Marblestone Mansion, Book 2

by Marti Talbott

  “Lord Bayington, I fear I am the bearer of bad tidings.”

  “How so?”

  “It seems the woman you married some years ago, was not yet unmarried at the time. In fact, she is still married to her first husband, and therefore has committed bigamy not once, but twice.”

  “I see.” Lord Bayington removed his spectacles, picked up a cloth and proceeded to clean them. “I, of course, divorced her not long after we separated.”

  “Did you? Perhaps I might see the decree of divorcement. I could find no record of it in London.”

  “That is because we were not married in London, we were married in Paris, which is where I secured the divorce. Divorces are much easier to come by in France you know, and I...”

  “You wished to avoid a scandal.”

  “Frankly, yes. We were only married a month.”

  Crisp smiled. “At least on that point, you and Alice agree. Nevertheless, she has been arrested, charged with bigamy and theft, on behalf of her second husband.”

  Bayington’s eyes widened. “Arrested? Where?”

  “She was arrested in Paris and then brought here, Sir, to London.” He could see the blood drain out of Lord Bayington’s face, and could not pass up the opportunity to poke just a little fun at him. “She sends her regards.”

  “I wager she does.” He set his glasses on the desk, wrung his hands for a moment and then put his glasses back on. “How much does she want this time?”

  “This time? She has approached you before?”

  “Monthly, these past two years. The woman has an insatiable appetite for money. Tell me, has she managed to produce George Graham, her first husband? The money is for him, you know.”

  “He is alive?”

  “Quite. He blackmails her and us through her. I cannot think of a better place for them both, than in prison.”

  To John Crisp, Alexandra Sinclair’s past was getting even more intriguing. “Lord Bayington, perhaps you might start from the beginning. Alice is quite certain it was your wife who turned her into the authorities. Is she right?”

  Bayington ignored the question. “In the beginning, Mr. Crisp, I was young, stupid, and easily persuaded to do anything Alice wanted, just to have her in my bed. I assure you, I have paid for that mistake time and time again. She was not, and could never be, the woman I thought she was. Unfortunately, I discovered it far too late.”

  “I see. She threatens a scandal if you do not pay her?”

  Bayington studied the man seated across the desk from him for a long moment. “Which Alice have you come to know? Is she the witless one, incensed at her situation and more than willing to blame the world for her problems? Perhaps she is cunningly flirtatious, or is she vicious, spiteful and demanding?”

  “Vicious, not at all, she is as meek as a lamb.”

  “Watch out for that one. She does that right before she strikes.”

  “Lord Bayington, I can’t imagine what you mean.”

  “Imagine it, Mr. Crisp, and do not let it slip you mind.”

  “My good man, do calm yourself, I believe your face is turning red.”

  “Is it?” he took several deep breaths. “She forever threatens a scandal, and I’ve half a mind to let her have it. Yet…”

  “Yet there is Hannish MacGreagor and his brother, the duke, to consider.”

  Again, Lord Bayington stared at the solicitor. At length, he looked away. “Hannish was fortunate enough to move to America and I am tempted to follow him just to be shed of her. Who cares about a British scandal in America? No one. Nevertheless, this is my home, the home of my ancestors, and I do not intend to let that woman run me off.”

  “I agree. Shall we get down to business?”

  “Why not, how much does she want?”

  Crisp didn’t even blink. “For a mere five thousand pounds, her second husband will agree to drop the charges.”

  Bayington narrowed his eyes. “That would make her happy, but I see no benefit to me? She would then be free to renew her demands.”

  “Indeed, but believing your present wife exposed her bigamy has greatly grieved Alice. I can’t say for certain, Sir, what she will do if sent to prison.”

  “There is no end to her treachery, is there? No end whatsoever.”

  “Then you agree to meet her price?”

  “I agree to nothing. I need time to consider what to do.”

  Crisp stood up, reached in his pocket and pulled out a note with his name and phone number on it. “Perhaps you might call me when you wish to discuss it further.” As soon as Lord Bayington accepted the note, Crisp bowed slightly and left the room.

  CHAPTER 5

  Clearly upset, Lord Bayington rushed up the stairs to find his wife. As he expected, she was in the sitting room working on her embroidery. “My love,” he said, taking her hand. He waited for her to set her sewing aside, helped her stand and then wrapped his arms around her. “Alice is in a London jail.”

  “Oh no,” Lady Bayington moaned. A proper lady with delicate features and a slender build, she leaned hard against her husband. “But I gave her the money to escape.”

  “She did not go to America, she was arrested in Paris.” He urged his wife to sit beside him on the settee, put his arm around her, explained everything, and then finished with, “Worse still, Mr. Crisp knows about Hannish MacGreagor.”

  “Alice has admitted to four husbands?”

  “We don’t know that she has admitted it, at least not to anyone other than her solicitor. Who do you suppose had her arrested?”

  “Who could it have been but Cameron MacGreagor?”

  Lord Bayington shook his head. “The fault is mine; I should have told you about the blackmail before you went to see her.”

  “You couldn’t know I would give her the money to go back to America.”

  “True, but I had told you, we could have told Cameron all of it when we sent the letter. He would not have said a word, had we asked him not to.”

  “My love, ‘tis too late now. Do you intend to pay her?”

  “What else can we do?”

  Lady Bayington laid her head on his shoulder. “What else indeed.”

  *

  On the way home in his carriage, Crisp smugly smiled. He had a feeling Lord Bayington would pay, and gladly, to keep his name from being connected to that of Alexandra Sinclair. He would pay, not just for his sake, but for the sake of his four sons. A scandal such as this could keep them out of the best schools, and so long as Bayington could afford it, why take the risk? Indeed, Crisp would surely have an extra five thousand pounds before the week was out.

  *

  As had become his custom, Judge Mitchel got out of bed, dressed, saddled his horse and headed off just before dawn to look for the black stallion. He had not managed to find it for days, but then, he had avoided looking near Marblestone Mansion since his run-in with McKenna. Determined not to let that stop him this time, he headed up the hill. When he came to the place where the lane to the mansion split off the main road, he halted his horse.

  He often came up the lane when the mansion was being built, just to see how the construction was coming along. For such a large structure, it went up quickly. It was not too surprising; MacGreagor had the money to hire as many men as he could find. Occasionally, when both men where there at the same time, Hannish acknowledged the judge with a nod, but it was not until he granted the orphans a legal last name, that they actually met. Hannish MacGreagor seemed pleasant enough, but a man who quickly built his home, and almost as quickly changed wives, was not patient. It was a quality the Judge did not admire in a man.

  At first, Judge Mitchel only noticed movement in the trees across the sprawling mansion lawn. The lack of rain and the hot summer sun had turned most of the lawn brown, yet there were patches of green in the shade of the trees. A moment later, the black stallion walked out of the forest and began to nibble on the grass.

  Judge Mitchel examined each of the mansion windows until he was certai
n no one was watching, and then gently urged his horse toward the stallion. The stallion didn’t seem to notice, so Judge Mitchel slowly began to prepare his coiled rope. This time, he had the end tightly tied to his saddle horn, determined not to lose control of the horse once he caught him.

  Abruptly, the judge stopped.

  Against the backdrop of a magnificent orange and yellow sunrise, McKenna MacGreagor walked across the lawn to the stallion. Her long dark hair hung down to the waist of her simple blue dress, and once more, the stallion stood still, let her approach and stroke his magnificent black coat. The incredible beauty of the woman and the horse took Judge Mitchel’s breath away. He watched them for a few minutes more before he hooked the coiled rope back over his saddle horn, turned his horse and quietly slipped away.

  *

  “I prefer a different sleeping arrangement,” said Lillian. “Doreen is nice enough, but she rarely speaks to me.”

  In a small room across the hall from the mansion’s kitchen where butlers Prescot and Alistair shared an office, Prescot threw up his hands. “What now, Lillian? First, you do not like doing the laundry, then you do not like having a servant’s child in the house, and now you are unhappy with the sleeping arrangements? I suppose you want a room to yourself.”

  “Why not, Millie and Sarah have their own rooms. Even Blanka has her own room and downstairs too, where it is cooler.”

  Prescot was incredulous. “Miss Blanka was given that room so she would not have to climb the stairs so often. Yet, you resent an elderly maid for having a cool room in summer?”

  “I did not mean it like that.”

  “I hope not. You will feel differently when winter makes Blanka’s room one of the coldest in the house.” He paused to take an exasperated breath. “Lillian, you are assigned a bedroom just like the rest of us, and unless you can give me a reason other than envy, there you will stay.”

  “But there are empty rooms on the second floor and it is too hot on the third floor.”

  “It is too hot on all the floors, but there is nothing to be done short of opening the windows and enduring the flies. Which do you prefer?”

  “I prefer relief from the heat. There must be something we can do?”

  “There is, you can pray for an early autumn like the rest of us. Go back to work, Lillian, you tire my patience.”

  Lillian thought to mention how she felt Leesil and Cathleen were always spying on her, but thought better of it. If the sisters did not approve of her work, they would have told Sarah by now. The sisters watched her, she was certain of it, but who knew why?

  Prescot watched Lillian go and took a relieved breath. The heat was truly unbearable, and he could not wait until the screens arrived. The wire mesh was a new invention, would have to be sized and framed to fit their windows, and might not even work as well as the newspapers claimed. Still, anything was better than the choice between flies and sweat.

  *

  At Abigail’s request, Carl drove the much larger Whitfield buggy and took the Orphanage Committee to see the unfinished mansion at Palmer Lake. The committee consisted of Maude Goodwin, Abigail Whitfield, McKenna MacGreagor and Cathleen Covington. Yet, when they reached the lake, Cathleen let the other women go inside and walked to the edge of the lake instead. Across the glistening water, pine trees covered the foothills, with Pikes Peak looming high behind them in the distance.

  Dressed in his dark driver’s uniform, complete with a white shirt and matching white cap, Carl set the break, tied the reins of the two-horse team to the buggy, climbed down and followed her. “You do not want to go in the house?”

  “I prefer to be here.” She leaned down and picked up a blue pebble. “Have you seen the ocean?”

  “Not yet, but I hope to someday.”

  “‘Tis a frightening thing, the ocean; ‘tis calm one moment and enraged the next. Never was I so happy to see a place, than the shores of America. Do lakes become enraged?”

  Carl smiled. Cathleen constantly had the kind of questions some would think peculiar, but he understood and was happy to answer as many as he could. “It is the wind that makes waves in the water, and wind is everywhere.”

  “‘Violent wind like on the ocean?”

  “Sometimes, but not here very often.” He considered telling her about tornados, but decided he would only frighten her. He watched her try to skim her pebble across the water, and then watched it quickly sink. “Here, I will show you. You do not hold it right. Do it like this.” He held it between his thumb and forefinger, and then threw it level with the water. The stone skipped across the water several times before it sank.

  Cathleen picked up another pebble and tried her skimming skill again. This time it skipped across the water twice before it sunk. “Carl, tell me what is to be done.”

  “About what?”

  “About Lillian. Sarah said I should ask the servants to do things for me so Mr. Hannish would send none of them away. Only when I ask Lillian, she clicks her tongue as though I disgust her. What should I do?”

  “First, tie her to a tree, and then…”

  Cathleen giggled. “And how do I get her to stand still long enough to tie her?”

  “Your sister will help.”

  “Nay, I cannae ask her, she would tell her husband about Lillian, and he would not take kindly to it.”

  “I suppose not. Well then, you have no other choice. You must poison her.”

  Again, Cathleen giggled. “With what? I have no poisons.”

  “What? You have no poisons? I thought all women had poisons.” He lowered his voice. “That’s how they get a husband.”

  Cathleen rolled her eyes. “Tis not poisons, ‘tis potions.”

  “Oh.”

  She laughed, tried a third pebble and this one skipped across the water perfectly. “I suppose if I used one of my very fine potions, she would fall in love with the first lad she sees, marry and go away.”

  Carl deeply wrinkled his brow. “So long as it isn’t me. I have to fight the ladies off as it is.”

  Not sure if he was serious or not, she held her grin until he tipped his hat and smiled. “I have heard that about you.”

  “Go on, what else have you heard?”

  “Well,” she started, as she began to step from rock to rock around the edge of the lake, “they say you are always of good humor, kind and very, very wise.”

  He walked beside her and held out his hand ready to catch her if she started to fall. “You forgot the handsome part.”

  “Everyone knows that.”

  “I see.”

  “Carl, I have another question. Mr. Hannish promised to bring us back to the lake so we can learn to swim. Should I remind him?”

  “You should, but with all the building going on, I doubt he has time.”

  “Even the master of the house must rest sometimes. Do you swim?”

  “I do.”

  “Then, if he cannae come, you will teach us?”

  Carl mockingly bowed, “As you wish, My Lady.”

  *

  It was too hot, his docket was clear for the afternoon and Judge Mitchel decided to take advantage of the shade trees, and the cool breeze coming off Palmer Lake. He hadn’t been there long when he saw the buggy arrive and watched McKenna and the others walk to the house. Long since deserted, the two-story house had been built by a man who couldn’t pay to finish it, and it was Judge Mitchel who signed the papers making it legal for the town to sell it. There were debts to pay off and he was happy to see someone interested in it. He kept an eye out for McKenna and glanced at the house often, but then he spotted the young couple having fun by the lake, as all young couples should, and kept an eye on them as well.

  Cathleen was almost to him, when she stopped skipping from rock to rock and smiled. “Who might you be?”

  He removed his hat and answered, “I am Nicholas Mitchel, and you?”

  “I am Cathleen Covington, and this is our driver, Carl.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,
Miss Covington.” He nodded to Carl and then put his hat back on. “You have come to enjoy the lake, I see.”

  “Nay, we come with the Orphanage Committee to see the house.

  He had heard about the Orphanage Committee, although he did not know McKenna was a member. It was nice to know the sister of a wealthy man spent her time doing something other than shopping for hats. “I see.”

  “Do you come here often?” Cathleen asked.

  “As often as I can. This little town is very important to us all. Do you care to hear why?”

  “Please.”

  “Not only do they provide wheat for our bread, but in winter…”

  *

  When McKenna stepped out on the porch of the house and first saw him, the stranger was standing near the lake letting his horse drink. He was easy to recognize, as was his buckskin horse. She suspected he was looking for the black stallion and slowly scanned the area, but the wild beauty was nowhere in sight. When she looked back, the man was watching her, which made McKenna abruptly go back inside. “Insufferable lad,” she muttered.

  Maude and Abigail were talking about the work that still needed to be done, and McKenna took part in the discussion for a few minutes, but it wasn’t long before she strolled to a window. By then, the stranger was talking to Carl and Cathleen.

  On the buggy ride back to town, McKenna asked, “What did that lad want, Cathleen?”

  “What lad?” Abigail asked. “Oh, listen to me. I have begun to talk like McKenna. I mean, what man?”

  McKenna smiled and turned her attention back to Cathleen. “The one you were talking to by the lake.”

  Cathleen shrugged, “His name is Nicholas Mitchel and…”

  “Judge Mitchel was there?” Abigail asked. “Had I known, I would have introduced you, McKenna. He donated all of twenty five dollars to the orphans fund at the town picnic.”

  McKenna was not impressed and ignored Abigail. “What did he want, Cathleen?”

  He asked for nothing. He was telling us that Palmer Lake is where the blocks of ice are chopped to keep our food cold in winter.”

  “They do indeed harvest ice from that lake, my dear,” Abigail said. “They make a fortune at it too. Some of the blocks are shipped all the way to Denver on the train.”