For a moment, Crisp stared, and then got hold of himself and slightly bowed “Your Grace, thank you for seeing me. I am certain your voyage has tired you, and I assure you this won’t take long. What I want, you see, is access to the cottage Mrs. Sin…I mean Mrs. MacGreagor lived in.”
“Whatever for?”
“It is for my fee, you see. She has been arrested, cannot afford to pay me, and I have her permission to sell off some of her jewels…if I can find them.”
Cameron walked to an oak cabinet where a set of four silver goblets sat on a matching tray, and poured himself a glass of water. “I see no reason to help her, or you.”
The inhospitable tone of his voice, his unwillingness to offer a drink or an invitation to sit, had not gone unnoticed by Crisp. He found it insulting, yet dukes ruled the world, at least the one he lived in. “Your Grace, Mrs. MacGreagor wishes to spare you…”
Cameron turned his glare on the solicitor. “Olivia does not care to spare anyone anything. How much does she want?”
“I see you are a man of few words. She...”
Cameron took a deep breath and set his goblet down harder than was necessary. “How much?”
“A mere five thousand pounds would do…and access to the cottage, of course.”
“Nay.”
“What?”
“All of Olivia’s belongings have been gotten rid of, and she gets not one farthing from me.”
“You are being too hasty, Mrs. MacGreagor will…”
“She is not Mrs. MacGreagor.”
“She threatens a scandal.”
“‘Tis an idle threat, Mr. Crisp. To involve my brother she would have to admit to bigamy times three. What is the prison sentence for that? Nay, Olivia will protect herself first.”
“Yet if she is convicted, she will have nothing to lose.”
“If she is convicted, she will not be free to make another lad and his entire family miserable.”
There was little Crisp could say to that, but he couldn’t quite believe Cameron’s hasty refusal. “You would risk a scandal?”
“Mr. Crisp, if there is a scandal, I shall happily swear you have just this very day attempted blackmail.”
Crisps eyes grew large. “You have no proof.”
“I’ll not need it. Now, will you leave peacefully, or shall I throw you out?”
The solicitor urgently chose a quick and peaceful exit.
Cameron followed him into the foyer and as soon as the butler closed the door, he said, “Blair, I am going to bed. Ring my brother and wake me when the call goes through.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Oh, and have someone fetch Olivia’s belongings. I wish to look through them later.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
*
The call to his brother came through late in the night, and Cameron had to take a moment to wake up enough to explain the problem. As always, he spoke Gaelic just in case someone was listening, as some were prone to do.
“I am not surprised, ‘tis just like her to threaten a scandal,” said Hannish. “What did you tell him?”
“I called his bluff. A scandal cannae hurt us, I am just the brother of a poor sop who could not resist her beauty.”
Hannish laughed. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Very well, a rich sop who could not resist her beauty. Seriously, brother, pay him and his threats no mind. I say we have given enough of our time and money to Olivia.”
“I agree. She is still locked away, I take it.”
“Indeed. I shall make regular inquires, if you like, to see that she is kept there.”
“I would appreciate it. Brother, we are certain she has married Charles Whitfield.”
“I understand. I shall do what I can to find him. Perhaps he will listen to reason and abandon her.”
“I hope so. It would certainly prevent him from further grieving his parents. Is Flora well?”
“Quite, and I best let her go back to sleep. I shall call again when I have news. Give McKenna and your lovely wife my love.”
*
John Crisp was certain Duke Cameron MacGreagor would do anything to avoid a family scandal. Apparently, he was wrong. Furthermore, it appeared he might never know what Alexandra held over the head of the Bayingtons. Each time the phone rang, he hoped Lord Bayington was calling to say he would pay the demand, but that call had not yet come. Meanwhile, Charles called daily to demand Alexandra’s release, although he still had not received ample money for the solicitor’s fee. Crisp sighed after each call.
Crisp’s attempt to gain from one, or perhaps all of the participants in Alexandra Sinclair’s naughty little business, was not working out as well as he expected. Yet, there was still hope. Therefore, he decided to contact Hannish MacGreagor directly. While a scandal would cause Hannish little discomfort living so far from the British Isles, he might want to keep his brother’s society from finding out he married the worst possible woman.
Calls to America were often bothersome and one way or the other, it meant being up half the night, depending on how quickly the operator could connect the call. Therefore, he arose quite early and placed the call first thing after he got to his office. By the time it was connected, four hours had passed and it was nighttime in America. The voice on the other end was that of a Scottish butler by the name of Alistair.
“Mr. MacGreagor and his wife are out for the evening. May I tell him who called?” Alistair asked.
“Crisp, Mr. John Crisp calling. I am a solicitor.” He quickly checked the names he had written down in his notes. “Tell Mr. MacGreagor I called on behalf of…Olivia.”
“I see, I will tell him. Shall he ring you back?”
“Indeed. Please have him call me at his earliest convenience.”
“Very good, sir.” Alistair wrote down the details, hung up the phone and slumped against the kitchen wall. The only other person still up that late at night was Sarah, the woman he would soon marry. She looked concerned, and to keep anyone else from hearing, he mouthed the words, “the duchess.” Sarah’s eyes grew large and he welcomed it when she came into his arms.
“I was afraid we had not heard the last of her,” Sarah whispered.
“So was I. I should have done away with her when I had the chance.”
Sarah giggled. “What could you do, throw her off the train?”
“Believe me, I was tempted. Nothing would calm her once she discovered her hair brush was missing.”
Sarah hugged him a second time. “That was my fault and I am sorry I kept it. I had no idea she would blame you for it.”
“My love, there is no one in the world she does not blame, save herself. She means to cause trouble and if she does, I mean to see she is stopped.”
In the hallway outside the kitchen door, Lillian heard just enough to pique her interest. She stopped short of entering and listened, but Alistair and Sarah were apparently kissing. Lillian found that repugnant. Servants were never allowed such liberties in the Denver households she worked in. She originally came down for a snack, but now that they were there, she decided she wasn’t hungry after all and went back upstairs. She soon regretted that decision, for sleep still would not come and her thoughts turned to trying to figure out who Alistair was talking about. There could be only one answer -- it had to be that duchess no one was allowed to talk about.
CHAPTER 6
Crisp hung up the phone and stared at his notes. Hannish MacGreagor was the one who did not believe in divorce, yet he had married another and so soon? It made no sense at all, unless divorces were far more easily gained in America. That, he had not heard from any of his fellow solicitors, who normally kept abreast of the different and always interesting laws the Americans were passing.
What was it Alexandra said? Lady Bayington gave her the money to go back to America to reconcile with Hannish MacGreagor? Yes, that was it. Alexandra claimed MacGreagor deserted her, yet ‘go back,’ meant she had been to America. Clearly, it was
Olivia MacGreagor who abandoned her husband…a circumstance that was grounds for divorce in any country.
Crisp reached in his desk drawer, found Alexandra’s jade ring and examined it again. He couldn’t remember having such a fascinating case and perhaps when this was all over, he would write a book. Yes indeed, there might be more than one way to make a fortune off the exploits of Mrs. Alexandra Sinclair.
*
In his study the next morning, Hannish listened to Alistair recount the phone conversation with Crisp and shook his head. “That is one phone call I dinna intend to return. If he calls again, tell him to ask his questions in a letter. I owe the duchess nothin’-- not the slightest decency. She has…” The more he talked, the angrier he got. At last, he rolled his eyes and walked out the back door.
At the same moment, McKenna walked into the study. She went to the window, watched her brother head for the woodpile and then looked at Alistair. “What?”
“Perhaps he fears we will not have enough wood come winter,” Alistair answered.
“More likely, something has upset him.” She knew Alistair would not give her any information and abandoned that thought. “Very well, see he does not have a stroke in this heat.”
“Yes, Miss McKenna.”
*
He had forgotten he asked for them, when Cameron MacGreagor walked into his library and found Olivia’s trunks sitting in the middle of the room. All was well at his factory, he was finally rested after their voyage from America, and now seemed as good a time as any to see what Solicitor Crisp hoped to find among her things.
Apparently, she had taken most of her clothing with her when she fled to Paris, but two large trunks were filled with an assortment of things, none of which Cameron found very interesting. It was clear she left no jewels behind, and Olivia always had plenty of those.
He was about to put everything back when his hand brushed against the top of the trunk and he felt an odd bulge. He touched it again, heard the sound of rustling paper and quickly pulled the lining away from the wood. To his surprise, several documents fell out. He picked them up, carried them to a chair and sat down.
The first was Gormelia Carr’s marriage certificate to George Graham. No doubt, it was the only time the duchess signed her real name. The second reported her marriage to Sinclair, the third to Lord Bayington, and the forth to his brother, Hannish. Cameron smiled, got up and threw Hannish MacGreagor’s marriage certificate in the smoldering embers of his stone hearth. It quickly caught fire and burned.
However, when he sat back down, he discovered another marriage certificate, one which he found very fascinating -- Cameron recognized neither the name of the bride nor the groom, but he recognized the place. Attached was an even more curious newspaper article. Apparently, the husband named on the marriage certificate was murdered and the wife disappeared.
*
On the second floor of Marblestone Mansion, Alistair peeked around the corner to see if the sisters were there, decided the coast was clear and was about to start into the hallway when behind him, Hannish cleared his throat. Alistair spun around and then rolled his eyes. “Lord have mercy, you gave me a fright!”
“A fright is it? Tell me, upon whom do you spy?”
Alistair straightened his jacket. “‘Tis complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“I cannae say.”
Hannish walked around the butler, went into his bedroom, sat in a chair and waited. “My wife says little of her daily activities while we lads build the cottages. What is she up to?”
Alistair followed him in, closed the door, knelt down and began to untie one of Hannish’s work boots. “Shall I run your bath, Sir?”
“Alistair, what is it my wife does not want me to know?”
“I cannae say, Sir.”
“I see. Tell me this at least, is it dangerous?”
“Nay, and I’m not sayin’ but could be just a game the sisters play.”
“A childish game?”
“Some might see it as such, but ‘tis fun for us all.”
“Then I shall not interfere. God knows they deserve to play, especially Leesil. She took more than her share of beatings in the orphanage and I suspect most were to protect Cathleen.”
“She is to be admired, Mr. Hannish.” Alistair pulled one boot off and started unlacing the other.
“Yet, she is not in the least bitter, which I find even more admirable. Do this for me; if their game becomes dangerous, take care to stop them and ask the others to do so as well.”
“Aye, Sir.”
“Should I be peeking round every corner too?”
Alistair took the other off, set the boots aside and pulled off his employer’s socks. “In your own house? I think not…yet you might whistle.”
“Whistle?”
“You do recall how to whistle, do you not?”
“I suppose I could manage a tune or two. And just now, I am reminded, the sisters have never ridden a horse. Who is best to teach them?”
“Carl taught Cathleen how to swim and she trusts him.”
“I trust him too, but I would rest easier with two lads teaching them. Perhaps we best wait until after the cottages are built and teach them ourselves.”
“As you wish.” Alistair got up and went to run a bath.
*
“The kitchen,” Leesil whispered to her sister. It was another day of plotting and scheming to catch the spy, yet in the parlor on the first floor where more people came and went regularly, it was not as easy as in other parts of the house.
“Do you suppose spies eat the same as we?” asked Cathleen.
“Of course they do. Spying is rigorous exercise.” When she spotted Sarah coming, Leesil abruptly stopped talking and pretended to be looking at a large painting on the wall. Soon, Cathleen joined her and although neither said anything, both nodded their heads.
It was all Sarah could do to keep from laughing. She hurried through the parlor and was nearly to the kitchen when she began to giggle. She paused, composed herself, walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Millie. Just as she suspected, Lillian was already there.
Not two minutes later, Leesil and Cathleen entered the kitchen. Leesil pretended to check for signs of anything amiss in the cooking area, while Cathleen gave the servant’s dinner table a good looking over. She inspected a water glass, then a teacup and put a finger to her chin as if contemplating what to examine next. Most of the servants remained stoic, but when Carl snickered, Cathleen gave him her best glare.
Carl immediately collected himself, “Forgive me, Miss Cathleen.”
“I suppose I can, but just this once. Sister, I believe all is in order here.”
“Sister,” Leesil said, “Do you mean you are hungry?”
Cathleen nodded. “I am very hungry. I say we put aside this inspection for another day.”
“Very well.” Leesil walked to the door, turned back and looked at Lillian. “Fret not, we shall return.” She grabbed her sister’s hand and then hurried down the hallway.
They waited as long as they could, before the servants began to laugh – all but Lillian, who saw nothing funny in their childish antics…nothing funny at all.
*
Finding no way to avoid it, Lord Bayington was about to place a call to Alexandra’s solicitor, when his butler announced the arrival of Cameron MacGreagor. He hung up the phone and turned around to greet his old friend.
“If you bow, I shall have your head,” Cameron threatened. “I find the practice ridiculous.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Bayington said, deeply bowing.
Cameron rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket pocket. “I went through Olivia’s things and found these.” He handed Lord Bayington the papers and then found a place to sit. “I hoped you might know what the last one is about.”
“Merciful heaven, you found them!” Bayington went to the door and yelled, “Pifer, ask Lady Bayington to join me.”
“Yes, My Lord,�
�� came the faint answer.
Bayington rifled through the papers, laid the first three marriage certificates on a desk and then studied the article.
A moment later, Lady Bayington came in. “What is it? Has something happened?”
With a grin on his face, Bayington handed her a marriage certificate and the newspaper article. Lady Bayington caught her breath, went into her husband’s arms and closed her eyes. “At last!”
Cameron stood when she entered and as soon as she noticed him, she left her husband’s arms in favor of Cameron’s. “You have no idea what this means to us.”
“I say it is cause for celebration,” said Bayington.
“Indeed it is,” his wife agreed. “Sit, Cameron and I will tell you all about it.”
“I admit I am curious.” Cameron accepted the glass of scotch Bayington handed to him and then made himself comfortable.
“As I said in my letter,” Lady Bayington began, “Olivia and I ran away from our first husbands. It was late one very dark night and we were already in the boat when Olivia decided to go back for something.” Lady Bayington held the marriage certificate up. “Obviously, she went to get this and intended to hold it against me if she found me uncooperative. She was gone a very long time and when she came back, the water between the island and the mainland was no longer calm. It was quite a struggle crossing the channel and twice I thought we were about to die. I have not been on the water since.”
“I dinna blame you,” said Cameron.
Lady Bayington took a deep breath. “I did not hear of my first husband’s murder until a week later when Olivia showed me this newspaper article.”
Cameron’s eyes widened. “You think Olivia killed him?”
“I do not. According to the article, he was quite severely beaten and she had no marks or blood on her. Moan, my husband, was not an honest man, and had more than one enemy who wished him dead.”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 2 Page 9