Marblestone Mansion, Book 7

by Marti Talbott

  At last, Cathleen started to smile. “How this time? Shall it be swords, guns, or a slow, painful drownin’?”

  “What about poison? We’ve not done that in ages.”

  “Poison it is then.” Cathleen’s smile faded as she laid her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Sister, why did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Take the beatin’s I should have had. I deserved them and we both know it, but you always confessed to keep me out of trouble.”

  Leesil laid her cheek against the top of her sister’s head. “I could not bear to see her hurt you, is all. ‘Twas hard enough to watch when the other little ones were beaten.”

  Both of them were quiet for a long moment before Cathleen asked, “I wonder why we have not heard from James these three months.”

  “He is likely out to sea again.”

  “True, he does love the sea. There is an odd sort of peace and freedom the water gives, do you not agree?”

  “I do agree. ‘Tis because the ocean has no walls.”

  “That must be it.” Cathleen abruptly sat up straight. “I believe I hear Anna cryin’.”

  “Nay, tis Kate.” Leesil quickly got up and headed for the door. “A red pebble says I am right!”

  Cathleen giggled and followed her out. “‘Twas my red pebble first!”

  *

  Elaine was not the only one who sought to get Gretchen and Shepard back together. The sisters also took notice of the failed love affair. Indeed, Leesil and Cathleen had a plan, and a party the Saturday before Labor Day was just the ticket.

  The guests included the Whitfields and the members of Abigail’s sewing circle: Mrs. Maude Goodwin and her husband the banker, Mrs. Vivian Mabs and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Simon Merth, Mrs. Wilma Miller and her husband, the widow Loretta Collins Swinton, and Pearl Hughes, who longed to be, but was not yet married. By design, their children were also invited to play with Blair and Justin. With any luck, most would have to leave before bedtime, which would allow the sister’s plan to go into action. The only family members missing were little Nicky, McKenna, and the judge, who would likely be in Denver at the trial for another week.

  The celebration began in the afternoon and was held outside in the front of the mansion, where the shade offered a reprieve from the summer sun. There were croquet games to be played and ample refreshments, but it was too unbearably hotn so eventually everyone drifted inside. The men settled in the smoking room, while the women congregated in the parlor.

  “Food baskets for the poor?” Abigail gasped. “I dare not even speak of it around Claymore. I have promised not to enter Colorado City, no matter how sorely I am tempted, until after the strike is settled. He further says if we feed the people, the unions shall not have to, and it is the same as siding with them.”

  “I side with the children,” said Leesil.

  “As do we all,” Abigail agreed.

  “Mrs. Greene said someone stole all their eggs last night,” Pearl announced. “She fears they shall be forced to hire men to protect their farm.”

  “Mrs. Allred said the same of her apricots,” Loretta added. “I can hardly blame them, the families of the strikers are hungry and I would not be above stealing myself, if I had to.”

  “Nor would I,” Maude Goodwin admitted.

  “The more reason to see they are given baskets, and often,” said Mrs. Mabs.

  “How, if we are not allowed to deliver them?” Abigail asked.

  “My dear, we can make the baskets and ask the Women’s Auxiliary to deliver them.”

  Abigail’s eyes brightened. “Could we…I mean, could we without Claymore finding out? He’ll likely not let me out of the house if he hears of it.”

  “He does not trust you?” Mrs. Miller asked.

  Abigail shrugged. “I suppose I do not always do as he tells me.” She did not mean to, but she made everyone laugh.

  Mrs. Mabs thoughtfully said, “If Claymore is not to find out, we need a place to make the baskets, and a reason for Abigail to be away from home a day or two each week.”

  “What about the church?” Pearl suggested. “The pastor’s wife will surely help us.”

  “You are right, I shall ask her,” said Abigail.

  “But not on the telephone,” Leesil said. “You know we have no secrets once a thing is spoken on the telephone. Anyone can listen in on a party line.”

  “How true,” Abigail muttered, not realizing most of them were grinning at her.

  *

  In the smoking room, it did not take long for the conversation to turn to the strike. “How many have defaulted?” Mr. Merth asked. He held a match to the tobacco in his pipe, and began to take short puffs to make sure it was lit.

  “Too many, now that they have closed all the mines in Cripple Creek,” Banker Goodwin answered. “I have extended their house loans, but I cannot sustain them much longer. As much as it pains me, I shall have no choice but to let the homes go into foreclosure.”

  “The coal mines in the south are on strike as well. I wonder how those bankers are handling the problem.” Mr. Miller asked.

  “One thing they shall not do,” Mr. Goodwin answered, “is try to take physical possession of the property. Nor shall I, when it comes right down to it – it is far too dangerous.”

  “If only the governor would sign the eight hour work day into law,” Claymore grumbled. “That would put an end to half the battle.”

  “Has anyone heard how Mr. Lester’s brother is?” Hannish asked.

  “Doc Parker was finally allowed to retrieve him this morning, and he is in bad shape, according to my darling wife,” Claymore answered. “He has too many injuries to count and is in constant pain, but the doctor thinks he shall survive.”

  “I am glad to hear that, at least,” said Hannish. He offered a pipe to his brother, but Cameron turned it down.

  It wasn’t long before Prescot knocked and then opened the door. “Gentlemen, dinner is served.”

  “I could eat a bear,” said Claymore. He was the first one out the door.

  By the time they arrived, the women were already seated at the extended dining room table, where the mention of baskets and the strike were expressly forbidden, by both MacGreagor hostesses. Even so, they enjoyed the late meal and by the time the orchestra arrived, everyone, including the children, was mellow and content.

  At first, the parents attempted to teach their younger children how to dance, which delighted them all, but then, as Leesil and Cathleen hoped, the children grew tired and the parents elected to take them home. With only the Whitfields remaining and the orchestra still playing, Leesil and Cathleen went to gather all the servants. Even Elaine was allowed to suspend her dishwashing until later.

  “They are up to something,” Cameron whispered to his brother, as they watched the servants being ushered into the ballroom.

  “Aye, they have been all week. I suppose we shall be required to help.”

  “How?” Cameron asked.

  “What else? We are to dance with the servants.”

  “I see.”

  Elaine stood against the wall next to Cook Jessie, and waited. Yet, when the master of the house headed straight for her, Elaine couldn’t keep her eyes from widening.

  “May I have the pleasure?” Hannish asked. He bowed and then held out his hand.

  Flabbergasted, she could not decide what to do. She thought to curtsey, but that was reserved for the duke, yet Mr. Hannish bowed. She stared at his hand, did the quickest and shortest of all curtsies, and then said, “I am not a good dancer.”

  “Nor am I.”

  Her eyes were still larger than normal, but she took his hand and let him lead her to the middle of the ballroom floor. If everyone was laughing, she never noticed, for he danced divinely. Even though the only dances she had ever attended were held in barns, she had forgotten how much fun dancing was. Nor did she notice Butler Prescot dancing with Cathleen, Shepard dancing with Cook Jessie, or Dugan dancing with his wife, B
everly. In fact, it would be quite some time before she calmed down enough to realize Hannish had already taken her back to her spot against the wall, and found a new partner.

  On and on they danced, until at last, it was Cameron’s turn to dance with Gretchen. The time had come to put their plan into action, and with prodding from both Leesil and Cathleen, Shepard finally got up the nerve to cut in.

  When Shepard tapped on his shoulder, Cameron moved aside, bowed and left the dance floor. Shepard held Gretchen’s eyes with his, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. At last, he took her hand, and when Gretchen did not pull away, he gathered her in his arms and began to dance the waltz.

  Not long after, an involuntary tear rolled down Gretchen’s cheek. He tried to draw her closer, but she resisted, abruptly moved out of his arms and left the ballroom. Shepard thought to go after her, but he decided against it and instead, when to the table for another drink.

  “She is crying,” Elaine whispered, as she watched Gretchen hurry away.

  “Aye,” said Cook Jessie. “Somethin’ is truly amiss.”

  On the other side of the room, Leesil drew in a deep breath, “We should not have done that, sister.”

  “Nay, we should not have,” Cathleen agreed.

  The next morning, everyone felt bad for the young couple, but no one said a word about it. At breakfast, Gretchen smiled at Shepard, and that seemed to put everyone at ease.

  *

  The union strikers did indeed march in the Labor Day parade amid boos, hisses, and jeers from people in the crowd. Word was, the owners paid for the harassment, but it could not be proven. Fortunately, fisticuffs did not break out, and most everyone enjoyed themselves at the daylong fair in the park, including several of the servants and Mr. Lester.

  “How is your brother today?” Elaine asked, as soon as Mr. Lester approached and tipped his tall, black top hat. She had never seen him in anything other than his milkman uniform, and she was somewhat impressed, but not enough to make a kind remark.

  “I thank you for asking, Miss Elaine. He is a bit better, thanks to the soup and liniment Mr. Dugan brought for him.” Mr. Lester tried to think of something more to say, but she just nodded and walked away. He puffed his cheeks and decided not to push his luck. Nevertheless, later when he spotted her in in the middle of the crowd looking at him, he was encouraged.

  *

  At last, McKenna, Judge Nicholas and little Nicky Mitchel were home from Denver. Not since Cameron came back from Scotland to marry Cathleen, had McKenna seen her older brother, and she was thrilled to be in his arms again. McKenna had the same dark hair and blue eyes as her brothers, although she was much shorter as most MacGreagor women were.

  They spent the afternoon getting reacquainted. McKenna adored Cathleen’s baby while Cameron marveled at how much little Nicky had grown, and then they sent the children off to bed. Now that the sun was down and the mansion had begun to cool sufficiently, they gathered in the dining room to enjoy a late dinner. On this occasion, Abigail and Claymore had not arrived, but two more place settings were ready just in case.

  “So, Judge,” Cameron began as the women were seated. He took his place at the table next to his sister, and waited to be served. “Did you find the trial fascinatin’?”

  “Quite fascinating,” Nicholas answered. His dark eyes glistened as he prepared to speak on his favorite subject. “I very much enjoyed watching the Denver Judge manage his courtroom. I can earnestly say I have learned a lot from him.”

  “Did he know you were a judge?” Leesil asked.

  The judge accepted a bowl of Vermicelli soup from Shepard. “I did not introduce myself, but I believe he suspected. When faced with a difficult decision, he was prone to look me in the eye before he gave his pronouncement.”

  McKenna giggled. “There are not so many judges in Colorado that one has not heard of the other. Nicholas may merely say his name to spark interest in the legal community.”

  “You are famous?” Cathleen asked.

  “Hardly,” the judge scoffed. “I might have been, had we managed to capture Slippery Jack Walker and bring him to trial, but…”

  “Oh, please do not mention that horrible lad,” Leesil protested, “and particularly not in front of Abigail. I long for somethin’ excitin’ to happen so she shall stop goin’ on and on about him.”

  Hannish patted her forearm. “Careful, my dear, lest your wish come true.”

  “You are right,” Leesil admitted. “You were sayin’, Judge?”

  “I was about to say it was quite a complicated case, the most complicated I have yet to see.”

  “Are you at liberty to tell us about it,” Cathleen asked, as she took a serving of buttered summer squash.

  McKenna giggled, “I doubt we can stop him.”

  “Do not let my wife fool you,” said the judge, “she was even more fascinated than I.”

  “How was it different from other trials?” Cameron asked. He passed up the squash in favor of a helping of peas that were seasoned just the way he liked them.

  “For one thing, there were over a hundred witnesses,” Nicholas explained.

  “One hundred and three, to be exact,” McKenna put in. “‘Twas murder and skullduggery all at the same time, but I best let my husband talk afore he bursts.”

  The judge helped himself to a slice of bread and began to butter it. “Mr. Barber was accused of pilfering company funds, and of killing the bookkeeper to cover his crime.”

  “Was he guilty?” Cameron asked.

  McKenna emphatically nodded. “Aye.”

  “No,” said the judge, which made everyone in the room laugh, even footmen, Shepard and Brookton. The judge turned to look his wife in the eye. “Am I not the judge in the family?”

  “When I let you be,” she answered.

  Nicholas winked at Leesil, “That much is true.”

  “Go on, I cannae wait to hear more,” Cathleen prompted.

  “Well,” Nicholas began, “the company had several employees and many customers who could testify to payments made, thus the number of witnesses. The bookkeeper prepared the deposits daily and handed them off to Mr. Barber to take to the bank. The prosecution claimed he got away with his pilfering as long as he did, because he was clever enough to…”

  In the parlor, Butler Prescot answered the telephone after the first ring so it would not disturb the family. “Marblest…What?” His jaw dropped and he caught his breath. “Hold the line while I get the Duke.” He set the earpiece down and hurried to the dining room.

  Prescot looked ashen when he abruptly opened the dining room door. He looked directly at Cameron when he said, “A call from Scotland, Your Grace.”

  “Scotland?” Cameron asked, quickly standing up. “Is somethin’ amiss?”

  “I best let him tell it.” Prescot held the door for Cameron, and then followed him out.

  “I dinna hear the telephone ring,” Leesil muttered.

  Hannish pulled the pocket watch he kept set to Scotland time out of his vest. “‘Tis two in the mornin’ there.”

  “I do hope Sarah has not lost her baby,” said Cathleen.

  They patiently waited, but it seemed like hours before Cameron came back. When he did, he looked as though he had seen a ghost. “The castle is on fire.”

  “What?” everyone gasped at the same time. Hannish and the judge both stood up.

  “Oh, no,” Cathleen moaned.

  “Is anyone…are they…?” a terrified Leesil asked.

  Cameron took a deep breath. “Provost MacGreagor dinna know. He said the townsmen smelled smoke, so he sent the fire truck and several lads. One lad came back to say the castle is on fire and to get more lads. There are survivors, but he dinna know which ones.”

  “Is that all he said?” Hannish asked.

  “Aye. He shall call again when he knows more.”

  “On fire,” Leesil muttered. “I canna believe it.” When she looked, she saw tears in her sister’s eyes. “We must not thi
nk the worse, Sister.”

  “But Alistair and Sarah…and all the others,” Cathleen said.

  “Moan and his family,” Hannish whispered. “I pray I dinna send them to their deaths.”

  “Perhaps we should pray,” Leesil suggested. She bowed her head and when no one offered a prayer aloud, she said hers privately.

  Prescot quietly closed the door and went to tell the servants. Most were already gathered in the servant’s dining room waiting to eat their dinner. He repeated what Cameron said, and as soon as he was finished, Cook Jessie sunk into a chair at the table. Almost instantly, Cook Halen came to hold her hand and comfort her.

  “Our home is ablaze?” Dugan asked in disbelief. As soon as Prescot nodded, he left the kitchen and went to the nursery to tell his wife. Beverly put her arms around him, and made him promise to come tell her as soon as he had more news. By the time he went back downstairs, the family had left their dinner and gathered in the parlor. The rest of their meal remained on their plates, and strawberry shortcake with whipped cream, sat untouched on a serving tray.

  Leesil immediately went to Dugan and hugged the man who had grown up with her husband in the castle. “Fetch the Scots and ask them to come wait with us.”

  “Aye,” he muttered.

  Leesil greeted each of them with a hug and bid them to sit down, as Cook Jessie, Millie, and Ronan arrived with Dugan. Cathleen still had tears in her eyes, McKenna looked bewildered, and the judge stood behind McKenna’s chair with his hand on her shoulder. Cameron seemed unwilling to be very far from the telephone and Hannish stood staring out a window into the darkness. In the wide opening into the foyer, Prescot opened his arms to his wife, Millie, and held her close.

  It threatened to be a very long, terrible night, and no one seemed able to say much of anything at all, except to try to comfort Cathleen. Thinking it might help, Brookton and Shepard went to get fresh bottles, and then served glasses of wine and rum to those who wanted them. They offered to bring dinner to the Scottish servants, but no one felt like eating. Before long, the other servants came to the parlor to wait with them. The footmen brought chairs from the dining room for those who didn’t have a place to sit, and then just stood back waiting. There didn’t seem to be anything more to do and one hour turned into two.