Marblestone Mansion, Book 4 Page 19

  “Good for her,” said Edward.

  *

  Her plans foiled, at least for now, the duchess’ had little to do but stay in her hotel room and read. Her insatiable appetite to consume every word in the London newspapers had not subsided by the time she learned the awful truth. The newspapers had an insatiable appetite of their own - anything having to do with outlaws in America.

  There it was in bold type - Jedediah Tanner was dead.

  Her beloved train robber husband with the dangerous eyes, had been killed in a Kansas City shootout not a week after she made it back to London. She read every detail three times before she forced herself to believe it.

  She still needed money to live on, and plenty of it, but somehow pestering the Bayingtons did not have the appeal it had the day before. Perhaps she’d been going about it all wrong anyway. Just now, however, she wasn’t in the mood to figure that out.

  Her hotel room suddenly seemed too small, her hair too straight and her dress too bright, but she grabbed her favorite cape and went outside in the cool air of the unusually clear London day just the same. Mindlessly, she walked past all the shops she loved so well, turned down a street at the corner and spotted a small grassy area she had not noticed before. It reminded her of the park in Denver where Jedediah often took her for a stroll. Once she reached it, she sat down on the lonely bench and pulled her cape tighter.

  Two husbands dead and the ones she loved the best, although in different ways. She missed them both and they loved her too, no matter what anyone said. She should put flowers on Mr. Sinclair’s grave, the way she promised to once she learned of his death. She’d forgotten about that. Maybe someday, if she ever had the misfortune of ending up in America again, she would stop in Kansas City and put flowers on Jedediah’s grave. It was the least she could do. He was a good husband…until he stole all her money. She could not quite understand why he did that, but she imagined being a thief was just in his blood.

  She closed her eyes and remembered the most glorious wedding night she’d ever had. Whatever happened to that wedding certificate, she wondered. She would have liked having that still, to treasure and remember Jedediah by. Lost, all lost, she supposed when she was arrested. And her gun was stolen too, by that tedious judge who charged her with attempted murder. It was all just nonsense.

  Poor Jedediah…shot three times, once in that beautiful face of his. There could be nothing sadder in the world. All of a sudden, the duchess had a very important thought - Jedediah had money, he said he did. Of course, he had money, he was a train robber…and she saw him haul a heavy sack away from the train with her own eyes. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

  Her shoulders slumped and she slowly bowed her head. She would have to go back to Colorado to find it and that was the last place she ever intended to see again. Not only that, he could have hidden his bounty anywhere – in caves, high in the mountains or even buried in the ground. Perhaps if she thought about it very hard and remembered every word he said, she might know where it was.

  By the time the duchess opened her eyes again, fog had rolled in and it surprised her. She tried to find the sun in the sky wondering how long she had been there, but it was far too foggy to spot. She must have fallen asleep for when she arose, her bones ached and it took a moment to regain her balance.

  At length, the ex-duchess of Glenartair went back to the warmth of her hotel room. What she needed was a new plan. The Bayingtons would pay, she was sure of it. All she needed was a new approach.

  *

  “Parting is such sweet sorrow, but you will come to us and we shall come to you as often as we can.” Laura hugged Cathleen one last time. “We simply must watch Addie grow up and you must do the same for our twins.”

  “I cannae wait.” Cathleen stood near the front door and waved goodbye as the carriage pulled away. Without thinking, she reached down to pet the dog, but there was nothing there. “Did you not tell me you bought a dog for Addie?”

  “I did, but the pup ran off while I was gone.” Cameron answered.

  “Then we must get another.”

  He put his arms around her. “That, my love, I leave in your capable hands.”

  “I shall be lost without Laura for company,” Cathleen admitted.

  “You’ll not have time to miss her too much, we promised to invite the whole village to meet you at our reception.”

  “I have not forgotten, Laura and I have it all planned. I only wish she could be here too.”

  “Edward has many duties to attend to and so do I.”

  Just then, another carriage turned up the long road in the middle of the glen heading for the castle. “I wonder who that might be.”

  “I am filled with dread to find out,” said Cameron.

  “So am I, but we must not be so suspicious. The duchess would never dare come here.”

  “The duchess would dare do anything she’s a mind to and you well know it.”

  Cathleen watched as the carriage drew near enough to make the turn and then pull up in front. “Tis the seamstress from Edinburgh. She watched the woman get out of the carriage, walk to her and curtsy.

  “Your Grace, I have come to apologize. I dinna mean…” the seamstress started.

  “I accept your apology. Will you please ask your lad not to bring the cloth inside?”

  The seamstress feared what that meant and hesitantly motioned for her footman to wait. “You wish them returned?”

  “Indeed I do not. I wish you to take them back and make me the most beautiful ball gown in the world. Out of the blue cloth, I think, but first, you must come inside and measure me. You did bring a measuring string, did you not?” She winked at Cameron and then led the way into the Castle.

  “How amiable you are, Your Grace,” the woman said, following her.

  “I am hoping we shall be friends. You might like me once you get to know me.”

  “I am certain I shall.”

  As Cathleen started up the stairs, she said, “My clothing got ruined on the voyage and I shall need much, I fear. Can you manage?”

  The woman took a moment to admire the MacGreagor crest on the wall and almost forgot to keep up. “I’ll have help if need be.”

  “Good. I need at least four new skirts and blouses with…”

  Still standing outside watching his wife go up the stairs, Cameron exchanged smiles with Alistair. “She shall win them all over afore we know it.”

  “Indeed she shall.”

  “Have you any idea what became of the dog?” he asked, finally going inside.

  “Nay, he was simply gone one morning. Addie was not that upset about it.”

  “I am surprised, she adored Traitor. Perhaps you might help Cathleen find another dog or two. Two pups to grow up with my daughter would be splendid. ‘Twould not hurt to have a little warning should the duchess show up unexpectedly either.”

  Alistair grinned. “The duchess hates dogs.”

  *

  By the time the villagers came to personally meet their new duchess, they already knew a great deal about Cathleen. They knew she was an orphan, they knew her sister was married to their laird and they knew how she felt about Flora. From the upper windows of the castle that first day, the curious servants watched Cathleen lay flowers on Flora’s grave and it didn’t take long for everyone in the village to hear about it.

  “She cannae be all bad,” some muttered.

  “She is American,” said others.

  “And the Americans beat the British, dinna forget,” one reminded them. To that, they all nodded.

  Some arrived wearing their kilts and plaids, in the green and blue colors of their clan. Most had already been inside the castle and did not gawk at the furnishing, but they did notice that Cathleen had not changed a thing. Perhaps the new duchess was not trying to replace the old, at least not quickly. The new duchess looked pleasant enough, wore a plaid made of her husband’s colors instead of the blue gown she ordered, smiled at everyone and the food was w
ell prepared. At least, she didn’t serve American dishes.

  Yet, the curious could not help themselves. Eight of the more prominent couples were invited to sit at the duke’s table for dinner and it wasn’t long before Provost Finnean MacGreagor asked, “From which orphanage in America did you come, Your Grace?”

  Cathleen expected Cameron to answer, but he nodded for her to do it. “Mr. MacGreagor, my sister and I were left at an orphanage in England. I have visited it recently and am happy to report there have been vast improvements since we escaped.”

  “Escaped?” his wife asked.

  “Aye, Leesil went over the wall, you see. She became a stowaway on a ship, and had the good fortune of being taken under the supervision of Miss McKenna MacGreagor, who took her to Colorado.”

  “Then you are English?”

  “I was just a babe and too young to know, but Leesil has always said we are Scottish. We have recently worked very hard to learn Gaelic, so I hope you will forgive me when I do not speak it well.”

  The Provost wrinkled his brow. “Alistair said you are American.”

  “I am,” Cathleen admitted. “We had no certificates of birth. Leesil could not marry without one, so Judge Mitchel was forced to declare us Americans to issue new ones.”

  “Oh, I see,” the Provost said, his brow still wrinkled.

  Cathleen wrinkled her brow too. “Do you suppose I am Scottish again now that I have married a Scot?”

  At last, the Provost smiled. “Two-thirds Scot, one-third American.”

  “To the Scots!” Cameron shouted, raising his glass.

  *

  Because the twins were to go to a prominent English Lord and Lady, it took only a fortnight for all the paperwork to be finished. At last, the day finally came for Edward and Laura to collect their own little Blair and her brother, Bradford. Both had glorious curls, a turned up nose instead of a pointed one like the duchess’ and big brown eyes. They were perfect and what’s more, they were instantly loved.

  It was time and Edward couldn’t wait for another little slice of revenge aimed directly at the duchess. Newspapers certainly could come in handy when used properly, and he knew exactly how to use them.

  Yet, the sudden and continued silence from the duchess was a bit nerve-wracking for Edward and Laura, as well as all the MacGreagors. She was up to something; she always was – but what was it this time?

  *

  Claymore was not happy when Hannish went to their Colorado Springs office, expecting to enjoy lunch with him at the Antlers Hotel. “What is it?”

  “Mr. Swinton has offered to sell his gold mines to an insidious man I have hated for years.”

  “Do you truly care who owns the mines, Claymore?”

  “I care for what it might bring to the men, but that is not all. Swinton intends to build houses with the money he makes from the sale.”

  Hannish sunk into a chair on the other side of Claymore’s desk. “Do you suppose he is a builder?”

  “I doubt he knows a hammer from a saw, but if he does, he will use improper materials and sell at lower prices. I sent Moan over to the Judge, to see if they have heard anything of Swinton’s background. There is something odd about a man who will not say where he comes from.”

  “I agree.”

  “Pity we cannot prove he burned the warehouse,” said Claymore. “I’d like seeing him locked away. It seems we have started a feud. Perhaps we should hire men to watch our property at night.”

  “Pinkerton men?”

  “If need be,” said Claymore.

  “You dinna like Pinkerton men.”

  “True, but at least they shall be on our side this time. We cannot keep building and let Swinton burn everything down. Next time, we might find a body or two inside.”

  Hannish lowered his eyes. “You are right, of course.”

  “If only we knew how to find…” Claymore started. He paused when the door abruptly opened.

  “The judge has not heard anything about Swinton either,” Moan said, taking off his coat as he walked into the office.

  Hannish stood up. “Care to join me for lunch? I might know a way to find out who he is and I know just who to ask.”

  *

  It wasn’t hard to know when Swinton was out of town. He rode his horse to town in the mornings, put the horse in the town stable and then took the train to his gold mines in Cripple Creek. On this morning, Prescot was dressed in brown knickerbockers, a white shirt, a vest and a warm jacket. His broad-brimmed Planter’s Hat had been turned up on the sides to resemble what most called a cowboy hat. It served to hide his dark hair well and once he turned the collar of his jacket up, very little of his face was visible.

  Even so, Prescot kept out of sight as he watched Swinton board the train to Cripple Creek. As soon as it was gone, he mounted his horse and went to have breakfast in Palmer Lake’s only café. When he arrived, the place was busier than he expected, so he read a newspaper, slowly consumed his breakfast and sipped the best cup of coffee he decided he had ever had. It was not until everyone else was gone that he held up his cup for another refill.

  Madeline Coby was tired of serving food to people who were never appreciative…and for little enough pay, yet the gentleman holding his cup up had already laid a whole dollar on the table. A dollar tip was something she had not seen since Mr. MacGreagor came to visit. The stranger was far more handsome than most of the men in Palmer lake too. He was probably married, but it never hurt to look at handsome men. “I do not recall seeing you before.” Madeline said, pouring hot coffee in his cup.

  “I am Prescot. I work for Mr. MacGreagor.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Do you? I think to ask for a position there myself someday.”

  “Just now, he hopes you will stay here.”

  Madeline had a round face and brown hair that she wore in a loose bun on top of her head, just as most women did. A white apron was tied around the waist of her black, floor length skirt. There were no frills on her white blouse, for fancy blouses were more expensive and she never seemed to have the time to make her own. Besides, as careful as she was, she always went home with a new stain of some sort on her clothing. “He has changed his mind about hiring me?”

  “Not at all. He hopes to hire you for another purpose. Are you interested?”

  It was not as though she hadn’t been propositioned before and narrowed her eyes. “What sort of purpose?”

  Prescot smiled. “I assure you he has the best of intentions. He hopes you might be able to learn more about Mr. Swinton…without putting yourself in danger, naturally.”

  “Danger?” Madeline glanced at the woman cook, went to put the granite-ware coffee pot back on the edge of the cast iron coal stove to keep it warm, and then returned to the table. She pulled out the chair opposite Prescot, sat down and scooted it forward. “Do you know who hit him up?”

  “I do. Can you be trusted?”

  “I suspect some husband caught him.”

  Prescot raised an eyebrow and studied her eyes. “He was trying to force his affection on Mr. Moan MacGreagor’s daughter.”

  “I am not surprised. Who walloped him? Was it you?”

  “Miss Coby, someone set fire to the new warehouse Mr. MacGreagor was building.”

  “I heard about that. You think it was Mr. Swinton?”

  “I do, but we have no proof.”

  Madeline leaned back in her chair. “Fire is something we all fear. A man must be out of his mind to set a fire in Colorado.”

  “I agree.”

  Once more, she glance at the cook, assured herself the woman could not hear and asked, “What does Mr. MacGreagor want me to do?”

  “A man like Swinton may have done it before and could be wanted in another state or territory. We ask only that you keep an ear out in case he mentions where he is from.”

  “I can easily do that, he eats here regularly.”

  “You will help us then?”

  “To keep him from burning Palmer Lake to the
ground, I am happy to help.”

  “Thank you, Miss Coby. If you are in danger, call and I shall come as quickly as I can. By the way, anytime you want employment at Marblestone, you are hired. I am the butler and I do the hiring.”

  Madeline smiled, watched Prescot get up, put his hat and coat on and then leave the café. She made sure the cook didn’t see her, slipped the dollar in her pocket and went back to work cleaning tables. She sure would like to hear the rest of that story. Maybe she would, when she finally went to have a look at the famous Marblestone Mansion.

  *

  “Mr. Prescot?” Madeline asked on the other end of the telephone.

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Madeline, do you remember me?”

  “I do. Are you in need?”

  “I am fine, Mr. Prescot.” Like everyone else, she was careful with what she said, since there was always someone listening in on the party lines. “Someone in town said you have been to Virginia and I wondered if you knew much about the place.”

  It took a moment for Prescot to figure out what she was talking about. He had been to Virginia during his boxing years, but that wasn’t truly the point of the call. “I fear you have been misinformed. I could ask around if there is a particular town in Virginia you wish to see.”

  “No, no particular town. Thank you, Mr. Prescot.”

  *

  Hannish and Sheriff Thompson were not on the best of terms, not since the sheriff suspected Hannish of killing one man and doing away with his first wife. In the end, the man the sheriff suspected Hannish of killing turned up dead in a forest fire. All that was behind them, and now the sheriff was only interested in finding out who set fire to the warehouse. Therefore, when Hannish walked into his office on the first floor of the courthouse, the sheriff cordially offered him a seat.

  “I came to see if you managed to find a witness,” Hannish said.

  “Not yet, Mr. MacGreagor.”

  “Sheriff, I have also come to ask for your help. I fear I managed to upset Mr. Swinton and have reason to believe he might have set the fire.”

  The sheriff sat up straight and looked Hannish in the eye. “Mr. Swinton? What proof have you?”