“Do you mean things that are not in the book?” Cameron asked.
“If she can tell the world about us, then we can tell them about her. Only we shall tell the truth,” McKenna answered.
Said Leesil, “Bravo, McKenna.”
“A gossip attack instead of a reward?” the judge asked his wife.
“Why not?” McKenna said. “Who knows what she is truly like better than me?”
“I say we do both,” Abigail said. “Except we must not say the duchess is Blair’s mother.”
“Which means, my dear,” said Claymore, “that you cannot tell anyone the duchess was at our house.”
Abigail looked greatly disappointed. “True, but oh how I would like to tell it.”
“Then am I free to speak my mind?” McKenna asked, looking at Hannish and then at Cameron and Claymore.
Hannish got up from the table, walked to McKenna, took her hand and helped her stand up. He gathered his little sister in his arms and held her close. “When have we ever been able to keep you from speaking your mind?”
McKenna laughed, pulled away and swatted his arm. “Oh, you.”
“We run the risk of becoming a lynch mob,” Ben whispered to Gloria.
Gloria leaned closer. “You would not say that if you had seen the way she tried to manipulate Blair into going with her. It was quite masterful and I am still trying to sort out what she said.”
Leesil had a frown on her face by the time Hannish returned to his seat beside her. “What are we to tell the servants? They must hear it from us and not from the town gossips.”
“You are right, my love. They should hear it from us first,” Hannish agreed.
Cathleen said, “Perhaps we might let them read the copies of the book we have presently.”
“Some already know about her,” Hannish said, “but others might be greatly surprised.”
Leesil started to look as tired as she felt. “Will they quit their positions for fear of being associated with us?”
“If they do, I could write their references,” McKenna offered. “I am a Mitchell, not a MacGreagor and few would be the wiser.”
“How very complicated it all is,” Francis muttered. She reached for Samuel’s hand. “I never knew the world could be this convoluted.”
“Or fun,” he said grinning at his wife. “I cannae wait to see what happens next.”
“What do we tell the servants to say if they are asked about us?” Leesil wanted to know.
Hannish shook his head. “We shall ask them not to answer any questions. ‘Tis a family matter.”
“What about the Whitfield servants?” Claymore asked.
“Dear me, I doubt any of them know a thing about it,” Abigail answered. “Some are new and have not yet met Charles.”
“And the ones that have?” Claymore asked.
Gloria giggled, “They shall expect it, for most of them thought Charles quite silly before he went to England. I suspect they shall simply have a good laugh.”
“Well, I’m not laughing,” Abigail said.
“Oh, Mother, what is the worst that can happen to us?” Gloria asked. “Charles was silly. He was boisterous, carefree, and a whole host of other things when he was young. Do you not recall his fist fights, how he managed to say all the wrong things, and to make a pest of himself? Being deceived by a beautiful woman matches his character precisely.”
“And I am the mother who should have taught him better,” said Abigail.
Mother McConnell sympathized. “It has been my experience that even children who are taught well, do foolish things. We raise them up, but in the end, they make their own decisions.”
“Thank you,” said Claymore. “I believe you are right. We did the best we could, and no man could have a more loving mother than my Abigail.”
When the whole room erupted in applause, Abigail blushed. “Thank you.”
Leesil waited until they all quieted again. “Are we certain we are doing the right thing?”
“I am not certain there is any right thing in this circumstance,” Cameron said.
“Nor am I,” Judge Mitchell agreed. “Let us examine the facts. Fact number one – the duchess, by her own admission is a bigamist. Fact number two – Hannish did not know it when he married her. Fact number three – he need not have secured a divorce because he was not legally married. Fact four – Charles had no idea who she was when he married Hannish’s first wife, and fact number five – when we find her, we intend to hang her.”
That comment brought about a resounding round of laughter and applause.
“Although we hope not to find her,” Hannish reminded them.
Judge Mitchell nodded. “In time, the town will see that none of us are at fault. Oh, I admit the gossip shall harshly sting for a while, and some might think twice about buying houses from the Whitfield and MacGreagor Construction Company, but fairer minds will win out in the end. I have yet to hear an unkind word about either family.”
“The children might be teased at school,” Cathleen said.
“Yes, my dear, you are right about that,” Abigail agreed. “Children hear what their parents talk about, and often repeat what they hear with little understanding.”
Laura asked, “When is the book set to arrive?”
“Mr. Herbert at the store said he hopes to have copies in two weeks or so,” Abigail answered. “Perhaps sooner.”
“In that case, we should post the notice so that it comes out in the paper before the books arrive,” said Claymore.
“The sewing circle,” said Abigail. “I must be the one to tell them.”
“And me,” said McKenna.
Leesil sighed. “Might I be excused that day?”
“Sister, we must get it over with as quickly as possible,” said Cathleen.
“Very well,” said Leesil, “we shall tell them come Tuesday, but I am dreading it.”
Laura couldn’t help feeling sorry for Leesil. It was her husband the town would frown upon and Laura knew just how she felt. If only there were some way to soften the blow, but she couldn’t think of anything. “Am I invited to this particular sewing circle, or would you rather…”
“Of course you are,” said Abigail.
“Good. I might have a thing or two to add to the conversation.”
CHAPTER 7
The Marblestone servants were not required to formally serve breakfast to the family, and instead began their day together in their private dining room next to the kitchen. They were expecting to be assigned the usual chores that morning of cleaning, cooking, and watching the children, now that school was out for the summer and the older ones would be home. They did not expect what happened next. As soon as Hannish walked into the room, the servants began to rise.
“Please remain seated,” Hannish said as he walked around the table until he stood behind Alistair. He leaned over, placed three copies of the book on the table, and stood back. “I fear I do not bring good tidings.”
As soon as Alistair read the title of the book, he gasped. “Now what has she done?”
“Some of you know this already,” Hannish continued. “To the rest it shall no doubt come as a shock. The truth be told, years ago I married the woman this book is about. That was before I learned she had other husbands, most of whom had not divorced her.”
“Bigamy?” John gulped. The newest of the footmen, his eyes grew wide. “I thought only men committed bigamy.”
Cook Halen put her hand on Cook Jessie’s arm. “We should have known we had not heard the last of her.”
“I’ll not be readin’ it,” Jessie muttered. “I lived with that…that hateful charlatan for three years. ‘Tis nothin’ in there I dinna already know.”
Hannish went around the table and put his hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “Did you know Lord Bayington married her too?”
Jessie’s mouth dropped. “Nay.”
“And Charles Whitfield?” Hannish added.
“Miss Abigail’s son?” Ronan asked.
“I had not heard that.”
Lillie Mae knew, but she wasn’t sure she was allowed to tell what she knew yet, so she kept quiet.
“When she married me,” Hannish continued, “she called herself Olivia. You shall soon see that was a lie.” He moved away from Jessie, walked to the door and then turned back. “‘Tis all in the book and most is true. Soon the book shall arrive in town and the gossip shall begin.”
“They’ll not gossip around me,” said Brookton.
“Or me,” said Dugan.
“The point is, they will gossip,” Hannish said.
“What would you have us do?” Butler Prescot asked.
“For years, we have tried in vain to keep this secret for the sake of Leesil and the children, but ‘tis useless to deny it now. Say and do what you will. I’ll not blame any of you. All I ask is that you be mindful of talkin’ about it in front of the children.”
“Your marriage to Miss Leesil is valid, is it not?” Brookton asked.
“According to the law it is, but some may not see it that way.” Hannish was about to leave when he thought of something else. “Unfortunately, the gossip may tarnish you as well. If there are any among you who find you do not wish to be associated with us, my sister has offered to write your references.”
“I’ll not be leavin’,” said Alistair, “lest you throw me out, and probably not even then.”
Hannish smiled. “Thank you.” He nodded to his faithful friend and butler, and then left the room.
Brookton picked up one of the books, opened it and began to read aloud.”
“Alexandra Sinclair was not her real name, but then, neither was Alice, Caroline, Eleanor, or Olivia. Her real name was Gormelia, a name only a Scot would give his daughter.
I first met the woman I knew as Olivia at London’s first ball of the season in 1894, where my husband made no secret of his desire to be with her. He...”
“Why cannae that vile lass leave us be?” Cook Jessie groaned. She sharply rose up, carried her half eaten breakfast back into the kitchen, dumped the leftovers in the slop bucket and set her plate in the sink. “I would give an arm to come face to face with her someday, just so I could say what I think of her.”
Halen quickly followed and put an arm around her friend. “We have seen worse and survived it.”
“Mr. Hannish is right, you know,” said John. “The gossip could prevent our getting employment anywhere else.”
Jessie came back into the dining room. “I would rather have the stain of stayin’ with a MacGreagor, than to have a clean reputation with any other family.”
Ethel agreed. “I have worked for others who are not nearly as kind as the MacGreagors. I would have to think long and hard before I abandoned ship.”
“Well, we Scots will not abandon them,” said Geddes. “In America, we Scots must stick together.”
“True,” both Beverly and Dugan agreed.
“Well, this book explains one thing, at least,” said Millie as she picked up the second copy. “‘Tis likely what ran Lady Bayington out of London so soon after Lord Bayington passed away.”
“You are right,” said Sarah. “Poor Lady Bayington. Millie, you read it first and then I shall.”
“You forget,” Millie said as she handed the book to Sarah, “the duchess nearly starved us to death before Mr. Hannish paid our passage to America. I know all I need to know about her, and then some.”
“Keep reading, Brookton,” said Stella. “I do not read very well.”
“I want to hear it too,” said two of the others.
Brookton picked the book back up and started where he left off:
“I first met the woman I knew as Olivia at London’s first ball of the season in 1894, where my husband made no secret of his desire to be with her. He had little chance, for she was quite beautiful and sought after by many a man. Most, including me, knew not from where she came and she did not volunteer the information. Nor could we guess who introduced her into our society, for she had not been properly presented to Queen Victoria. To this day, I still do not know.”
Laura was the last person the servants expected to see coming into their dining room, and again they stood up. Laura was dressed in black taffeta still, but she had color in her cheeks and a gleam in her eye. “No one invited her. Gormelia simply bought a ball gown, hired a carriage and went alone. I doubt anyone in London society thought that was possible.”
“Lady Bayington, may I get you something?” Brookton asked.
“No, thank you. I simply wanted to thank all of you for taking such good care of the twins and I. We shall be leaving in a few days. By the way, my husband divorced the duchess before we were married. There is a lot more to the story than you’ll read in the book, but perhaps someday I shall write one of my own.” She nodded and then left the kitchen.
As the servants eased back into their seats, Dugan whispered, “Mrs. Whitfield must be beside herself over this book.” He got back up and scooted his chair into place. “I doubt there will be, but let me know if there is anythin’ in that book worth hearin’.”
Alistair and the rest of the Scots excused themselves and went to work, while the others stayed at the table and took turns reading aloud. Occasionally, a bell rang and one of them hurried off to answer the call, but they returned as quickly as possible. For the rest of the day, servants came and went, sat down, listened, and then rushed off again. Sometimes they laughed, sometimes their jaws dropped in horror, and sometimes they had questions no one had answers for.
At the same time, Claymore informed his seven servants, none of whom seemed all that surprised to learn that Charles was involved somehow. Apparently, living in the same house as Abigail Whitfield, and occasionally being exposed to her propensity to gossip, made them a lot more informed than Claymore suspected. Thoroughly impressed, he thanked them for their loyalty and went off to work.
*
There were others who had a right to know what was about to happen, although they weren’t given any copies of the book to read. That would happen soon enough as it was.
“Where might our laird be?” Provost MacGreagor asked as he sat outside the warehouse early on the bright and sunny morning. The stacks of cut lumber had increased during the last week and two wagons waited to be loaded. Once more, the clan had been gathered to hear the news and this time it was Cameron, the Duke of Glenartair, who called the meeting. Although some had already gone to work on the houses, the rest of the company’s employees and the clansmen’s wives were included, for the news would surely affect all of them.
“He has some business to attend to this morning. I have asked you here to explain things before you hear it from others. ‘Tis mostly a family matter, but...” Cameron folded his arms and tried to think of just how to explain it.
“Be the duchess on her way here?” the Provost asked.
“I hope not, but ‘tis about her. A book was lately published in London and…” Cameron explained the details as best he could, and for a long moment, there was silence.
“Can we not have a book burning as soon as it hits town?” Thomas asked. He got the laugh he hoped for.
Provost MacGreagor was not laughing. “Nothin’ would draw more attention to it than that. Folks would take the train to Denver just to buy a copy.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “‘Tis a joke, Provost.”
“I see,” said the Provost, although he still didn’t think it was funny.
“What do you want us to do?” Mary asked.
“There is nothin’ to be done,” Cameron answered. “We only wished you to hear it from us before the gossip begins.”
“They say one word out of place, and I’ll…” William started as he clinched his fists.
“You’ll ignore them,” Provost MacGreagor said.
“Hannish is our laird. Are you not going to defend him?” William asked.
“What the book says about Hannish,” Cameron answered, “is true.”
“I say we pretend we k
new, all along,” Erin said.
“We did know all along,” her husband said. It was not until she gave him a suspicious look that he realized the wives didn’t know about the duchess…at least not that she had been in Colorado Springs recently. “I shall explain it later,” he whispered.
“Furthermore,” Cameron continued, “Hannish is offerin’ a reward. It should be in the newspaper’s next edition.”
“A reward?” Thomas asked.
“‘Tis for the whereabouts of Alexandra Sinclair. We mean to sue her for lyin’.”
“What part of the book is a lie?” Mary asked.
Cameron was expecting that question. “When and if she is caught, then you shall all know the details.”
“That’s one trial I would like to see,” said Erin.
William toyed with a silver medallion he wore around his neck. “Are we not to say what we know?”
Cameron smiled. “Say what you will, it matters not to us. Prepare to hear unkind gossip, but see that you dinna go to blows, for ‘tis hard enough for the Scots to be accepted.”
“That much is true,” said the Provost.
Until now, most of the Americans had been quiet. Sherman timidly raised his hand. “Will we lose our jobs, Mr. MacGreagor?”
“You need not fret over that.” Cameron could see a collective sigh of relief among the workers. “Some may refuse to buy our houses, but it shall pass.”
“Just like it did after the union strike?” Sherman asked.
“Aye. ‘Tis all I have to tell you. If you have questions, just come to me and ask.”
“Charles Whitfield married a duchess?” Clarence muttered, as he and Sherman walked toward their horses.
“I am as confused as you, but my wife said something about a book. I suspect she’ll tell us all about it once she reads it.”
“Good. I hate being the only one in the dark.”
“We best get these wagons loaded,” said William. He kissed his wife, helped her into the carriage with the other wives, and again promised to tell her more when he got home.
*
It was time to ask the local newspaper to print the reward poster. Hannish was still not certain it was the right thing to do. Judge Mitchell seemed convinced of it, but Hannish just couldn’t get over the feeling something was sure to go wrong. What would they do if the duchess was captured, and if she remained free, would she eventually come looking for him? After all, he was the one who had her committed to the lunatic asylum, and the one she surely hated most. It wasn’t hard to imagine her lifting her skirt, pulling her pistol and shooting him.
Marblestone Mansion, Book 9 Page 9