Marblestone Mansion, Book 2 Page 14

  *

  When the shivaree started, several of the housekeepers and lady’s maids came to sit on the balcony with McKenna and the judge. By design, they drifted away one by one leaving them alone. Judge Mitchel waited until the ballad ended and the last three men walked away from the new cottages. “I do not intend to invite your brother when I get married,” said the judge.

  McKenna giggled. “I dinna blame you. I have never seen him do this before.”

  “Is it always this lively here?”

  “Most of the time. We have our moments, but I have known no finer people than these. Judge Mitchel…”

  “Nicholas.”

  She blushed a little. “Nicholas, there is something I wished to ask you.”

  “What?”

  “Doreen asked me to recommend her to you.”

  “She is a housekeeper?”

  “Aye, and a cook.”

  “Is she unhappy here?” he asked.

  “Not at all. ‘Tis that we live a secluded life, and she prefers the excitement of town.”

  “Do you like her?”

  “Very much, she is never without a smile.”

  “Then I will appreciate having her when you are ready to let her go. Now that my left hand is nearly healed, I can button my own shirts and I need only a little help with my shoes.”

  “When will Doc Parker remove the finger splints?”

  “In a week or two. I cannot wait to use them again.” He didn’t notice Dugan standing just inside the door listening to them.

  “I am sure not. Do you wish to speak to Doreen, or shall I simply tell her you agree.”

  “You may tell her I agree. If you like her, than I can think of no better recommendation.”

  “Good.”

  There seemed to be nothing else to talk about and the silence between them became a little awkward. Yet, there was just enough light left to enjoy the beginning of the fall colors in the trees and both seemed distracted by the view.

  Slowly, Judge Mitchel raised his splinted fingers and pointed at a figure on the hillside. “Is that what I think it is?”

  McKenna grinned. “The black stallion has come back…at last.”

  “And me without a lasso.”

  Her smile instantly faded. “You wish to capture him still?”

  “I do.”

  “Can you not just buy a horse?”

  “No, I need that one...”

  She could feel her anger rising. “I dinna see why. He is far too magnificent to belong to any one lad.”

  “Someone will surely capture him, and at least I will see he has a good home.”

  She turned her glare on him. “And I shall do my best to see he is not fenced in.”

  “Your horses are fenced in,” he shot back.

  “‘Tis not the same.”

  Judge Mitchel should have let it go at that, but he was an attorney, determined to win his case. “He is a horse, McKenna, he needs looking after.”

  “He needs his freedom!” She abruptly stood up and spotted the footman. “Dugan will show you to your room. Goodnight, Judge Mitchel.”

  By the time he got to his feet, she was gone. “Nicholas,” he whispered.

  *

  The next morning, McKenna said she had a headache and did not come down to breakfast. The servants were not surprised, not after hearing what Dugan said about their quarrel.

  Judge Mitchel pretended not to particularly care, enjoyed the conversation and his breakfast, and when the buggy was ready, he graciously said his goodbyes. He agreed to send Dugan and Jessie back after they collected their belonging, and took a seat in the buggy next to Doreen, his new housekeeper.

  Once home, he showed Doreen where everything was, thanked Dugan and Jessie, wished them well, and then sat down at his desk. He had bungled his best chance with McKenna and he was sick about it. He should have explained why he wanted that particular horse.

  At least that was something he could remedy. He withdrew a pair of scissors and cut the bandages off his broken hand. Slowly and carefully, he removed the splints and began to curl his broken fingers. They worked, and furthermore, they were not nearly as painful as he imagined. He pulled a clean sheet of paper out of his drawer, picked up his fountain pen and unscrewed the cap.

  My dear Miss MacGreagor,

  Allow me to apologize for my behavior last night, I did not mean to upset you. There is a specific reason I want that particular horse, and it is this. There is…

  CHAPTER 9

  Alexandra Graham, Sinclair, Bayington, MacGreagor, Whitfield had been free for days before Charles managed to secure tickets aboard a ship bound for America. With the threat of another arrest hanging over her head, she dared not leave their hotel room and for her, it was a fate almost as dreadful as being in Jail. What point was there in living if one could not fully feel alive? Feeling alive meant wearing beautiful ball gowns and being seen in all the best places. Yet, there was little she could do about her circumstances.

  Explaining her seclusion to Charles was easy. He was willing to believe anything she said, which was not something she admired in a man. He had no interesting conversation besides the story of how gold was discovered in Colorado, and she had already heard that enough to find it nauseating. Worse still, he insisted on staying by her side and she was forever sending him out to get this or that, simply to have a moment alone. Charles was on their honeymoon, she was not. Her only saving grace was in looking forward to the voyage, where she could finally let down her guard.

  It was not to be.

  No sooner had they set sail, than Alexandra spotted a woman in her fifties who knew her as Olivia. She quickly begged a headache, left the deck and rushed to her stateroom. Unless she could think of a way to disguise herself, another miserable week of hiding lay ahead.

  *

  It was time.

  Cameron called to say the duchess and Charles had boarded the ship and would be arriving in six days. Therefore, Hannish called Dugan into his study. “I need your help.” He handed Dugan the letter Lady Bayington wrote, and watched his eyes grow larger with each word.

  Your Grace,

  Lord Bayington and I agree, as we are most fond of both you and your brother, and can maintain our silence no longer. There is something you should know about the woman Hannish married. Olivia and I were born in the Shetland Islands, more specifically Scalloway and played together as children. It was apparent early on, that Olivia intended to get what she could from the world in the way of riches and celebrity, and I, in my foolishness followed in her footsteps.

  Her first husband married her…

  *

  Slowly, Dugan folded the letter and handed it back.

  “There is more. She has married Charles Whitfield and is on her way back to Colorado.”

  Dugan could not recall a time he felt so dumbstruck. “No.”

  “I cannae believe it either, but ‘tis true.” He told Dugan about her arrest, her threats to cause a scandal for Lord Bayington as well as his brother, and how they hoped to keep the truth from the Whitfields. He waited for the news to sink in and then said, “She might listen to you. Are you willin’ to meet her ship, give her a bribe and try to convince her to run off?”

  “Of course. When do I leave?”

  “You best be on the train in the mornin’. Call as often as you can, and speak Gaelic in case someone is listenin’. She is on the HMS Umbria”

  “The same ship Egan and Cathleen arrived on?”

  “Aye. I shall write the directions for you. It docks at Pier 40 on the North River, at the foot of Clarkson Street. Thank you, Dugan. I shall forever be in your debt.”

  “Nay, ‘tis we who owe you for rescuin’ us from that madwoman’s clutches.” He stood up, nodded and then went upstairs to pack a bag.

  *

  Pier 40 was a busy place, just as it always was when the HMS Umbria docked. Outfitted with three steel masts in case the engine gave out, the Umbria’s two huge funnels belched black smoke,
as the long, black ship made its way up river to the dock. She had a reputation of being one of the fastest ships to cross the Atlantic and boasted of having refrigeration machinery; Victorian style finely furnished first class cabins, and spacious, comfortable accommodations in second class. She carried a full load of 500 in first class, 160 in second class and 800 below decks in steerage.

  A long line of carriages, buggies and wagons waited to transport passengers of all ages, and all stations in life to their next destination. Friends, family and drivers stood near the edge of the dock, some already waving in great anticipation, although it would be the better part of an hour still before the first passengers began to disembark.

  For Dugan Forbes, it was a chance to do what he liked best – watch the people. Careful to keep his back against a wall to avoid the usual pickpockets, he listened to merchants call out their tempting enticements offering maps and newspapers at a premium price. He watched a dog try to snatch a sandwich out of a man’s hand and smiled. A furious little boy of not more than two sat down on the wooden dock and screamed until his father picked him up and threatened to paddle his britches.

  At last, the gangplank was lowered and Dugan carefully watched as the first class passengers were let off. He fully expected Charles and Alexandra to be among them, dressed in their best, befitting their station in life. One by one, he examined the face of every woman, but when the less eloquently dressed second class passengers began to disembark, he caught his breath and began to search the crowd instead. Surely, he had not missed her. Look as he might, he could not see her black hair, or a man resembling Charles Whitfield anywhere. He suddenly remembered, wherever the duchess was, men found themselves staring at her uncommon beauty and again looked to see if he might find her that way. Alas, she was nowhere to be seen.

  Out of the crowd, a young woman ran to him, dropped her small satchel, threw her arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth. At first, Dugan did not respond, but as her kiss lingered he began to return it. Too soon, she left his lips, yet she kept her arms around him and whispered, “Please sir, say you are my husband, Jonathan Bassett.” It wasn’t until he nodded that she released him.

  Beverly Gray picked up her meager satchel, took his arm and turned to watch the other third class passengers get off the ship.

  He couldn’t help but stare at her. She was a pleasing woman with brown hair and green yes. She was very pleasing indeed, but she looked worried, which immediately alarmed him. “Whom do you hope to fool?”

  “A foul lad who followed me all the way from Scotland. I said I was married, but he dinna believe it. There he is, Sir, pretend you fancy me.”

  “Shall I kiss you again?”

  “If you please, Sir.” She held on to her small, round hat and turned toward him.

  Dugan wasted no time taking her in his arms and kissing her the way he always believed a woman should be kissed. At length, he opened one eye and to his relief, the man was walking away. “That should do it,” he said, releasing her.

  *

  Alexandra was never so happy to see a place in her life, albeit only through the small window in the stateroom she shared with her bothersome husband.

  Six days earlier, her excuse for not joining the other first class passengers was the starry-eyed look of a newlywed woman in love, who wanted to be alone with her husband…as repulsive as that was to her. That turned out to be more physical than she cared to endure, but it was better than being found out. The moment the ocean crossing got a little rougher, Charles got seasick, a frailty she found utterly despicable. Yet, that was better than the physical demands he placed on her.

  Now they were in New York, at last, and to be sure the other first class passengers were well gone before she got off, she delayed packing all her belongings, saying they had to be exactly right before she could think of closing the lid to her trunks. After all, according to Charles, a long train ride lay ahead and she could not bear to see everything in disarray when she arrived at the home of her in-laws.

  Of a truth, she remembered the dreadful train rides very well, having endured the exasperating journey twice before and not so long ago. Yet, she fluttered her eyelids when he spoke of his home and pretended to anticipate their arrival with great zeal. It was enough to turn a grown woman’s stomach.

  Occasionally, she went to the window to see how many carriages had pulled away and it was on her third viewing that she spotted Dugan. Of all the bad luck, what was he doing there? A servant in her home when she was married to Hannish MacGreagor, she liked Dugan better than any of the other servants, although she found him only slightly tolerable. She was watching when a woman ran to him and kissed him, which made Alexandra breathe easier. Apparently, Dugan had a love in Scotland she never knew about, and of course, he came to meet her ship.

  At last, the first class passengers seemed to be gone and when she neatly added the last item to her trunk, she nodded for the purser to close the lid. , and then let Charles take her off that floating monster of a ship.

  *

  With Beverly’s magnificent kiss still on his lips, Dugan almost forgot why he was there, and once again began to examine the faces of each woman who got off the HMS Umbria. Slowly, the number of those disembarking dwindled to a trickle and then stopped. Something must have gone wrong. He was about to give up when he saw a shadowy figure appear in the doorway, and once she stepped out on the deck, he was certain. There she was, holding her head high as if exhibiting her self-supposed glory for all to see.

  Beverly tugged on Dugan’s sleeve. “I thank you, Sir. He is gone now.”

  “Aye, but he may be watching still. Wait here.” Only once had Dugan been in the same room as Charles Whitfield. That was when Charles burst into Marblestone Mansion and invited himself to dinner. Dugan didn’t think Charles would remember him, but he couldn’t take the chance.

  He cautiously walked toward the last three carriages, and watched the duchess climb into the first one. Charles was busy directing the driver to their luggage and now was the perfect time. Just as he dug in his pocket and raised a packet of bills for her to see, the duchess looked his direction. Her mouth dropped, but she stayed right where she was.

  Afraid Charles would see the money, Dugan put it back in his pocket, dared to walk a little closer, and motioned for her to come to him. To his amazement, the duchess shook her head. Charles finished with the luggage and was about to spot him, so Dugan turned around and walked back to Beverly. He failed and he had no idea what to do next. With regret, Dugan watched the carriage leave the boat dock and disappear down Clarkson Street.

  At length, he smiled at Beverly. “Where shall I take you?”

  “Anywhere will do. I have no particular place to go as yet. ‘Tis a bloody shame a lass with no father or brother to protect her, is so easily put upon by lads these days.”

  Dugan raised an eyebrow. “Bloody, is it?”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Sir…’tis only that I be runnin’ from him for two full weeks now. He followed me from Glasgow to Chatsworth, where I got on a train thinkin’ he would leave me be. But no, he got on it as well. I got off one train, caught another and that’s how I ended up at the boat dock. I gave over my last fifty shillin’s, or nearly my last, and bought the last ticket in steerage. Only, ‘twas not the last ticket -- his was.”

  Beverly finally remembered to take a breath. “There are few places to hide on a ship, and the least he could do, I thought, was suffer the seasickness the same as everyone else. But nay, he would not even oblige me thusly so. I spent far too much time in the water closets, and annoyed the lot of them, I dinna mind tellin’.”

  Dugan offered to carry her satchel, but she was not willing to let go of it. She did take his arm again, which he found pleasing, and he started them walking down the dock. “Why was he so persistent?”

  “‘Twas my father’s dyin’ wish that I marry him, and I might have, had he not been such an unseemly sort.”

  “But if you went there to ma
rry him…”

  “He is unkempt, Sir. I took one look at him and told him I came to say I was already married. I said, tellin’ him face-to-face ‘twas the least I could do for the son of a lad my father called friend. Only he dinna believe me.”

  *

  While Beverly sat in the lobby of Dugan’s hotel waiting for him, he called all the best hotels trying to locate Mr. and Mrs. Charles Whitfield. They were nowhere to be found. He could think of nothing else to do and that was not his only problem. When he reached the lobby, he found Beverly sitting with her satchel clutched tightly in her lap. She looked very tired and far too vulnerable to be without some sort of protection.

  He sat down beside her on the hotel sofa and proposed the only answer he could think of. “If you wish, you can sleep in my room.”

  “And where will you be sleepin’?” When he didn’t answer, she narrowed her eyes. “You mean sleep in the same room as you?”

  “I’ll not harm you, and I haven’t the money to pay for two rooms.”

  “Dinna lie, I saw the bounty you offered for that lasses’ favors at the boat dock.”

  “Favors? I assure you, she is the last lass I would ask for favors. The money I offered her is not mine. ‘Tis my room or the street, suit yourself.” It was not a lie. While Dugan waited for the ship, he enjoyed himself more heartily than he should have, and now he might soon run out of funds, particularly if he had to stay in town longer. He held his breath and prayed his offer wouldn’t send her running into the street.

  “I’ll not do it, not without a marriage certificate,” she said.

  “Very well.”

  Beverly stared into his eyes, looked away and then stared at him again. “You would marry me?”

  “Why not? I need a wife and you need someone to care for you. A lass should not be alone in New York City, ‘tis not safe.”

  She took several moments to think it over. “First, you will promise not to bed me.”