Beloved Secrets, Book 3 Page 3

  “Good, that is settled,” said Nicholas. “When is dinner? I am starved.”

  COOK JESSIE MADE NICHOLAS’ favorite pot roast and fried potatoes that night to welcome him home. Including David and Blair, she only had seven adults and four children to cook for, which was far fewer than she was used to feeding at Marblestone. Yet, cooking was her greatest love, if one did not count her propensity to thoroughly enjoy a bit of gossip now and again.

  The children were normally fed earlier in the breakfast room with Sarah keeping watch over them. An American by birth, Sarah and her Scottish husband, Butler Alistair, had been married for nearly ten years, and so far they seemed the perfect couple. She too worked for McKenna as the housekeeper and with four rambunctious boys to care for, she was kept very busy. Now, Nicholas and McKenna were expecting a new addition to the family and Sarah was just as excited to hold a baby again as everyone else.

  At meals, Alistair served as footman as well as butler, although it was not much of a chore when Nicholas and McKenna were without guests. Still, it kept him busy, and he liked being busy. The formal dining room was much larger than necessary and held a long table, eight chairs on each side, and one at each end. Alistair seated the ladies, poured drinks for all four, and then disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen.

  After he was gone, Blair said to David, “’Tis the fine china they set out just for you.”

  “I am humbled,” said David.

  McKenna scoffed, “We must use them occasionally for they collect dust otherwise and are in need of washin’ anyway.”

  “We cannot have that,” David agreed. He watched as Alistair entered with one white-gloved hand underneath each of two trays that held covered serving bowls. Alistair set them on a sideboard and the delicious smell of beef gravy almost made David lick his lips.

  “My love,” said McKenna, “I failed to ask how you managed to get Abigail on the ship?”

  Nicholas watched Alistair disappear out the door again and whispered, “Perhaps we should hire a footman after all. I might truly shrivel up before Alistair gets us served.”

  McKenna glared at her husband. “Abigail, remember?”

  “Oh yes, Abigail. Never have I worked so hard to motivate a woman in my life,” he explained to David. “She was quite beside herself with worry after readin’ survivor accounts of what happened when the Titanic went down.”

  Blair further explained, “They originally had tickets on Titanic’s return voyage from America, but they traded them in to sail with me on the RMS Mauritania.”

  “I see,” said David.

  “My dearest Abigail behaved quite badly over the matter,” said McKenna. “She felt herself too close to sinkin’ and imagined all manner of things that luckily changin’ their arrangements must have meant. It was a warnin’, she convinced herself. Therefore...”

  “She vowed never to get on a ship again?” David asked.

  Nicholas chuckled. “Exactly. She was still far from convinced when we reached the dock, and then she took her sweet time walking to the bottom of the stairs. First, she had an itch on her ankle that simply had to be scratched, and then she dropped her purse spilling the contents everywhere. She was hoping, I suspect, that if she delayed long enough the ship would sail without them. Claymore was not fooled, finally grabbed her arm, and hauled her to the walkway.” Nicholas paused until they stopped laughing. “Halfway up the walkway, she turned and tried to escape back down. Had Claymore not been behind her, she might have managed it. However, he was ready for her. He said if she did not go aboard, he would leave her here, divorce her when he got home, and find himself a far more pleasant wife.”

  “Claymore would not truly do that,” McKenna jeered.

  “Probably not,” Nicholas agreed, “but she believed him and at last climbed to the top of the stairs. I dare say Claymore was quite pleased with himself, though he did not let her see it.”

  Blair bowed her head. “I confess I am a bit worried about sailin’ home myself.” As soon as Alistair came back, he offered the platter of roast beef to her and waited until she took a helping before he held it for David. “I had no idea the ocean was so vast.”

  “In that case,” said David, “we must stay as close to the lifeboats as possible.”

  “Aye, we must,” Blair agreed, “and the first thing I intend to do is find my way up to the deck in the dark, just in case the lights go out.”

  “I made Claymore promise to call the moment they safely arrive,” said Nicholas. At last, he had meat on his plate and Alistair had arrived with a bowl of potatoes. He took two servings and had just started to put a bite in his mouth, when McKenna softly ran her hand over the top of her extended stomach. He held his fork in midair and wrinkled his brow. “Is it time?”

  “Not yet,” she said as she lovingly patted his arm. “I promise I shall give you more than adequate warnin’ when it is.”

  “Good,” said Nicholas. “I pray it is not tonight for I am in need of a long night’s sleep.”

  As soon as he finished serving everyone, Alistair stood back and waited.

  It was Nicholas who asked, “Alistair, are you going with us to the castle tomorrow?”

  “Aye. I am thinkin’ I might be able to tell if ‘tis a lad or a lass. Do you not know about such things, Judge?”

  “I know very little. Two murder cases were presented in my courtroom, but in both cases the departed was identified. Nor have I ever cared to see a skeleton, but this one has me curious. Perhaps Mr. Steele might be to some advantage.”

  “I fear not,” said David. “I am far more familiar with bank robbers and horse thieves, most of whom are yet alive. I suspect identifying old bones not easily done for any of us.”

  “Good,” said McKenna. “Then we shall simply bury them again and say nothin’ of it to anyone.”

  “A brilliant idea,” said Nicholas.

  “I cannae wait to read the story, but I care not to see the bones. ‘Tis too ghoulish for me,” said Blair.

  McKenna put her hand comfortingly over that of her niece. “I do not care to see them either. Blair, I say again, you are better off livin’ a long happy life and never knowin’ what happened all those years ago.”

  “Aunt, I have read thousands of novels. What could there possibly be in it that I have not already heard of?”

  “She has a point,” said Nicholas. “Blair is all grown up now.”

  “Yet,” said McKenna, “’tis different when you know it happened to your own clan.”

  MACGREAGOR GLEN

  Saturday morning brought a breeze and a slight chill in the air to the MacGreagor glen. In a red, enclosed, 1909 Benz 20/35 automobile, Nicholas, David, and Alistair followed Charles in his vehicle up the lane. Near the tree line on both sides, fallen autumn leaves left a blanket of yellow and red on the tall grass. As if to welcome them as they parked in front of the castle, an eagle glided over the castle and landed on the highest branch of a pine tree.

  Charles got out and admired his work. Once an ominous blackened hull with crumbling walls, the front of the castle looked as splendid as it ever did, and perhaps even more so with the colorful sunrise making the castle’s stones gleam just the way they did before. Finding stones to match the original ones had indeed proven challenging, but once the decision was made to take stones from the back to use in the front, he doubted anyone could tell the difference. Even the north and south towers were impressive and looked as though they had always been there. Inside, the stone staircases looked the same as Charles remembered them too, and someday the statue of a Highlander would be returned to its original place on the first landing of the front staircase.

  As soon as he got to his work table, Charles checked the weather. Even though there were a few scattered clouds, it did not look like rain. Furthermore, it did not appear anyone had disturbed the place over night. Water buckets still sat beside the long work table, and the rolled up construction plans had not been moved.

  “McKenna say
s the hours of daylight shall be shortened more so than it is in Colorado. Shall the men be forced to work shorter hours?”

  “They might have,” Charles explained, “if the electricians had not finished in a timely manner. Fortunately, the chandeliers are installed and enough lamps have arrived to give us ample light for finishin’ the inside.”

  Nicholas was relieved and impressed with the flooring when he stepped inside. “I cannot imagine what it will cost to furnish this place. McKenna is already fretting over it, although I suspect I shall be the one making several trips to London.”

  “They have furniture stores in Edinburgh and Glasgow, you know,” said Alistair.

  “Scottish built furniture for a Scottish castle?” Nicholas asked. “Very well, then we shall send you to pick it all out.”

  “And I shall take my wife to help me,” said Alistair. “We could use time away for a change.”

  “Done,” said Nicholas.

  Charles grabbed a shovel and then went inside. Because Nicholas had not seen the castle before it burned, he explained where the walls would be as he led the way to the kitchen. A large pipe installed in the ceiling marked where the stove would be and mentioned that the cupboards would all be along one wall. When he reached the tarpaulin, Charles stopped, moved the stones holding the corners down, and pulled the tarpaulin off. The skeleton looked even more morbid in the morning light than it had at dusk the day before. Alistair reeled back, Charles noticed, but the judge and David were fascinated.

  “Where is the dagger?” Nicholas asked.

  “I...” Charles stammered as he looked all around. “’Twas here last night. Perhaps I left it on the table.” He walked around Nicholas, and headed back through the castle.

  David thoughtfully stroked his beard, “The dagger can tell us little about who it was or even when he or she was buried.”

  “True,” Alistair agreed. “Every lad carried a dagger in those days.”

  “According to the stories, so did every lass,” said Nicholas. Slightly disgusted, he shook his head. “Lass? I am beginning to sound Scottish and we have been here less than a year. Before long, I shall have an accent.”

  Alistair grinned, “You dinna think American’s have an accent?”

  “Not any Americans of my acquaintance.” Nicholas bent down to take a closer look at the bones again. “I agree with Charles. I cannot tell if it was a man or a woman. What say you, David?”

  “It is very hard to tell, but if pressed, I would guess it is a woman.”

  “Why?” asked Alistair.

  “I have visited a few museums during my time here in the United Kingdom, and the belt is not as wide as some I have seen on Scottish men. Also, I suspect the hip bones are smaller than those of a man, but I would need to have a man’s pelvic bones to compare them to.” David lifted his tall black hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “I know of no books on the subject, but if I should find one, I shall send it to you.”

  “I would appreciate that very much,” said Nicholas.

  KENTIGERN MANOR

  No room in the house was as cheerful as the breakfast room. It had three tall windows in an alcove that let in more than enough light on a sunny day. The wallpaper was yellow with a collection of small butterflies scattered across it, the trim was white and a chandelier hung from the ceiling, although it was rarely used save on dark cloudy days.

  Charlotte had been McKenna’s best friend since childhood and lately she was the one McKenna hired to make maternity clothes as well as new things for the baby. Therefore, she brought a small bundle of baby clothes, which she hoped to deliver, and then quickly be on her way. She was surprised when Sarah answer the door instead of Butler Alistair. “Where might our lovely McKenna be this mornin’?”

  “In the breakfast room finishing her breakfast,” Sarah answered.

  Charlotte headed straight for the breakfast room. “This late? Is she unwell, not that I blame her if she is.”

  Behind her, a confused Sarah followed.

  “My dear,” Charlotte said as soon as she saw McKenna and Jessie. “What dreadful news. What are you going to do?”

  “What news?” McKenna asked as she motioned for Charlotte to take a seat.

  “Would you care for some breakfast?” Cook Jessie asked.

  “No, thank you,” Charlotte answered. She set the package in a vacant chair, and as soon as Sarah set a tea cup in front of her, Charlotte reached for the pot and poured herself a cup. “About the skeleton, I mean.”

  Both Jessie and Sarah gasped. McKenna let her eyes flutter upward, collected her thoughts and then asked, “Does everyone know?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Oh my, yes. You know very well there is not a lad or lass in the clan who can keep a secret for very long.”

  McKenna puffed her cheeks. “I must warn Charles.” She put her napkin in her plate, heaved her very pregnant body out of the chair, and headed to the sitting room.

  When Cook Jessie notice the suspicion in Sarah’s expression, she said, “I dinna tell a soul. I’ve not been out the house in two days.”

  This time, it was Charlotte who was confused. “Was it to be a secret?”

  “Aye,” said Jessie. “’Tis the worst of news...the very worst.”

  IN THE SITTING ROOM, McKenna asked the operator to connect her with number 4935 and then impatiently waited. It rang once, and then a second time and a third before Charles answered.

  “The whole town knows,” she blurted out.

  MACGREAGOR GLEN

  Standing at his work table near the wooden box built to house the telephone, Charles watched several automobiles, and horse drawn carriages coming up the lane. “Oh no,” Charles moaned.

  “Can you not block the road and turn them away?”

  “We are too late – they arrive as we speak.”

  “Oh dear. What shall we do?” McKenna asked.

  Thoroughly appalled, Charles muttered, “I am surprised they waited until sun up.”

  “Dinna make jokes, Charles.”

  “I dinna mean to.”

  In all shapes, ages and sizes, people began to get out of their various means of transportation, and soon they walked right past him and into the castle. They knew exactly where to go too, which did not surprise Charles in the least. Nicholas, David, and Alistair had wisely gotten out of the way, he noticed.

  Charles drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out as he turned back to watch still more vehicles pour into the glen. They parked anywhere they liked, and determined not to miss anything, some began to run.

  “Charles,” McKenna tried. She got no answer, but she could hear people talking in the background.

  As if the situation were not bad enough, one of the men getting out of an automobile appeared to be a newspaper reporter. Charles watched him unloaded his camera and flash lamp, and then follow the crowd inside. He worried about what they might do to the new floor, but short of shoot a gun, which he did not keep on the place anyway, there did not seem to be anyway to stop them.

  “Where is the dagger?” someone shouted. “I heard they found a dagger stuck in one of the rib bones.”

  “I heard ‘twas two daggers,” said another.

  Charles rolled his eyes and finally remembered McKenna was on the other end of the telephone. “I shall call you back.” He waited for her answer, hung up the phone, and then locked the wooden telephone box. He put the key in his pocket and then went to stand next to Nicholas well away from the crowd.

  “Is it true the place is haunted,” a woman in her late fifties boldly asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Charles answered. The woman was not happy to hear that and at length, she turned around and walked away.

  “Haunted?” Judge Mitchel whispered.

  “Did I not tell you about that?” Charles asked.

  “You dinna tell me either,” Alistair said.

  “When we began the buildin’ and someone was threatenin’ McKenna, I hired lads to stand guard through the night. On
e night, they heard strange noises comin’ from the graveyard. Neither Tom nor Cammy could describe what the noises sounded like to my satisfaction, nor did they admit to being frightened enough to leave their posts, but they were not inclined to return. After that, I brought dogs out to scare the mischief maker away.”

  “Tom and Cammy told everyone the place is haunted?” Nicholas asked.

  Charles chuckled. “Never could keep a secret in the MacGreagor clan.”

  “Save one,” Alistair muttered.

  “Save one?” Charles repeated. “What might that one be?”

  “I should not have mentioned it,” said Alistair.

  “Too late,” said the judge.

  “Out with it,” Charles demanded. “What have the two of you hidden from me?”

  Nicholas looked at Alistair. “You’re a MacGreagor. You tell him.”

  Alistair stared at the ground for a moment. “’Tis a story found among the others, one McKenna wishes to keep quiet.”

  “I see. Am I not to read it then?” Charles asked.

  “Can you keep the existence of it a secret,” Nicholas asked, “even from your wife?”

  “I assure you, I dinna tell my wife everything. She loves her gossip as much as anyone. Half the lasses in town go to her hat shop daily and rarely buy a hat.”

  “We shall ask McKenna if you may read it, but I doubt she will let you,” said Nicholas.

  “Did you find the dagger?” David asked.

  “Nay,” said Charles, “someone likely got to it last night or early this mornin’.”

  Just then, two black automobiles pulled right up to the front and four police officers got out. They hurried inside the castle, and even though Charles could not see them, he could hear one well enough.

  “Get back, all of you!” the Bobbie shouted. “’Tis the site of a crime.”

  “A crime?” Charles scoffed. Suddenly, the reporter’s flash lamp gave off its usual explosion and startled the crowd. The women screeched, the children cried out and the men caught their breaths. When the reporter folded his lamp stand and came out of the castle, he looked well pleased with himself.