Marblestone Mansion, Book 5 Read online

They were about to cut the cake when the Whitfield butler escorted an uninvited guest into the room. “Miss Patella Green to see you, Mrs. Whitfield.”

  Patella Green walked to the middle of the room with her eyes glued on Douglas Swinton. It was apparent she was heavy with child and no one dared breathe. “Congratulations, Darling,” she said taking another step toward Mr. Swinton, “I brought you a wedding present.” She held out a baby rattle with a blue bow tied around the handle. “Go on, take it. It is not a wedding ring - it won’t bite.”

  “What does she mean, Douglas?” Loretta asked.

  Swinton glared at the intruder. “She lies, I never touched her.”

  “It felt like touching to me,” Patella countered. “I’d not look like this if you hadn’t asked me to marry you.”

  “You asked…” Loretta tried, but the look in her husband’s eyes cautioned her against saying anything more.

  Swinton slowly tightened his fists and when he did, Prescot made his way behind the guests until he was close enough to lunge if he had to.

  “She is lying, I tell you!” Swinton nearly shouted, making several women in the room jump, including Abigail.

  Patella turned to find Abigail among the guests. “It is always the woman who is lying in situations such as these, is it not Mrs. Whitfield? What am I to do now? I have no husband and my child will be born any day.”

  Abigail couldn’t decide if she should go to the pitiful, scorned woman, or to Loretta, who looked ready to collapse.

  “Miss Green,” Claymore said, appearing by her side, “come to the office tomorrow and we shall see what we can do.” He took a moment to glare at Swinton, and then took her arm and urged her toward the door.

  “I had to beg my father not to kill him, Mr. Whitfield,” she muttered as he walked her into the foyer. “Just last week, Mr. Swinton said he would marry me, but then he married Miss Collins. Why, Mr. Whitfield, why did I believe him?”

  “I do not know,” Claymore muttered, as his butler opened the door and let them pass through.

  The room was so deadly quiet; no one dared move. At length, Swinton turned to her and started to take Loretta in his arms, but she backed away. “Loretta, dearest,” he tried, starting to walk to her.

  “Stay away from me!” she said, gritting her teeth. In horror, she realized everyone was staring at her, so she turned and ran up the stairs.

  “Loretta!” he shouted after her, “It is you I love.”

  Still, no one moved or said a word. Abigail finally hurried up the stairs to comfort Loretta, but when Swinton started to follow, Preston stepped in his way. “Leave her be.”

  “She is my wife.”

  When the front door slammed, everyone turned to watch a furious Claymore come back in. “Mr. Swinton, you will kindly leave my home. You are not welcome here, and if you dare lay a hand on Miss Green, I shall hunt you down and shoot you myself!”

  It took a moment for Swinton to decide he would leave without his wife, but he finally decided he had to. He glanced up the stairs, grabbed his cane gun and his hat out of the butler’s hands and marched out the door.

  Claymore ran his fingers through his hair and looked at his guests. “I believe this wedding reception is at an end.” Most of them nodded, and as soon as they started for the door, he went to Marblestone’s butler. “Mr. Prescot, I told Miss Green to hide her buggy behind the house. Will you see she gets home safely?”

  “Indeed I will,” Prescot said, heading for the back door.

  *

  No one was expecting it when someone banged the loud knocker on the front door of Glenartair Castle at that hour of the night, especially Alistair. He grabbed his robe, quickly stuffed his arms inside the sleeves, and went down the stairs to see who it was. To his amazement, he found Lord and Lady Bayington on the doorstep, each holding a sleeping child in their arms. “Come in, come in.” he said. He rang the servant’s bell on the entryway wall, and led them into the parlor.

  A moment later, Cameron and Cathleen arrived, each in their nightclothes and robes. “What is it?” an alarmed Cameron asked. “Has someone died?”

  Edward shook his head. “Nothing as disastrous as all that. We took a late train and then could not find a carriage to rent. We are all exhausted.”

  “Of course, you are,” Cathleen said. As soon as two servants arrived, she gave them instructions to take the children to bed. “Addie shall be so happy to see them.”

  Laura let one footman take her daughter, and then whispered, “Addie is why we have come.”

  “You best call your brother,” Edward said, handing his son to the other footman.

  “I am here,” said Hannish standing in the parlor doorway with Leesil by his side.

  “Good, we best talk where we have the utmost privacy,” Edward suggested.

  “Upstairs in the sitting room,” Cathleen suggested. “‘Tis too cold in the Great Hall this time of night.” She went to Laura, put her arm around her and took her up the stairs. Half way up, Edward began to cough and had to stop.

  “I tried to talk him out of coming,” Laura said.

  “I am quite alright,” Edward argued. He nodded for them to continue and climbed the rest of the stairs without coughing. Normally, he wore spectacles but at night, he kept them in his inside jacket pocket. Edward kept his face clean-shaven and was not self-conscious when it came to his balding head. His Laura liked it that way and he liked his Laura.

  To keep Edward from coughing, Laura explained what happened at Maude’s tea, and was surprised by their lack of reaction. “You have heard?”

  “Not the part about her calling Colorado to see if I divorced Olivia,” Hannish said.

  Edward went to a decanter on a table and began to pour scotch in six glasses. “This is madness. We must come clean, we have no other choice.”

  “And expose us all to ridicule?” Laura asked.

  “Laura, my love, I deserve their ridicule. I foolishly married her and it is time to end the lunacy.” Edward handed the first two glasses to Leesil and Laura.

  “I married her too,” Hannish reminded him.

  “Yes, but you would not have, if I had exposed her,” Edward said. He downed half his glass of scotch, hoping to quiet his cough.

  “I do not blame you for that, we hardly knew each other then,” said Hannish.

  “Still,” said Leesil, “‘tis not fair for us to go back to America and let the Bayingtons face it alone.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Hannish asked his wife. “That we stay for our share of ridicule?”

  Leesil sat down finally, leaving all the men still standing. “Well, if we do come clean, as Edward suggests, we could stay another month or two. I am not looking forward to going home to Moan’s daughters anyway, and neither are you.”

  “Did Lady Okerman say why she cares where Addie is?” Cathleen asked.

  “No, we did not get around to that,” Laura answered.

  “We think she believes Addie is her brother’s child,” Hannish said.

  “What?” Edward asked.

  “Our footman, Egan, heard Lady Okerman quarrel with the duchess and ‘twas what Olivia claimed.”

  “Edward finally sat down and slumped in his chair. “Then Addie is not my daughter. I rather hoped she was.”

  “Better your daughter than Lady Okerman’s niece,” Leesil whispered.

  “True,” said Cameron finally sitting down. “There shall come a time when I…we…must explain it to Addie and now what do we tell her?”

  Cathleen abruptly stood up. “‘Tis far too late to think clearly. We shall put Edward to bed, and decide what best to do tomorrow.”

  “I agree,” said Laura. “Edward is not as well as he pretends.”

  *

  The newspaper report of her disappearance was brief, but it was accompanied by the picture taken of her and Hannish at their wedding. The article simply asked:

  “Have you seen Mrs. Olivia MacGreagor, wife of Hannish MacGreagor, the former Duke of
Glenartair? She has been reported missing by friends who know not what has become of her. If her husband, who has remarried, knows where his first wife is, he is not saying.

  Normally, breakfast was served to the wives in bed, but with the Bayingtons in attendance, everyone came down to eat breakfast in the dining room. Hannish finished reading the newspaper article aloud, folded the paper, and laid it across his half eaten breakfast. “There will be no stopping it now.”

  Completely out of character, Cathleen looked at footman Paul, “You may go.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the surprised footman said, ushering the other two out of the room.

  “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive,” Laura mumbled.

  “‘Tis the duchess who did the deceivin’,” Cathleen reminded her.

  “Aye, and we helped,” Leesil added. “We should have had her arrested in Colorado Springs. What was the name she used then?”

  “It matters not, she would have found a way to say she was married to me,” Hannish said. “Then where would we be?”

  Edward looked better than he had the night before, and had not coughed all morning. He took a sip of hot coffee and set his cup back in the saucer. “Pride, my dearest Laura, what do they say about faulty pride?”

  “Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall,” Laura answered. “Yet, you need not take all the blame. I have been complicit since the very beginning.”

  “So have I,” said Cameron.

  “Too late to think of a better lie, I suppose,” Cathleen said, getting a hit of smile from each of them. “What about Charles Whitfield? “He married her too and he could say what she is without involvin’ any of us.”

  Leesil shook her head. “Abigail would never forgive us for bringin’ Charles into it. Dinna forget, many of London’s lords and ladies come to Colorado Springs for their health, and Whitfield is not a common name. All the best people come to Colorado, save Maude Okerman.”

  “Besides,” said Hannish, “Charles married her after I did.”

  “What about her first husband,” Leesil asked.

  “George Graham, the one who helped the duchess blackmail half the world? Why would he help us?” Edward asked.

  “As I recall,” said Laura, “for a price, he is willing to do most anything.”

  “Except admit his part in blackmail,” Hannish guessed.

  Cathleen looked at Hannish and then at Edward. “We are left with only the two of you.”

  “Not true,” Hannish pointed out. “Edward managed to divorce her before I married her.”

  “Do you suppose McKenna’s judge would falsify a divorce decree?” Cathleen asked. Both Cameron and Hannish frowned. “Nay, I suppose not.”

  Cameron got up and began to pace the length of the dining room. “Where do you suppose she was between her marriage to Edward and to you, brother? She must have been somewhere while she carried Addie, and her expenses came from someone.”

  “She took in another poor man?” Edward asked.

  “Or two,” said Laura, and used two more names. We have her marriage certificates to both George Graham and Mr. Sinclair, each dated before she married Edward, but how do we prove Gormelia, Alexandra, and Alice are actually Olivia, ex-duchess of Glenartair?”

  “Well, we must do somethin’ before Hannish is arrested,” said Leesil.

  “It shall not come to that,” Edward assured her. “I’ll not let it go that far.”

  “Nor will I,” Cameron agreed.

  “Yet,” Laura said, “if the truth comes out, our children will suffer. A scandal would follow them for life and perhaps keep them out of all the best schools.”

  “Laura is right,” Edward muttered.

  When someone knocked on the door, Cameron said, “Come in.”

  “Have you seen this?” Alistair asked, holding up the morning paper.

  “Aye,” Hannish said, burying his head in his hands. “‘Tis what we are discussin’.”

  Not a moment later, Egan opened the door carrying a third copy of the newspaper. He stopped when he saw the one laying across Hannish’s plate. “You have heard.”

  “Aye, we have heard,” said Cameron. “Have you a suggestion?”

  “Not one that does not lead to the gallows,” Egan admitted. Without being asked, he pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. “Suppose we ask Miss Landon to put forth a little gossip on our behalf?”

  “Do you know where she is stayin’?” Cameron asked.

  “Aye, she is at the Inn in Glenartair.”

  “What possible gossip could we start?” Cathleen asked.

  “Somethin’ about Maude Okerman, I hope,” said Leesil. “She deserves a bit of putting down for all the trouble she is causin’.”

  “That would be perfect,” Laura admitted. She considered it for a long moment before she spoke again. “Come to think of it, there is something in Maude’s past she would like very much to keep secret.”

  “What,” Edward asked.

  “A little misstep in her pedigree. She claims to be a descendent of Alfonso of Aragon, son of Queen Eleanor of Castile and James I, but that marriage was annulled and Alfonso was declared illegitimate. Another record claims he was son of Alfonso II King of Naples and his mistress Trogia Gazzela. Either way, he was illegitimate.”

  “Does that make her illegitimate?” Cathleen asked.

  “As far as pedigrees go, it does, particularly if Thorndike does not know,” Laura answered.

  “Does he know?” Edward asked.

  Laura grinned. “He does not, and there is more. Alfonso of Aragon’s son, whom Lady Okerman claims as her ancestor, died at the age of twelve and left no descendants.”

  “How magnificent,” Leesil said, finally returning to her breakfast.

  “But how does that help us?” Cathleen asked.

  “If Lady Okerman is a liar,” Laura explained, “who will believe anything else she says.”

  “Such as not bein’ able to find a divorce decree in Colorado?” Hannish asked.

  “Precisely,” Laura answered.

  “Alfonso of Aragon’s, son of… what? How am I to remember all that?” Egan asked.

  Laura smiled for the first time all morning. “You need not remember it; you need only tell Ann Landon that Lady Okerman lied about her heritage. Let Thorndike hear it and let him find out for himself. I discovered the truth and so can he.”

  Alistair cleared his throat. “Come away, Mr. Egan, and let them eat.”

  Suddenly realizing he had overstepped his station by sitting down, he stood up and bowed. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

  *

  With the family no longer needing attention, Alistair and Egan joined the other servants in the dining hall next to the kitchen.

  “Is it true, Mr. Alistair? Is Laird MacGreagor’s first wife missing?” Seedy asked.

  “Apparently,” Alistair said, passing the platter of bacon down the row, “but it need not concern any of us.”

  “I pity the servants who must wait on her now,” Head Housekeeper Ruth mumbled.

  “If she is yet alive,” Malveen said.

  “She is alive,” Egan said, “missin’ is not the same as dead.”

  “I’ll not shed a tear if she is,” said Carol, passing a bowl of hot boiled eggs to the others. “She hurt Miss Blanka and Miss Donnel when they lived here.”

  Egan frowned. “We best not mention that to anyone else. If the duchess is dead, some might see it as just cause for Laird MacGreagor to do away with her.”

  “He is right,” Alistair said. “We must keep what we know to ourselves.”

  Alistair’s word was always final, so the servants concentrated on their breakfast until Egan said, “I am asked to go into the village later; does anyone else care to come?”

  “What for?” George asked.

  “‘Tis personal,” Egan answered. “I shall take my horse if no one else is goin’.” None of the other servants spoke up, so he guess
ed not. It was just as well, he didn’t want to have to wait for others and he didn’t intend to stay in the village long.

  “Off to see the pretty Miss, Landon?” William teased. “We saw you with her in the pub.”

  “And she come to see him too,” Carol added.

  Egan wondered if he should tell the truth and decided he might as well. The village had few secrets and the servants would hear about him going to see her anyway. “Perhaps.” When he glanced at her, Malveen had her eyes glued to her plate and she didn’t look happy. He could think of no way to explain it publicly, so he let it go.

  Rosslyn finished her last bite of scone and then asked, “Mr. Alistair, the paper says Laird MacGreagor dinna divorce his first wife? Is it true?”

  Alistair glared at her. “‘Tis not our business, Rosslyn.”

  “But if he did not, he has committed…”

  Alistair drew in an exasperated breath. “‘Tis not our business. In this household we dinna ask questions about the families private life, nor do we repeat what is said – not to anyone. Am I understood?”

  “Aye,” Rosslyn begrudgingly said. She reached for a second scone and began to tear it apart.

  “And I’ll have no listenin’ outside closed doors,” Alistair continued. “If you are caught, you shall be dismissed immediately.”

  In a hurry to get on with it and come back, Egan finished his meal, excused himself and went to saddle his horse.

  *

  Hours and hours passed before Egan came back and when he did, Alistair was outside waiting for him. “We were beginning to worry, lad?”

  Egan swung down off his horse and started to loosen the saddle cinch. “Miss Landon has moved on and I saw two villages before I found her. The deed is done. She does not like Lady Okerman either and had already called her father.”

  “Well done, lad.” Alistair unbuckled the halter, waited until Egan pulled the saddle down, lifted the bridle off the horse’s head, and let it run toward the loch.

  “She still came when I whistled,” said Egan, “I have missed my horse.” He set the saddle beside the castle and followed Alistair inside.

  “I shall tell Mr. Hannish. Have a bath and I’ll ask Malveen to save you something for dinner.”

  *

  Newspapers from England normally did not arrive in Ireland until the next morning, and so it was that Liam’s copy came from town only a short time before dinner. The woman he knew as Catherin Kincaid was still just as beautiful as he remembered and according to her lady’s maid, spending a few more days in solitary seemed to have calmed Catherin down considerably. She had an explosive temper; that much he knew, and he had no intention of putting up with her ill-mannered attitude – not after all she had put him through. Yet, the arrival of the newspaper made it necessary to bring her down for dinner sooner than he planned.