Marblestone Mansion, Book 4 Read online

  A pail blue satin caught Cathleen’s eye first. She went to it, lightly touched the divine material and grinned at Laura. “I believe this will do.”

  “I agree,” Laura said. “We shall take this one, seven yards shall do, I suspect.”

  “Yes, Mum.” The seamstress muttered something in Gaelic and then carried the bolt of cloth to the measuring table.

  In Gaelic, Cathleen said, “Indeed, I can afford it.”

  The seamstress was a little embarrassed, but only for a moment. “Forgive me, I thought you might be…that American.”

  “What American?” Cathleen asked, still speaking Gaelic as she walked to a green bolt of cloth more suitable for an everyday skirt.

  “‘Tis a scandal, to be sure,” said the seamstress. “The Duke of Glenartair has brought home an American wife.”

  “No,” Cathleen said in English.

  Laura was beginning to catch on, was appalled, and began to say something, but Cathleen touched her arm and slightly shook her head. Then she turned back to the green cloth. “Come to think of it, I did hear something about that. They say he found her in an orphanage.”

  The mouth of the seamstress dropped. “An orphanage? She is a commoner?”

  “Ladies, please speak English,” Laura pleaded.

  Cathleen smiled and did as Laura requested. “There is a scandal afoot. It seems the duke of Glenartair has married a commoner he found in an orphanage.”

  Laura smiled and played along. “I heard the same. A commoner and an American, what is the world coming to?” She motioned for the seamstress to take the green bolt as well and walked to a black one. “I think three or four skirts from this shall do.”

  “Very well, Mum,” said the seamstress.

  “Perhaps you might like the American, once…” Cathleen started.

  “Like her or not, she’ll be impossible to please,” the seamstress shot back. “Americans always are, and one cannae understand a word they say.”

  Cathleen was thoroughly enjoying the exchange. “Well, perhaps she will bring an interpreter.”

  “God willing,” said the seamstress. “How much of the black and the green?”

  “We best have fifteen of the black and seven of the green,” Laura answered. “Oh, and she will need white blouses with lace. Her ordinary clothes got ruined…somehow.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” the seamstress said, softening up a bit.

  “Tell me,” Laura started. “Has everyone heard about the new Duchess?”

  “Oh yes, Mum. ‘Tis the talk of the town. Disgraceful, I say and his wife not dead in her grave a full year.”

  At that, Cathleen flinched but it wasn’t long before she recovered and smiled. “Please put these things on my husband’s account and have them delivered directly. I believe I should like making them myself or perhaps I shall find a seamstress where we live. I shall need buttons, thread and any other notions you deem necessary.” She turned and was about to walk out of the store when the woman shouted, “Who is your husband?”

  Cathleen turned completely around to face her, and with a twinkle in her eye answered, “The Duke of Glenartair.”

  *

  Laura giggled as they walked on down the street. “Did you see the look on her face?”

  “She deserved that and more. I am determined never to shop there again.” Cathleen abruptly stopped and put her hand on Laura’s arm. “You’ll not tell Cameron what she said, will you? I dinna want him to fret over it. Promise you will not tell him.”

  “I do not promise. Respect does not come to a second wife unless her husband demands it. Cameron must be told and once he knows his wife is being slighted, he shall have a word to say about it. He will insure it never happens again.”

  “But he might not let me go shopping and I so love seeing all the new things.”

  Laura spotted their driver, waved their readiness to go home and pulled Cathleen to the side of the busy walkway. “It is far different here.”

  “For you, but not for me. I am as common as any of them.”

  “So am I, but dearest, we must consider our husbands. We cannot let them be laughed at because of us.”

  Cathleen caught her breath. “Oh, Laura, have I done something awful?”

  “Not yet, by the time that woman spreads her gossip, the story will have changed a dozen times. Meanwhile, we shall have our fun at her expense.” Laura glanced up the street to see if the carriage was coming. “Someone at the castle spread the word about you. How else could everyone know you are already married? We only knew because Cameron called to tell us the good news.”

  Cathleen’s eyes lit up. “We have a spy?”

  “I believe so.”

  “How wonderful. I say we find her out.”

  “Or him.” Laura corrected. She didn’t quite understand why Cathleen found that exciting. “You are happy to have a spy?”

  “Of course I am. Leesil and I played inspector at Marblestone when I first arrived. We played it at the orphanage too, but ‘twas much more fun at Marblestone. How precisely do you think we could have our fun at the seamstress’s expense?”

  “We shall tell our tale at dinner where the servers can hear it. They shall tell the others and the ‘spy’ as you call it, will spread it all across the land. Our dear seamstress will find herself out done by the time we are finished.”

  “Very well, but Cameron will be upset, I know he will.”

  “He will hear it anyway and it is better coming from us; not from the gossip. Did you not expect some sort of disparagement from the servants? You seemed to the other day when you said we should remember Flora always, and said it in front of a servant. I applaud you for that, my dear, it was brilliant.”

  “I dinna expect being a second wife would be easy, but I dinna expect cruelty. ‘Twas a very cruel thing she said about Cameron, was it not?”

  “It was indeed. Perhaps we might go back and tell her we’ll not need the material after all.”

  “Nay, I like the cloth. Do you suppose I shall have trouble finding a seamstress closer to home?”

  “I hope not.”

  The duke’s sleek black carriage with gold fringe always drew the attention of many, and when it stopped to pick them up, several watched to see who was getting in. Before they pulled away, Laura spotted the seamstress gawking from across the street, gave her an elaborated nod and looked away.

  *

  The way Cathleen told it at dinner that night, Cameron laughed as loud as Edward, until he noticed the look on Laura’s face. “Is there more?”

  Laura looked down and hesitantly answered, “An unfortunate comment was also made.”

  “What sort of comment?” Cameron asked.

  Edward frowned. “I do not believe we are going to like hearing this, old fellow.”

  “Nor do I,” Cameron agreed.

  “The seamstress found your marriage so soon after Flora’s death disgusting.”

  Cameron narrowed his eyes. “She said it in front of Cathleen?”

  Cathleen turned her worried eyes on her husband. “She dinna know who I was at the time, and I was not bothered by it.”

  “I was bothered by it,” said Laura.

  “As am I.” Cameron took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I shall see to this.”

  Cathleen was worried. “What are you going to do? I do not want to be the cause of discourse among your people.”

  “Apparently, you already are and you’ve done nothing to deserve it,” said Cameron. He realized she was upset, smiled and covered her hand with his. “Do not concern yourself; I have been expecting something of this nature. I had hoped it would not happen to you, however.” He remembered the servers and with a nod, dismissed them.

  “She would not have said it, had she known who I was,” Cathleen added after they were gone.

  “Indeed not,” Laura agreed. “We must have a reception and put a picture in the papers directly. And perhaps you should take her to town. Once they see Cathleen wit
h you, we’ll hear no more of that.”

  “A splendid idea, my dearest Laura,” Edward said. “We shall all go.”

  “And take Addie with us?” Cathleen asked.

  “Why not,” said Cameron. “Let them see all of us and let the gossip begin. I have waited too long to let them see my daughter and now…”

  “And now,” Edward interrupted, “they shall think Cathleen brought Blair…I mean Addie, to the marriage.”

  “It just might work,” Laura agreed. “We shall trick them all.”

  “So long as the duchess is still in London,” Cameron put in.

  Edward rolled his eyes. “She is still in London, I assure you, and still coming to the house daily to see if we have returned. I fear we must go home one of these days, but oh how I dread it.”

  *

  Although no one outside the Marblestone family knew what happened that day, it didn’t take long for word to spread that someone or something had injured poor Mr. Swinton. Abigail got it from Maude Goodwin, who got it directly from someone who lived in Palmer Lake. It was an odd sort of injury, right behind the knees, and it rendered the man useless for most of a day. Swinton would not say what happened, but word was, he was none too pleased about it. Therefore, Abigail was positive someone hit him. But why?

  Gretchen only smiled when she heard it.

  *

  Seamstress Gretchen liked going to the general store in Colorado Springs when the footmen went to town to get this or that for Marblestone. No matter how many different threads she had, there was always something that needed fixing for which she had no matching color. It was especially true with all the new MacGreagors, and Wade was always tearing his clothes. Twice, she secretly mended his shirt so his mother wouldn’t find out. It was their little conspiracy and one she enjoyed being a part of.

  She also liked seeing all the new things the store had on display. There were ordinary dishes and expensive ones too, white pewter bowls, and pots and pans of every size imaginable. The general store even had a very expensive silver serving tray, which it appeared no one could afford to buy. Perhaps she would buy it for when she had her own little cottage and a husband to go with it. She could dream anyway. Gretchen walked to the bolt of cloth suitable for embroidery, a favorite hobby of all the women, especially on long winter evenings. More cloth was always in need and Mr. Hannish allowed them anything they wanted. Sometimes, he was a little too generous, and Gretchen tried to be conservative, just to pay him back a little.

  This time, Shepard didn’t go to the train station to await a shipment with the other men. Instead, he walked down the busy street with Gretchen, and she liked having him around. She especially liked his sense of humor, but she wasn’t going to let on, just in case he was not truly interested in her. He’d been paying more attention to her lately, but that didn’t especially mean anything. All of them paid a lot more attention to her since the day she protected Paulette.

  When Shepard stopped to read a wanted poster in the window, she stopped too. He seemed unusually interested, so she asked. “Do you know him?”

  “Nay, but I’ve heard the name.” Shepard glanced both up and down the street hoping the sheriff wasn’t watching and then yanked the poster down. He quickly folded it and stuffed it in his pocket. Then he shrugged as if he was completely innocent, opened the door to the general store and followed Gretchen in.

  “I saw that,” Sheriff Thompson said. He set a small paper bag full of fresh ground coffee on the counter and dug in his pocket for the correct coins. “You know that outlaw?”

  “No,” Shepard answered. “I was just curious. I have never seen a wanted poster.”

  “Well, you can have it then, I’ve got more where that one came from. Just see you don’t take the rest of them down. Took me all day yesterday to put them up.”

  “On my word, Sheriff, I only want this one,” Shepard swore.

  Sheriff Thompson grunted, grabbed his bag and walked out.

  Gretchen held her laughter until the door closed and then grinned at Shepard. “Fear not, I know just how to break a man out of jail.”

  Shepard raised an eyebrow. “I bet you do.” He walked to the back of the store to look at tools, yet he couldn’t help but glance her way occasionally. The more time he managed to spend with her, the more he was infatuated. The next time he glanced her way, Swinton was heading straight for her. Alarmed, he rushed back, but as soon as Swinton spotted Shepard, he changed his mind and walked back out of the store.

  “What did he say?” Shepard asked.

  “Nothing, but he wanted to. Do they have any baseball bats in this store?”

  “I hope so,” Shepard muttered. He watched through the window until Swinton was out of sight.

  *

  When they got home, Shepard waited patiently for Hannish to come back from the construction site, and when he was finally alone in his study, Shepard lightly knocked on the door.

  “Enter.”

  Shepard closed the door and moved closer. “Mr. Hannish, while we were in the general store, Mr. Swinton tried to approach Gretchen. He left when he saw me.”

  “I see. Did he threaten her?”

  “She says not, but why else would he approach her?”

  “Why else indeed.”

  “He might have wished to apologize, but he could have done so with me standing there.”

  “I doubt that sort of man ever considers an apology. You are worried for Gretchen and so am I. We cannae keep her home, but we can keep a better eye on her…and Paulette as well.”

  “I agree.”

  “Alert the other lads, will you?”

  “I shall.” Shepard started to leave and then remembered. “Oh, by the way, I thought you might like to see this.” He pulled the poster out of his pocket, unfolded it and handed it over.

  At first, Hannish wrinkled his brow, but as soon as he recognized the name, he chuckled. “Jedediah Tanner is a trainrobber?” A moment later, he began to laugh. “The duchess married a train robber? No wonder he stole all her money before he left her. She married a thief.”

  *

  Dearest Cathleen and Cameron,

  I send off this quick letter and the poster, so as to get it in the mail this very day, as I cannot wait for you to see it. Do you not recognize his name? I tell you, those who know what the duchess is, are still laughing. I wonder if she knows she married a train robber.

  I shall write more later.

  My greatest love to you all,

  Leesil

  A phone call in the night awoke Hannish, but by the time he got out of bed and picked up the earpiece, no one was on the other end. He could hear someone running down the back stairs, so he opened the door and looked down the hallway just as Shepard appeared. “What is it?” Hannish asked.

  Wearing nothing but his nightshirt, Shepard answered, “The warehouse is on fire, Mr. Hannish!”

  “What?”

  “The sheriff just called.”

  “Oh no,” Leesil moaned, slowly sitting up.

  “Go back to sleep, I shall see to it,” Hannish said, reaching for his pants. “Tis the middle of the night.”

  By the time Hannish got dressed, Shepard had thrown on his clothes, alerted the others, run across the lawn and was pounding on Prescot’s door. It took precious time to gather the horses and mount, but as soon as they could, Hannish, Prescot and Shepard rode their horses in the pitch black of night down the hill to town.

  Even before they reached the empty streets, they could see the distant flames shooting high in the sky. With a sinking feeling in their stomachs, they hurried to the burning building, jumped off their mounts and tried to take it all in. Not only was the new structure on fire, so were the piles of lumber lying near the warehouse waiting to be stored inside. Town’s men had already set up a bucket brigade, bringing water from a nearby creek to throw on the blaze, but it didn’t appear to be doing much good. The most they could hope for was to keep the fire from spreading to the dry brush nearby. />
  Hannish and Prescot grabbed two shovels the workmen left lying not far away, and went to put out any brush fires that might have started, while Shepard joined the bucket brigade. Not long after, all the rest of Marblestone’s men arrived, together with Claymore, his footmen and the doctor, just in case someone got burned.

  They set up a second bucket brigade and did the best they could, but saving anything at all was hopeless. At last, the warehouse was nothing more than a smoldering pile of burned timbers and the sheriff called a halt. Gladly, the men sat down to rest, while doc took a bucket of water and a dipper around offering to let them drink. Little by little, the men began to drift away and go back to their warm beds.

  Claymore went from man to man, thanking them and when most were gone, he went to stand beside Hannish and stared into the dying embers. “Nothing more to be done,” he sighed.

  “Go on home, Claymore, we will stay to make certain it does not flare up again.”

  “I believe I will. I’m a bit too old to fight fires these days.” When he started to go to his horse, he spotted Sheriff Thompson headed their way and decided to wait.

  “We smelled kerosene, Mr. MacGreagor,” the sheriff said, using a rag to wipe the sweat off his brow.

  “Kerosene? Do you mean someone set the fire intentionally?” an incredulous Hannish asked.

  “Could be. You use any on the place?” the sheriff asked.

  “I suppose we had enough to light lanterns, but not enough to do all this.”

  “Tomorrow, I shall ask around,” the sheriff said. “Maybe someone saw something.”

  “It is too far from town for anyone to see,” Claymore pointed out.

  Sheriff Thompson studied Hannish’s face as he asked his next question, “You know who might have done this?”