Beloved Secrets, Book 3 Read online

  It was not until she was half a block down the street, before she stopped, leaned against the side of a building and took a forgotten breath. Her revenge was short and sweet, but it did not save her job. Now what was she to do? Four dollars wasn’t going to last very long. She might be able to sell a few things including the bow in her hair and the apron, but sell to whom? She knew very well all of the women living in her tenement building were as poor as she was. At least, if she dressed it up a little with a colorful sash or something, she could wear the uniform blouse and skirt when she went to apply for a new position – although she knew very well there were few positions to be had.

  It seemed somehow cruel and thoughtless for people on the busy street to be smiling and laughing – those that were not angrily yelling at each other over the traffic snarl, that is. It was unusual for her, but just now, she liked the angry ones best. Emily sighed, made her way across the street, boarded the crowded trolley, and paid the nickel fair. She found a seat next to a window, stared out and mentally said goodbye to yet another chapter in her misery plagued life.

  BLAIR MACGREAGOR WAS head-over-heels in love.

  She proudly and excitedly stood next to David Steele at the railing of the top deck on the HMS Mauretania, with one hand around his arm and the other holding on to her tall hat, overly decorated with purple satin bows and white flowers. The autumn air was brisk enough to encourage a dark brown topcoat for him and a purple, fur trimmed cape for Blair. They stood amid dozens of other first class passengers and watched as the massive ship slowly glided past the Statue of Liberty on its way into New York Harbor. The waterway was filled with ships of all shapes and sizes, some arriving and some heading in the opposite direction, including another great streamliner with hundreds of guests standing at its railings as well.

  During the five-day voyage, her remarkable good looks, dark hair and blue eyes attracted the attention of every unmarried and married man alike aboard ship. Even so, she only had eyes for the handsome and debonair gentleman who just the day before pledged his love for her, and vowed to make her his wife. To her, David was the most handsome man among men, although he did appear to be much younger than his years. It was the smallest of disadvantages, she supposed, for he was as strong of mind as he was of body. His hair, sideburns and beard were neatly trimmed and his mustache was not nearly as bushy as most men liked them. He was smartly dressed in dark trousers, a matching jacket over his waistcoat and a white shirt adorned with a black bow tie. Occasionally, he tipped his tall black hat to a passing lady and Blair admired his attention to that sort of thing.

  His was not a proposal of the kind she often read about in books, but instead a mutual understanding. At first David decreed that a union between them was quite impossible, but his hesitation was set aside as soon as they declared their love for each other.

  Blair first met him on the voyage to London, at which time he pretended to be a lowly galley waiter. It was not until much later that she learned the truth. It was her father’s doing, for Cameron MacGreagor hired David to see to his daughter’s safety on both ocean crossings. She was, after all, a lady of wealth, and easy prey to men who hoped to gain her fortune through marriage. That was one worry she knew she did not have where David was concerned, although his position as a Pinkerton Agent likely did not pay much. Nor was she concerned about the dangers he faced. Indeed, she was too much in love to worry about anything at all.

  She spent the morning seeing that her belongings were carefully packed in her trunks, including copies of letters written by a MacGreagor ancestor some two hundred years prior. Her second trunk was filled with gifts she bought in London for each member of her extensive Marblestone family. Therefore, she was free to fill her afternoon and early evening with nothing but her future husband.

  On the voyage to England, Blair was excited when the massive HMS Mauretania’s engines, driven by gigantic four-blade propellers, began to belch black smoke out of the ship’s four funnels. Now she was even more excited when the belching smoke diminished, the churned up water behind the ship began to calm, and the constant noise lessened.

  She watched but truly did not see the New York skyline increase in size. Her mind was on the perfect wedding instead. “When shall we marry?” she asked David. “Soon, I hope, for I could not bear bein’ separated from you for very long.”

  “I believe it is the bride who sets the date.”

  “Aye, but if we wait very long, it shall be the dead of winter. Where shall we go on our honeymoon?” She did not notice his slight frown.

  “I had not thought that far ahead.”

  “Did I not tell you? Father sent a cable. He and Mother shall be on the dock to greet us.”

  “No, you did not mention it.”

  “Is it not the perfect occasion for you to ask for my hand?”

  His frown deepened. “I had not thought of that either.”

  Blair laughed. “I can think of nothin’ else.”

  He turned so he could look her in the eye, “Blair, I cannot stay in New York. I too received a cable and I must leave for my office in Chicago tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh.”

  “They are expecting me to teach what I learned at Scotland Yard, you see.”

  She tried not to look too disappointed. “Of course they are.” Her eyes brightened. “There is still time to ask the captain of this ship to marry us. That way, I can go to Chicago with you.”

  He turned back to face the railing. “And deprive you of a fancy wedding? I would not dream of it.”

  “Well, I shall not have a weddin’ as fancy as the one Mrs. Whitfield put on for her daughter...if I can help it. Abigail Whitfield can be very persistent when she wants to be, and she loves nothin’ better than plannin’ a special occasion.”

  He smiled, “And gossip about every detail for at least a month?”

  “A month? Oh my no. ‘Twill likely be more than six months.” She watched a tugboat going the opposite direction for a moment and hoped it had come to push the ship into port. “Have you a very large family?”

  “Not very,” David answered. “I have three brothers, two of whom are also Pinkerton Agents, and one sister.”

  “Are your parents yet livin’?”

  “They are. They live in Chicago.”

  “Do the Pinkertons have an office in Colorado?”

  David kept his eyes on the tugboat too. “You are hoping to live near your family?”

  “As I said last night, I care not where we live as long as we are together. I was just wonderin’. Anyway, ‘tis but three or four days from Chicago to Denver by train. We can visit as often as we like.” He said nothing, so she continued. “I fear we must have a large weddin’, for we are a rather large family. I am the eldest of eight, although some are cousins. Then there are the servants and their families, The Whitfields, my father’s business associates, and...”

  “Servants?” he asked.

  “Twelve when last I was there, which has been the better part of a year now.”

  “Why so many?”

  “When my uncle Hannish built Marblestone, he planned for a very large family. He is quite fond of children, you see’ and can often be seen takin’ the youngest with him wherever he goes. You shall like Butler Prescot, and no one’s cookin’ is as divine as Cook Halen’s.”

  “Exactly how big is Marblestone?”

  “Very big.”

  “How many rooms?”

  “Sixty-seven if you do not count the hidden room.”

  David paused. “No wonder you need so many servants.”

  “They are more like family than servants. Most have been with us for years and would have it no other way. They are paid well and are quite happy, I have always believed.”

  “Yet, they are servants.”

  She noticed a faraway look in his eyes. “Darlin’ David, I dinna choose my family, they chose me.”

  He smiled finally. “Of course they did and I admire them for it. There are far too many orph
aned children in the world.”

  “I know how to clean and cook, if that concerns you...although I could use a bit more practice.”

  “I am relieved to hear that. A man could starve to death waiting for a woman to learn how to cook.”

  “Well, if it comforts you, I shall have Cook Halen teach me all she knows while we prepare for the weddin’.”

  His smile was more genuine this time. “I am fond of a good steak from time to time.”

  “I shall keep that in mind.” Blair pointed at two tugboats as they turned around, moved closer and began to maneuver the luxurious ship further up the Hudson River. As the HMS Mauretania drew ever closer, the glistening city in the setting sun nearly took her breath away. Soon the ship was turned up the east river and the Brooklyn Bridge came into view. Hoping to spot the man she loved most in the world, though in a different way than she loved David, she hung onto her hat and leaned as far as she could over the railing. Unfortunately, they were still too far away from the dock to see faces clearly. Three more times she leaned outward only to thrice be disappointed.

  At last, there he was – a tall imposing figure with wavy dark hair, himself just as handsome as any older man should be, and with him the mother she grew up loving. Blair waved madly until they spotted her and then turned to David, “The Whitfield’s have come.”

  “Splendid,” said David. “I shall enjoy seeing them again.”

  It seemed to take hours before the walkway was let down, and enough people disembarked so that Blair could hurry down and fly into the arms of her loving father and mother. Next, she greeted the MacGreagor’s cherished friends and neighbors, the robust Claymore Whitfield and his wife, Abigail. As usual, Abigail’s abundance of red hair was piled high on her head topped by a green hat that matched her impressive green velvet dress and coat.

  At last, Blair said, “Father, may I introduce Mr. David Steele?”

  “Of course.” Cameron reached out to shake David’s hand. “I owe you a great debt of gratitude. Do send your invoice to Marblestone at your earliest convenience. Cameron turned to put his arm around the woman standing next to him. “This is my wife, Cathleen.”

  “I have heard much of you,” said David as he tipped his hat to Cathleen.

  “And you are already acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Whitfield,” said Cameron.

  David shook hands with Claymore and then nodded to Abigail. “I am happy to see you survived your voyage home.”

  “Barely,” said Abigail. “I was forced to hold my breath for six days complete and could not wait to set foot on the shore. Never have I been so frightened and never shall I go again. Do you not know we originally booked passage on the Titanic?”

  “My dear,” Claymore interrupted, “I remind you we did not book the maiden but the return voyage, and then changed our minds.”

  Abigail scoffed, “Yes, yes, I know...still, if the Titanic can go down, so can all the rest.”

  “Well,” said Cameron. “I suggest we see to the luggage and make our way to the hotel. Will you not have dinner with us, Mr. Steele?”

  David glanced at the hope in Blair’s eyes and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Very good. We are stayin’ in the Crown Mayor Hotel.”

  David tipped his hat again to each of the ladies and then, to Blair’s amazement, he simply walked away. She was completely taken aback. Instead of his usual attentiveness, his departure from her was cold and unfeeling, as if they were but casual acquaintances. She kept her eyes on him until he disappeared into the crowd, and it was not until she felt her mother take her arm, that she smiled and pretended not to look as discarded as she felt.

  “He seems a nice enough lad,” her mother said.

  “He is,” Blair answered.

  “You must be exhausted. Shall we not get you to the hotel where you can rest?”

  “Aye.”

  As soon as Blair’s luggage was loaded, the MacGreagors and the Whitfields boarded two automobiles, and rode toward the heart of New York City. Not once did Blair look back at the magnificent ship upon which David professed his love for her. Instead, she carried on a happy, casual conversation just as she was expected to. Inside, she felt only terror. Something was amiss – she could feel it, and now she was left to wonder if David would arrive for dinner, or was she never to see him again?

  Impossible, she convinced herself. David loved her – she was certain of it.

  BLAIR PAID LITTLE ATTENTION to her surroundings when they arrived at The Crown Mayor Hotel. It looked like every other hotel she had seen in her life time. At her mother’s suggestion, she went to her unimpressive private room, waited for the bellboy to deliver her trunks, a waiter to bring her an apple and a cup of tea, and then closed the door on the world outside.

  It was supposed to be a gloriously happy day, one with family, friends and the man she loved all in the same place. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling something had gone wrong. She took her time bathing, opened her trunk, and then unpacked David’s favorite red dress. The dress had a simple design with a left side that wrapped around to the right, a wide lace collar, and long sleeves with decorative buttons on the outside from the elbow to the wrist. It was the buttons in the back that she could not fasten, so she telephoned for a hotel maid to help her.

  That was a mistake, for the maid seemed quite put out to be there, and as soon as she buttoned up the back of Blair’s dress, she rushed out the door without offering to style Blair’s hair. It was one more thing to add to Blair’s uneasy feeling. She watched the door close, puffed her cheeks and went to the dressing table. She examined her reflection, applied rouge to her cheeks and lips and then decided wearing her long hair down was her only recourse. That she could do herself. Besides, her father liked it down and maybe David would too – if he bothered to show up.

  Finished at last, she hoped and prayed he would be there when she went down stairs, but the heartsick feeling of dread simply would not pass.

  The Crown Mayor Hotel was located in the heart of Manhattan’s business district. It offered spacious suites, two restaurants, a billiard room and a private dining room, which Cameron had already rented for the evening. A massive chandelier hung above a long oak table where place settings consisted of silverware, red roses painted on fine china, and crystal glasses. On all four walls were large paintings of tall ships at sea in gold-leaf frames.

  Only one thing was missing – David was not there.

  Blair hugged everyone and then pretended to admire one painting after another, all the while holding her breath. At last, the door opened and to her delight David walked in. He greeted everyone else first, and then turned to her. “You look delightful, as always.”

  She blushed, thanked him, and then took a seat in a chair her father held for her, which happened to be directly across from her fiancé. At last, she could breathe, smile and be as jolly as everyone else. As they were served, David paid no undue attention to her, and she realized how inappropriate it would be for him to do so. Springing such an attraction on her family so soon after meeting him might well have dire consequences. It was wise to let them get to know him better. Besides, she could wait – she had waited to be in love all her life and a few more hours could not hurt.

  Their seven course dinner consisted of clam chowder, salad, roast beef, peas, potatoes, and a new concoction for dessert called Jell-O. Blair told of attending her friend’s wedding in London and then of the rebuilding of Glenartair castle in Scotland. She reported how well her aunt and uncle Mitchell were getting on, and that she would not mind visiting Scotland again and often.

  David told of the school he attended while in the United Kingdom and answered questions as to the possibility of war between the British and the Germans. He admitted tensions were high on occasion and low on others, but he knew nothing upon which to draw a positive conclusion either way.

  “Now, tell me all that is happenin’ at home. Does the family do well?” Blair asked.

  “Everyone is well indeed,�
�� Cathleen answered. “The children are back in school or we should have brought them with us. Yet, we left them in the good hands of Butler Prescot and Millie.”

  “What of my favorite cousin?’ Blair asked.

  It was Cameron who answered. “Justin has decided to become an attorney.”

  “Truly?” Blair asked. “The last I heard, he wished to be a doctor, and before that, a teacher of history.”

  “Fortunately,” said Cathleen, “he has ample time yet to make up his mind.”

  Not wanting to leave him out of the conversation, Blair said to David, “Father and Mr. Whitfield own a construction company.”

  “What do you build?” David asked.

  “Houses,” Claymore Whitfield answered. “Colorado Springs grows by leaps and bounds and the place cannot have too many houses.”

  “I see,” said David. “It sounds fascinating.”

  “Well,” said Cameron, “if ever you wish to buy one, let us know and we shall help in any way we can.”

  David briefly glanced at Blair. “I already own a home in Chicago, but I thank you for the offer.”

  Blair waited until the attendant served the last of the dessert before she asked, “How is my beloved horse?”

  “He awaits your return, as do we all,” Cameron answered.

  “Have you heard?” asked Abigail. “Two little boys, saved when their father put them in a lifeboat, were recently reunited with their mother. She had not the slightest notion they survived.”

  “How very remarkable,” said Blair.

  “I’ve not yet read a recent newspaper. What of the mutiny aboard the RMS Olympic?” David wanted to know.

  “Guilty,” Claymore answered, “but they face no penalty.”

  “None at all?” David asked.

  “’Tis a fair verdict,” said Cameron. “They found the lifeboats were rotten, refused to set sail, and who in their right mind could blame them?”

  “Not I,” Abigail said. “I shudder to think what might have become of the passengers of such a ship. I blame the captain for allowing the disgraceful happenstance in the first place.”