Samuel asked, “The provost can watch the trains, but what if she comes by carriage or horseback?”
“I cannae picture her majesty on a horse,” the Provost sarcastically said. “Can she even ride, Hannish?”
“Aye, as well as any lass, but she dinna prefer it. Horse sweat gets on her clothes, and clean clothes are her favorite thing in the world, save jewels and money.”
Disgusted, Provost MacGreagor again shook his head, “Lads, you’ve not seen hell, till you see that lass in a rage. If she is determined to see her daughter, nary a thing shall stop her.”
“He is right,” said Dugan. “When do you expect her, Mr. Hannish?”
“If she comes by train, and dinna stop somewhere between, she could be here in four days.”
“No sooner?” Cobb asked.
“Unless she found her broom,” the provost muttered.
His joke broke up the meeting, and all but Ben mounted their horses and rode away. Hannish grabbed his chair, went in the warehouse, and headed back to his office.
“Brother,” Ben asked as he followed him down the row of shelved boxes, “give me a way to help.”
“I dinna see how you can. You know not what she looks like.”
“True, but I could spend more time with Blair.”
“And her friends?” Hannish asked with a gleam in his eye. “Do you not favor Miss Edna?”
Ben straightened his shoulders. “Not in the least, I assure you.”
Hannish studied the sincerity in Ben’s eyes and shrugged. “Very well, you shall be the first I ask should the need arise.”
“Fair enough.”
When he reached his office, Hannish tipped his head to one side and looked at Ben. “Have you no work to do?” He chuckled when Ben dashed away. He put his chair down and then sat at his desk. He truly had not considered the possibility that the duchess would take one of the other children, particularly his son, Justin. Hannish was, after all, the one she hated most. He interlaced his fingers, put his elbows on the desk and covered his eyes with his hands. There had to be a way to stop her, but how? Short of keeping all the children at home, all he could do was warn them not to go with strangers. He made a mental note to do that, picked up the papers on his desk, and went back to checking the inventory.
CHAPTER 4
In Marblestone’s second floor sitting room, a wooden box filled with balls of colorful yarn sat between two comfortable chairs occupied by Leesil and Cathleen. For once, neither of them were with child, the babies were old enough to be fed by the servants, and they cherished the time they had just to be together. The sisters finally learned to knit a couple of years prior, and enjoyed making blankets and baby booties, but had not yet mastered the art of making a sweater.
Neither sister preferred wearing black taffeta skirts with white blouses as so many others did. Nor did they like the Gibson Girl, low cut bodice except on special occasions. It made them feel too naked. They were, however, fascinated with colorful cloths and the newest empire waistlines, particularly since their waistlines seemed always to be in fluctuation.
As for their hair style, each preferred using a hair rat, a collection of stocking scraps kept in a hair net, to make their hair look fuller. Once parted down the middle, the sides were smoothed over a hair rat on each side and pinned in a bun in the back. It was quite easy and took little time for busy women.
Leesil sighed. She took another stitch and then sighed again. “The duchess is likely half way here by now. Part of me wishes she would simply come, do what she thinks she must, and have it over with.”
“I am hoping she shall fall off the train and break her neck,” Cathleen countered.
Leesil smiled. “What a lovely thought. Perhaps the fall could paralyze her from the neck down, so she cannae speak.”
Cathleen giggled, but then her demeanor became more sullen. “I worry what Cameron will do if she comes.”
“Sister, our husbands are not violent lads.”
“I know, but if pushed, both of them are quite capable of violence, and Cameron more so when it comes to Blair.”
“He does have a great love for her, does he not?”
Cathleen nodded. “Lord Bayington said ‘tis because Blair came to him when Cameron’s heart was heavy with grief over Flora’s death. Blair saved him from despair.”
Leesil took another three stiches, reached for the ball of yarn and unwound it several times. “I know I should not, but I am constantly tempted to call Laura. How she must be sufferin’. I cannae imagine waitin’ for my husband to die.”
“Yet, Edward hangs on still. I would call more often too, but I fear Laura is restin’.”
“You are right. At least she has the twins to comfort and distract her.”
“How I long to see the twins again. ‘Tis a pity they could not come for a visit in all these years, but poor Edward simply could not manage it. We should go see them,” said Cathleen. “We have been gone from Scotland a long time.”
“Aye, but I doubt Laura needs the intrusion, now that he is worse.”
Cathleen breathed, “You are right, of course.”
Outside the door, Alistair softly knocked and waited.
“Come in,” Leesil bid him.
He opened the door, walked to her and held out a letter. “‘Tis from James.”
“James?” she excitedly asked, taking the letter out of his hand. As Alistair left and closed the door, she examined the envelope. “At last. How long has it been, sister?”
“Far too long,” Cathleen answered, setting her sewing aside. “Let me read it.”
“You might as well, ‘tis addressed to you.”
“Because he liked me best,” Cathleen teased. She took the letter from Leesil and examined the envelope herself. “Oh, look, he dinna have the proper address.” She suddenly frowned. “Sister, ‘tis postmarked January, 1905.”
“1905? Where has it been all this time?”
Cathleen carefully tore the top of the envelope open, removed the letter and unfolded it. “It reads:
My most cherished little orphan sisters,
I am finally taken on as apprentice, on the tall ship Loch Vennachar bound for Australia. You can guess my excitement after having worked these past years building, but not often sailing aboard one of Scotland’s grand vessels. It is a three-mast sailing ship built by the Glasgow Shipping Company, and we are to carry a badly needed cargo of bricks, of all things. I shall not complain, for I hope to get a good look at a koala bear and a kangaroo while I am there.
I have declared this shall be the end of my shipbuilding and sailing career, for I would much rather work on automobiles in the future. Therefore, I am inclined to enjoy this voyage that much more, knowing it is my last, at least until I can afford to return to you, my beloved little sisters.
I am well, very well, indeed, and strong as can be. I trust you are also well. I went to the castle to visit, but it was burned down and the villagers said you all lived in America now. I was deeply grieved at the sight of it, for your sakes, and for mine. I have many fond memories of living with Cameron in the castle.
Rest assured, I shall come to you as soon as I can, for I cannot wait to see Marblestone again. Perhaps it is time to make my home in America. Do you have automobile manufacturers?
I wager my red rock you do.
All my love forever and ever,
James
Cathleen laid the letter in her lap and shifted her eyes from side to side. “1905? Sister, ‘tis four years ago and we have heard nothing since.”
“Something is amiss,” Leesil murmured.
“Aye.”
“Ships sink all…”
“Dinna say it, Leesil.”
“Well, they do.”
“But not a ship with our James on it. ‘Twould be too cruel after all he went through at the orphanage.”
“I know; it would be too cruel.”
“I shall call and find out,” Cathleen said.
“Call who?”<
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Cathleen looked at the letter again. “The Glasgow Shipping Company in Scotland. They should know something.”
“Perhaps we are better off not knowing?”
“Leesil, what are you saying?”
“I dinna want to know. I have a foreboding.”
Cathleen watched the despair in her sister’s eyes and then looked away. “We thought Mother dead and we were wrong.”
“I know.”
“We not only have her now, but two brothers besides.”
“I know that too, but we shall never have another James.” Tears began to well up in Leesil’s eyes.
“Look at us,” said Cathleen. “We dinna know somethin’ terrible has happened. Let me call. They shall likely say, the last they saw of James, he was chasin’ a koala bear halfway across Australia.”
It made Leesil laugh, “‘Twould be just like him.”
“Aye, ‘twould.” Cathleen took a moment to figure out what time it was in Scotland. “Ten in the morning. ‘Tis a perfect time to call.”
“Sister, it has been a dreadful week already. Can we not just write to them?”
“If you insist,” Cathleen agreed. “I shall write a letter directly and send it from the Duchess of Glenartair, so they shall hasten to answer it.”
“Thank you. I need no more bad news just now.”
“Hannish?” Cathleen asked.
“Aye, he walks the floor in his study at night. He dinna think I know, but I know when my bed is empty.”
“Will he not listen to you?”
“I fear he shall not rest another night complete until he knows where she is.”
“He thinks she shall hurt one of us this time?”
“He does not say it, but I think he believes it. Worse still, he cannae think of a way to prevent it.”
The sisters returned to their knitting and were quiet, until Cathleen noticed tears streaming down Leesil’s cheeks. “Sister, dinna cry. If you cry, so shall I.”
“I cannae help it. James cannae be dead, I could not bear it.”
Before long, both of the sisters had tears in their eyes.
*
At dinner in the servant’s quarters, Brookton watched as Lillie Mae took a second helping of meat and mashed potatoes. He was not the only one who noticed, but no one said a word. Lillie Mae was always ravenously hungry.
“Alistair,” footman Geddes asked, “the family seems apprehensive lately. Is somethin’ wrong?”
“What makes you ask?” Alistair wanted to know.
“Well, for one thing,” Geddes answered, “Mr. Hannish chops his own wood. I offered to do it, but he sent me away.”
“I have noticed an air of tension as well,” said Mable. “I have never seen Miss Cathleen as bothered as she is today.”
Brookton agreed. “When I took tea to the sister’s, both were crying.”
Alistair answered, “‘Tis a family matter and not our concern.”
“Does a family matter mean good or bad news?” Lillie Mae wanted to know.
“Crying usually means bad news,” Adrian pointed out.
“Have you never cried tears of joy?” Lillie Mae asked. She didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “Once, our neighbor came to the house and begged us to take a wild turkey. He had two for his Christmas dinner, and as both were already killed, the second would go to waste if we did not relieve him of it.”
“And?” Brookton asked.
“And,” Lillie Mae answered, “once he was gone, I cried tears of joy.”
Brookton rolled his eyes, but everyone else smiled.
Connie was the next to speak up, “I do not think Miss Cathleen’s tears were tears of joy.”
“Oh,” said Lillie Mae, before she put yet another bite of potatoes in her mouth.
“I brought a letter from town today,” said Dugan. “Perhaps ‘tis that.”
“It could be,” Prescot agreed. “They fear Lord Bayington might die soon.”
“That must be it,” said Ronan.
“I hope not,” said Alistair. “Lord Bayington is a good man and has been a worthy friend to the MacGreagors for years.”
“They would tell us if he passed, would they not?” asked footman Knox. “In Scotland, when Lord and Lady Bayington came to visit, they stopped to make purchases in Glenartair shops. We all like the Bayingtons very much.”
Alistair wiped his mouth with his napkin. “If he passes, I shall let you know. For now, let us pray he does not.”
Footman Geddes took another slice of bread and began to butter it. “When Mr. Hannish sent me away from the wood pile, I feared I had done somethin’ to displease him. I need my position.”
“As do we all,” said Prescott. “When Mr. Hannish is displeased, I assure you, you shall know it.” He watched Geddes take a relieved breath and then turned to Dugan. “Any news from town?”
“Aye, Mr. Marshall’s automobile was stolen last night. They found it on the road to Denver. It was out of petro.”
“Did they catch the thieves?” Lillie Mae asked.
“Not yet,” Dugan answered.
“How many horses did it take to pull it back?” Lillie Mae asked.
With a blank look on his face, Dugan answered, “I dinna think to ask.”
“They look heavy,” Lillie Mae went on.
Harriet giggled, “The automobile or the horses?”
“The automobile,” Lillie Mae answered, ignoring the grins on the faces of the others. “I already know a horse is heavy.” She was a bit perturbed when everyone laughed, but they always seemed to laugh, no matter what she said. “It is a terrible thing about automobiles.”
“What is?” Alistair asked.
“Well, I read there is a new law. In New York, automobiles must go slower than twelve miles an hour. Of course, no one knows what that means.”
“Lillie Mae,” Dugan explained, “automobiles have speed meters to tell them how fast they are going.”
Lillie Mae rolled her eyes. “Not all automobiles.”
“Aye, all of them,” Brookton argued.
“Well, the police commissioner must not have one, for he was the first to get arrested.” This time when they laughed, she laughed with them.
Alistair waited for the laughter to die down. “While we are on the subject of horses, Tristin, you are needed to help Paul for a time. ‘Tis too much work for only one lad.”
“Who will drive the children to school?” Tristin asked.
“Dugan.” Alistair answered. “The children shall be out of school soon, and we shall need more than one driver then anyway.” He was relieved when Tristin didn’t seem upset.
“I would like the day off on Friday,” said Harriet. “I promised Miss Pearl I would teach her a new way of doing hair.”
“Very well,” Alistair answered. “Mable has that day off too. Anyone else?” He paused, but no one answered. “In that case, I feel I must remind everyone of a very important rule. What you hear at Marblestone must not be repeated in town.”
“Even if Lord Bayington dies?” Knox asked.
“Even then,” Alistair answered. “We do not wish to be seen gossipin’. The MacGreagors shall spread the word soon enough.”
Knox nodded, helped himself to a piece of pie and passed the plate.
“Lillie Mae, what…” Prescot tried.
“What do I want for breakfast?” she innocently asked.
Prescot playfully glared at her. “Miss Leesil and Miss Cathleen decide the menu. You are not unhappy with their choices, are you?”
“Well…no.” Finished with her dinner, at last, she laid her fork in her plate and pushed it toward the center of the table.
Prescot tried again. “What I was about to ask is, what…”
Again, Lillie Mae guessed what he was going to say. “What time will I be done with my chores tomorrow?”
Prescot couldn’t help but smile. Asking Lille Mae a question without her interrupting was nothing short of impossible. “If you like.”
&
nbsp; Lillie Mae frowned. “Mr. Prescot, I cannot answer until you tell me what my chores are to be.”
“Why do you suppose that is?” Prescot asked.
“Why?” Lillie Mae asked.
Prescot gave her his best frown. “Because you did not let me finish.”
Annoyed by Lillie Mae’s antics as usual, Brookton asked, “May I be excused?” To no one’s surprise, as soon as Alistair nodded, Brookton left the room.
“Mr. Brookton sleeps on his right side too long,” Lillie Mae whispered.
Alistair raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
Confused, Lillie Mae deeply wrinkled her brow, and then her eyes grew enormous. “I would never…I mean… I read it in a magazine. Sleeping on the right side too long causes the blood to puddle and the mind to...” Her horror quickly changed to disgust when she realized Alistair was teasing her. She rolled her eyes, excused herself, and left the room.
“She dinna want pie?” Cook Jessie asked.
“Never fear, she shall be back,” Cook Halen answered, “time and time again. Nothing fills that one up.”
Prescot took the plate and helped himself to a piece of pie. “She has done it again.”
“Aye,” said Alistair.
“Done what?” Dugan asked.
“Left without answering my question,” said Prescot.
Dugan chuckled and stood up. “Did you have a question? I dinna hear one.”
*
In a room at the Grand Pacific Hotel in Chicago, the duchess sent everything she was not wearing, including her corset and petticoat out to be laundered. For the first time in years, she was totally alone. There were no nurses to bother her, no loudly snoring patients in the bed next to hers, and no one telling her when to eat, when to get dressed and when to sleep. Furthermore, she had no appointment with Dr. Morris.
She wondered if the doctor had called Hannish and warned him, but she decided he had not. The one thing the doctor hated most was losing his cherished monthly income. If by some miracle he had called, Dr. Morris would be the first honest man of her entire acquaintance. That was simply not likely.
Marblestone Mansion, Book 8 Page 5