Marblestone Mansion, Book 4 Page 11

  Prescot carefully put the cane in the coat closet, next to the rifle the MacGreagors kept at the ready, and promptly forgot about it. Autumn meant plenty of coats and cloaks would soon be added, and he was concerned about not having enough room for then all.

  The receiving line consisted of Hannish and Leesil, Moan and Elizabeth, and Claymore and Abigail…once Abigail finally came downstairs to join them. It was up to Hannish to introduce the cousins to their guests. Abigail couldn’t decide if the children should stand in the receiving line or not, and at the last minute decided not, much to the children’s relief.

  “What a lovey hat,” Abigail said to Pearl Hughes.

  “Abigail, dearest, you gave me this hat for Christmas last year,” said Pearl.

  “Did I?” Abigail asked. “No wonder I like it.” She giggled and then welcomed the rather plain looking man who had Loretta on his arm. She watched the couple head for the ballroom and then whispered to Claymore, “It must be true then. Our Loretta Collins is going to marry the druggist.”

  “Good for her,” Claymore said.

  “I say he is getting the best of the bargain. Loretta is a dear woman any man would be proud to call his wife.”

  “Men normally get the best end of the bargain, my dear,” Claymore confessed.

  “Yes, well we must get Pearl married off as well, and you are going to help me.”

  With a twinkle in his eye, Claymore squeezed her hand. “I am sure you do not need my help. You are quite capable of meddling in her affairs, until you have done the deed yourself, my dear.”

  “I do not meddle,” said Abigail, lifting her nose in the air just a little. The door opened next to a stream of people. She welcomed Sheriff Thompson and his wife, Lillian, banker Goodman and his wife Maude, and then commented on Vivian Mabs’ gown. She complimented Wilma Miller too, saying the color of her dress looked splendid on her one moment, and then told Claymore that Wilma looked positively ghastly in that color, the next.

  *

  At seventeen and fifteen, Lenox and David were far more interested in eating the treats spread out on a long table near the door, than in meeting the guests or dancing. Wade wore a vest with a tin badge pinned to it and had his finger gun at the ready should there be trouble. The way he wondered around and carefully looked all the men over, it was a sure bet he would find the culprit first.

  As for Gloria Whitfield, it was the first time she had an occasion to meet the two MacGreagor girls and right away, she was more engaging. Janna and Mary were not twins, but they were only ten months apart and were closer to Gloria’s age. It wasn’t long before the three of them were off in a corner, giggling at the men, commenting on the women and trying not to attract the attention of any of the adults.

  As soon as the orchestra began to play, Douglas Swinton and Paulette started the dancing and soon other couples joined in. They were about to take their second turn about the room when Paulette tripped and almost fell. Swinton managed to keep her upright and quickly began again as if nothing happened, but the discontent in his eyes was obvious.

  Gretchen stood just inside the door and the more she saw of Swinton, the less she liked the looks of him. Just as he had at Cathleen’s wedding, Swinton’s eyes sought those of other women on the dance floor. She was now more convinced than ever – his affection for Paulette was not genuine.

  For the next few hours, Swinton danced with Paulette’s mother, her younger sisters, Leesil, Abigail and several other women in the room, but seldom again with Paulette. Yet, he returned to her after each dance, whispered in her ear and made her laugh.

  With no more guests coming and the hour getting late, Prescot too slipped in to watch all the merriment. Half the men had a bit too much to drink and were becoming silly, while their wives rolled their eyes and tried to settle them down. Even so, everyone seemed to be having a good time and when Abigail nodded to him, he returned with a smile and his nod of approval.

  Suddenly, a shot rang out.

  Prescot bolted out the door, raced down the hall, across the parlor and into the foyer. The closet door was open, young Mr. Wade sat on the floor wide-eyed with the cane gun pointed right at him, and smoke was still seeping out of the barrel.

  “Are you hurt?” Prescot asked. He shoved the gun away, knelt down and carefully looked the boy over. He didn’t see any blood, and when Wade shook his head, Prescot took the child into his arms. “Thank God.”

  Tears began to stream down Wade’s face. “I tried to reach my cowboy hat, Mr. Prescot. I dinna mean…”

  Moan knelt down beside Prescot and took his son into his arms. “‘Tis not your fault, laddie,” Moan soothed. “Are you certain you are not hurt?”

  “Nay, Father.” By then, the room was full of people, all terrified and all relieved no one was hurt. Wade reached for his mother and was surprised by the tears in her eyes when she lifted him out of his father’s arms. “Dinna cry, Mother.”

  Hannish picked up the cane gun and handed it to Swinton. The expression on his face was anything but pleasant. “Perhaps you might leave that at home when next you come.”

  “I shall,” Swinton promised. “I very deeply apologize,” he added. He touched the back of the boy’s head and looked genuinely sorrowful.

  “That’s one way to end a party,” Abigail said, causing most of them to laugh.

  “She is right,” Swinton said. “It is time I went home.” He waited for Prescot to get his coat and hat, let Shepard help him into his coat and them put on his top hat. “Good evening ladies…and gentlemen.” He winked at Paulette and then walked out the door Shepard held open for him.

  Outside, where the drivers waited, Swinton’s driver ran to fetch his carriage. Swinton glanced back at the foyer, saw Paulette watching him through the window, smiled and tipped his hat again. When he looked up, someone in a second floor window caught his eye. One of the servants was watching him too, one he had not noticed before. He smiled, but the servant simply closed the curtain. Swinton shrugged, turned around and climbed into his carriage.

  Gretchen moved the curtain aside a little and watched until the carriage was out of sight.

  *

  After all the guests were gone, Prescot and Hannish studied a chip in the marble wall. “I suspect the bullet hit here, bounced off and landed…” Hannish said.

  “Here,” Prescot said, picking it up off the middle marble window seat.

  Hannish estimated the path of the shot with his eyes and shuddered. “It must have just missed Wade’s head.”

  “I have never seen anything quite so frightening,” Prescot whispered. “What sort of fellow carries a loaded gun wherever he goes?”

  “He might need it in Cripple Creek, but I find it unsettlin’ he would bring it here.”

  “So do I.”

  Hannish rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. “We keep a loaded gun in the closet. Suppose Wade gets hold of it?”

  “I was just thinking about that. William is growing up too, yet if there is trouble, we may not have time to load the shotgun.”

  “True. We best build a gun rack too high for the laddies to reach. See to it, will you?”

  Prescot nodded and then watched Hannish head up to bed. He sat down on the window seat and let himself fully comprehend what just happened. He blamed himself for not being more careful. It would not happen again, he vowed. He shook the feeling of dread out of his mind, stood up and went to help the servants finish clearing the dirty dishes. There would be plenty of cleaning to do the next day, but for now, he intended to have them set the dishes in the sink and go off to bed.

  *

  In London, the morning had just begun. The new secretary Solicitor John Crisp hired worked tirelessly trying to organize the chaos that covered nearly everything in the two-room office. He found little scraps of paper tucked here and there, read them and then stuffed the important ones in his pocket. He swept the cobwebs out of the corners and cleaned the carpet as best he could, but there was little he could do about
the nearly worn out trail a host of visitors had left walking from the door to the only chair normally cleared off enough for anyone to sit.

  The one place he had not cleaned was the top of Crisp’s desk and now that the solicitor called to say he would be coming in late, the time had come to see what was there. Some of the papers, the secretary recognized as current cases, but then he found an odd letter from America. He slowly sat in Crisp’s chair, opened the letter and read it.

  With a sly grin, he put the letter back where he found it, went to his own desk, placed a call and said only these words, “She is in a Colorado prison.”

  *

  As they planned, the Whitfield and MacGreagor Construction Company began to build a warehouse first. If they could buy in bulk, they could sell the houses at a lower cost, therefore passing the savings to their customers. A plot of land for just such a structure was easily gained outside of town, with room for future expansion if need be. The workers managed to get the foundation laid before winter threatened, had the side frames in place and the roof nearly finished. Even so, each day brought them closer to winter storms, so Hannish hired more men to enclose it before the wood got wet. As soon as that was finished, he planned to have the men carry the surplus stacks of lumber inside to keep them dry as well.

  Claymore stayed in the downtown office most of the time and with Moan’s help, kept the books and ordered supplies. Occasionally, Hannish came to the office to join them for the noon meal at the Antlers Hotel, just as he did the day after Abigail’s party.

  “Where is Moan?” Hannish asked, taking the chair on the other side of Claymore’s desk.

  “He has gone to meet the judge’s secretary. I have little for him to do just now anyway.”

  “Do you mean you’re not keeping him busy spendin’ all our money?”

  Claymore rolled his eyes. “He is so efficient; I can’t think what to have him do next.”

  “In that case, suppose I ask him to keep the books and pay the bills for Marblestone. Leesil finds it frustratin’ and ‘twould be a great burden lifted off my shoulders.”

  “Splendid idea. If that doesn’t keep him busy enough, I’ll have him do mine as well.”

  “Are you not hungry?”

  Claymore stood up, grabbed his coat off the rack and headed out the door. “Always.”

  “I have a question,” Hannish hurried to say, following him out the door. “How did you keep Charles from touchin’ your guns when he was a laddie?”

  Claymore walked down the stairs and opened the door to the outside. “I threatened to make a eunuch out of Charles once. Of course, he was sixteen by then and should have known better, but he wouldn’t wait to practice until I came home. He has grown up some since, but...”

  *

  All through the meal in the hotel dining room, Hannish remained unusually quiet. Finally, Claymore asked, “What is it? Has something gone wrong at the warehouse?”

  “Nay, I am troubled over something else. When Mr. Swinton came to take Paulette on the train ride up Pikes Peak, Traitor growled at him. I feared it would happen again, so last night we kept Traitor upstairs where he could not be a bother.”

  “Growling is unusual for your dog?”

  “Very. I have never known him to growl at anyone. Traitor even showed his teeth. I wonder, is there no disagreeable gossip about Swinton around town?”

  Claymore chuckled. “If there were, Abigail would be the first to repeat it.”

  Hannish set his fork on his plate and reached for his teacup. “How many lads in Colorado carry a cane gun?”

  “I doubt anyone else does. They are quite expensive.”

  “I cannae help but wonder if Swinton brought the gun to Marblestone to show it off, or has he a more nefarious reason.”

  “I suspect he brought it to exhibit his wealth, although he cannot have much left after buying my gold mines.”

  “I believe I shall take a ride to Palmer Lake. If he intends to marry into this family, I wish to know a great deal more about him.”

  *

  It was a safe bet Swinton had gone back to Cripple Creek to oversee his gold mines, so after lunch, Hannish mounted his horse and rode to Palmer Lake. He could hardly blame the man for wanting to live in that small farming community. The wheat fields yielded enough grain to feed a large part of Colorado and as he rode past, it appeared the crops had all been gleaned before the first snow. Just as he crested the last hill, the beauty of the pristine lake, surrounded by pine trees at the base of the Pikes Peak foothills, took his breath away.

  Hannish halted his horse, took a deep breath of fresh mountain air and slowly let it out. He was tempted to stay a while longer and admire the view, but he urged his horse forward, walked him down the hill and then up the central thoroughfare, until he found a small restaurant. He dismounted, tied his horse and went inside. The place was practically deserted, but it was the middle of the afternoon and he expected that. He took off his hat, ran his fingers through his wavy dark hair and found a table.

  “Mr. MacGreagor?” the waitress asked as soon as he sat down.

  He stood up, didn’t recognize her and felt bad about it. “Forgive me, but I dinna know your name.”

  “I am Madeline. We have never been introduced, but I know who you are…everyone does. Your wife used to come here with her orphanage committee. Please sit down.”

  He retook his seat. “I fear they have given up that notion.”

  “We heard that. What can I get you?”

  “A cup of tea and a little conversation. Will you join me?”

  Madeline glanced toward the kitchen, noticed the cook was busy cleaning between meals and then smiled. “You’ve come at a good time and I would welcome a chance to sit down.” She went to get the tea, brought back two cups and then sat opposite him. “What would you like to know?”

  “Have you met Mr. Swinton?”

  “Quite often.”

  “Has he said where he comes from?”

  “Everyone is curious about that. He only says he came from back east.”

  “Does he say why he carries a cane gun?”

  “We heard what happened last night,” she confessed. “Is the little boy alright?”

  “He is quite well, thank you. Word certainly travels fast.”

  “They never should have invented telephones if they wanted to keep secrets, Mr. MacGreagor.”

  Hannish smiled. “A point well made. About Mr. Swinton; do you know of anyone who wishes him harm?”

  Madeline giggled. “Other than a jealous husband or two?”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “He is very careful not to get caught, mind you, but in a town this size, you can’t keep a secret for long. I hear he is sweet on your sister.”

  “She is my cousin’s daughter.”

  “That’s right, I forgot your cousin came from Scotland and brought his family.”

  “How is it you know so much about us?”

  She had a twinkle in her eye when she answered, “Not much else to do but wonder what it’s like to live in Marblestone Mansion.”

  Hannish caught her hopeful grin, “Are you asking for a position?”

  “Doing what?”

  “We can always use help with the gardens, the cleaning, the sewing and a dozen other chores, now that there are more of us in the family.” He waited, but when she hesitated to respond, he said, “Call if you decide it is something you might like. I pay a fair wage and if you are unhappy, I will personally bring you back.”

  “I’d like something that did not require my standing on my feet all day.”

  “I dinna blame you.” He downed the rest of his tea, stood up and dug a dollar out of his pocket. He placed it on the table, nodded and then put his hat on and left. He guessed he knew all he needed to know about Mr. Douglas Swinton.

  *

  Hannish was not the only one worried about Swinton. Elizabeth didn’t like the way he arrived at Marblestone two days in a row to see Paulette, instead of tend
ing to his business in Cripple Creek. Hannish graciously invited Swinton to dinner each day, but Elizabeth found it embarrassing. The courting was moving far too quickly. Not only that, she too noticed the way he made eye contact with other women at Abigail’s party, and it disturbed her.

  *

  “Mother, what are you sayin’?” Paulette asked, plopping down on her mother’s bed.

  “I am saying you are young and have had few choices. A handsome man, even a wealthy one may not be the best man to marry.”

  “You sound just like Cathleen.”

  “What does Cathleen say?”

  “She thinks Mr. Swinton is not to be trusted. I do not know all the particulars, but if Cathleen dinna like him, ‘tis her loss.”

  Elizabeth’s temper rose slightly. “I hardly think she lost anythin’, she married a duke.”

  “Because he was her choice to marry. I shall make my choice as well.”

  Exasperated, Elizabeth softened her voice and chose a different approach as she sat next to her daughter on the bed. “Of course you shall, sweetheart, but take care to choose a good sort of man who will honor his marriage vows.”

  “You cannae know Mr. Swinton will not honor his vows.”

  “True, he may fall so madly in love with you he’ll not see the lips of another woman until long after he is buried. Still, you must not let him rush you into marriage. Some men become too eager and will not wait. Some will even threaten to leave, if you do not agree to a hurried marriage.”

  “How long should I make him wait, then?”

  “Six months. That should give you time to know he is sincere and if you might prefer another.”

  “Half a year? Mother, I want to marry and be happy the same as you.”

  “Your father and I dinna marry for a full year and not once have we regretted it. He became a secretary, worked hard at his craft and was makin’ a good livin’ before we were married.”

  “Aye, but Mr. Swinton already has a good livin’.”