Marblestone Mansion, Book 5 Read online

  “What…what has happened?”

  “Our poor Loretta sat in my sewing room and cried for nearly the whole night through. I had to give her a very strong drink and force her to gulp it so she would sleep. And Claymore has taken to smoking again. I must renovate the smoking room for him, now that he…”

  “Abigail, what are you talkin’ about?”

  Abigail recounted the events of the wedding reception in her very talkative fashion, holding her hand over her heart the whole time. “After Mr. Swinton made his swift escape, the guests could do naught but go home. Most didn’t know if they should leave the gifts, or take them, and Claymore hardly knew what to tell them. Some gifts still sit in my parlor as we speak. The servants enjoyed the wedding cake, and I sent half of it to Marblestone when Prescot came back to say Miss Green was safe. Prescot suggested that she be kept away from Mr. Swinton until after her baby is born, and her father agreed. I tell you, Mr. Swinton is a danger to us all.”

  Leesil was so used to Abigail talking nonstop, she almost didn’t realize it was her turn. “Poor Loretta.”

  “I knew it; I knew something deplorable would come of this.”

  “What will Loretta do now?”

  “She knows not what to do. I say, Loretta simply cannot let him get away with it, but what can she do short of divorcing him? She went home, finally, and says he’ll not sleep in her bed again, but you know how difficult that is for a wife. She loves him, or thinks she does. Oh, do come home at your earliest opportunity. I can’t think what I am to do without you?”

  “Soon, my dear Abigail, we shall be home soon. Give everyone our love, especially Loretta.” Leesil hung up the phone and let Sarah finish helping her dress. “‘Tis just as we feared, Mr. Swinton is to be a father and his wife is not the mother.”

  *

  Still mourning the loss of Blanka, the MacGreagors were hardly in the mood for a ball. Nevertheless, they decided going did not mean they loved Blanka less. Perhaps it was just the diversion they needed. The family gathered, with Egan and the servants who wished to attend, in the MacGreagor chapel where they each said a silent prayer, and laid a flower on the altar in front of a picture of her they found in Cameron’s library.

  In Cathleen’s bedchamber, Sarah had nearly everything packed when she realized Cathleen’s ball gown was not hanging where she left it that morning. “That is odd,” she muttered. She searched the closet, and then looked all around the room, but the gown was gone. Next, she went to the sitting room, knocked and entered.

  “Sarah, we did not ring for you,” Leesil said, just getting comfortable after leaving the chapel.

  Worried about alarming the sisters, Sarah smiled. “I am on my way downstairs and thought to see if you need anything.”

  “Nay, we are fine, thank you,” said Leesil.

  Sarah quickly glanced around the room, but the gown was not there either. She checked the bedchamber Hannish and Leesil were using, searched all the other upstairs rooms and then went down the stairs. She walked through the parlor, looked in the dining hall, checked the laundry room, the library, the study, the Duchess’ withdrawing room, and even peeked into the great hall where Hannish and Cameron were admiring ancient weapons that proudly hung on the wall.

  It was time to panic and when she saw her husband coming toward her, she drew in a sharp breath.

  The look on her face gave her away. “What is it?”

  “Cathleen’s ball gown is missing.”

  “Missing?” asked Alistair.

  “I have looked everywhere, and I…”

  “Mr. Alistair,” Paul said behind them. In his hand, he held the shredded and muddy remains of Cathleen’s gown.

  “Oh, no,” Sarah breathed.

  “Where did you find it?” Alistair asked.

  “In the garden. What shall I do with it?”

  “Poor Cathleen, it will break her heart if she sees it.”

  “Give it here,” said Alistair, “I shall tell His Grace. Sarah, go upstairs and delay them, should the sisters come down before His Grace can decide what to do.”

  *

  Cathleen was not the least bit surprised when Cameron showed her the dress. She simply turned and walked to the sitting room window to look out over the river and the lush forest on the other side.

  “Can Sarah not fix it?” Leesil asked.

  “Not in time,” said Hannish. “We have a train to catch.”

  “Then we shall not attend the ball, and I’ll not fret over it,” said Leesil. “I dinna want to go anyway.”

  “The Bayingtons are expecting us. We can at least go see them before Hannish and Leesil go home,” said Cameron.

  “Why not,” said Cathleen. “I am sick of this place.” In a huff, she marched out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

  “I’ve never seen her do that,” Hannish mumbled.

  “Sick of the place?” Cameron repeated, starting to go after her. “My wife is sick of her own home?”

  “We best go too,” said Leesil, taking Hannish’ hand, “afore she walks all the way to London without us.”

  *

  The wide windows of the Bayington carriage, sent to collect the MacGreagors at the train station, offered an excellent view of England’s rolling hills and patchwork of fields. At last, it carried them around the tree-lined pond and pulled up to the front of Bayington’s impressive mansion.

  Normally, the Bayington home was a bustle of activity, but with a ball to attend the next night, and Cathleen saying very little on the journey, the MacGreagors were relieved to find they would not be surrounded by people they didn’t know and some they didn’t like.

  As soon as she was out of the carriage, it was into Laura’s arms Cathleen fell with tears streaming down her cheeks. “They have won. They ruined my gown and now I cannae go to the ball.”

  “I heard, my darling,” Laura soothed. “Alistair called and I have it all well in hand.”

  “God bless Alistair,” Leesil muttered.

  “You do?” Cathleen asked, wiping tears off her cheek with the back of her white gloved hand.

  Laura turned Cathleen toward the door, walked her inside and to the stairs. “Just last week I discovered I own a gown I have never worn. It is the most glorious lavender I have ever seen and I see now, I must have been saving it just for you. Carol is upstairs waiting to make the alterations.”

  “Oh, Laura, how shall I ever thank you?” Cathleen said.

  “I thought she dinna want to go to the ball,” said Hannish.

  Cameron shook his head. “They won? My servants have done this to her.”

  “Gentlemen,” Edward said, motioning them in to the vast Bayington parlor. “You look as though you might need a bit of perking up. I have just the thing.” He walked to a decanter and began to pour three stiff drinks. “Scotch?”

  “Gladly,” Cameron said.

  *

  After dinner, as they rested in the sitting room to let their meals settle, the inevitable subject came up. “Tell them the truth,” said Cathleen. Warmth from a fire in the hearth made her realize how tired she was. Crying always wore her out and she vowed never to do it again, especially over a stupid gown.

  “What?” Hannish asked.

  “Tell them you discovered another husband, and therefore the marriage was invalid.”

  “How simple you make it sound,” Cameron said.

  A new elixir his doctor sent over, was finally keeping Edward’s cough at bay. “They shall want the name of the other husband.”

  “Make one up,” Leesil suggested. “Say he lives in France or Spain.”

  “Why not?” asked Laura.

  Edward began to smile. “It just might work.”

  “Aye,” Hannish agreed. “It might at that.”

  “There, ‘tis settled, at last,” said Leesil.

  “How goes the fitting,” Cameron asked his wife.

  “Very well. The seamstress need only gather the high waist in the front a little so the baby h
as plenty of room to grow.” She smiled and snuggled closer to her husband.

  *

  There was an unspoken tension in the air at Glenartair Castle. Word of the ruined ball gown spread quickly among the servants, and each time they finished a duty, an upset butler, Alistair checked it twice. Not one servant was spared Alistair’s glare. Yet, it was not until they gathered in the servant’s dining hall for the noon meal, and found Cathleen’s ruined gown nailed to the wall, that they began to fear the worst.

  Alistair sat at the head of the table, his wife sat next to him and no one dared even breathe. Once all the bowls and platters were set on the table, Malveen took her place next to Egan. Alistair picked up the first platter, helped himself to meat and passed it to his wife. Still, he did not say a word and neither did anyone else.

  They were half finished with their meal when Malveen broke the silence. “I heard that Her Grace said she was sick of the place.”

  “True,” Sarah confirmed, “I heard her say it myself.”

  “Egan, will she leave us?” Malveen asked.

  Egan swallowed his bite of potatoes and took a swallow of milk to wash it down. “Aye, she will.”

  “I shall miss her if she does,” said Carol. “I like her.”

  “I dinna see why you care, Malveen,” Rosslyn said. “You’ll not be here after Laird MacGreagor goes back to America anyway. We’ll need a new cook.”

  Egan wrinkled his brow, but he didn’t ask why Malveen wouldn’t be there.

  “It won’t be Emily, I can promise you that,” said Alistair.

  “Who then?” Rosslyn asked.

  Katie started to raise her hand, but thought better of it.

  “There are plenty of lasses who can cook,” Paul muttered. “Even I can cook better than Emily, and none of us, save you, even like her.”

  Rosslyn was incensed. “Of course I like her, she is my cousin.”

  “We are all cousins, twice or three times removed,” Malveen reminded her.

  Seedy couldn’t help but smile. “They are fun, what with playin’ cards and all with us. I like Her Grace and Mistress MacGreagor very much.”

  “As do I,” Paul agreed.

  “You like getting’ drunk, is what you like,” Rosslyn shot back.

  “I agree with Rosslyn,” William said. “‘Tis unseemly for a duke and duchess to play cards with servants.”

  “Says who?” Egan asked.

  “Says everyone,” William answered. “You’ll not find such tomfoolery in other Scottish castles.”

  “Are the servants not allowed to dance with the lords and ladies in their private houses on special occasions?” Seedy asked. “I have heard of it and so have you.”

  “‘Tis not the same,” William said. “At cards, we are allowed to gamble.”

  “What would your father say to that, Miss Malveen MacGreagor?” Rosslyn haughtily asked.

  “Well, I’m not about to tell him, are you?” Malveen asked. “Is it not forbidden to tell what goes on in the home of the duke and his duchess?”

  “I never tell,” Seedy said.

  “Yet,” said Alistair, “someone did and I suspect that someone told Emily, who is more than willing to tell the whole village.” Once more, the room quieted and the servants paid attention to finishing their meal.

  “Have you nothing to say?” Alistair asked.

  “I say,” said Egan, “if Her Grace goes back to America, her husband will go with her.”

  “What?” several of them gasped.

  “Is it not plain he loves her?” said Egan. “She carries his child. Aye, if she is run out of Scotland, he will feel run out too.”

  “He cannae close the castle,” Rosslyn said.

  Alistair nodded. “‘Tis his castle, he can do whatever suits him.”

  “But our positions?” Seedy asked, her eyes widening.

  “Not just us, the whole village will suffer,” Malveen pointed out. “Eventually, the Village of Glenartair will be no more.”

  “He would never leave us,” William scoffed. “We are his people, he would…”

  “She is his wife,” Alistair reminded William. He reached over and took Sarah’s hand. “If my Sarah were to go back to America, I would follow.”

  Carol puffed her cheeks. “We must do something to prevent it. My family depends on my wages.”

  “There is something we can do,” Alistair said. “First, we can find out who did that!” He pointed at the gown with his fork. “Someone knows…someone saw something, and if we are to save our positions, we must find which of us has been tormenting Her Grace.”

  Nearly in a whisper,” Seedy said, “William done it.”

  “I dinna do it!” William protested.

  “Aye, you did,” she countered, “I saw you carry it out the back door.”

  “He had help,” Egan put in. “Who but a maid could take it from Her Grace’s bedchamber?”

  Again, there was complete silence until Carol looked at each of them. “Will you not tell to save the wages of all your cousins?” she asked.

  “Aye, and the shopkeepers in the village,” Malveen added.

  “I am willing to let us sit here all night if need be,” said Alistair, looking directly at Rosslyn. “Confess and get it over with.”

  Rosslyn slowly stood up. “I shall gather my things.”

  “‘Twas not me, I swear it,” William protested. “You cannae prove…”

  “Aye, ‘twas you,” said George. “I saw it too.”

  At last, William bowed his head and then stood up. “Are we to be sent away without references?”

  Alistair got to his feet, which made everyone else stand. “I shall ask His Grace, but I doubt he will be pleased to say a kind word. Harold, bring the carriage around and take them to the village.”

  “Aye,” Mr. Alistair. Harold quickly left by the back door and when he did, William and Rosslyn went through the kitchen to the back stairs to gather their things.

  The rest of them sat down and finished their meal. Hopefully, their positions had been saved in time.

  The servants had all sorts of things to tell Alistair once the troublemakers were cast out of the castle. There were far more shenanigans going on than anyone suspected and most were happy to see William and Rosslyn go. It left them shorthanded, but they all agreed they could manage.

  At last, Alistair turned to Malveen, “‘Tis time we hear what His Grace paid for at that expensive school.”

  “What school?” Egan asked.

  “You shall see,” Alistair said. He led the way back to the parlor, turned down another hall and then opened the double doors to the Duchess’ withdrawing room.

  It was a room Cathleen spent little time in and most of the servants saw little of it too, except the housekeepers who kept it clean. With a high ceiling, it was decorated in feminine pastel colors, with paintings of Scottish setting on the walls. The furniture was of solid oak, and few were the places to sit, but most importantly, it held a Hamburg Steinway "O" Rosewood Grand Piano, with a hand polished, brass music holder.

  Alistair raised the lid over the hammers and strings, propped it up with the rod, walked around to the front and then lifted the lid over the ivory keys. He pulled the matching rosewood bench out, and bowed as Malveen took a seat.

  As soon as everyone quieted and she was ready, Malveen began to play Concerto number 5 by Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns. Her fingers flew over the keys, her playing was perfect, as far as the servants could tell, and no one was more taken aback than Egan. He stood in the back, next to the wall and almost needed it to keep himself steady. Never had he heard such magnificent music, and not once did he imagine the woman he was falling in love with had such talent. Half way through, he managed to close his mouth, at least.

  Malveen stood up, took a bow, adored their applause and then took her seat again. She followed her concerto with a mellow and soothing piece called Standchen written by Frantz Schubert some fifty years earlier. It was her favorite and although she
concentrated on her playing, she dearly wished she could see the look on Egan’s face.

  It was so beautiful; the servants seemed stunned for a moment after she stopped. At last, they applauded – all but Egan, who was by then fit to be tied. “Mr. Alistair, how can you let her work in a kitchen where she might cut her hands?”

  Alistair stood his ground, “She dinna complain.”

  “Does that mean you approve of my playin’?” Malveen asked.

  Egan glared at her. “Dinna change the subject.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said curtsying to him.

  “Miss Malveen MacGreagor,” he said pointing at the door. “I wish to have a word with you!”

  “Very well.” She stuck her nose in the air, walked right past him and left the room. Egan was right behind her, and a moment later, they heard her laughing in the hallway.

  “He loves her,” Sarah said, “even if he does not know it yet.”

  “I love her too,” said Paul. “I could listen to that all day.”

  “Perhaps someday we shall, thanks to Thomas Edison and his phonograph,” said George.

  “Phonograph?” Paul asked.

  “‘Tis a machine that records sound and plays it back,” George answered.

  “Then we must have one,” said Alistair, lowering the lid over the hammers and strings. “Malveen deserves a rest. This night, we shall all help with the dishes.”

  *

  Malveen helped anyway. The last dish was dried and put away, and the other servants had drifted off to bed when Egan folded his arms and leaned against the washtub. “What other secrets have you kept from me?”

  “Twas not a secret, you dinna ask.”

  “A lad must have a hint of the question before he can ask, and you gave none.”

  “Do forgive me,” she said, taking off her apron and laying it across the back of a chair. “I dinna want to spoil our time together.”

  “Spoil it how?”

  “Egan, I am a concert pianist and I promised His Grace I would share my talent with the world. I am already pledged to do seven concerts.”

  “Then you are leaving?”

  “Not until after you are gone to America.”

  He felt a hurt in his heart at the thought that they would soon part. He knew they would, but he didn’t expect it to hurt that much. “I see.”