Marblestone Mansion, Book 4 Page 14

  The duchess was so astonished, she shooed the maid away with the back of her hand, finally sat down to her breakfast, and muttered, “I wish I was.” She took a bite of cold oatmeal and stared at the ceiling. “Now there’s a purse I’d like getting my hands on.”

  Yet, the combination of being called the king’s mistress and a swindler convinced her to keep herself confined to her room. The last thing she wanted was to suffer gossip when she attended next season’s balls. She could and would change her name again, but it was best not to let them get another good look at her face.

  *

  Mrs. Sinclair was not pleased to see Lord Edward Bayington get out of his carriage when he arrived at her modest country manor. Less than a year before, Mr. Sinclair had only just passed away when Edward came to ask about the child Alexandra left with them. Mrs. Sinclair bemoaned the fact that her husband’s last words were of his first wife, the beautiful bigamist he apparently still loved, and told Lord Bayington so. She still resented it, but there was no point in dwelling on that forever.

  Just before he reached for the doorbell rope, she yanked the door open. “What do you want now?”

  As he expected, Mrs. Sinclair met him with a hot glare and her hands on her ever-widening hips. “I have come to ask a favor.”

  “You do not hope to give Blair back, do you?” Her voice began to rise as she spoke. “I will not take her, do you hear, I will not!”

  “I have not come to give her back. She is most happy and well cared for. I only came to tell you Alexandra is back in England, or soon will be. She will be looking for her daughter.”

  “What has that to do with me?”

  “A conspiracy, Mrs. Sinclair, all I am suggesting is a bit of a conspiracy - just between the two of us. Admit it; you would like nothing better than to get a touch of sweet revenge where Mr. Sinclair’s first wife is concerned.”

  Mrs. Sinclair stared at him for a long moment and then shifted her eyes from side to side. “I would rather cut her throat.”

  “I do not blame you, and if it were not illegal, I would gladly help you do it.”

  She suspiciously eyed him for another long moment. “What sort of conspiracy?”

  “All I ask is that you do not tell Alexandra you gave Blair to me.”

  “I did not intend to.”

  “I am happy to hear that. We are agreed, then?”

  “You say she is coming back to England?” Mrs. Sinclair asked.

  “A friend cabled to say she is on a ship as we speak.”

  “I see. You need not worry; Alexandra will not be met with any kindness from me.”

  “Very well then, I shall be on my way. Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair. Like you, I do not wish to see that woman again for the rest of my life.”

  Mrs. Sinclair watched Edward walk back down the stone walkway, closed the door, and then went to the window to watch him climb into his expensive carriage. “Thank you for warning me,” she mumbled to no one but herself.

  *

  Arriving at the ship docks in Liverpool was easy – waiting for the stevedores to move the enormous ship into place and secure it, was tedious for all the passengers eager to depart. For the duchess, it took even longer. It was fully her intention to wait until every last first class passenger was completely gone before she made an appearance.

  Sick to tears of her stateroom and vowing never to cross the ocean again, she finally decided it was safe and walked across the deck to the side of the ship. Unfortunately, something delayed the duke and duchess of Glenartair and they were still there, but what did she care? They were people of no consequence and it mattered not if they saw her. She ignored them as best she could, walked down the gangplank to the dock, and hailed the first rentable carriage she could find. The last time she saw the MacGreagors, they were pulling away.

  She first thought to go to a London hotel, get a good night’s sleep and refresh her appearance, but decided she would sleep much better knowing she had Bayington’s 10,000 pounds to rely on. Therefore, she directed the driver to take her straight to the First Bank of London.

  It took forever by carriage from Liverpool, but she arrived before closing time. A few minutes later, she stormed out of the bank, fuming and using curse words some of the men did not normally use.

  She secured a room in a hotel easily enough, but sleep would not come and by the next morning, the duchess looked as bad as she felt. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair was haphazardly piled on her head, her hat would not stay on straight, and it took twenty minutes of standing in the rain to wait for the carriage she ordered.

  When at last she arrived at the Bayington estate, she didn’t even wait for the driver to climb down and assist her. She threw open the door, put her foot on the wet iron step, slipped and landed on her backside in the mud. Even more enraged, she picked herself up, brushed at the mud with her gloved hand and only managed to smear the mud on both.

  “Wait here!” she demanded.

  The driver considered leaving her there, but he had little choice if he wanted to be paid. He’d had enough passengers to know a woman who looked that upset was not one he wanted to deal with. In her case, he would not stand by to open the door and help her when she came back either. That one could just do for herself.

  The duchess marched up to the front door of the Bayington estate, yanked the bell rope and then doubled her muddy fist and pounded on the door three times. Lord Bayington’s butler seemed in no hurry to answer, so she banged on it again and again until it finally opened.

  “Yes?” butler Pifer asked.

  “I demand to see Lord Bayington at once!” She tried to brush him aside, but he didn’t move. “Get out of my way this instant!”

  The face was not as young and not nearly as recognizable as it had been years ago, but there was no mistaking the voice. It was always the same. The woman he knew as Alice never called, she just showed up demanding to have her way. Occasionally, Lord Bayington agreed to see her, but usually not and Pifer was accustomed to denying the duchess access. This time, he was actually expecting her. “They are not here.”

  “Says you!”

  He folded his arms and grinned at her. “Says me.”

  “When will they return, then?”

  “I do not know.”

  “You must know something, you always know something.”

  Pifer just kept grinning, well aware she hated that most about him. He loved irritating her and today she was more irritated than usual. “I do not know that.”

  She doubled her fist again and thought to strike him, but the last time he blocked one of her blows, it hurt her a lot more than it did him. “Tell Edward I was here and I mean to be dealt with!”

  “I am certain he already knows.”

  “No doubt he does, Cameron MacGreagor likely told him to expect me. This is all Cameron’s fault.” The duchess huffed, spun around and marched back to the carriage. She got aboard, slammed the door and screamed, “MOVE!”

  The harried driver glanced at the smiling butler and then did as he was told.

  Pifer watched until she was out of sight and then went back into the house to call Lord Bayington. He couldn’t help but continue to grin, particularly after he saw the mud on the back of her skirt.

  *

  It has stopped raining finally and with his eyes, Cameron searched the crowd at the Edinburgh train station just to make certain the duchess had not gotten on the train with them. When he didn’t see her, he was relieved.

  Cathleen saw Alistair, their prim and proper butler making his way through the crowd and ran to hug him. “I have missed you so.”

  “And I you. Welcome to Scotland.” Alistair was a tall man with a slender build, light brown hair and blue eyes, who had been with the MacGreagor family for years. To Alistair, the MacGreagors were his family and no one was more loyal than he.

  “Thank you.”

  The MacGreagor carriage was the grandest one at the station. It was black, could easily carry four people and was
decorated both inside and out with gold fringe. It had a team of four white horses, a driver and a footman to see to the luggage.

  “How is Blair?” Cameron asked as soon as Alistair finished making sure the luggage was secure and climbed inside.

  The butler tapped on the window and the carriage began to move with a slight jerk. “Eager to see you, although she is not pleased with me for not lettin’ her come.”

  “Aye, well we couldn’t chance it,” said Cameron.

  “How is Sarah?” Cathleen wanted to know.

  “Excited to see you as well.”

  “And you, Alistair, are you glad to be back in Scotland?” she asked.

  “I loved America, but I confess it is good to be home. Prescot said you were certain the duchess was in a Colorado prison.”

  “We had no doubt of it,” Cameron said. “She must have got out somehow.”

  “Did she cause trouble on the ship?” Alistair wanted to know.

  Cathleen giggled, “Only once. She called me a gutter rat and Cameron told everyone in the dining room she was a swindler.”

  “A gutter rat?” Alistair asked. “I believe that is what she called your sister. She has learned no new insults?”

  Cathleen laughed. “I imagine not. At least she treats us all equally. I dinna believe we saw her after that.”

  “Save at the dock,” Cameron said. “Cathleen made a point of waving goodbye. The look on the duchess’ face is one I shall always cherish.”

  “Are you not worried about further raising her ire?”

  Cathleen rolled her eyes. “I assure you, she cannae be more furious than she is already.”

  “Your Grace,” said Alistair, “Lord and Lady Bayington are here.”

  “Splendid, I cannae wait for them to meet Cathleen.” He took his wife’s hand and smiled.

  The young couple told Alistair all the news from America and then Cathleen asked, “How long until we are home?”

  “Not long now,” Cameron answered. When the carriage slowed through the small village of Artair, he was surprised to see people lining both sides of the street, cheering and waving. “You told them?”

  “I might have made mention of it,” Alistair confessed.

  The people bowed and curtsied as the carriage passed, and tried desperately to get a good look at the new duchess. Not all of them were smiling, Cathleen noticed. “Are there many MacGreagor’s living here?”

  “Some, but far fewer than I would like. The ones remaining will want to hear all about their laird and his wife,” said Cameron.

  “Then I say we stop and tell them.”

  “Are you not too tired, my love?” Cameron asked.

  “I am too excited to be tired.”

  Cameron rapped on the window and as soon as the carriage stopped, Alistair got out, offered his hand to Cathleen and helped her step down.

  As soon as he was standing on the cobblestones, Cameron cleared his throat and announced in Gaelic, “Your laird and mistress are well and send their love.” He waited until the cheers died down before he continued. “They hope to come to us in Spring.” This time, the cheers were louder and lasted longer. “This is my bride, the Duchess of Glenartair.” He noticed a few slight scowls, but all of them paid the proper respect and he was pleased. “We shall let her rest a few days, and then you shall all be invited to the castle to welcome her.”

  Amid more cheers, he took her hand and helped her back in the carriage. “That should please them.”

  “They love you dearly,” Cathleen said as the carriage began to move again.

  “I love them just as dearly. They are life to us here in Scotland and they will come to love you as well.”

  She wasn’t too sure of that, and winked at Alistair before she said, “I hope our dear butler has not told them the truth about me.”

  Alistair rolled his eyes. “I only told them you were old enough to know what you are doing. I also said that if they slight you, they shall have me to contend with.”

  “And me,” Cameron said.

  *

  It was nearly dusk by the time the carriage turned down the road in the middle of the long, wide MacGreagor glen. It looked just as Cathleen pictured it from the stories, only much larger. She could almost see the clan happily living in their thatched-roofed cottages many generations ago. Sadly, the cottages were no more. A tall forest, perhaps not as thick as it once was, bordered the glen on both sides and as they passed, she caught a glimpse of the loch where they bathed before modern, indoor tubs were invented. Even the ancient graveyard was there, and she hoped to visit it soon, just to see if she recognized any of the names.

  “Of a morning, you might spot a red deer or two. They favor the grass in the glen,” Cameron pointed out.

  “How thrilling, and a red fox?” she asked.

  “There are few of them left, I fear, and I have yet to see a gray wolf. You are safe, my love. We’ve nothing dangerous in Scotland save a lad or two. Over that hill is the vineyard and a caretaker’s cottage. We hire lads from town to work the land in spring. We grow our own vegetables, herbs and spices as well. ‘Tis also where we keep the horses.”

  “I wish Leesil could see this. Did Hannish say precisely when they are coming?”

  “It will depend on how his business goes. I suspect they shall come early spring so he can get back to the summer building season.”

  “Good, the sooner the better.”

  The carriage pulled around a circular stone planter displaying rose bushes and other plants, and stopped in front of the castle. As soon as she stepped down, she paused to get a good look at her new home. It was not as large or as spread out as Marblestone, but there was nothing small about it either.

  In the tradition of Scottish buildings, it had four watchtowers, one on each corner of the three-story structure, with high cone shaped roofs. Instead of the entrance being on the end of the expansive structure, it was in the middle facing front, with two smaller towers beside it. The enormous wooden double doors were impressive and looked just like the ones described in the many English novels she had read.

  To one side of the castle, an attached structure housed the carriages and equipment. On the other side was another garden where Cameron promised roses of every kind would bloom in spring. That too, she hoped to visit soon, for she greatly loved flowers and had already decided on a plaque or two to put there.

  “‘Tis magnificent,” she said as she took Cameron’s arm. In a long line outside, the twenty member staff waited to greet her. She was patient as Cameron introduced each, explained their duties and moved on to the next, but Cathleen could hardly wait to fly into Sarah’s arms. “I have missed you so very, very much!” she said when they were finally able to embrace.

  “And I you, as the Scottish say,” said Sarah. In her thirties by the time she married Alistair, Sarah still wore her hair in a lose bun that framed her pretty face perfectly, wore a satin and lace bonnet and was the only other American. “I swear you have grown.”

  Cathleen leaned a little closer and whispered, “Marriage agrees with me.”

  “I can see that.” Sarah hugged her again. “Welcome, Your Grace.”

  Abruptly, one of the massive front doors opened and a tall, slender woman appeared, holding Blair’s hand. Blair took one look at Cathleen, let go of the woman’s hand and ran into her arms. She clung to Cathleen for a very long moment, before she leaned back. “You must not ever go away, promise?”

  “I promise. You and I shall be together forever.”

  Blair’s mouth suddenly turned down. “Alistair would not let me come to the ship or the train station.”

  “He would not, oh my,” Cathleen said.

  “I might hate him forever,” said Blair, still pouting.

  “Aye, but I think we should forgive him. Lads are prone to make a mistake from time to time, and we best learn to forgive them right off. Do you agree?”

  Blair peeked around Cathleen at Alistair, wrinkled her brow and then smiled. “I
agree.” She wiggled free of Cathleen’s arms and then ran into Alistair’s.

  Lady Bayington laughed and then hugged Cameron. “I like her already.”

  “I knew you would.” Just in time, he leaned down to catch Blair as she ran to him next. “My little love, how are you,” he said raising her high in the air. “I hardly slept a wink missing you.” He lowered her back down and showered her cheeks with kisses.

  “I am very well, thank you, Father,” she said, using her best manners.

  Cameron moved Blair to one arm and put the other around Cathleen. “My love, these are my dearest friends, Lord Edward and Lady Laura Bayington.”

  Cathleen grinned when they bowed and curtsied. “I am very pleased to meet you, although I shant ever get used to being honored with bows and curtsies. Might we dispense with the practice?”

  “It is required, my dear,” Edward said, reaching for her hand. He wrapped it around his arm and stole her away from Cameron. “We must fancy up the royals, lest they get out of hand.”

  She giggled. “I see.” As soon as Alistair opened the door, Edward walked her into the foyer. It looked just like the foyer in Marblestone, except it was wood paneling instead of marble. A slender table ran down the middle, a coat closet was on one side and three tall windows with highly polished wooden window seats let in the last of the afternoon sunlight. Cathleen turned to look at her husband, “You dinna tell me about this?”

  “I wanted to surprise you. Feel at home now, darling?”

  “I do indeed.” She let Alistair help her off with her coat, removed her hat and then followed the Bayington’s into a magnificent hall with a high vaulted ceiling, a beautiful chandelier, and colorful painting on the wall. Separated by a half-circle table, two red settees with lion paw legs sat against the wall. At the end of the hallway, a curved wooden staircase led to the second floor, and just where it turned, hung the MacGreagor crest. The banister was hand carved and at the foot of the staircase stood a statue of a highlander dressed in a kilt.

  “I am so enchanted by it all,” Cathleen muttered. “I had no idea of the splendor.”