Marblestone Mansion, Book 10 Read online

  “You like lightning?” Daphne asked.

  “I find it fascinating, do you not?”

  “I suppose, although it does frighten me.”

  “Let’s go in, shall we? As long as we are inside the ship there is no danger.”

  In less than two hours, waves began to lap against the ship’s stern. Instead of gliding through smooth waters, the ship began to tip slightly forward and then rise up as it rode the waves. Smatterings of rain started to beat against the windows and far too soon, were caught by the wind and driven sideways, beating against the windows, where the guests took refuge in the assembly room. Two sailors tried desperately to walk against the wind with little success. Soon, high waves crashed against the deck sending a river of water aft to port, yet the ship held steady as it sharply dipped down, lifted up, and then dipped down again.

  Just then, a bolt of lightning struck the deck, sending the two sailors through the air. One landed on his side and the other full on his back. Passengers, witness to the calamity, forced open a door and as they did, the mighty wind blew off women’s hats, scattered table decorations and contorted window curtains. The men darted out, grabbed the sailors and pulled them inside. Closing the door against the force of the wind took six stout men.

  Having seen enough excitement for one day, the duchess made her excuses and went to her stateroom, expressly to hide the onset of seasickness – which to her, was a sign of weakness.

  *

  By morning, the sea had calmed again. In the cable room downstairs, the pretend Baroness Daphne Von Schmid sent the following cable to her husband in London.

  Two arriving in Liverpool aboard RMS Empress of Britain day after tomorrow.

  Daphne was again late to dinner and the duchess bemoaned having to get out of bed at a precise time, just to sit at a table and wait for her. At last, Daphne came in, hurried across the room, and was seated opposite the duchess.

  “I have only just heard it from the Captain,” said Daphne. “We are a bit late and shall put to shore in Liverpool morning after next.”

  “Late? How…unexpected. I booked passage on a sailing ship leaving Liverpool tomorrow morning. I expected we would arrive tonight.”

  “How unfortunate. Might I enquire as to where you are taking a sailing ship?”

  “I have decided to see Ireland.”

  “Have you? It sounds charming. I have yet to see Ireland myself.”

  The duchess waited as the waiter poured her a cup of strong coffee. “A pity you cannot go with me.”

  “Why not? I’ve nothing better to do.”

  “Were you not eager to get back to Austria?”

  “Not now. I received a cable telling me to stay away. Therefore, what better place to be than in Ireland?”

  The duchess was not quite certain she believed Daphne, but she supposed more time together would strengthen their relationship. “It is settled then. We shall sail directly to Ireland as soon as is possible, but I must say, I am bitterly disappointed that we are late arriving.”

  “Agreed. Do not fret, my dear, I am certain there are sailing ships going to Ireland from Liverpool nearly every hour. Everything will work out well in the end.”

  *

  Properly docking a ship at Liverpool always seemed to take a great deal of time, and often tried the patience of those eager to depart. Alone in her stateroom aboard ship, the duchess fumed as she got ready to disembark. “Liverpool in broad daylight? I will surely get caught this time. Why does nothing ever go my way?”

  She sat down, yanked a blonde wig off the dressing table, put it on, and started to tuck her graying hair under it. With her luck, Laura Bayington could be lurking outside with a constable just waiting to catch her. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. She settled her wig on her head, closed and locked her last traveling bag, and then opened the door so the deckhand could take her luggage down. Just in time, she grabbed the hatbox away from him, glared as if he intentionally tried to steal it, and then walked out behind him. She took the stairs down to “C” deck and then cautiously stepped out. Laura was not on the ship’s deck, at least, so she made her way to the railing and peeked over. It took several minutes, but to her relief, Laura was not there, nor did she recognize anyone else.

  The baroness had not seen the duchess all morning. Just as the captain predicted, they were late arriving. Therefore, it was nearly noon when, at last, the plank was lowered and the passengers began to go ashore. As always, the docks were teaming with all sorts of vehicles and people. Sailors hurried to and fro, dogs barked, men in white aprons tried to tempt passengers to buy fresh English buns, and families happily greeted returning loved ones.

  Still the duchess had not come on deck and the baroness was beginning to worry. As the passengers thinned and luggage was taken down to waiting carriages and automobiles, the baroness decided she best go see what was keeping her. She was about to go back inside when she heard a familiar voice behind her, stopped and turned around. To her amazement, the duchess was wearing glasses and a blonde wig, both of which looked quite ridiculous on her.

  The baroness did her best not to laugh. “It is you,” she said. “I…”

  The duchess leaned forward as if to conspire with her friend. “There is a gentleman, the captain of a ship, I do not care to let see me while I am in Liverpool.”

  “I see. You simply must tell me all about him.”

  “There is not much to tell,” said the duchess as she turned to walk down the plank. “He is a rather excitable sort of man, who would make a fuss if he should see me.”

  “Is his ship in port just now?” the baroness asked, as she hurried to follow her friend.

  “Yes…yes it is.” The duchess pointed at one and then at another ship. “There it is.”

  “I see. Perhaps we best go the other way then.”

  “My thoughts precisely. Besides, we must secure passage on a sailing ship to Ireland right away.”

  “Indeed we must.” The baroness walked with her to the door of a ticket office and then paused. “I believe I would like a hot English bun. Would you care for one?”

  “I would, thank you.” The duchess was about to ask if she would be expected to pay Daphne’s passage when she remembered something. She opened her pocket book pulled the letter out and handed it to Daphne. “Would you mind mailing this for me?”

  “Not at all.” Daphne took the letter, handed the duchess enough money to pay her fair to Ireland, and then disappeared into the crowd. When she was far enough away, she searched the mass of people for a familiar face, and as soon as she saw him, she looked back at the ticket office. The duchess had disappeared inside.

  The man motioned for Daphne to come to the side of a building where they would be out of sight, and as soon as she arrived, he took her into his arms. “How I do miss you, my love.”

  “I miss you too. ‘Tis almost over. We are off to Ireland and I shan’t stay long.”

  He kissed her passionately and then leaned back to look in her eyes. “Promise me once more that you will not kill her.”

  “I do not intend to kill her. There are other ways to put an end to the misery she causes. How is Edward?”

  “Not well, I fear, but he refuses to take better care of himself. He asks for you daily.”

  “Tell the king I shall bow at his feet the instant I return.” She remembered the letter in her hand and gave it to him. “See this does not make it into the post.”

  He tore it in pieces, stuffed them in his coat pocket, and wrapped his arms back around her. “Do call when you can. I so long for the sound of your voice.”

  “I shall.” She hated to go so soon, but there were hot buns to buy and the duchess would come looking if she stayed away too long. Daphne kissed her beloved husband one more time and then hurried away.

  *

  A sailing ship took them across the Irish Sea to Dublin, where Daphne and the duchess visited shops, and admired tall buildings on both sides of the cobblestone Sackville St
reet. They spent the night in a hotel and the next morning, the duchess hired a carriage to take them south.

  She should have expected it, she supposed, but to the duchess the land around Carlow looked a great deal like the place she detested most – Scotland. Carlow had a castle, but then, so did every town of any consequence in Europe. The duchess was not impressed. Pleading exhaustion, she stayed in her Carlow hotel room alone that night. The next morning, she suggested they take a train the rest of the way instead, but the baroness complained.

  “Trains moved too quickly to enjoy the country side.”

  “You find this beautiful?”

  “I do indeed,” said Daphne.

  “Very well, if you insist, but I am quite certain it looks the same in Kilkenny.”

  “You have not yet explained why you desire to go there?”

  “I cannot explain because I am not certain. I remember someone mentioning the name. Someone long ago…perhaps my mother.”

  “Your mother is in America?”

  “My mother passed when I was thirteen and I have yet to forgive her for it.”

  “I doubt she intended to die,” said Daphne.

  “Perhaps not, but it is her fault I have lived such a miserable life.”

  Thoroughly disgusted, Daphne turned away to watch the colorful lush vegetation on the rolling hills of Ireland’s central plains. Regardless of what the duchess thought, Ireland was a place of majestic beauty as far as the eye could see, and it reminded her of her beloved family’s home in Scotland. Too soon, it seemed, the carriage turned east at Gowran and in just a little while, entered Kilkenny.

  “Kilkenny, Mum,” the driver announced after he halted the carriage in the center of town, got down and opened the door.

  When she stepped down, the duchess thought she was safely tucked away in Ireland, an ancient land of plagues, druids, pagan kings and queens, pillar-stones, and Saint Patrick. It was also the land where some still said fairies lived under the great rocks, a land where wars raged between Irish chiefs and English nobles, and where the Black Death once wiped out all the inhabitants of castles and villages alike. It was also a place where the people had names like O’Byrne and O’Toole.

  Centuries earlier, the duchess would have found Kilkenny most unkind, for the statutes forbid intermarriage between the English and the Irish, a crime that was punishable by death. Nor were they allowed saddles. Even being neither catholic nor protestant, she still would have been forced to endure the tithe war, but that was settled long ago. Instead of levying the tithe on protesting peasants, the powerful heaped it on the backs of the landholders, who simply raised the rent on the peasants.

  Happy to be out of the carriage, the duchess climbed the two hotel steps and went in. Fortunately, she and Daphne were greeted by a man who had given up Gaelic and spoke English. He informed them that there were plenty of empty rooms that time of year.

  “Periwinkle,” Daphne muttered as she took in the smell of wild flowers, “daffodils and daisies too.”

  “What?” the duchess asked as she counted out the right amount of money for a week’s stay. Instead of waiting for the answer, she turned to the man behind the counter. “I wish to make my home here. Are there any cottages for rent?”

  “Indeed there are. Katie over at the bank will be happy to take you around.”

  “Good.”

  “You are an American?” he asked.

  The duchess had almost forgotten who she was supposed to be. As an American, she would be expected to fawn over all things ancient. “I am.”

  “Then you will be wanting a tour guide.”

  “Indeed,” the duchess lied. “I simply cannot wait to see all that Kilkenny has to offer. Where do you suggest we begin?”

  “The Castle. There is a tour map in your room, and if you have any questions, just ask.” Serving as bellman too, he walked around the counter, picked up her luggage…except her hatbox which she held on tightly to, and led the way to the stairs.

  Both of them left Daphne standing in the lobby, but Daphne did not mind. There was nothing she loved more than the glorious smells of spring.

  *

  Kilkenny was perfect. From her hotel room, the duchess had a magnificent view of the River Nore. Kilkenny was at least seventy miles from any large city, and that meant seventy miles from anyone who might recognize her. The tourist season might present a challenge, but by then, she intended to be well set in a comfortable cottage where she could hide during those weeks. She could not have felt safer. No one in Kilkenny had likely ever heard of Alexandra Sinclair.

  She slept until noon, and then like a good American, invited Daphne to see the sights with her. First, they went to the bank, where she deposited her money and inquired as to a place to live. Katie promised to take them house hunting the next morning.

  To begin their tour of the sights Kilkenny had to offer, they both agreed that seeing Dunmore Cave was out of the question even if it was the site of a Viking massacre. There was just something unpleasant about being underground.

  Kilkenny had its share of ancient structures, such as St Canice's Cathedral. It was, of course, a glorious structure, but it was a cathedral after all, and the duchess was not fond of being inside churches. Besides, she was not enamored with ancient or even old. The duchess preferred new and shiny – particularly shiny like gold and silver.

  Kilkenny Castle was quite impressive, she confessed, and the considerable grounds were remarkable. It was owned, their guide said, by the family FitzWalter during the Norman occupation. The enormous square castle had large circular towers on all four corners. Some of the outer walls had crumbled with age. The only gate remaining was the one near Talbot Tower.

  Their tour guide announced that the rebuilding of John’s Bridge had finally begun, and was it not about time? The bridge was washed away during the great flood of seventeen sixty three.

  Daphne laughed and the duchess smiled.

  There was another place the duchess did not care to see. It was the White Hall Inn, where a woman with four dead husbands was accused of witchcraft and moneylending centuries earlier. Was the woman’s fourth husband poisoned? Many in Kilkenny thought so. If not poison, it was her sorcery that killed him, and perhaps all the husbands before him. The guide mentioned castle ghosts, spooky mist risings, and a lady seen roaming the gardens and the river bank. Dead monks and merchants roamed the streets at night, and…

  “Nonsense,” the duchess scoffed. “Ghosts indeed. I thought this the land of good ferries and happy fantasies.”

  “‘Tis that as well,” he admitted. He helped them into the buggy and then turned on Green’s Bridge and crossed the River Nore so they could admire the gardens. The Black Abby was another building she did not desire to enter, although she could not help but admire the imposing early Gothic structure with its black marble columns and high arches.

  The duchess was tired, Daphne had been unusually quiet, and after having seen all the meandering streets that reminded her of Scottish villages, she was glad when the guide suggested a round of Irish ale. He took them to a tavern with little inside light, and few people inside. She was not surprised when the guide pulled a chair up to their table and ordered for them.

  “I hear you be lookin’ to stay in Kilkenny,” he said after he’d finished nearly half his stein.” “Where did you hear that?” the duchess asked.

  He looked confused. “It seems to me you let it be known yesterday. A stranger come to town looking to stay is big news, and not the kind that does not get passed around.”

  Daphne pretended to be horrified. “You mean they gossip in Kilkenny?”

  “Only when they can,” he admitted. “My brother has a fine house, newly built. You might find it offers easy living. ‘Tis on the edge of town with a full view of a meadow and a stream.”

  “Sounds perfect to me,” said Daphne.

  “Me too. When can we see it,” the duchess asked.

  “Right away. Soon as I finish my ale.”


  *

  The two-story house was even better than the duchess expected. It faced a valley where acres of lush green fields were separated by trees and hedges. Herds of sheep were scattered across the hills above a pristine lake. It was indeed on the edge of town, yet close enough to walk to almost anywhere. Furthermore, it was already furnished. All they had to do was hire a maid and a cook, and then move right in.

  So far, everything was working out perfectly for the duchess. In less than two days, the duchess had paid the rent, hired the help needed, and she and Daphne were settled in.

  American newspapers took just as long to reach Ireland, as London papers took to reach America. Therefore, it was weeks after it happened that the London paper contained an article that pleased the duchess very much. She folded the paper over, and curled up on the davenport opposite the chair Daphne sat in, reading a London paper.

  The headline read: Duke of Glenartair’s sister-in-law kidnapped!

  Her excitement rose as she quickly folded the paper a second time so she could read the article. Glued to the words, she searched to see if the gutter rat was dead or alive. She almost forgot and said something to Daphne about it, but she caught herself. The duchess read on and on, and then her expression of glee turned to disgust. Hannish’s wife was recovered alive and the robbers arrested. Indeed, the letter she sent would certainly do its share of damage, but she much preferred hearing that Leesil had died. The duchess loudly exhaled.

  “What is it?” Daphne asked.

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” the duchess said. She got up and was about to throw the paper in the fire in the hearth when Daphne stopped her.

  “Might I read it first?”

  “Of course,” she answered, tossing the paper to her. “I am going for a walk.”

  Daphne watched the duchess pull the door open, stomp out and let it slam behind her. She quickly looked from page to page to see what had upset her, found it and read the article. With a smile on her face, she got up and walked to the window. “Tsk, tsk, Gormelia,” she muttered.