Marblestone Mansion, Book 4 Page 20

  “None, only a suspicion. He was courting my cousin’s daughter, Paulette, tried to kiss her against her will and one of the servants whacked him behind the knees.”

  “Wacked him?”

  Hannish chuckled. “Her description, not mine.”

  “A woman wacked him?”

  “A very brave lass.”

  “No wonder he did not come to complain,” said the sheriff, “I’d not say a word if a woman got the best of me either.”

  “Nor would I. First Cathleen rejected him and then Paulette. I canna help…”

  “You think he burned down the warehouse to get even?”

  “I am not one to blame a lad unfairly, but ‘tis possible. I asked around about him, but he has been secretive about his past. I have heard he came from Virginia.”

  “I see.”

  “Sheriff, if he has done this before, might you hear about it?”

  “I receive wanted posters from other states from time to time, but I do not recall one from Virginia.”

  “I cannae think who else it might have been.”

  “What about Mr. Whitfield? Has anyone a grudge against him?”

  “He can think of no one either. Well, I best get back to work. We’ve a new warehouse to build.” Hannish stood up, put his hat back on, tipped it and walked out the door.

  Sheriff Thompson had a lot to think about. Colorado Springs was a peaceful town and he was sad to see it attracting the wrong kind of men. It was understandable in Cripple Creek or even Colorado City, but not in his town, not in a place where even getting drunk was forbidden.

  On the one hand, he was excited to have a real case to work on, but on the other hand, he dreaded what he might find. As far as he knew, Swinton was well liked in town. Even if he found the proof, convicting a well-liked man was never easy, especially in a town this size.

  “Where did I put those wanted posters,” he muttered, opening the top drawer in his desk.

  CHAPTER 12

  The duchess was still trying to devise the perfect plan. She hardly could barter her daughter if she couldn’t find her. Mrs. Sinclair said she gave her to a woman, but the child said it was a man. Therefore, it was most likely a couple - but which couple and where did they take her?

  It was a hopeless case and the duchess knew it.

  Yet, there had to be another way and sooner or later, she would think of it. Over breakfast in her hotel room, she ate little and perused the latest newspaper. She read about nearly 500 rats being discovered on a steam ship, and shuddered, about the rising concern over the women’s suffrage movement, and a short notice of an earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand.

  Yet, the news of London’s society interested her most. She recognized some of the names of those who attended the last ball of the season and wished she had been there. Hopefully, she would be next season. When she recognized the picture of Cameron and Cathleen, it so disgusted her, she quickly turned the page. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, she ever wanted to know about that particular duke and his gutter rat.

  Then she saw it.

  Lord and Lady Bayington proudly announce the adoption of twins, Blair and Bradford Bayington, age six. The new family members were got from…

  The duchess gritted her teeth, violently crumpled the newspaper, ripped it to shreds and threw the bulk of it across the room. She put both hands on her head, grabbed two handfuls of dark hair and tightly held on, screeching in an unfamiliar guttural tone. They adopted Blair without her consent? Why did nothing ever go her way?

  Why, why, why?

  *

  They expected the duchess to arrive on their doorstep, but instead she called. Pifer hung up on her twice, but the constant ringing of the phone would soon drive them all mad, so Laura decided to talk to the duchess. Hopefully she could find a way to rid them of her constant pestering once and for all.

  Laura pretended to be her old normal self as she picked up the telephone in her bedroom. “Gormelia, how nice to hear from you.”

  “You know I hate that name, Laura.”

  The sound of her old friend’s voice on the other end of the telephone made her queasy. “Indeed, I do know. What should I call you; Alice, Olivia or do you prefer Alexandra?”

  “Alexandra will do.”

  Laura drew in an exhausted breath. “What do you want, Gormelia?”

  “I want to meet with you.”

  “I have nothing to say to you. It is over, Gormelia. Blair is ours and we need never have anything more to do with you.”

  “How unkind of you. I simply want to share a drink the way we used to. We shall be old friends just catching up.”

  “I see. If you want money, you will be vastly disappointed. You’ve gotten the last pence from us you shall ever get.”

  “Come now, Laura, all I want is to see you again. It has been ages and you are truly the only friend I have in the world.”

  “Why am I not surprised to hear that?” Laura took another deep breath. Her impulse was to hang up, but it occurred to her she should know what the duchess was up to. “Very well, where shall I meet you?”

  “I could come there.”

  “Edward would throw you out.”

  “I suppose he would. In the tavern in Highbury where we used to meet? At three o’clock then?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  *

  Lady Bayington was not happy to come. The tavern was rundown and smelled even worse than she remembered, but there was one good thing - none of her acquaintances would see her in such a deplorable place. She didn’t care if they did, except she didn’t want to be seen with the duchess. Laura took a seat at a small table, waved the waiter away and glared at the duchess.

  “Do not frown at me, Laura, I mean you no harm.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want Blair. She is my daughter and I want her back.”

  Laura was expecting that and couldn’t help but smile. “She calls me mother now. Did she ever call you mother?”

  “She will…in time.”

  “Gormelia, you know very well you do not want to be tied down to a child. That is why you left her with Mr. Sinclair in the first place.”

  “I was without funds when she was born. Mr. Sinclair was gracious enough to care for her.”

  Laura leaned forward. “Until when? You could have taken her back after Hannish MacGreagor started sending you money from America. Why did you not?”

  “Hannish did not know about Blair.”

  “No, he did not, nor did Edward until you sent the letter. Why now, why did you not tell Edward before?”

  “I am telling him now.”

  “Only because you know how badly he wanted a daughter. Do you deny asking him for money in exchange for Blair?”

  “I do not deny it. Edward can afford that and more, you know he can.”

  Laura leaned back in her chair. The way the duchess’ mind worked was still incredulous even after all these years. “We already have Blair.”

  “I know, I read it in the paper. She is my daughter and I want her back.”

  “Unless we are willing to pay, you mean.”

  “A small amount of funds would be sufficient.”

  “How small?”

  “Ten thousand pounds,” the duchess answered.

  “Ten thousand now and ten thousand later, just as before.”

  “I had to do it, George found me. Most of the money went to him anyway.”

  “George Graham, I remember your first husband very well. Tell me, what truly happened the night we ran away?” Laura asked.

  “I did not kill your husband, if that is what you are asking.”

  “You went back to get my marriage certificate.”

  “I thought you would need it.”

  Lady Bayington decided to ignore the fact that the duchess did not tell her she had the marriage certificate, until after she started blackmailing Edward. Instead, she asked, “If you did not kill him, who did?”

  “I do not kn
ow. He was already dead; I swear it. I was horrified, naturally, but I did what I had to do and left.”

  “You do not know who murdered him?”

  “I have no idea. I saw no one. You believe me, do you not?”

  Lady Bayington lowered her angry eyes. “I never thought you capable of beating him to death, but then, I never thought you capable of most of the things you have done. How very miserable you must be. How many husbands have cast you aside, six or perhaps seven?”

  “You are being very cruel, Laura. I had hoped you might loan me a ball gown or two. Mrs. Sinclair cut mine up and made dresses for her daughter.”

  Once more, Lady Bayington marveled at how easily the duchess changed the subject. “You hope to be invited to the balls next season?”

  “I still have a few acquaintances.”

  “I am afraid I have no ball gowns to give or to loan. Furthermore, you shall not go to the balls next season or any season.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if you do, I shall tell everyone you were in a Colorado Prison for shooting a man.”

  The duchess’ mouth dropped. “How did you find out?”

  “I have my ways.” Laura stood up and looked down on the woman she once called friend. “Stay away from us, Gormelia. Do not dare come near Blair or I shall see you live to regret it.” She turned and walked out of the smoky, smelly tavern, climbed into the plush Bayington carriage and signaled for the driver to take her away.

  *

  Still in shock, the duchess stared out the window and tried to regain her composure. What could she do now? She’d spent a good bit of the reward money and what was left would not last very long. This was not her fault, not her fault at all, and she knew just who was to blame. Someone told the Bayingtons she’d been in prison and who else could it have been? Determined to make him pay, she downed the last of her rum and began to make yet another plan.

  *

  Charles Whitfield had not had a telephone in his boarding house room for very long when the call came from Scotland. “The Duke of what?” he asked.

  “Forgive me, I am Cameron MacGreagor.”

  “Oh, you are Hannish’s brother.”

  “I have just come from America and your magnificent mother asked me to see that you are well.”

  “I am very well and I miss her very much. How are she and father?”

  Cameron gave Charles a full report of everything he knew and then took a deep breath. “The lass you know as Alexandra has come back.”

  “I know, I saw her when she came to see Mrs. Sinclair. Does my mother know about all her other husbands?”

  “I am afraid she learned quite by accident, but I am surprised you know. Your mother fears you shall take her back.”

  “Never, Mr. MacGreagor, never in a million years.”

  “I am happy to hear that.”

  “Mr. MacGreagor, how old do you think Alexandra really is?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “She looks much older now. I admit I was quite horrified by her appearance.”

  “I fear she has married twice more since you took her to wife.”

  Charles shook his head. “I should have her locked up.”

  “I would agree, if my brother and your parents would not be shamed by it.”

  “I understand.”

  “Charles, I promised your mother I would see to you. Call if ever you are in need. Ask for the Duke of Glenartair.”

  “I shall. I am perfectly fine and I shall call her and let her know I have heard from you.”

  “Take care you do not call in the middle of your father’s night.”

  Charles chuckled. “I believe I have learned that lesson, finally. Goodbye, Mr. MacGreagor.” He hung up the phone and looked at the clock. It was almost time to go to work and there was a pretty young thing that might come to the pub to see him again. He hoped so, he hoped so very much.

  *

  There was little she was sure of these days, but one thing the duchess knew for certain – John Crisp was the only one who could have told Lord Bayington she was in a Colorado Prison. For that, he had to pay and pay handsomely. Besides, she was nearly out of money.

  Having never been there before, the duchess was surprised when she entered the outer office of Solicitor John Crisp. He worked in a neglected building near the edge of London, but the outer office seemed neat and tidy.

  Yet, the way his male secretary looked at her made her skin crawl. He had dark piercing eyes and a thin goatee that accentuated his pointed chin. Before he could prevent it, she marched right past him and opened the door for herself.

  “Good heavens, you are back!” A surprised Crisp shouted. He was more delighted than he could say. The weeks since Lord Bayington predicted the solicitor’s ruination, had not been quite as debilitating as he expected. Only four of his prior clients came to complain, and he managed to persuade them he was, and always would be, quite above reproach. His future suddenly looked considerably brighter. The key to publishing his rewritten book, and keeping the powerful men at bay - just walked through the door.

  “I have been cheated in the worst possible way.”

  Quite naturally, he assumed she meant she knew he cheated her, which Crisp did. He took all her jewels, and then some, for his fee when he defended her against the bigamy charges. Yet, he was a bit too sly to automatically defend himself. “Who cheated you?”

  “Lord Edward Bayington. He promised to put money in an account for me, and he did not.”

  Relieved, Crisp finally stood up, walked around his desk and motioned to one of two chairs recently cleared of clutter. “Sit down, my dear, and tell me all about it.”

  She turned all the way around, brushed a speck of lint off the chair with her gloved hand and then sat. The duchess was impressively dressed in a green winter frock with a black coat, white gloves and a white hat. It was the same hat she wore when she left Colorado, but there was no reason to tell him that. “Why did you not answer my letter?”

  “What letter…oh, the one from the prison in Colorado? My dear, I was sincerely attempting to find a suitable solicitor for you in Denver. Denver is the nearest town to the prison, am I right?”

  “You might have told me that in a letter. Instead, you let me sit there wondering if you were doing anything at all to help me. I suspected not.”

  Crisp leaned against the edge of his desk. “Why would you suspect that? Was it not I who got you out of trouble once before?”

  “You did, and it cost me everything I owned. I was forced to go to America with that…that simpleton, Charles…he is here, you know.”

  “Who is here?” he asked.

  “Charles Whitfield. I had the misfortune of seeing him not long ago, outside Mr. Sinclair’s manor.” The duchess narrowed her eyes. “How do you suppose he found me there?”

  “I haven’t the slightest notion.”

  “I do not believe you?”

  Any other time, he might have thrown her out for accusing him of lying, but he still had it in his mind to rewrite The Scandalous Exploits of Alexandra Sinclair, and who better to help him than the women herself. “I am sorry you feel that way. Tell me, why did you go see Mr. Sinclair?”

  “He is quite dead now, you know.”

  “I did not know.”

  “I knew he was dead when I went to get my ball gowns, but that witch he married cut them up and made dresses for her daughter. Blair was gone and…”

  “Who is Blair?”

  “If you must know, Blair is Lord Bayington’s daughter. I intended to let Lord Bayington raise her, now that Mr. Sinclair is passed. All I asked was a comfortable living to be deposited in my account, but Lord Bayington already knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Where Blair was. I meant to tell him after I got the money, but Mrs. Sinclair had already given Blair to Lord Bayington. Now I have nothing.”

  Just when he thought he’d heard it all, Crisp realized Alexandra tried to sell her daughter. He decided
not to point that out and changed the subject. “You still have me. If it is ball gowns you need, perhaps I can remedy that situation.”

  “Could you? I would need an invitation to a ball, and…”

  “Are you certain you want to be seen in public again? You might run into a husband or two at a ball.”

  “That’s not likely, and even if I do, Lord Bayington will not say a word. Few in our society know about that marriage. Hannish MacGreagor is still in Colorado, last I heard, and his brother, Cameron, has a new wife. If he sees me, he’ll think to protect his brother and will not likely say a word either.”

  “I see. And your other husbands?”

  She changed positions in her seat and got more comfortable. It was good to have someone to talk to, at last. “George Graham might be a bother if he finds me again. I was very young when I foolishly married him. I did not love him, but then, what does love have to do with marriage? I came from poor beginnings, and at least with George, I had enough to eat. He was tolerable, I suppose, in the beginning. I wanted a new frock, nothing too fancy, but he denied me. So I took the money anyway, and for that, he spanked me as though I were a mere child.”

  “The scoundrel,” Crisp muttered.

  “I thought so too. I ran away of course, and when he discovered I had married into money, he forced me to blackmail Lord Bayington.” Just then, she remembered it was John Crisp who gave her a bogus newspaper article to read and narrowed her eyes. “George is not in prison and Scotland Yard is not looking for me, but then, you know that already.”

  On the spot again, it was Crisp’s turn to shift his weight. “You are not the only one who was forced to do something. Cameron MacGreagor was watching from across the street when I gave you that newspaper.”

  “Cameron? I should have known.”

  “He threatened to ruin me if I didn’t give it to you,” said Crisp.

  “I am not surprised.”

  “How did you find out Mr. Graham was not in prison?”

  “When I called from America, Mr. Sinclair said George was looking for me. He was not in prison, you see, he was quite out and just as loathsome as ever.”

  “I do see. Mr. Sinclair loved you dearly, he told me so.”