“Oh great,” said Tristin, “it will probably take all day to catch you and I’m hungry.” He kept his steps measured hoping not to spook the horse, and to his surprise when he entered the trees, Shadow was waiting for him. “Well, do you want to be caught or not? You’re going to be mighty hungry too, if I don’t get you back to your mother.”
The colt vigorously nodded its head and pawed the ground. “What is it, old boy?” This time, when the horse sped away, Tristin quickly followed. Again, Shadow stopped and waited, and then moved out of reach. Frustrated, Tristin stopped following. “I best go get Blair. She…” Just then, he heard someone shouting.
“Help!”
The call was so faint; he thought he might be hearing things.
“Someone, please help me,” the faint voice said again.
“Blair?” Tristin whispered. “Blair!” he shouted. “Where are you?”
“Over here?”
Tristin pushed the bushes aside, made his way deeper into the forest, and then called again? “Blair?”
“Here, Tristin. I am over here.”
Finally, he found her sitting in the dirt between two bushes. “What happened?”
“I twisted my ankle. It hurts something awful.”
He knelt down and touched her foot. “It does not look broken.”
“Can you get my father? He can carry me.”
Tristin snickered, “So can I, Miss Blair MacGreagor.” He picked her up and then started back toward the house. “The colt is out of the corral.”
“I know,” Blair looked around, but the colt was nowhere in sight. “I think he must have heard me cry out.”
“He must have found a way out of the fence too.” As soon as they got closer to Marblestone, Tristin yelled, “Mr. Cameron?”
“Father is not home yet.”
“He is, I saw him. Mr. Cameron!” Triston yelled again.
In the upstairs window, Cameron looked out. He quickly turned, ran down the hall, down the back stairs and opened the door. By the time he got there, Butler Prescot was already outside. “Blair, what is it?”
“I hurt my ankle, Father.”
“I’ll call the doctor,” Prescot said as Cameron took his daughter out of Tristin’s arms.
Tristin watched Cameron take Blair inside, removed his hat and scratched his head. When he turned around, Shadow was standing near the corral gate as though he was waiting to be let in. “Well, don’t that beat all?” He expected the colt to run as soon as he started that direction, but Shadow stood still. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me how you got out.” As soon as Tristin opened the gate, the colt bolted inside and went to find his mother. “I thought not.”
For a long moment, Tristin thought about reporting what he saw. “No sir, they will not believe me.” He fastened the gate and shook his head. He forgot about his hunger, and shook his head a second time as he went to the shed to find a hammer and some nails. “No Sir, they will not believe it.”
*
In an upstairs sitting room, Doctor McCormick closed his bag and nodded to Cameron. “It’s just a sprain. Keep her off it for a day or two.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Will we see you at the Fourth of July celebration in town?” Cameron asked as he walked the doctor down the hall.
“Can’t keep me away.” As he started down the stairs, the doctor whispered. “She gets more beautiful every day.”
“Aye, she does.”
“Makes me sorry I am not nineteen again.”
Cameron smiled and watched the doctor walk through the foyer and out the front door. “She could do worse than to marry a doctor…especially that doctor.”
*
Blair found herself confined to the sofa in the upstairs sitting room with her sprained ankle propped up on pillows. Lillie Mae, the last in the household to read it, finished the book about Blair’s mother, closed it and laid it on the table. “So she lied. Mr. Sinclair was her husband and not her brother.”
“Aye,” said Blair. “She lied about nearly everything save being my mother. I have many questions still, but I shall have to wait to ask them.”
“Yes, but can you count on her to give honest answers?”
Blair sighed. “I doubt it.” Her leg was hurting and having it elevated was uncomfortable, so she lifted it off the pillows and laid it flat. It didn’t help.
“At least, few know she is your mother.”
“I know, but they are likely to find out somehow. Dinna forget the Whitfield’s butler saw her, as did the lad at the livery stable. Everyone in the clan knows she was here. I sometimes think it best to confess she is my mother and have it over with.”
“I think you should too.”
A soft knock on the door interrupted their discussion and Lillie Mae jumped up to answer it. Of Laura Bayington’s twins, Bradford Bayington spent more time with Blair MacGreagor than either of them did with his sister, who was also named Blair.
“I have come to commiserate and to seek peace and quiet somewhere safe from all the children.” He pulled a chair up closer to the end of the sofa, sat down and propped both feet up on the sofa’s armrest. Comfortable, he opened the book he had in his hand and silently began to read.
“I best see if I am needed elsewhere.” Lillie Mae intentionally left the door open and disappeared down the hallway.
“Apparently, she does not trust you alone with me,” Blair teased.
He didn’t even bother to look up when he said, “She is wise beyond her years.”
Blair giggled and then closed her eyes for a moment. A moment later, she opened them again. She reached over and began to tap on the book about her mother to get Bradford’s attention. “We are in this forever, I think.”
He kept his finger between the pages, closed the book he was reading and put it in his lap. “Forever, and forever, I believe.”
“Even after we are dead, the book shall live on.”
Bradford puffed his cheeks. “It will be worse for me and mine, than for you and yours.”
“Why not for me and mine?”
“Well, you shall marry and change your name. I shall be a Bayington for the rest of my life, living in London where the whole world shall know I am that Bayington.”
“True, but I shall still be Blair MacGreagor, of that MacGreagor family, and my descendants shall carry my mother’s blood.”
Bradford raised an eyebrow. “Do you suppose it is the same for the children of other notorious characters? I know those who might possibly be related to King Henry VIII are not so bold as to admit it, and he’s been dead for centuries.”
“Well, then, what are we to do? Mother says once married, there is no absolute way to prevent having children.”
“My father said the same before he…”
Blair bowed her head. “Do you miss him terribly?”
“I do, but he was so very ill. Like Mother, I am glad he no longer suffers.”
“Will Laura take you back to London soon?”
He lowered his feet to the floor and sat up straight. “Quite soon, she said.”
“She has invited me to visit you someday,” said Blair. “I believe I shall like seein’ what all the fuss is about.”
“You mean the magnificent London society that all the books talk about?”
“Aye. Have you attended any of the balls? They sound most enchantin’.”
“I am too young still.”
“When you are old enough and attend your first ball, will you write me all about it?”
“Of course. And you must write to tell me all about Shadow. I have never seen a more beautiful horse.”
“I promise.”
He stood up and started for the door. “This book is a total bore. I’m off to sneak one of those forbidden books out of the library, if our mothers are not there standing guard.”
“One must avoid mothers at all costs, for they ask all sorts of questions if we are caught. Bradford, will you take this book about my mother away?”
H
e came back and picked it up. “I am sorry for you. Hopefully, when I return to school, all my friends will have forgotten it. For you, it is just beginning.”
“Aye, well, I think to tell my friends the truth. Should I?”
Bradford leaned against the doorframe. “Why not? Keeping everything a secret did not work out so well for our parents.”
“You are right. Besides, if she is captured…”
Bradford finished her sentence, “Everyone will know anyway. What will you do if she is caught?”
“Do? Nothing, I suppose. Father and Uncle Hannish will be glad to know where she is. I think they fear she shall hurt one of us.”
“Perhaps you should tell people she is your mother, and that she will likely come back. They can help you watch out for her.”
“I believe I shall.”
Bradford stood up straight and curtly bowed to Blair. “Do what must be done and know that I applaud you for it.”
“Thank you.” Blair smiled as he went out of sight. She could barely reach the bell rope from her position on the sofa, but she managed, and shortly, Lillie Mae came back. “Will you hand me the telephone?”
“Of course.” Lillie Mae did as Blair requested, and then waited to put it back on the table when Blair was finished.
“Miss Mable, will you connect me with 5793?” Blair asked. “Thank you.”
“Mrs. Danford, this is Blair MacGreagor. Is Amanda there? Yes, I’ll hold…Amanda, have you heard about a book…Aye, ‘tis the one. Well, the woman in that book is my mother…No, not Cathleen, the mother who gave birth to me. That’s right…Of course you can tell everyone, I hope you do.” When she finished her conversation and hung up, Lillie Mae was smiling. “What?”
“It is good that you told your friend.”
Blair sat up a little straighter. “Do you really think so?”
Lillie Mae set the telephone back in place and then took a seat in a chair. “I truly do.” She abruptly wrinkled her brow. “Now that you have told your friends, may I tell the others what happened the day your mother came to Miss Abigail’s? I hate having to keep secrets.”
“I see no harm in it.”
Lillie Mae was so excited; she almost forgot to close the door when she hurried out.
*
Tristin walked all the way around the corral and still had not discovered how the colt got out. The wooden fence was not down anywhere. He doubted the colt could have jumped it, but how else could it have gotten out. He was still scratching his head when he decided to go see how Blair was.
He knocked, waited to be invited in, and then stuck his head in.
“Tristin, please come in.”
He had his hat in his hand, and opened the door a little wider, but didn’t enter the room. “I came to see what the doctor said.”
“‘Tis just a sprain. I shall be up and about in a day or two. Thank you for finding me so quickly.”
“Miss Blaire, it was the colt that found you.”
“Yes, I know, but then you found me.”
“The colt led me to you. I have heard of dogs doing something like that, but never a horse, and certainly not a colt that is not yet weaned.”
“Truly? How do you suppose he got out?”
“That is what I came to ask you. Did you let him out?”
“Nay, I would never let him out without a halter.”
“I see.” Tristen looked down “I could not find a hole in the fence, but I’ll look again. There must be one somewhere.”
After he was gone, Blair shrugged and then closed her eyes to rest. She had more important things on her mind, such as dreaming of someday attending the magnificent London balls.
CHAPTER 11
Comfortably sprawled out on the davenport in her sitting room with a cookie in one hand and the telephone in the other, Abigail nodded when her butler laid the latest New York City newspaper on her table and left the room. The parties, to whom she had been listening, finished their conversation so she hung up the telephone.
As usual, the paper carried political and world news on the first two pages, and useless advertisement on most of the third. She turned to the next page, spread it out on the table, took another bite of cookie and reached for the telephone again. Two women were chatting away and she thought little of it until she heard a particular name.
At the very same moment, her eyes rested on a picture of none other than the duchess. Abigail caught her breath and put her hand on her chest. Her mouth abruptly dropped open and cookie crumbs fell out. Flustered, she set the rest of the cookie back on the plate, and brushed the crumbs off her bosom. It finally occurred to her to hang up the telephone; something she rarely did in the middle of a conversation, knowing full well the other parties could hear the click. This time, however, she didn’t care and plopped it down hard in the cradle. She grabbed her hat and hurried to the mirror, but when she couldn’t get it on straight enough to pin it, she tossed it away. Abigail grabbed the newspaper, lifted her skirt and rushed out of the sitting room door. She practically ran down the hall, across her foyer and then flew out the door to the shock of her butler.
She hurried down the path that led to Marblestone. Completely out of breath by the time she reached the back door, she yanked it open and darted down the first hallway she came to. Without any forewarning at all, Abigail abruptly burst through the sitting room door. Just as she hoped, Cathleen was there and it was not until she closed the door that she spotted Blair.
Cathleen quickly got to her feet. “Abigail, what is it? You look a fright.”
Abigail held her hand on her chest and gasped for air. “The worst has happened…the very worst.”
“What is it? Is it Claymore?”
“No, no, not that. Everyone is well.” She shoved the newspaper at Leesil and then pointed at the picture.
“Oh, no,” Leesil moaned, She sat back down, handed the newspaper to Blair, and then turned her attention back to Abigail.
“And that is not all. My dear, the whole town is talking. They know.”
Fearing the woman was about to collapse, Cathleen motioned for Abigail to sit down and waited until she did before she asked, “They know what?”
“That the duchess is Blair’s mother.” Abigail slumped against the back of the chair.
“How in the world did they find out?” Cathleen asked.
“I told them,” Blair admitted.
Dismayed, Cathleen looked at her daughter. “You told them? Darling, I so hoped we could keep you out of this.”
“I know.” Blair folded the newspaper and set it aside. “They would have guessed now anyway. Besides, all of you are being honest, and I thought I should be too. Are you very upset?”
“She is right,” said Abigail. “They will all know now anyway.”
“Yes, but Blair, there shall be questions…” said Cathleen, “questions you may not want to answer.”
Blair shrugged. “I understand and I shall answer and answer until they get tired of asking.”
“If they ever do get tired of asking,” Abigail muttered. She was feeling better and sat up a little straighter. “Oh how I would like to strangle that woman, but as you know, I haven’t a violent bone in my body.”
“Mother,” said Blair, “when I am old enough, I wish to see London. Laura invited me to stay with her. She said that since Lord Bayington claimed me as his natural daughter, perhaps I can be presented at court.”
“Is that what you truly want?” Cathleen asked.
Blair nodded. “Someday, but I wish to finish school first.”
“That is very wise of you,” said Cathleen. “I suggest you talk it over with your father when he gets home.”
Blair stood up and walked to the door. “He will protest, but by then, I shall be old enough to make my own way in the world. Forgive me, but Dugan is waiting to take me to town. Today is the final fitting for the dress I am to wear in Gloria’s wedding.” She blew one kiss to Cathleen, one to Abigail, and then went out the door.
<
br /> Cathleen sighed. “What a contradiction she is. One moment she is all grown up with plans to see London, and the next she is childishly blowing kisses. I know not what to make of it.”
“That, my dear, is normal for her age. Besides, it is the least of our problems.”
“I know. Now that there is a picture, how long can it be until the duchess is captured?”
“We best call our husbands and warn them.”
Cathleen reached for the telephone. “At least now we can talk freely on the party line. We have no more secrets.”
“At last,” Abigail sighed.
*
The women of Colorado Springs stood outside the closed door of the bookshop and impatiently waited. According to all the gossip, the book was in and none of them could wait to get their hands on it.
Through the window of their second floor office across the wide street, Hannish, Claymore and Cameron watched. On the desk behind them sat three newspapers, each turned to the page with the duchess’ picture on it. Claymore checked the time on his pocket watch and then put it back in his vest pocket. “One minute to go. I doubt he ordered enough for that mob. I do hope they do not riot when the store runs out of copies.”
“We should go fishing,” said Hannish.
“For a week or two?” Cameron asked.
“At least,” Hannish answered.
At precisely nine o’clock, two of the women began to bang on the door. The terrified bookshop owner struggled to dig a key out of his pocket, finally found it and fearfully walked to the door. The instant he turned the key and pulled the door open, he jumped aside. The stampeding women looked like a tidal wave. There were so many, he could barely move and had to painstakingly thread his way to the register, so he could ring up the sales. Without his notice, two women slipped back out the door without paying.
“He should have hired a couple of Pinkerton men to watch the door,” Claymore said.
“We might need to hire one or two ourselves,” said Hannish.
*
Marblestone Mansion, Book 9 Page 15