Marblestone Mansion, Book 10 Page 16

  With joy and great enthusiasm, she read all about the tragic kidnapping in Colorado. With joy and great enthusiasm, that is, until she could not find how the story ended. She ravaged through the paper looking for a follow up article, which to her dismay, was not included. She had to know – was the gutter rat dead or alive?

  “What is it, dear?” Daphne asked, lowering her copy of the paper.

  “Nothing,” the duchess rudely answered.

  “It must be something. I do believe your face has turned red.”

  The duchess gritted her teeth. “I said it was nothing!”

  “Forgive me, I did not mean to…”

  “Can you not just read your paper?”

  Daphne raised her newspaper back up and smiled. She too had been reading the article and knew very well what had upset the duchess. After the article appeared in London concerning Alexandra Sinclair’s death, Daphne traveled to Molina, Kansas. She had a nice little chat with the sheriff’s wife, and in exchange for a certain amount of money, Mrs. Jolly mentioned that the duchess had gone to Quebec, Canada. That very day, the pretend Baroness boarded a train. After that, it was just a question of running into the duchess somewhere.

  She made a mental note to call Lady Laura Bayington when she got back to her hotel. If anyone knew what became of Hannish’s second wife, Laura would.

  *

  In a Glenwood Springs, Colorado, café, Willis read about the kidnapping too. He certainly hadn’t expected to see his name in the paper. The land in Glenwood Canyon looked fertile and the price was right, but he’d already said his name around town. Willis finished his coffee, picked up his traveling bag, and went outside. He walked the three blocks to the train station and bought a ticket to a place he had never heard of called Palisade. While he waited, he thought about what the article said. Pete didn’t get the ransom money after all. Instead, he would be in prison for a very long time. Willis guessed Pete didn’t have it all worked out after all. He felt bad about Earl, and had a hard time believing that woman killed him. She seemed like such a nice person. Of course, you just never know about people.

  He felt bad about what happened to Lillie Mae’s father too. He liked the old drunk. Everybody did except Lillie Mae. Therefore, in honor of a man who would never appear in the history books, Willis decided to name himself Willis Flynn, and from now on, Willis Flynn would never again let anyone talk him into doing stupid things.

  *

  At the train station in Peyton, Brookton sat beside Lillie Mae on the only bench while they waited for the train. “I understand. You are right to stay and care for your family.”

  “Now that the insurance is going to pay, I am hoping Mother will move to Colorado Springs. Perhaps we shall buy one of Mr. MacGreagor’s houses.”

  “Perhaps you shall.” He smiled when he heard the train whistle in the distance, stood up, and picked up his bag. “Will you write and let us know how you are?”

  “I certainly shall. We might even get a telephone. Most everyone has one these days.” She followed him out the door and looked down the tracks. “Oh wait. She dug in her pocket and handed him the gloves Millie loaned her for the trip. “Thank her for me and ask Mr. MacGreagor to take what I owe the others out of my pay.”

  “I shall.”

  The train was right on time and as the noise grew louder, she raised her voice. “I am not sorry he died,” she admitted, “He was not my real father.”

  “I wondered about that.”

  “Tell Blair I…”

  “What?” he asked as the train came to a stop and loudly let off its steam.

  She leaned closer. “Thank you, Brookton.”

  He smiled, kissed her cheek and lifted his hat in salute. Brookton put it back on, boarded the train and walked to a seat. When he found an empty place, he sat down and then gave her one last wave goodbye.

  “Only fourteen,” he muttered as the train pulled away from the station. “I never guessed that.”

  *

  With the parade over and no events to plan until the Fourth of July and Colorado Days, Abigail was once again plagued with idle hands. Even eavesdropping on telephone conversations had lost its charm, now that no one was talking about the duchess. She was once again driving both her husband and her daughter insane with her constant complaining. Something had to be done…but what?

  Abigail and Claymore had just finished dinner and retired to their sitting room for the evening, when Butler Johnston came to announce a visitor. “A Mr. Gantry McBride to see you, Mrs. Whitfield.”

  “The ghost?” Claymore asked. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “There, you see, he is not a ghost,” Abigail shot back. “What could he possibly want, I wonder.”

  “He has a child with him. Shall I send them away?”

  “Certainly not,” said Claymore as he stood up. “Show them in, please.”

  For the first time in days, Abigail couldn’t think of a thing to say. She sat up a little taller, set her teacup back on the saucer, and watched the door.

  When he arrived, Gantry McBride had his hat in one hand and was holding the hand of a beautiful little curly haired girl. He curtly bowed and then said, “This is my granddaughter, Millicent.”

  Abigail could hardly tear her eyes away from the strange man who was standing in her very own sitting room. “Do you now admit to watching me?”

  “I do,” Mr. McBride answered. “I have been watching both you and your husband.”

  “Why?” Claymore asked.

  “For Millicent’s sake,” Mr. McBride answered. “Perhaps we might speak privately?”

  When Abigail finally noticed the child, her heart melted. Millicent looked to be about four years old and had Abigail’s same red hair. “Hello,” she managed to say. “I believe there is a very pretty doll in Gloria’s old room you may play with. Mr. Johnston, would you mind showing Millicent the dolls. She may have the one she chooses.”

  “Very good,” said the butler. He smiled, stretched out his hand and a delighted Millicent took it. “A dolly for me?” the child asked.

  “Just for you,” said the butler as he took her from the room and closed the door.

  “Please be seated, Mr. McBride, and tell us what we can do for you,” Claymore said sitting back down in his chair.

  “I do not wish to waste your time, Mr. Whitfield, so I shall speak plainly.”

  “Do sit down, at least,” said Claymore.

  Gantry yielded, moved his long black jacket aside and took a set. Yet, he sat carefully on the edge of the chair. “Mrs. Whitfield, Mr. Whitfield, you have a reputation in this town for your kindness and generosity to those less fortunate. I…”

  “You want money, I suppose,” Abigail scoffed. “I might have…”

  “No, Mrs. Whitfield, I want something far more precious than money.”

  “You are not asking for my wife,” are you, Claymore asked.

  Mr. McBride finally smiled. “In a way, yes I am.”

  “Mr. McBride…” Abigail started.

  “Perhaps we should let the man explain himself,” Claymore interrupted.

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Whitfield. You see, Millicent’s parents ran off and left her with me. I am ashamed to say her mother is my daughter, and I have not seen or heard from them since.”

  “What has that to do with us?” Abigail asked.

  Mr. McBride bowed his head for a moment, and when he slowly looked up, Abigail looked just as confused as her husband. “Doctor McCormick says I have but a few months to live.” Determined not to let them voice their shock and regret where he was concerned, he quickly continued, “I have come to ask if you will take her once I am gone.”

  “Take her?” Abigail asked. “You mean adopt her?”

  “I know I am asking a great deal, but everyone says the two of you are…especially you, Mrs. Whitfield, have hearts of gold. You are honest, kind, and…well, I could go peacefully to my rest knowing my Millicent will be well cared for.”

  An
odd silence filled the sitting room. Mr. McBride again bowed his head while Claymore and Abigail stared into each other’s eyes. With hope in her eyes, she reached over and took her husband’s hand.

  Claymore said, “Yet, we are getting on in years, my love.”

  “We are not that old,” she countered.

  “And when she is an energetic teen, as we both know she surely will be? You and I shall need canes just to move from the chair to the bed and back again.”

  “Gloria will help us. She always wanted a little sister.”

  Claymore wasn’t convinced. “Suppose you and I die sooner than we plan. Aside from her grieving the loss of yet another parent or two, what then is to happen to the child?”

  “Claymore, I have nothing to do. You have your work, but I have nothing but making quilts for the Denver orphans. I need another child to dote on.”

  “Yes, but does she need…”

  “She needs a mother,” Mr. McBride interrupted.

  Claymore stared at the floor for a long moment. “Yes, I suppose she does. At least she is not young enough to cry through the night. I am rather fond of a good night’s sleep.”

  Mr. McBride smiled. “Then you will adopt her?”

  “Yes,” said Abigail immediately.

  “Hold on, my love. Should we not discuss this further?”

  “Discuss what?” Abigail asked. “You shall have your sleep and I shall have another daughter. What is left to say?”

  Claymore knew he was losing. As usual, Abigail gave him very little time to consider the drawbacks, and he might as well just give in now. “Very well, however, I insist upon one thing.”

  “What?” both Abigail and Gantry asked at the same time.

  “That you bring Millicent over often, so taking her after you are…gone, shall not be such a shock for her. And you, my darling wife, you must promise not to dote on her too much.”

  When Abigail stood up, the men did also. Unabashed, she threw her arms around her husband and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” She quickly turned and headed for the door. “I must help Millicent choose just the right doll. Wait until everyone hears this! Mr. McBride is not a ghost after all.”

  Mr. McBride wrinkled his brow. “A ghost?”

  Claymore chuckled. “You’ve been the talk of my wife’s sewing circle lately.” He went to the side table, poured bourbon in two glasses and offered one to his guest. “Did our references include my wife’s propensity to gossip?”

  Gantry chuckled as he accepted the drink. “My wife was the same way. Do you enjoy it as much as I did?”

  “Usually, but I prefer you do not tell Abigail that. Sit down, my good man. We have a lot to discuss. What do you mean to do with…”

  *

  “Some wounds heal, but others do not,” Daphne once said.

  That was true in the MacGreagor household too. A week later, her feet were almost healed, but Leesil was still having nightmares. Alistair continued to make certain the place was securely locked at night, and Hannish went to town and bought four pistols. He insisted that no adult be left in the house without access to a gun for their protection.

  Prescot was well enough to complain more, and Beverly and Dugan had not yet agreed on a name for their son. For his reward, Justin bought Traitor a brand new baseball to chew on.

  Willis had not been found and Pete was on his way to a jail in Denver to await trial. When he heard Hannish and Leesil were determined to testify against him, he decided to plead guilty, providing the law promised not to hang him. The three hundred and ninety-five dollars in his pocket was returned to its rightful owner.

  Hannish bought Leesil a new set of crystal candlestick holders and gave the remaining gold one to Abigail to be auctioned off for charity. An auction was something Abigail had not yet thought of, and she instantly began going through her entire household to see what could happily be replaced.

  Claymore cringed.

  The one thing Claymore did not regret, was Abigail’s desire to buy everything a little girl might need when the time came. From their very first dinner with Mr. McBride and his granddaughter, Millicent completely captured his heart.

  On April 10th, Abigail hosted a small party at Marblestone Mansion. Just like all her other parties, the guest list kept growing and growing. The diversion was good for everyone, including Leesil and Prescot.

  There was something majestic and a little frightening to be seen in the heavens, and fortunately, the sky was clear. An enormous comet was coming. It was the end of the world, they said, and Abigail was determined not to miss a moment of it. Just in case, she ordered several comet proof umbrellas. However, she passed on the gas masks and survival pills. Fortunately, no one in Colorado felt sacrificing a virgin would save them from certain disaster.

  With his new camera, Justin stood ready to take pictures, and as the night darkened, the streaking light in the sky began to appear. It was a bit disappointing as the comet was not its brightest until days later. By then, everyone interested had seen it, Justin had taken multiple pictures, and turned his attention to an airplane that stayed airborne for an impressive four hours, and flew 144 miles before being forced to land.

  That same month, the Secret Service captured a counterfeiter.

  CHAPTER 10

  Being accused of not being well read still peeved the duchess. She was very well read, just not in the nonsense going on in Austria. Why would she be? Austria was a little country of no consequence to anyone. Even so, she read each newspaper at least twice from that day on. Still, there was nothing more about the MacGreagors and her darling husband’s missing wife.

  The more time the duchess spent with Daphne, the less she thought her initial assessment was correct. Daphne easily put on airs that impressed gullible shop owners, just the way many royals did. Naturally, it was a characteristic the duchess detested most in a woman.

  There were other aspects of her friend’s circumstances that puzzled her. If Daphne was an imposter, what was she up to? She did not seem interested in attracting men that might be tempted to lavish her with expensive gifts. Why bother the pretention if not for money? Then again, if Daphne had money, why not stay in a luxury hotel? It was such an intriguing riddle, and one the duchess simply could not find an easy answer to. She could ask, but it was not worth the trouble. Their friendship was destined to end shortly anyway.

  When Daphne challenged her to a game of chess near the end of April, the duchess readily accepted. She bought a British weighted boxwood chess set, took it back to her hotel lobby, and then set the game up on a small table near a window. She waited. The Baroness was late, as usual, which was another failing characteristic in women the duchess was not fond of.

  Nevertheless, there was some good news. The ship she intended to take to Europe was finally out of quarantine. The passengers were allowed to depart, and the ship was being prepared for the return voyage. It was scheduled to leave the next morning, and the duchess had nearly everything already packed. Therefore, she surmised that on this, their last day together, she would endeavor to get the answer to her questions and put Baroness Daphne Von Schmid in her proper place.

  After a long wait, the baroness arrived, took a seat opposite the duchess, and looked disapprovingly at the arrangement of the chess pieces. “I prefer white.”

  “Of course you do,” the duchess said. She delicately turned the wooden board on the tabletop until the white pieces were properly in front of the weasel. “Have you heard?”

  “Heard what?” Daphne asked as she moved one of her pawns forward a space.

  “About the train that fell off a bridge into the Spanish River, naturally. It is in all the papers.”

  “Oh, that. Yes, I read about it.”

  The duchess moved one of her pawns forward too. “Well, have you heard about Billy Gohl?”

  “Who is he?”

  Finally, the duchess knew something Daphne did not, and she was delighted. “He has been arrested. It is thought he murdered over a hundred s
ailors.”

  “A hundred? Are you certain?”

  “It was in the paper this morning.”

  “Why did he kill them?”

  “To rob them of their pay, it is said.”

  Daphne kept quiet as she carefully studied the board. At length, she moved her queen and then smiled. “There are other ways to rob a man, you know.”

  The duchess eyed her opponent suspiciously. Did Daphne know who she was? Impossible, she concluded. Or was she about to confess her own sins? The duchess tore her eyes away and stared at the board. Still… The duchess was so flustered, she moved her horse without thinking, and exposed it to Daphne’s queen. When she looked, Daphne had wrinkled her brow as if she suspected some sort of trap.

  “Such as?” the duchess asked after her next move.

  “What?”

  “You said there were other ways to rob a man and I am asking, such as?”

  “Oh, well I am certain you are well aware of them. There is marriage, for one.” Daphne paused just long enough to make the duchess hold her breath. “Yet, an affair with one who is already married is much more fun and profitable.”

  Secretly, the duchess breathed a secret sigh of relief. “Perhaps, but an affair is far more dangerous. A wife scorned, particularly if she has a gun, can be very treacherous.”

  Daphne giggled. “Indeed she can. Yet, some women are brave enough. It happens all the time, especially when a man of wealth and stature is forced to take a wife he does not want.”

  “I am certain that is true.” It did not appear the duchess had been found out after all. “Take Charles Gessler, for example. He had several women he kept hidden…”

  “Who?” Daphne asked.

  “Surely you know the Crown Prince of Romania.”

  “Oh, of course. A scandalous man if ever I met one.”

  The duchess smiled. At last, she caught her. “Tell me, when did you last see him?”

  Daphne’s answer came remarkably quick. “Last spring, or perhaps the year before.”