Marblestone Mansion, Book 4 Read online

  “Tis true,” Moan admitted, “but I prefer the MacGreagor version. The MacGreagors were not the only Scots who wanted peace at any cost. King of Scots, Alexander III, inherited the throne from his father, Alexander II, both of whom wanted peace with the English and were willing to give over Scottish land to keep the clans out of war. Unfortunately, when King Alexander III died, he left no clear heir and there were plenty who supposed they should be the next king of Scotland. When the Scots could not resolve it among themselves, they invited England’s King Edward to arbitrate. It was just the foothold the English needed in their plan to claim all the fertile lands of Scotland.”

  “The Scots invited the English in?” Hannish asked.

  “Indeed they did. I suppose there was no other way, save the clans fighting for the title among themselves,” Moan answered. “King Edward appointed a lad by the name of John, King of Scotland, but over the next few years, Edward eliminated the King of Scots’ authority. When the Scottish King realized what was happenin’ and asked the French to help him, the English King Edward invaded and got rid of King John.”

  “So Scotland had no King?” Hannish asked.

  “Precisely,” Moan answered. “And before the clans could prevent it, most of the fertile lands were occupied by the English, save those in the far north.”

  “Even the MacGreagor lands?” Leesil asked.

  Moan nodded and then oddly smiled. “Aye, but the English were not happy livin’ in the MacGreagor glen. The lads were not accustomed to taking orders from anyone but their laird, and refused to obey. Their refusal cost the lives of two lads, which enraged the MacGreagors.”

  “Did they fight the English?” Leesil asked.

  “Indeed they did, but not with swords. You see, the English gathered up all their weapons so they could not fight, and were smug in their success. However, the MacGreagors had control over the food and it wasn’t long before the English spent so much time in the woods tending to their comfort, they came to believe they were bein’ poisoned.”

  “Their comfort?” Paulette asked.

  “Dysentery,” Elizabeth whispered.

  Paulette’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  Moan chuckled and then went on, “The English sent messengers to their king beggin’ for help, but for some odd reason, the messengers never made it to England. Furthermore, the MacGreagors knew how to make itchin’ powder.” Moan waited until his audience stopped laughing before he continued. “When they were not in the woods tending to their comfort, the English were in the loch trying to rid themselves of the itch. Of course, the powder was in their clothing, which they put right back on after they bathed.”

  Again, Moan waited until they stopped laughing. “When they figured it out and demanded the MacGreagor lasses wash their clothin’, a new round of itchin’ powder was added. Of course, they were so busy scratchin’ and goin’ in the woods, there were few English to keep the weapons out of the hands of the Scots. Little by little, their confiscated stockpile disappeared. The English were afraid of the food, the Scots had their weapons back, they couldn’t stop scratchin’, and the King of England sent no help. There was only one thing they could do.”

  “Which was?” Leesil asked.

  “Stay as far away from the MacGreagors as they could. They set up camp at the other end of the glen, hunted for their own food and stayed there.”

  “What happened next?” Cameron asked.

  “Word came that William Wallace was gathering an army to rid Scotland of the English, and all the MacGreagor lads were eager to join the battle. They left behind only the elders and the lasses to protect the clan, and went to war. When the English at the other end of the glen saw the fully armed MacGreagors heading straight for them, they ran.”

  Cathleen took a deep breath. “Yet, many died in William Wallace’s war.”

  “Indeed they did, but the battle was won,” Moan said.

  “Did the MacGreagors lose many lads in that war?” Hannish asked.

  “The story does not say.” Moan answered. “It only says the Keep burned down.”

  “So that’s when it burned,” Cameron said. “We knew it burned and the clan replaced it with the stone castle we have now, but we dinna know when it burned.”

  “Are there no stories after that one?” Leesil asked.

  “Not unless your husband knows them,” Moan answered.

  “Well,” said Cameron, “we know a MacGreagor was given a dukedom.”

  “Brother, have you ever gone through Uncle’s trunks?” Hannish asked. “I wonder if there are more stories in there.”

  “I have not, but now I am curious. I shall do that after we get home and call if I find any.”

  “Please do,” said Leesil. “‘Twould be a shame not to keep them safe for our children.”

  “For you, dear sister-in-law, I shall make it a priority. After all, if I do not have a son, the dukedom will fall to your son.”

  “And Justin shall have to move to Scotland, where I can see him often,” Cathleen said.

  “If Leesil does not do the directions badly and send him off to India,” Hannish teased.

  CHAPTER 5

  Young Mr. Wade had not captured anyone for two whole days, except Traitor, when the dog would stand still long enough. Therefore, when Nicholas came out of his bedroom in Marblestone Mansion, Wade was waiting just around the corner with his finger gun already pulled.

  “Stick ‘em up, train robber!”

  “Me? A train robber?” Nicholas asked.

  “Please put up your hands, Mr. Nicholas. I’d not like shootin’ a man this early in the morning.”

  Nicholas closely examined Wade’s finger gun, decided he was frightened after all and raised his hands. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To the Constable.”

  “The Constable? I fear we have no constable here. Will the sheriff do?”

  Wade wrinkled his brow. “I am the sheriff.”

  “Oh, in that case, you need a badge.”

  Wade glanced down at his shirt. “Will you make me one?”

  “I must. Every sheriff in this family must have a badge.”

  Wade’s eyes lit up. “Now? Will you make it now?”

  “I might, but first you must let me put my hands down. I assure you I am not a train robber.” When Wade nodded and put his finger gun in his pretend holster, Nicholas lifted the boy up. “We shall ask Prescot where we might find some tin. All badges are made of tin, you know.”

  Nicholas carried him to the top of the marble staircase, set him down and then held Wade’s hand so he wouldn’t fall as they went down. Behind him, McKenna put her hand on her extended stomach and smiled. Nicholas was going to make the very best of fathers. “Be a laddie,” she whispered to her unborn baby.

  Fortunately, it did not snow during the night and she was eager to get home to the house she and Nicholas were working hard to make their own. With any luck, the new rugs would arrive this morning and Hannish promised to send Marblestone’s footmen to help her move the furniture. Nicholas was much more relaxed around the family these days and all seemed to be going right in her life. All they needed was a healthy baby.

  *

  The day had finally arrived, and just as the duchess suggested, Sweet Suzie talked the warden into releasing her a day early so she could avoid her brothers. The new best friends hugged each other in the yard, and then Sweet Suzie walked through the wrought iron gate to her freedom.

  The duchess felt a twinge of jealousy, but pushed it aside in favor of dreams of her own freedom. She’d thought of every angle, considered every possible negative outcome and was positive her release would soon be forthcoming. It was just a matter of time.

  As the time passed in the sewing room, she imagined Sweet Suzie getting on the train to Colorado Springs and then getting off a short time later. She pictured her friend sitting in the soda shop enjoying her first in more than a year, and then going to rent the least expensive room she could at the Antler’s hotel.<
br />
  The duchess remembered the town well, for that was exactly where she had been just a few months earlier, although she was there quite unintentionally. It was husband number seven, Jedediah Tanner, who forced her to go and it was the last place she ever wanted to see again. Husband number four, Hannish MacGreagor, and number five, Charles Whitfield, both lived there. Something was bound to go wrong and of course, it did. Colorado Springs was also the place Jedediah found out who she really was, stole all her money and caused her to shoot the train conductor – which landed her in prison. Therefore, her wretched circumstances were all Jedediah Tanner’s fault.

  Even so, it was her third husband, Lord Edward Bayington, who had her attention just now. He was wealthy beyond compare and if she played her cards right, and if Sweet Suzie got her out of prison as the duchess so carefully planned, part of Lord Bayington’s wealth would be hers.

  As soon as her mending was finished for the day, the duchess sat down at what they laughingly called a writing desk, and penned a letter.

  My dearest Lord and Lady Bayington,

  How I have missed your friendship all these many months. As you can see, I am yet in America, but I hope to be back in England within the month.

  Edward, I fear I have done you…both of you, a grave injustice. You see, I failed to tell you I was with child when we parted. As you recall, I am certain, we were together but a month complete and I hardly knew myself. We separated on such grave terms, my anger prevented me from telling you before now.

  However, I have had a long time to think about it and I see now, how unfair it was to keep our child from you. Fear not, she is in the best of hands. Yes, you have a daughter who is…”

  The duchess had to pause a moment to figure out exactly how old Blair was. The day and year of her birth escaped her for a moment, but at last, she remembered and then counted on her fingers. Blair must be six by now. Six years old? It hardly seemed possible. The duchess shook the slight twinge of guilt out of her head and returned to her letter.

  …by now, six-years-old.

  Naturally, once I am back in my cherished London, I shall be in need of sufficient funds for myself and your daughter. No doubt, you will want to set up an account for us at the First Bank of London. Make it payable to Alexandra Sinclair. A mere ten thousand pounds should do nicely.

  It occurs to me that you might simply like to have her, thereby personally seeing that she is raised in the best possible manner. If that is your desire, then I am most willing to negotiate a price suitable to us both.

  Yours forever

  Alice, your beloved first wife

  Satisfied she had written the best possible letter, she folded it and put it in the envelope. This time, she intentionally neglected to put her inmate number on the envelope and prayed no one would notice before it was mailed. She held her breath, put it under two other letters in the wooden outward-bound box and went off to her dinner.

  It was finished then; all her perfect plans were right on schedule. The duchess was quite pleased with herself, for she had learned her lesson well - one plan was never enough in situations such as these. No one could stop her now, not any of her laughable unworthy husbands, not the law and not anyone in London’s society. She would soon be free, she was sure of it.

  Seated on a hard bench across the table from the plump Bertha, and forcing herself to eat another wretched meal, the duchess oddly wondered if any of her husbands had killed a man the way Bertha had. Her first husband, George Graham, was daring enough to, but if she had any proof, she would have contacted Scotland Yard years ago. Getting George out of her life would have prevented a lot of her problems. On the other hand, it was George who came up with the idea of blackmailing Lord Bayington, and that turned out to be very profitable for them both.

  She highly doubted any of her other husbands had killed, but there was Jedediah Tanner to consider. A train robber would surely kill to keep from getting caught and it took a certain kind of man to fight rather than give up. It took a man with dangerous eyes – the kind of eyes she still dreamed about when she let herself dream. She loved him, even after all the ways he had wronged her…the duchess simply couldn’t help herself.

  *

  Whenever she could, Paulette spent time with Cathleen. She was excited about the wedding and wanted to be included in every part of the planning. On this day, Cathleen put the wedding dress on so Gretchen, the MacGreagor seamstress, could pin the hem and make the length right. Paulette held the generous folds and train in the back of the dress out of the way, while Gretchen helped Cathleen climb up on a chair. She guessed the back wouldn’t need hemming, if Gretchen did it just right in the front. Paulette carefully watched as Gretchen silently added each pin and then stood back to review her work.

  “I cannae wait until ‘tis my turn to marry,” said Paulette.

  Cathleen smiled. “I am having a very hard time believin’ it is finally happenin’ to me.”

  “Cameron is a very handsome man.”

  “Aye, he is. He is a good lad, too, which is far more important than how he looks.”

  “But a handsome man is easier to fall in love with,” Paulette allowed.

  “I suppose he is,” Cathleen answered.

  “Do you think Mr. Swinton is handsome?” Paulette asked, finally finding a second chair to sit on.

  “I do, and as I said, so does every other lass in town. Paulette, I am not convinced a lad that handsome can be trusted.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have read many books, and to lads like Mr. Swinton come too many temptations.”

  “You mean he will likely be unfaithful?”

  Cathleen nodded. “I mean precisely that.”

  “But if he loves his wife, he will be true.”

  “I hope you are right. Even so, a lass with a husband not quite so handsome and not quite so wealthy is better off.”

  “How wealthy do you think he is?”

  “He is clearly well off enough to buy Mr. Whitfield’s gold mines,” Cathleen answered, “and the most expensive house in Palmer Lake.”

  Paulette gave Cathleen’s warning just a moment of her time before she changed the subject. “How do you know when you are in love?”

  Cathleen giggled. “It comes on quite suddenly, I have learned, and not at all when you expect it. Just now, I cannae remember a time when I didn’t love him. Cameron said he knew long before I did, and all the books suggest lads are like that. They fall in love much easier than we.”

  “What sort of books do you read?” Paulette wanted to know.

  “All that I can get my hands on. The library downstairs is full of them, beggin’ to be read.” Cathleen put a finger to her lips, thought for a moment, remembered she was to stand still and put her arm back down. “I believe I know just the book you should read. It is called Sense and Sensibility. In it, you shall see how hurtful fallin’ in love with the wrong lad can be.”

  “Father would not allow me to court in England. He said the lads there are louts. I suppose he is right and now I am most grateful he did not allow it. I’d not have met Mr. Swinton otherwise.” Paulette paused just long enough for one of the servants to announce that her mother wanted to see her, nodded and continued, “He called from Cripple Creek to see when the weddin’ is. I invited him, I hope you dinna mind. I best go see what mother wants.”

  Cathleen watched her walk out the door and shook her head. “She dinna hear a word I said.”

  “Would you like me to bash his knees?” Gretchen asked. She was one of the new additions to Marblestone’s staff and wore her golden hair in two braids with ribbons tied on the ends. She had a pleasant face, a soft voice and rarely spoke unless spoken to.

  Cathleen was surprised Gretchen said anything at all, and thought she was joking. “Would you?” she took Gretchen’s hand and carefully stepped down off the chair.

  “Miss Cathleen, forgive me for speaking up, but that one bothers me.”

  “Mr. Swinton?”

  �
��That’s the one. I have only seen him a few times, but there is something about him I do not like.”

  “Cameron says the same. I did not fancy Mr. Swinton, but I never saw anything too objectionable in his manner.”

  “The servants think Mr. Swinton hoped to marry you, and men do not show a bad side to a woman they want to impress.”

  “So I have read. I wish I had more experience in situations such as these. Then I would know how to make Paulette see.” Cathleen stepped out of the dress and reached for her flock. “What do you suggest?”

  Gretchen carefully laid the wedding dress on her warn out sewing table, and then went to help Cathleen with her frock. “If you want, I will have a word with Mr. Prescot. He has Mr. Hannish’ ear, and he will know what to do.”

  “Oh, would you? I would be ever so grateful knowing there are others here to watch over her?”

  *

  Sweet Suzie didn’t waste any time once she arrived in Colorado Springs. She went to the soda shop, asked where to find the man the duchess told her about, and learned he would be in town the next day. She lavished in a meal that tasted like real food for a change, slumbered in a soft hotel bed and the next morning, took her time bathing in water that had sweet smelling bath crystals added. It felt like a slice of paradise.

  Even so, she didn’t have much time. Today was the day her brothers expected her release and she was positive they were already waiting outside the prison gate. Once she didn’t come out, they would go to the warden. Perhaps the warden would stall her brothers for another day or two, and perhaps not. Nothing was certain. She got dressed, stepped out into the crisp morning air, and went to find the offices of Whitfield and MacGreagor.

  The building turned out to be a four-story affair with several offices, but she wouldn’t know which office until she went inside. The trick was to get her intended target alone where they could talk privately, and she doubted that would be possible in an office full of people; the fewer who could identify her, the better…just in case.