Marblestone Mansion, Book 6

by Marti Talbott

  “Did you know her?”

  “Not well, but I know which one she is. Of course, after the wedding reception when she announced to the world she was carrying Mr. Swinton’s child, everyone knew who she was.”

  He studied the others in the café and was glad no one was paying any attention to them. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. “Have you seen him this morning?”

  “Not yet.” Madeline looked through the window at the mansion at the other end of the street. She couldn’t see the whole house, just a section of the front with the door, the porch, the steps, the picket fence, and the hitching post where Mr. Swinton sometimes tied his horse. His horse was not there, but then it hadn’t been there earlier either. “He might have left before I got here. He does that sometimes.”

  “Did you see him last night?”

  “No, not last night either, but then, I do not work day and night, you know.”

  “Because your ill-tempered cook would love it if you did?”

  “She would like nothing better, but no. It is because I prefer going back to my room in the boarding house, and reading a good book in the evenings.”

  “I like to read as well, perhaps we might…”

  She was still leaning forward with her voice low when she interrupted him, “Do you think Mr. Swinton had anything to do with Miss Green’s death?”

  Tom looked away. “I do not know what to think. There are evil men in the world, of that I am certain, but I have no proof Mr. Swinton is one of them.”

  “Well, if Mrs. Whitfield has her way, everyone will think he did.”

  “I am sure they will.”

  “Poor Mrs. Swinton. The tarnish on her husband was bad enough before, but now…now they shall wonder if he killed Miss Green.”

  “I would not like to be the one to tell Mrs. Swinton about Miss Green’s death.”

  “You mean Mrs. Whitfield has not yet called her? I am shocked.”

  Tom whispered, “The last I heard, Mrs. Swinton will not take Mrs. Whitfield’s calls.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Mrs. Whitfield comes to Marblestone daily and never leaves without voicing some sort of complaint. After the unpleasantness at the wedding reception, Mrs. Whitfield daily reports that she has not been able to get through to Mrs. Swinton.”

  “Mrs. Swinton is too wise for that. She knows anything she says to Mrs. Whitfield will be all over town within the hour.”

  “Yet, I am convinced Mrs. Whitfield means no harm,” said Tom.

  “Perhaps not, but have you ever noticed how one word can cause a wound so great, a hundred words cannot heal it?”

  Tom nodded. “I wonder who will have the misfortune of telling Mrs. Swinton about Miss Green.”

  Madeline pointed toward the window. “Looks like the Sheriff will.”

  Tom got up, scooted his chair around to her side of the table and sat back down. When she gave him that, ‘what do you think you are doing look,’ he grinned. “You are quite safe, I assure you.” He intentionally turned his attention back to the sheriff, and watched as the lawman got off his horse, and tied it to the hitching post in front of the house.

  The red with white trim two-story Victorian style house had twelve rooms, and in addition to the picket fence around the yard, the long front porch was also enclosed in a white fence that connected four front columns. As well, the second floor had a balcony with smaller columns and a matching waist-high fence.

  Sheriff Thompson opened the outer gate, walked up the steps, and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, the housekeeper answered. He disappeared inside, and in less time than anyone imagined it would take to give Mrs. Swinton the bad news, the sheriff came back out. After the door closed behind him, he lifted his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and put his hat back on.

  “That was fast,” Madeline muttered.

  “I cannot tell; does the Sheriff look disappointed to you?”

  “A little. What do you think it means?”

  “I cannot guess.” Tom continued to watch as the sheriff mounted his horse, slowly rode down the avenue, and then turned down the road toward Colorado Springs. “He looks like a man with a lot on his mind.”

  “He thinks Swinton had something to do with Miss Green’s death the same as everyone else. Now we wait to see if he can prove it.”

  Tom grinned. “Or, we wait to see if Mrs. Whitfield can prove it.”

  Madeline giggled. “I would put my money on her.”

  “So would I. Do you think Mr. Swinton’s wife has forgiven him yet?”

  “I cannot tell. Mrs. Swinton still comes every afternoon for a cup of tea, and before she married him, she was very friendly. Since that awful upset at the wedding reception, she says nothing and stares at her cup. My heart breaks for her, but what can I do? What can any of us do?”

  “She comes every day? I have not seen her here.”

  “Surely, she knows who you are. Perhaps she watches to make certain you are not here before she comes.”

  “I am certain she does know who I work for.”

  “I think she comes for tea in defiance.”

  “In defiance of her husband, or the rest of us?”

  “Perhaps both. No woman should have to learn that the man she loves is not what he pretended to be. It is unthinkable, and in her case, she married him before she found out. Now she is trapped.”

  “She could divorce him.”

  “Have you any idea how hard it is for a wife to divorce her husband? Judges take the side of the man in every case, even if she can prove adultery. We cannot vote, we cannot easily buy property, and we cannot get rid of a disgusting husband, no matter what he does.”

  He heard every word she said, and another time, he might enjoy a discussion concerning a woman’s right to vote, but not just now. “I best be getting back. The family will be home soon, and the mansion will be filled with fun and laughter again.”

  “How I wish I were there to see it.”

  Tom stood up, dug in his pocket for a dollar bill, and laid it on the table. “I shall again remind Mr. Prescot of his promise to rescue you and bring you to Marblestone, but you are needed here just now. Is there anything you are without?”

  “No.”

  He paused to look her in the eye. “You would tell me if you needed anything, would you not?”

  His concern made her smile. “Well, you could fix the latch on Mrs. Walter’s barn door.”

  “But then, what would she have to talk about?” He winked, picked up his hat, and walked out the door.

  *

  American born and raised, Thomas Boland had a bit of a shady past, so when the opportunity arose for him to work in the out-of-the-way Whitfield mansion, located on a plateau several miles east of Pikes Peak, he jumped at the chance. For the better part of two years, he worked as valet to Charles Whitfield. For him, it was the perfect position, for he was not required to go to town often where someone might recognize him. That was before Charles went off to England, leaving Tom without enough to do. When it was certain Charles would not soon return, Claymore offered to loan Tom to the shorthanded MacGreagors.

  Happy to have him, Tom was warmly welcomed to Marblestone and soon fit right in with the eleven fun-loving MacGreagors and all the people needed to care for their sixty-seven room, three-story mansion. Among other things, such as polishing silver, shining shoes, and carrying wet laundry to the clothesline in the backyard, his duties included helping Dugan serve meals to the family in the dining room.

  The only thing that disturbed Tom was the Butler’s propensity to send him to town on a regular basis. There always seemed to be deliveries to make, goods to pick up, and of course, he was often asked to drive the team when any of the MacGreagors wished to go somewhere. Over the months, however, no one seemed to care who he was, and most of the townspeople became familiar enough to know him on sight. Therefore, when Prescot asked him to be messenger between the MacGreagors and Madeline Foster in Palmer Lake, he did not hesitate
.

  By horseback, the twenty some odd miles from Palmer Lake to Colorado Springs took nearly an hour, depending on how fast he rode. On this day, Tom was eager to welcome the MacGreagors home and started off at a gallop. Yet, on the way, he could not get Madeline’s words out of his mind: No woman should have to learn that the man she loves is not what he pretended to be.

  Tom often challenged others at Marblestone to a game of Billiards and usually won, even against Brookton. Where Tom learned his expertise, he would not say, nor did he mention who taught him. There were just some things only a few knew, and he would rather the rest of the world didn’t find out.

  He didn’t imagine life could get much better, that is, until Prescot sent him to see Madeline. After only two visits to Palmer Lake, he was smitten with her boldness, her charm, and especially her quick wit. By his fourth visit, he was so desperately in love he could hardly think of anything but her. He hoped to marry her and even tried to figure out what words to say in his proposal, but first, he had to start courting her.

  It would take all his nerve to ask her, and he thought that would be the hard part, but now the words she said were haunting him. She was right; he should tell her the truth and give her the opportunity to reject him before they were seen together in public. He should – but could he take the chance of losing her? No sooner had he decided to do it, than he lost his nerve and decided not to…not just yet.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Is it not magnificent?” Leesil asked as the carriage took them up the hill toward home and Pikes Peak finally came into full view. “I had become complacent before, and I must remember to look at it more often in the future.” Nearly all the snow had melted, leaving only a light dusting on the top of the blue, fourteen thousand foot mountain, and soon the trees alongside the road obscured it again.

  Hannish nodded. “How different they are – Scotland and Colorado. Yet…”

  “Scotland is much greener,” Leesil interrupted.

  “In summer, but in Colorado, we do not suffer the humidity.”

  “True.”

  “We must take Millie and Prescot with us next time we go.”

  Leesil’s eyes lit up. “We should. Prescot has not yet seen Scotland, have you Prescot?”

  “I have not,” Prescot answered. “I am certain Millie would love to see her home again. She speaks of it often.”

  “She is homesick?” Hannish asked. “She has said nothin’ to me.”

  “I get a bit homesick myself,” Leesil admitted.

  “You do? Leesil, are you not happy here?” Hannish asked.

  “Of course I am happy. I am happy to be wherever you are. I only mean I get homesick for Cathleen.”

  “They promised to come to us next year, if all is well.”

  Leesil sighed, “Aye, but ‘tis a whole year from now.”

  *

  One thing Colorado Springs was not short of was millionaires, and the plateau upon which Marblestone Mansion was situated, was shared with the Whitfields and two other wealthy families. Yet, Marblestone was the newest and the largest, with something of white marble in each of the sixty-seven rooms.

  As the carriage turned off the road onto the lane, and the mansion came into view, Hannish couldn’t help feeling the pride of his accomplishment. After making his fortune in silver, he built the place with his first wife, the duchess, but she was happily just a fading memory. Now it was the home he shared with his true love, Leesil, and never had he been happier. The expansive front yard was lined with trees and apparently using bath water had worked to keep the grass green, even in such hot weather.

  “What’s this?” Hannish asked as they rounded the final corner. “Who are all those people?”

  Leesil looked at the servants standing in a row in front of the mansion, and then at the people standing on the steps. “They are our family…and a few friends, it seems.”

  “So they are. We best greet them quickly and get them out of the hot sun before they begin to melt.”

  “I agree.”

  Hannish had barely stepped out of the carriage when the dog, Traitor, whined and whimpered and put his front paws on Hannish’s legs. “I missed you too,” Hannish said, handing Justin to Prescot, and then giving the dog a good rub behind the ears. “Am I your favorite again?” It seemed so until Prescot let Justin down to run and play, and Traitor took off after him.

  “Oh, I’ll do it,” a disgruntled Wade said, hopping down off the front steps. The youngest of Moan’s children at scarcely eight, he was still intrigued with becoming a sheriff someday, that is, if he could ever get the hang of throwing a lasso. “Sit, Traitor,” he demanded, catching up with the dog before he could knock Justin down. To everyone’s surprise, the dog instantly obeyed.

  Hannish and Leesil gave each servant a quick hug. “We have gifts comin’ from Scotland for each of you,” Leesil announced.

  “You are dismissed,” said butler Prescot.

  Cook Halen pulled a hand fan out of her pocket and began fanning her face. “Thank goodness.” She hurried to follow the others around to the servant’s side entrance.

  “Come inside, everyone,” Leesil said, leading the way into the foyer. Everyone included Moan and his family, close friends, Abigail and Claymore Whitfield, and their daughter, Gloria, Hannish’s sister, McKenna, her husband, the Judge, and their son, Nicky. They all seemed to be talking at once as they went in, especially Abigail, who was famous for hardly taking a breath between sentences. It made Leesil laugh.

  The most impressive room in the mansion was the marble foyer with its tall windows that let in plenty of light, but even that room was too warm to stay in for long. Relief in the hot summers only came when the sun went down behind Pikes Peak, and the mountain’s shadow cooled everything.

  “Scotland was glorious,” Leesil answered. She kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek, hugged the judge, and then kissed baby Nicky on the top of the head. “Has his colic passed?”

  “It has, I am happy to say.”

  Leesil had excitedly waited to announce the good news until after she got home, and at last, the time had come. “Cathleen said to say you shall be an aunt again soon.” She was not disappointed in the look of joy on McKenna’s face.

  “When?” McKenna asked.

  “December, Cathleen thinks.”

  “I am so happy, I…” McKenna tried.

  “A winter baby, how splendid,” Abigail interrupted, looping her arm through Leesil’s and practically dragging her from the foyer into the parlor. “I cannot tell you how happy I am you are home. My dear, there is much to be done, about our poor dear Loretta, I mean. We…”

  “For pity’s sake, let her breathe, Abigail,” Claymore interrupted. He moved aside so the footman could carry the luggage past him, and then watched them head up the marble stairs to the second floor.

  Abigail grinned as her husband made certain to get his hug from Leesil. “Yes, yes, quite right, Claymore, though I must say, there is much…”

  *

  Still outside, Moan and his wife stood on the steps with their six children. It was easy to tell they were members of the same family, for each had reddish blond hair and blue eyes. They shared similar facial features, with the boys looking more like their father and the girls like their mother. Each of the children had their eyes cast downward and Moan looked worried.

  Hannish reached out to shake Moan’s hand. “You need not fret cousin, Prescot already told us.”

  “I know not what to say,” Moan started, tightly grasping Hannish’s hand. “I…”

  “I require only this from your daughters,” Hannish said to Paulette, Janna, and Mary, “have I your pledge never to let it happen again?” He waited until each nodded. “Very good, then.”

  “I would not blame you if you ask me to give over my position at the company,” said Moan.

  “Give it over? You are the best secretary a lad ever had. It would take far more than your daughters breakin’ a few things to convince me to give you u
p. Besides, Claymore is quite fond of you.” Hannish took a moment to hug Elizabeth, smiled to reassure her, and then said to his cousin, “Come, ‘tis up to us to rescue Claymore and the judge from the ladies.” He glanced at Justin, who was still running around the yard and was about to speak, when Mary interrupted him.

  “I shall watch him, cousin Hannish.”

  “Thank you, Mary.”

  Relieved, Moan gladly followed him inside. “How was the voyage?”

  “Long,” Hannish answered, motioning for the judge and Claymore to come to his study, and leave the women alone to chat in the parlor.

  *

  Leesil did the best she could to be a good hostess by having tea with her guests, but when her Lady’s maid, Millie, whispered her bath was ready, she couldn’t wait to excuse herself, go upstairs, undress, and climb into the claw-foot tub.

  “Shall I wash your hair?” Millie asked. A Scot through and through, Millie was a striking woman, with red hair and green eyes. She married butler Prescot, and just a few months ago, presented him with a daughter, which they named Julian after Millie’s mother.

  “Please, I feel I have been on that smoke belchin’ train for weeks.” Leesil leaned back, closed her eyes, and sunk down until the water came up to her neck. While she waited for Millie to remove the pins from her hair, she asked, “How is our darlin’ little Julian?”

  “Fast asleep, I hope. I have enjoyed my time with her while you were away, but I am also happy to be with you again.”

  “And I am happy to be with you.”

  “I am almost afraid to ask, but Prescot said you were again plagued by the duchess.”

  “Not any more, thanks to a gracious Irishman, whom the duchess also married.”

  “No,” Millie moaned. She lifted the pitcher of warm water off the counter and then carefully poured it on the back of Leesil’s long auburn hair. “Another one?”

  “I shall tell you all the details later, but I am convinced we shall never hear from or see the duchess again.”