Marblestone Mansion, Book 2

by Marti Talbott

  “I wish we had a block of ice just now,” Maude Goodwin said, rapidly swishing her fan back and forth. “We need ice in summer, not winter. In summer, the milk goes sour before evening, and in winter when we have the ice, we can do just as well setting the milk bottle outside in the snow.”

  “I cannae wait for the snow,” Cathleen sighed.

  Said Maude, “You’ll be sick of is soon enough, once it comes and refuses to go away.”

  “McKenna,” Cathleen began, “Hannish promised to take us swimmin’ this summer, but he is very busy. Might we come anyway? Carl says he will teach us how to swim.”

  Abigail delightedly clapped her hands. “Oh yes, my dear. We will all go and we shall have a picnic lunch. Name the day, Cathleen.”

  Cathleen was quick to answer, “Sunday after church.”

  Abigail clapped her hands again. “Sunday is perfect.”

  *

  Not having a housekeeper to tidy up and cook for him was an inconvenience, but the judge had managed on his own before. He found someone to do his laundry and it was not much of a bother to keep his house straightened. After all, he was an orderly man who always put things back where they belonged. Taking his meals at the Antlers Hotel was certainly not unpleasant either.

  The Colorado Springs Antler Hotel stood at the end of Main Street with three archways marking the entrance to the four-story building. Inside was decorated in red velvet with gold trim. Matching curtains hung on each side of the tall windows and massive chandeliers hung from the high ceiling.

  The same decor extended into a dining room big enough for thirty, but only one couple remained by the time the judge sat down to read a Cripple Creek newspaper, and await his meal. He tried not to overhear the British couple’s conversation, but when the man mentioned McKenna MacGreagor, he couldn’t help but listen.

  “McKenna is here?” the woman asked. “What a pity we leave in the morning and have no time to see her. Now that we know where she is, however, I shall write to her when we get home and ask to see her next year when we come. She left Scotland in such a hurry, none of us had opportunity of saying goodbye.”

  The man picked up a piece of bread and began to butter it. “Why did she leave so abruptly? I never did know.”

  “Chilton married another and right under McKenna’s nose. He got what he deserved, I hear.”

  “How so?”

  “The woman he married hates the sight of him. He’ll not have sons if she has anything to say about it, leastwise not by him.”

  “But my dear, everyone knew Chilton needed money. A man must have a living and marriage is the only way for some men to get it.”

  “A living to squander on other women, you mean. He already has a mistress, and not a very pretty one.” The woman ate a bite of chicken and briefly glanced at the stranger reading his paper. “Do you know, Chilton still brags that McKenna expected to marry him, and that he waited to break the news of his intentions until the very night before his wedding?”

  “That is hardly called for. What sort of man brags about a thing like that?”

  “The sort who flatters himself. He, of all the men who desired her, was the one she loved, you see.”

  “I do not like the man, but I never thought him capable of that,” said the husband. “No wonder she sailed to America.”

  “I might have done the same, were I worried about running into Chilton and his wife on every occasion. How McKenna must have hated the thought.”

  “I’ve a good mind to have a word with Chilton.”

  “Now, Edward, do not upset yourself.”

  Judge Mitchel moved his newspaper aside to make room for the supper plate a waiter set before him. Once, he might have been happy McKenna was set down by another man. Instead, he couldn’t get his own words out of his mind – ‘you’re the one who came here to beg for an American husband.’ Filled with painful regret, the judge closed his eyes. What a miserable thing to say to a woman who suffered such a cruel rejection.

  *

  To anyone watching, the goings on in the MacGreagor backyard looked very much like a barn raising, complete with tables of food from the mansion’s kitchen at lunch time, plenty of water to quench any thirst and muscular men willing and able to make quick work of the cement foundations. The wall frames were set, the wet cement poured, and then the structures were left to bake in the hot sun until the cement dried.

  When the wire mesh came, Hannish had the men frame enough of it for all the bedroom windows. Two days later, the cottage roof frames were complete, hoisted atop the wall frames and the roofing began. Stonemasons mixed mortar and started building the red stone outer walls, while carpenters worked on the inside.

  Meanwhile, brides Sarah and Millie were busy making lists of what they would need to set up housekeeping. It was exciting and overwhelming at the same time. There were wedding gowns for the seamstress to make, endless fittings and shoes to buy, not to mention attending to their daily duties. Thankfully, the screened windows allowed a far more comfortable sleep for the exhausted.

  *

  At last, came a day of rest and everyone was excited to be going swimming at Palmer Lake. With Abigail’s propensity to tell everyone everything she knew, it was no surprise to find half the town already there when the MacGreagor wagons arrived on Sunday afternoon.

  Most of the women were dressed in pre-shrunken mohair or taffeta skirts, and blouses with short puffed sleeves. Some swimsuits had sailor collars, some were striped, and some were even lilac in color, although most were black with bright ribbons and bows for adornment. The women wore long black stockings with lace-up slippers and fancy bathing caps. Not all wore skirts with heavy weights sewn in the hems to keep the water from lifting them; some dressed in knickerbockers and wore bandannas instead of caps.

  The men were content to wear less cumbersome striped, wool long shirts and pants, with long sleeves and much less fanfare. Anxious to enjoy some relief from the hot sun, the MacGreagor ladies laid their long, silk bathing coats on the rocks and started in. Even the elder Blanka went in the water, but Cathleen and Leesil had to be persuaded to go out much farther than knee deep.

  “You do not trust me?” Carl asked, reaching his hand out to Cathleen.

  Cathleen deeply wrinkled her brow. “I do, but…”

  “I’ll not let you drown and I cannot teach you, if you do not come farther out.”

  “Well, if I must.” Cathleen smiled finally and carefully walked on the floor of the lake until she reached him.

  Leesil watched Carl show her sister how to hold her breath, stroke the water and kick her feet, but she was not so very sure she should try it. Besides, someone had to keep an eye on Lillian, the spy. Slowly, Leesil scanned the people until she spotted Lillian, who…to her horror was watching her. Instantly, Leesil looked away and tried to find her husband.

  Hannish and McKenna had gone halfway across the lake and were starting back. Watching them swim in unison was a thing of beauty and she was mesmerized. At the same exact instant, the brother and sister turned on their backs, took three backstrokes, and then turned on their stomachs again.

  Leesil was not the only one watching. Standing on the shore next to Alistair, Judge Mitchel couldn’t take his eyes off of McKenna. “They swim quite well.”

  Alistair remembered the man from the morning he tried to capture the black stallion and wasn’t sure he liked him. “Aye, they did a bit of competition swimming in Scotland. All Scots are taught to swim the lochs as children.”

  “You do not remember me, do you?”

  “Should I?”

  “I am Judge Mitchel. I came the morning of the MacGreagor wedding to bring Mrs. MacGreagor and her sister their new birth certificates.”

  “Ah, you are that judge. You are also the one who wishes to capture the wild horse.”

  “When Miss MacGreagor is not around. Have you seen him lately?”

  Alistair shook his head. “Not since that morning.”

  “I have only seen
him once since then myself. Well, I best get back. My secretary and his wife brought lunch and I am hungry.”

  Alistair watched the judge walk halfway around the lake and then join a man and woman sitting on a blanket. Twice more, the judge turned to see where McKenna was and it made Alistair smile. “Fancy her, do you?”

  McKenna’s wet clothes clung to her body, which always bothered her when men were around. As soon as she stepped out of the water, she grabbed her long silk bathing coat and quickly put it on. It was not until she looked up that she spotted Judge Mitchel walking away from Alistair.

  “Must he be here?” she muttered. When she reached Alistair, she said. “What could he possibly have to say? Nay, let me guess; he asked if you have seen the black stallion.”

  “Aye.”

  “The lad has no other entertainment, I suppose.”

  Alistair was about to add his remark when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

  “Are you not going to swim?” Sarah asked.

  “I waited for you, my love.”

  “Lucky man, your wait is over.” Sarah grabbed Alistair’s hand, and together they walked to the lake and waded into the water.

  *

  Leesil looked at Lillian, who was still looking at her and decided she best get in the water before Lillian came her direction. When Hannish swam to her, she put her arms around his neck and let him take her into the deeper water. In no time at all, she had the basics down and decided she rather liked swimming.

  She didn’t want to stop, but he insisted and when they reached Cathleen and Carl near the shore, Leesil looked at her sister as if to dare her. “You tell him.”

  “Nay,” said Cathleen. “‘Tis your husband, you tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” Hannish asked.

  “My sister and I…” Leesil started, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck again. “Wish to confess we have never ridden a horse.”

  Hannish pretended to be shocked. “What? My wife has never ridden a horse?”

  “Well, we had so few in the orphanage, it was never my turn,” Leesil answered.

  “Precisely how many did they have?” he asked

  “Precisely none,” Cathleen answered. “Do you see that house over there?” She pointed and waited for him to nod. “‘Tis the house we hope to have for our orphanage; only it has no place for a pony.”

  “What a disaster. I shall talk to Claymore Whitfield about it directly.”

  “Good,” said Leesil. “Where is Mr. Whitfield? He dinna come with Abigail.”

  “There was a cave-in at the mine this morning and he’s gone off to see about it.”

  “Oh no, are lads hurt?” Leesil asked.

  “Three trapped, Claymore said. He will call when he can, but you are not to trouble yourselves. There is little anyone can do about it.”

  “Save pray,” said Cathleen.

  *

  A robust man of average height and graying hair, Claymore Whitfield, husband to Abigail, father to Charles and Gloria, stood just inside the wrought iron gate with his hat over his heart. He could do nothing but watch the last of three bodies being lifted off the Claymore Mine shaft elevator in Cripple Creek. Nearby towering gallow-frames housed the elevator pulleys that were, at last, silent. Mine carts were at a standstill and exhausted men stood near the outbuilding with bowed heads.

  For days, no less than 600 miners, many from other mines, worked feverishly hoping to find the men alive. Yet from the condition of the bodies, it was apparent they died instantly under the weight of tons of gold ore. Claymore felt as bad as a man could feel about the loss of the miners, and it didn’t help having union bosses screaming in his ear demanding more safety measures. “Have you no respect for the dead?” he shouted.

  That seemed to quiet them, a least for now. He watched the men carefully place the body in the undertaker’s black, boxed-in summer wagon and close the door, just as they had with the other two bodies. It was not until then that he noticed Hannish MacGreagor standing beside him.

  “I brought a bottle of scotch,” said Hannish.

  “I could use a swig just now.”

  Hannish pulled the cork out of the bottle and handed it to him. “You could use more than one, I imagine.” Having been to the mine several times with Claymore, Hannish could spot a union boss a mile away, and turned his glare on the first one that tried to approach Claymore again. Hannish was such a large man, the union boss quickly decided now was not a good time, and walked away.

  “My wife and daughter are well?” Claymore asked.

  “Aye, Abigail sent me to bring you home.”

  “I am too old for this; the burdens and responsibilities are too heavy.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Forty-five.” He brought the bottle to his lips, took another long swallow and felt the liquid warm his body on the inside. “I have spoken to the widows, promised to pay funeral expenses and given each two month’s pay…but it makes me feel no better.”

  “Come home, Claymore, there is nothing more to do here.”

  “I suppose not.” He glanced around, spotted his horse tied to a tree and headed that direction. Claymore looked as bad as he felt. He hadn’t taken a bath in days, his beard was growing out and his clothes were a mess. He even needed Hannish’s help mounting his horse.

  Once Hannish got on his own horse, he rode beside Claymore down Cripple Creek’s main street, a town built near the pine tree line at the base of Pike’s Peak. They ignored the many saloons, the banks, the newspaper buildings, the ladies of the evening, and the miners who were already drinking more than they should. Some forty miles from home, they would need to ride faster to get there before dark, but Claymore wanted to talk so Hannish let him.

  “Of the three, the Claymore Mine is by far the most profitable, yet the most expensive to maintain. And if per chance someone offered to buy it this very moment, I would gladly sell.”

  “Was it not you who said as long as there is gold in that mine, your children need never know poverty?”

  “And their children, and their children after them. Yes, I did say that.” He puffed his cheeks. “That was before I knew Charles would let all my money slip through his fingers like water.”

  “He is a Blatherskite.”

  “What?”

  “‘Tis Gaelic for silly talker.”

  “That he is. The fault is mine; I did not raise him right. And now he’s in London trying to get that…that bigamist out of jail.”

  Hannish was afraid the subject of the duchess might come up. “You need not worry about that just now.”

  “But I do worry. My son calls constantly asking for money and the boy has not the sense to call during his night’s sleep instead of mine. When I get him home, I shall have a thing or two to say about that!”

  “We best speed up.”

  “I suppose so.” Claymore lightly kicked the side of his horse and again rode beside Hannish in silence. Yet, after a few more miles, he was so tired that he let the horse slow.

  “Do you wish to stop?”

  “No, no, I am fine. I think that ‘blatherskite,’ as you call him has married that…that bigamist.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He does not deny he has married her. I set about to hire a solicitor in London to find out the truth, but Charles will not say her name and come to find out, the London jails are full of women. What sort of water do they drink over there?”

  Hannish chuckled, “Apparently the wrong sort.”

  “What do you say I should do? Should I send Charles the money?”

  “She has no money of her own?”

  “Apparently not. He did say her solicitor has confiscated all her jewels, but it is still not enough to pay his fee.”

  Hannish remembered the enormous jade ring on her finger the last time he saw her, and rolled his eyes. That alone should have paid the fee. Nevertheless, there was some satisfaction in knowing she no longer owned it…or any of the other jewels she manage
d to buy at his expense. Cameron was right; Charles managed to hire the most unscrupulous solicitor in the entire Kingdom.

  “Well, should I send him the money?”

  “Perhaps ‘tis a good time to teach him the value of it.”

  Claymore tilted his head to one side and thought about that. “How right you are. It may very well teach him a lesson or two.” He urged his horse forward, this time with renewed vigor and determined endurance.

  *

  It was unconscionable to have to wait for Cameron MacGreagor to get home from America, but Crisp had no choice, not if he hoped to find out what Alexandra had on Lord Bayington. He suspected she had some sort of document, but Charles Whitfield swore there were no papers among Alexandra’s things. Whatever she had on Bayington, she had it hidden somewhere. A few inquiries helped him discover Alexandra’s last known abode in England was a small cottage owned by the MacGreagor family. However, when he went there and ardently demanded entry as Mrs. MacGreagor’s solicitor, the butler would not let him in without the duke’s permission.

  *

  Alas, all he could do was wait and it seemed the perfect occasion to pay another visit to Alexandra Sinclair. She looked a bit healthier and considerably more presentable, but she was not in the least pleased when he admitted he had not come to get her out. In fact, she threw a childish tantrum, cried, moaned and wrung her hands. He was beginning to see why none of her marriages were successful. Naturally, he could not ask where the document was at a time like that, and she was in no mood to be trifled with, so he simply tipped his hat and went on his way.

  Two days later, and only after he mentioned the name ‘Olivia,’ did Cameron MacGreagor agree to see him. Crisp traveled from London by train and then by hired carriage until at last, he arrived at the MacGreagor Castle in Scotland.

  Once admitted and left alone in the parlor to wait, he had little doubt the duke came from a long line of Scots. The parlor walls were decorated with an assortment of swords, daggers and spears, both new and old. One sword, he noticed, was in an ancient and tattered leather sheath that had a small hole at the tip. For a moment, he thought he could see something gold inside. He walked to it and was about to touch it, when Cameron MacGreagor cleared his throat and made him spin around. He did not expect the man with dark hair and blue eyes to be the biggest man he had ever seen.