
Jemmy began to step forward.
“Not you,” he snarled. “The old man. Where is he?”
None of us spoke, and neither did I turn my head, not wanting to take my eyes off the enraged man before us.
“Did he send you in his stead? Too cowardly tae face the consequences o’ his own crimes!”
“Obviously, you sent him a message,” Gage ventured.
“Aye. And it seems once again, he canna be trusted tae follow directions.” In his wrath, his accent had slipped back into his native Scottish brogue. “Or perhaps he doesna care for even his ain children,” he sneered in Matilda’s ear.
“Then you slipped that note under his door,” I accused, attempting to draw his attention away from panic-stricken Matilda.
“O’ course, I did!” he brashly retorted. “And none o’ the rest o’ this would’ve happened if he’d simply done as he was told.”
“Then the oil of vitriol was intended for him.” Weaponless as I was, I decided the best thing I could do was keep him talking while the men tried to formulate a plan.
If Gage could draw his pistol undetected, he might attempt a shot, but he was just as likely to hit Matilda as Milngavie from this angle and distance.
They needed to come up with a different strategy, preferably without alerting Milngavie.
“Listenin’ tae him continue tae deride the Factory Act over dinner, espousing his ain goodliness and it bein’ unnecessary when all the while he works children tae the bone, carin’ not when they become mangled in his machinery, castin’ ’em aside as dispensable.”
“Children like your brother.”
If he wondered how I’d found out about that, he didn’t show it. “Aye! And the twenty-three other children who have been maimed and injured in Birnam’s mills and factories.”
My eyes widened in shock, and I realized that was what the list of names written on that paper had been. The one he’d tucked into his pocket before dinner last night.
“Aye, I keep their names wi’ me. Tae remember.” His jaw tightened. “Tae remind me o’ the justice none o’ ’em received.”
I felt a pang of empathy for those children and their families, and even for Milngavie, whose intentions had probably started out as noble. But over time, they’d become twisted with anger, just as his face twisted now with disgust.
“But listenin’ to Birnam, I realized he didn’t feel even an ounce of remorse or responsibility, and that he was never goin’ tae see the error o’ his ways. So I decided I’d have tae show him myself.”
“You did overhear Miss Whitlock and me talking,” I deduced. “And you decided to take advantage of it.”
He shrugged and the knife must have bitten into Matilda’s skin for she squeaked in alarm. Trevor surged forward, and I had to hold out an arm to stop him, lest he drive Milngavie into taking drastic action.
“I needed a way tae draw Birnam oot, and you provided one.”
“But wasn’t Miss Whitlock intending to inform on him?” I asked in confusion. “Wasn’t she trying to report infractions at Birnam’s mills?”
“She had her chance,” he sneered, making me frown in confusion.
“Or didna ye ken she met wi’ me earlier that afternoon?
We’d arranged it. I ken she visited his mills and factories, so when she tried tae contact Strathblane, I thought she had evidence tae give.
But rather than denounce him, she tried tae defend him.
Told me some sob story aboot how he’d taken her in as an orphan and all the care he’d shown her,” he muttered in a mocking tone before growling.
“So he’s got compassion for the orphaned child o’ his friend but no’ all the factory children he exploits and mangles!
” Evidently, he’d not heard the rumors that Portia Whitlock was Birnam’s daughter, but I didn’t know that it would have made a difference.
As long as in his desire for revenge he’d harmed someone who mattered to Birnam.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gage attempting to draw his pistol from his waistband at the back of his trousers and sought to keep Milngavie focused on me.
“So you threatened her. That’s why she was so uncomfortable seated next to you at dinner.
That’s what she wished to speak with me privately about.
” She’d feared for herself and perhaps Birnam.
But for once he didn’t outright agree with this statement.
“I dinna ken exactly what she wished tae say tae ye. I was willin’ tae believe I’d shocked her intae growin’ a conscience and she intended tae expose Birnam for what he was.
But then she arrived before Birnam, and I couldna let her warn him.
” He shook his head. “She should have done the right thing. She should no’ have gotten in the way. ”
It was clear he felt no guilt for what had happened to her. Just as he intended to feel no guilt for what happened next.
“Let’s hope he mourns you more than his orphan,” he told Matilda, beginning to back into the folly with her.
We were out of time.
“Milngavie, stop! You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded. “Matilda is innocent. She has nothing to do with her father’s mills and factories.”
But he was no longer listening. Whatever his intent was, he was through talking.
We surged forward. Trevor with his makeshift cudgel and Gage with his pistol charged to the front.
We heard glass breaking at the back of the building, and I recalled the precipitous drop down to the cascades below.
By the time Jemmy and I entered the folly, it was to find Milngavie on the ground with Trevor standing over him and Gage leaning out the broken window to peer down at the rocks.
My heart was in my throat and I thought I might be sick, until Gage turned back toward us with an evident look of reprieve. He gestured toward the wall, now open to the air, and I stepped closer to see what he already had.
Matilda looked rumpled and shaken, but she was alive, having been caught by some combination of Lord Gage and Anderley, who now lay crumpled in a heap, partially in the stream and partially along the little-used path workers used to perform any maintenance to the cascade.
They appeared damp and bruised, but overall unharmed.
I collapsed against Gage’s side, and he did his best to support me despite still cradling the lantern and pistol. Jemmy, likewise, seemed relieved. Then I remembered my brother.
He was panting, still standing dazed over Milngavie’s insensible form. His cudgel hung by his side as he stared down at the man now bleeding from a head wound. Evidently, Trevor had floored him.
I gently touched his arm, though it took several attempts at saying his name to gain his attention. “She’s alive.” He blinked at me, making me repeat myself again. I glanced down at the tree branch. “And I think you can put that down now.”
He dropped it at my urging and then moved toward the window to see for himself that Matilda was safe.
Locating the knife now discarded on the floor, I took the precaution of kicking it away from Milngavie, lest he regain consciousness, and knelt down to examine the wound.
It was bleeding profusely, but the blow didn’t seem to have cracked his skull.
His pulse was strong, and he would no doubt survive.
Though he would suffer from a crushing headache for several days. It was less than he deserved!
Recognizing that we needed to stanch the bleeding, I retrieved the knife and turned away to lift the skirts of my gown in order to cut away a portion of my linen undergarments. Then, careful to avoid the pool of blood forming beneath his supine form, I pressed the cloth to his head.
A short time later, those below had made their way around to the path outside the folly. Trevor and Jemmy rushed out to meet them while Gage ushered one of his father’s footmen inside.
“Let him take over that,” he told me.
I passed the duty to the footman, knowing he would care for him until we arranged to have Milngavie carried up to the manor where Dr. Clarke, who was already in attendance, could examine him. That Milngavie would be placed under lock and key and guard went without saying.
Gage passed me his handkerchief so that I could wipe what blood I could from my hands.
Draping his arm around my waist, he joined me in the doorway, observing the warm reunion.
Poor Matilda was crying as she clung to first her brother and then Trevor.
Lord Gage looked on indulgently, his evening clothes damp and soiled.
I had never been so happy for him to make an appearance.
But then he had to spoil it by turning to us with a sardonic lift of his brows. “Waited until rather the last minute to solve this, didn’t you?”
I could only sigh resignedly, allowing my head to slump sideways against Gage’s upper arm.
When Birnam arrived, blustering, “What on earth is the meanin’ o’ this?!” I simply closed my eyes, allowing the rest of them to explain.
—
The upheaval caused by the events at the folly might have threatened to ruin the evening’s enjoyment, but in the end, they only seemed to heighten it.
The villain had been caught, and Matilda—the damsel in distress—was fussed over and cosseted and ultimately chose to return to the ball after changing her gown.
She remained close to Trevor’s and her brother’s sides, while the other Birnams remained conspicuously absent.