Marblestone Mansion, Book 5

by Marti Talbott

  “Fatten me up again?” Cathleen asked, spitefully putting a spoonful of soup in her mouth. She pouted and let just a little soup roll down her chin, which made them all laugh.

  Leesil didn’t eat much, but she remained silent so her sister would, and the others followed her lead. Instead, she enjoyed the way Egan was looking at Malveen and the way she was working and ignoring him.

  When Cathleen was almost finished, Egan said, “I hear you are not happy, my darlin’ Cathleen. What can the matter be?”

  She finished her last bite, put her spoon down in the bowl and then handed it to Malveen. “The servants hate me.” He didn’t seem very convinced when she looked at Egan’s expression. “They do. They wish me to go daft and it shant be long now. I leave something somewhere; take special note of it, and when I go to fetch it, ‘tis gone. But then, the next time I am there, ‘tis back.”

  Egan shared a brief look of concern with Malveen. “Perhaps ‘tis Sarah…”

  “Sarah is normally with me. Nay, tis one of the other servants, or…”

  “Or what?” Leesil asked.

  “‘Tis a ghost.”

  Leesil’s eyes brightened. “A ghost! How very thrilling! I have yet to see one.”

  “So have I,” Cathleen admitted.

  “Have we no books on how to catch a ghost?” Leesil asked.

  Cathleen rolled her eyes. “Catch them? We cannae catch them, they walk through walls.”

  “Aye, but we must look through your husband’s most excellent library. I’ve got it, The Headless Horseman! Surely there is a copy…”

  “Headless?” Cathleen gasped. “I dinna care to capture one without his head.”

  “I shall protect you,” Egan said, puffing his chest.

  “Oh, I knew you would,” said Cathleen. “Shall you also protect us from our husbands? They think to attend a ball in London, and I dinna want to go.”

  Leesil reached across the table and took hold of her sister’s hand. “Aye, but we must.”

  “Why must we? We’ve nothing in common with…”

  “For McKenna’s sake,” Leesil interrupted. She quickly glanced at the door to make certain they were alone. “A lad by the name of Mr. Chilton Ashton has said distasteful things about her.”

  “What things?” a surprised Eagan asked.

  “Do you know him?” Leesil asked.

  “Aye, he came to the castle to court McKenna.”

  “Well,” Leesil confided, “Mr. Ashton finds himself most fortunate to have acquired McKenna’s love, while all others were denied. He claims she begged him not to marry another and he had the pleasure of denying her.”

  Egan was suddenly furious. “The truth be told, Mr. Ashton wanted McKenna to be in his bed after he married.”

  “What?” Leesil gasped. “He dare ask such a thing of her?”

  Cathleen’s mouth dropped. “We best not tell our husbands this.”

  “Indeed not,” Leesil agreed. “If he hears, Hannish shall gladly pound Mr. Ashton’s head.” She let go of her sister’s hand and sat back. “Nay, we shall see to this Mr. Chilton Ashton at the ball ourselves.”

  Cathleen caught the gleam in her sister’s eye, tipped her head to the side and nodded. “In that case, we must surely go. And tomorrow, we must order ball gowns. Come, sister, I am of a mood to see if we can find a headless horseman in the library.”

  Malveen watched the sisters go and then turned to Egan. “I am amazed to see the duchess so…friendly.”

  “I have never seen her otherwise, leastwise not when she is with her sister. Have you any idea who might be plaguing her?”

  She collected the dishes and carried them to the sink. “None, and I am not often in the other rooms where I might see someone doin’ it.”

  “I shall find them out,” he boasted. “I am quite good at sneaking around this castle.”

  “I heard you often got caught.”

  Egan rolled his eyes. “Aye, Jessie was forever catchin’ me, even in America.”

  “Do Jessie and Halen get on better now?”

  “Famously. How is it you know about that?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Must I tell you all my secrets?”

  “Not all, just that one.”

  “If you must know, McKenna writes to father. She fears your darlin’ Cathleen is so unhappy, she might leave her husband.”

  Egan playfully narrowed his eyes. “You are come to spy on her?”

  She put her hands on the table and leaned forward. “And so are you. Why else did Laird MacGreagor bring you and you alone?” She untied her apron, laid it across the back of a chair, and left a perplexed Egan to watch her go.

  *

  It was nighttime in Scotland, but in Colorado, on the other side of the world, it was daytime.

  Abigail Whitfield was uncommonly quiet as she sat alone on the bride’s side of the small Colorado Springs church. Wife to Claymore and mother to Charles and Gloria, Abigail had not always enjoyed the benefits of wealth. Indeed, they struggled in the beginning of the Colorado Gold Rush, just as many others did, and she never forgot the women who befriended her in a place that was not yet a town. In fact, after Claymore’s mines began to pay off, Abigail established a weekly sewing circle just to keep in touch. Along the way, she added to the circle and it now included Leesil MacGreagor and Leesil’s sister-in-law, McKenna.

  Unfortunately, her dearest friend, Leesil, had run off to Scotland, leaving the slender, redheaded Abigail to face this unthinkable day alone.

  Something borrowed something blue was a time honored tradition, but for this bride’s unexpected wedding, everything was borrowed, even her dress. On the other side of the aisle sat a gentleman Abigail did not recognize and he too was a lone occupant. They were there, she knew, to witness an occasion she was not convinced would be happy for long. No candles were lit, no pianist played Mendelssohn’s Wedding March on the push pedal organ, and the minister had not managed to button the white color of the shirt he wore beneath his robe. Afternoon sunlight coming through a stained-glass window seemed the only thing to brighten the day.

  The groom was handsomely dressed, but then why would he not be? He was considered one of the most handsome men in town, second only perhaps, to Hannish MacGreagor. His hair was a deep shade of blond, which he kept immaculately combed, and his eyes were blue. Even during his wedding, Mr. Douglas Swinton kept his cane gun hooked over his arm, just in case someone thought to stop the wedding. That was not likely; the bride was more than willing and what father, if he yet lived, would object to his daughter marrying the extremely wealthy, Douglas Swinton?

  Mr. Swinton was a bit of a mystery, everyone in her circle of friends agreed, having come to town and immediately purchasing the largest house in Palmer Lake – an even smaller town not far from Colorado Springs. His wealth was not in doubt…where he got it was. He said not a word of his background, and soon, Mr. Swinton bought Claymore Whitfield’s gold mines. Happy to be relieved of his mines, Claymore and Hannish MacGreagor decided to build houses. However, there came an altercation between Hannish MacGreagor and Douglas Swinton; Swinton promptly sold the mines, and became a housing developer in direct competition to Whitfield and MacGreagor.

  There was certainly enough business for both companies and plenty of land to buy, but when the Whitfield and MacGreagor warehouse was intentionally set on fire, Abigail had not doubt who lit the kerosene – even if no one could prove it. It was, therefore, almost beyond endurance to be in the same church as the loathed Mr. Swinton, let alone to watch him marry a friend. Abigail listened as the minster said all the right words, watched the smiling groom kiss the ecstatic bride, signed the marriage certificate as a witness, and then stood outside to wave goodbye as the carriage took the bride and the groom away.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Abigail’s smile faded.

  *

  It took two days for the American MacGreagors to get their rest and for Cathleen to show Leesil everything there was to see in the
castle. The last room she took her sister to had a high bolt on the door, which was easily undone. “In here is a well for water, in case we are attacked by the English,” she giggled and then led the way into the garden setting. “Tis the MacGreagor Chapel I wrote you about. I come here when the rest of the place becomes unbearable, but we must keep it locked so Addie cannae fall down the well.”

  “I see.” Leesil slowly took in the beauty of the plants, flowers and statues. A church pew faced an altar where candles waited to be lit and a Holy Bible lay open.

  “One of the servants, I know not which one, turns the page of the Bible each day and I come to read it, though I do not often know all the words.”

  “Cathleen, why does the place become unbearable?”

  “I am a bit lonely when my husband is away, but now you are here, and I shant be lonely anymore. I had hoped James would come to see me, but he has not. Sister, can you guess?”

  “What?” Leesil asked, lightly touching the large leaf of a nearby plant with her finger.

  “He has taken a position on a ship.”

  “What sort of position?”

  “‘Tis feedin’ coal to the engines he loves so well.”

  Leesil let go of the leaf, wrinkled her brow and turned to face her sister. “He is below deck?”

  “I hardly think the engines are above. Does it alarm you?”

  “He is quite young still.”

  Cathleen giggled. “I forget that all the time; he seemed so much older than me in the orphanage. Sister, when he called to say he was off to South Africa, I charged him to take care. He pledged he would.”

  “South Africa,” Leesil softly repeated, turning back too look at the plant. “‘Tis so very far away.”

  “I know, but he is excited to see the world, and we have naught to do but keep him in our prayers. Come, I am hungry, and Alistair has hired Katie from the baker’s shop to help Malveen in the kitchen. Shall we see if she meets with our approval?”

  “We best,” Leesil agreed, finally dismissing her foreboding.

  *

  It was not the sister’s first time back to the kitchen; it had become a regular occurrence and all the servants were talking about it...behind their backs, of course. Malveen made sure to keep milk, cheese and sweets on hand for them to nibble, and she was always happy to see them, even when they came, grabbed a morsel of food, stuffed it in their mouths and were gone again.

  “They are like children,” Katie whispered after they came, nodded their approval of the round, older woman, and left.

  “May they always be that way,” Malveen said. “Mr. Egan says they are much improved since they first left the orphanage. Theirs was a harsh upbringing.”

  “How so?”

  “I have heard Mistress Leesil has scars from beatings.”

  Katie’s eyes widened, “Beatings? Oh, dear me.” She went back to her slicing, and it was hard to tell exactly which caused her tears – Leesil’s beatings or the onions.

  Before long, all the servants had heard it and attitudes toward the Duke’s new wife began to change. Still, according to Egan, that was not nearly good enough.

  *

  After dinner, and after the family sent Justin and Addie off to bed, Egan knocked on the door of the Great Hall. “Your Grace, and Mr. Hannish, I hereby challenge you to cards?”

  “Cards?” Cameron asked. “Splendid idea.”

  “In the dining room. We have it all set up,” said Egan.

  Cameron stood up, took his wife’s hand and helped her stand. “Who is we, precisely?”

  “Cook Malveen and I are suddenly in need of entertainment.”

  “I see,” said Cameron.

  The two couples followed Egan out the door, across the parlor, down the hallway and into the dining room. When they arrived, the long table had been moved to the side, and a new deck of cards sat on tables with seating for four. On the sidebar, Malveen had set out a pitcher of fresh lemon drink, complete with glasses and plates of refreshments.

  “Are we expecting more?” Cameron asked, joining his brother and their wives at one of the tables.

  “Your Grace, ‘twould be unfair if Malveen and I are allowed to play, and not the rest of the servants.” By the smile on Cameron’s face, Egan could tell the Duke was quickly catching on to the plan.

  “I agree. Have you notified them?”

  Egan shook his head and made himself comfortable at a different table. “Nay, but they must pass by to get to the kitchen, which they do often now that there are sweets to be had. Perhaps you might invite them when they do.”

  “Very well.” Cameron smiled when Malveen came in from the kitchen and chose to sit opposite Egan.

  “Your Grace, how is your poker playin’ these days?” Malveen asked.

  “Poker?” a surprised Egan asked. “The Parson’s daughter plays poker, does she?”

  Malveen rolled her eyes. “You’ll not tell on me, lest you wish to hear a very long lecture from my father on the evils of gamblin’.”

  “I suppose you fancy yourself good at the game,” Egan scoffed.

  “I can put the skills of any lad in this room to shame, and not blink an eye.”

  Hannish got up and joined Egan and Malveen at their table. “Is that so?”

  Leesil giggled. “You best check Egan’s pockets, Malveen. He lost all he had to Ann Sutherland on the train.”

  Malveen’s jaw dropped, “Ann Sutherland? Did she take all you had as well, Laird MacGreagor?”

  “Almost. Do you know her?” Hannish asked, starting to shuffle a deck of cards.

  “I cannae think of a Scot what doesn’t. Her father taught her to play and he is a master. Surely you have heard of him – he is Lord Landon.”

  “Lord Landon?” a surprised Hannish asked. “Had she called herself Ann Landon, instead of Ann Sutherland, I might have guessed the truth.” Hannish was not surprised when his brother changed tables and joined them as well.

  “We have been tricked,” said Egan, remembering Ann’s bulging bosom the last time he saw her. Her padding, no doubt, consisted of equal parts American dollars and British pounds.

  “Indeed we have,” Hannish agreed, dealing each of them five cards.

  When Cameron looked up and saw Paul standing in the doorway, he motioned him over. Paul was hesitant at first, but as soon as Cathleen smiled and nodded, he pulled out a chair and joined the wives. “Three-handed Rummy?” he asked.

  “Ann uses her mother’s name to hide the connection,” Malveen continued.

  “Lord Landon,” said Cameron, looking at his hand, “has easily won the property of several gentlemen in England.”

  “Aye, and his daughter plays here in Scotland,” Malveen added. “She is often accused of cheatin’, but none can prove it.”

  Before long, Alistair, Sarah and three footmen came to join them. After that, the sounds of their laughter began to draw the other servants in, just to see what was happening. More joined the games, some just came to watch and soon the room was filled with shouts of elation when someone won, and moans of disappointment from those who lost.

  Not too excited with the sweetened lemon drink Malveen made, Cameron went to his library and brought back two bottles of Scotch whiskey to drink separately, or if someone wished, to improve the taste of the lemon drink. The two tastes were not an easy mix, so most settled for straight scotch. The drinks made the servants even less inhibited, and Cameron learned things about their lives he never knew before.

  In the middle of the evening, Egan decided they should all change tables. Somehow, however, he managed to end up at the same table as Malveen.

  “Oh, sister, stop,” Cathleen said loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Seated two tables away, Cameron asked, “What is she doin’?”

  “She is tellin’ all my secrets.”

  “Is she? Then speak up, Leesil, and let us all hear.”

  Cathleen glared at her husband, which made him laugh.

  “You see,” Leesi
l began, “I am a wee bit older than Cathleen.”

  “A wee bit, you are ancient compared to me,” Cathleen shot back.

  Leesil ignored her. “James was the youngest of us all when he came to the orphanage, but he knew all sorts of things we dinna know. Till then, we saw no point in readin’ and old Mrs. Forthright wasn’t about to teach us.”

  “Old Mrs. Forthright?” Ruth asked.

  Cathleen suddenly giggled, “She is the most unsightly lass you ever did see. She fancied herself quite becoming, and Leesil was determined to convince her otherwise. Once, when a certain gentleman was come to call, Leesil put water in Old Mrs. Forthright chair. When she stood up, there was the most superb wet spot on the back of her dress.”

  “She wore so many petticoats, she never felt a thing,” Leesil added, when everyone stopped laughing.

  Cathleen wrinkled her brow. “That gentleman never did come back. I wonder why?”

  “As do I, sister,” Leesil said, with a matching serious expression on her face. “‘Twas the next day we pushed her in the pond.”

  “Aye, and she dinna let us go outside for a week.”

  “Well, we all agreed…she was in need of a good scrubbing.”

  Cathleen looked to see if her husband was still smiling, and when he was, she continued. “After that, Old Mrs. Forthright stayed as far away from the pond as she could. She never did learn which of us pushed her from behind, but ‘twas Leesil.”

  Leesil rolled her eyes. “‘Twas not, ‘twas James.”

  “Leesil,” said Hannish, ‘did you not tell us at Marblestone, ‘twas you who pushed her?”

  “Surely not.” She saw the playful stern look on her husband’s face and changed her story. “Well…I…might have, but James was pushin’ me, so I had no choice.”

  “And I was pushin’ James, now that I think on it,” Cathleen admitted. “Old Mrs. Forthright plopped down, right dab in the middle of the water, face first. We tried not to laugh, but never have I seen a more lovely sight. First, she raised her backside high in the air, and then her hand slipped, and she fell right back in again. After that, she gave up, turned over and sat there glaring at the lot of us.”

  “Did you see that glob of mud on the end of her nose?” Leesil asked.