Marblestone Mansion, Book 2

by Marti Talbott

  “Mr. Hannish, should I bring tea for Mrs. Whitfield?” Egan asked.

  “I’ve no time for tea,” Abigail said.

  Hannish nodded for Egan to bring it anyway. “I believe we could all use a cup.” He watched the footman head for the kitchen and the rest of the servants begin to drift slowly back to their duties.

  “Hannish, will you tell Claymore he must go help?” asked Abigail. “Charles is all alone and St. Louis is quite a large city. I can’t imagine how he will find her. It will take many men to search, half an army most likely. Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Mabs could go. Mr. Merth cannot, he has the train station to look after.”

  “Abigail,” said Hannish. “Has Charles notified the sheriff in St. Louis?”

  “Of course he has, but the police have been no help at all.” Abigail paused to think for a moment. “I could go. You will go with me, McKenna and Maude…”

  “I’ll not allow that,” said Hannish. “‘Tis not safe.”

  “Well then, will you go, Hannish?”

  He was stuck and had to quickly think of a way out of it. “I dinna see what I could do that the police cannae, but I will talk to Claymore about it. When is he comin’ home?”

  “He means to stay at the mine another day or two. He says if Charles is old enough to take a wife, he is old enough to find her without his help. Claymore has never been this harsh with Charles before.”

  McKenna gently took Abigail’s hand in hers. “I am certain Charles will find her soon. Do try to calm down, ‘tis not healthy to be so upset.”

  “Do you really think he will find her?”

  “You said yourself she has nothing to wear. She is only lost; she will turn up.”

  “I hope so, I hope so very much. I must go. If he finds her, I’ll not be home when he calls with the good news.” Abigail quickly got up and headed for the foyer, allowing Shepard just enough time to open the front door.

  *

  A thousand thoughts were running through Hannish’ mind when he went back to his study. The idea that the duchess had run off on her own -- especially with little money, was out of the question. Yet, it appeared that was exactly what she did. He considered calling Alistair and telling him not to meet the train in Denver, but what if she intended to come without Charles and simply caught the next train? No, it was better to be safe than sorry. If she made it to Denver and then changed to the train coming to Colorado Springs, Alistair would be sure to see her.

  *

  It was the longest two days Hannish could remember. Used to handling his problems himself, he found waiting for others to inform him more than exasperating. At last, the call he had been waiting for came. According to Alistair, the train from Kansas City was late and he didn’t have but a moment to talk to Dugan. The news was very good. Dugan found the duchess, gave her the money and he would be home that afternoon to explain.

  Hannish closed his eyes. Until then, he had not realized how tense he was. It was over, finally, and he felt as if a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He ordered the buggy sent to town to pick up Dugan and his wife, and then went to tell Leesil and McKenna.

  *

  “Speaking of the MacGreagors,” said Glenn, as soon as the judge sat down at his desk in the courthouse.

  “Were we?” Judge Mitchel asked.

  “We are now.” Glenn handed Judge Mitchel an unopened letter. It was the letter he sent to McKenna and it was marked, ‘return to sender.’ Glenn couldn’t help but see the disappointment on his boss’ face. “Do you care to talk about it?”

  “Not especially.”

  Glenn decided to drop that particular subject. “There is other MacGreagor news you might find interesting. The Antlers Hotel has a new housekeeper. Her name is Lillian, and guess who spends much of his time there?”

  “Who?”

  “The Sheriff.”

  Judge Mitchel began to sort through the papers on his desk. “Good, he will have something to do finally. What has that to do with the MacGreagors?”

  “Lillian’s last position was with them.”

  “Why did she leave? I hear Mr. MacGreagor is a generous employer.”

  “Word is, she was unhappy with them and they were unhappy with her.”

  “It happens, I suppose…and if you do not go back to work, I shall be unhappy with you.”

  “Task master,” Glenn muttered, begrudgingly returning to his desk.

  Judge Mitchel sighed. A large pile of papers needed his attention, and he hoped it would get McKenna off his mind. It didn’t. An hour later, he picked up the letter again, tore it in half and put it in the trash.

  “Now do you want to talk about it?” asked Glenn.

  The judge took a deep breath. “We argued about the black stallion.”

  “Did you tell her why you wanted to capture the horse?”

  “I didn’t think I needed to. I thought we were having a pleasant conversation, but she got upset and walked off. She didn’t even come down to breakfast the next morning, and now she will not read my letter. Clearly, I do not have a way with women.”

  “You have to let them win.”

  “Give up trying to capture the horse, you mean?”

  “It will not come to that, not if you let her win and then reason with her later. A woman will always see the logic, but not until after a man gives in. I avoid all kinds of arguments that way.”

  “And your wife hasn’t caught on?”

  Glenn wrinkled his brow. “She surely has by now. Perhaps I best pay more attention next time.”

  Judge Mitchel chuckled. “Perhaps it is she who gives in. Do let me know.”

  “I will, your honor, I surely will.” His brow was still wrinkled when Glenn went back to work.

  *

  Beverly was exhausted. Six days on a ship and nearly five on various trains had completely worn her out. Not only that, she was convinced her husband led a life of crime. First, he offered to give a whole packet of money to a woman at the boat dock. Next, he went to talk to that same woman on the train, and when he came back, he made Beverly promise not to tell anyone. Then in Denver, just before they boarded the last train, she was quickly introduced to Alistair, and to him her husband said, “I got rid of her.” His comment seemed to greatly please Mr. Alistair, who hurried off to tell two women and another man.

  What did it mean? Had her husband thrown that woman off the train? He must have; what other way was there to get rid of someone. Yet, he seemed so calm when he returned to his seat, and she saw no evidence that he could do such a thing. Something was amiss, but she was too tired to figure out exactly what.

  It was not until Dugan’s cousin, Egan, picked them up at the train station that Beverly began to wonder if everything her husband said about her new home was true. Seated in the buggy, it wasn’t long before she set eyes on the mansion and caught her breath. It was easily twenty times bigger than the country house she lived in with her father. She was even more impressed when the whole household came outside to happily greet her. They seemed to be warm and kind people, and most of all; they liked Dugan very much. Could that many people be wrong about a man? Or were they just happy he got rid of her?”

  Beverly watched her smiling husband receive congratulatory slaps on the back from the other men, and then repeated the names of everyone as he introduced her. At length, she came face-to-face with an elder woman who hugged her. That surprised Beverly the most.

  “Beverly, this is my Aunt Blanka,” said Dugan.

  “Please to meet you,” she said.

  Blanka’s smile was glowing. “And I you. He gives you a spot of trouble, you come see me,” She grinned again and then hugged Beverly a second time. “‘Tis about time he took a wife.”

  At last, she was introduced to the famous Mr. Hannish.

  “I hope you will be happy with us.” Hannish said.

  So do I, Beverly thought, but I doubt it. “Thank you, Mr. MacGreagor. Have you any children?”

  “Not yet, why do you ask?”r />
  “I am a teacher and I was hoping…”

  “A teacher? Do you speak Gaelic?” Hannish asked.

  “Aye.”

  “Splendid, I will pay a fair wage if you will teach my wife and her sister to speak it. Are you willing?”

  “I am,” she said returning his smile. For a giant of a man, he too seemed nice enough.

  Hannish motioned her toward the door Shepard held open for them. “What subject do you like best?”

  “I favor history.” As if the outside of the mansion was not impressive enough, the marble foyer left Beverly just as speechless as it did almost everyone else. The duchess called it a mausoleum when she first saw it, but no one talked about that any more.

  “I dinna know you were a teacher,” Dugan muttered.

  “You dinna ask,” Beverly said, slowly turning to see the whole room.

  “‘Tis my favorite room too,” said Hannish. “I warn you, Scottish history is a topic of discussion in the kitchen these days. Dinna let them get away with a thing.” He found Beverly to be a bit reserved, but this time, her smile was radiant and there was no mistaking the look of pride on Dugan’s face.

  “She needs to rest,” said Dugan. “The journey does not get any shorter.”

  “Of course she does. Margaret Ann will help her get settled and if you have a moment, Dugan, I would like to see you in my study.”

  “Aye, Mr. Hannish.”

  *

  Long after the others left the foyer, Leesil and Cathleen exchanged knowing glances.

  “Did you see what I saw, Inspector Leesil? Dugan dinna even hold her hand.”

  “‘Tis not that sort of marriage…or so I have heard,” said Leesil.

  “What sort of marriage do you think it is?”

  “An odd sort, if you ask me.” Leesil began to count on her fingers. “Five days he has married her and he has yet to hold her hand? I say we best find out what the matter might be.”

  “How?”

  “Come, Inspector Cathleen, we have work to do.” Leesil looked in every direction, saw no one and then began to tiptoe into the parlor.

  *

  “However did you manage it, Dugan?” Hannish asked, as soon as the door was closed.

  “‘Twas not easy.” He quickly explained most of what happened. “‘Twas a stroke of luck to be on the same train.”

  “Indeed. We must be on our guard still. The duchess has many friends, and I fear if she learns she is not wanted for murder, she will be back.”

  “She will not be back…unless she loses all reason. She has a daughter she keeps in hiding.”

  “What?” Hannish couldn’t believe his ears.

  “I should have told you, but once you sent her back, I saw no reason to. Besides, at the time you were…”

  “Heartsick? I suppose I was. How did you find out?”

  “I followed her to Mr. Sinclair’s estate where the lassie is kept. When I confronted her on the train, the duchess admitted the child is hers.”

  “Is she mine, as well?”

  “Nay, she was born before you married the duchess. The lassie is most likely Lord Bayington’s, although she bedded Mr. Sinclair each time she went to see him.”

  Hannish paused to take it all in. “A child. I never once suspected. Of course Lord Bayington must be told.”

  “Aye, but then we will have no way to keep the duchess at bay. Besides, the child is happy and well cared for.”

  “Still, if I had a daughter…” Hannish was suddenly alarmed. “I was away for three years. She dinna have a baby while…”

  “Nay, she was not with child when you left.”

  “Thank God for that.” He took a deep breath before he began to smile. “You shaved off your mustache?”

  Without thinking, Dugan touched his upper lip. “Aye, ‘twas part of our marriage agreement.”

  Hannish smiled. “Tell me, what sort of marriage agreement keeps a lad out of his wife’s bed?”

  Dugan rolled his eyes. “Beverly outwitted me.”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Hannish, I tell you true. I was talked into it afore I knew what was happenin’.”

  “Beverly befuddled you? Of all our lads, you are the wisest, yet you let a lass outwit you? I am shocked.”

  Dugan puffed his cheeks. “As am I, Mr. Hannish…as am I.”

  *

  Beverly was so tired, she took a bath, ate dinner and then went up to her room on the third floor of Marblestone Mansion. Margaret Ann had already explained that the women had rooms on the south side, while the men stayed on the north, and now that Millie and Sarah were married, there were plenty of empty rooms between.

  At last, Beverly crawled into a soft bed and fell fast asleep.

  When she awoke the next morning, it was late and Leesil and Cathleen were in her room watching her sleep. It alarmed her at first.

  “You need not be frightened, we brought you something to eat,” said Leesil.

  “You brought it? But you are Mrs. MacGreagor.”

  “Dinna let that scare you off. I lived in this very room afore I married him,” said Leesil.

  “We best tell her, sister,” said Cathleen. She set the tray of food on the dresser and then leaned against the wall and folder her arms.

  “I wonder that Dugan dinna tell her.” Leesil said, moving Beverly’s satchel out of the only chair in the room, setting it on the floor and then sitting down.

  “Tell me what?” Beverly asked, sitting up and then scooting back.

  “‘We are spies, you see,” said Leesil.

  “Spies?” Beverly wrinkled her brow.

  “Aye, and we have come to spy on you,” said Cathleen.

  Beverly smiled finally. “You’ll not find much of interest, I fear.”

  Cathleen pulled a magnifying glass out of her pocket and began to examine the outside of Beverly’s satchel. “What have we here?

  “All I own,” Beverly answer. “Mostly they are remembrances of my father.”

  “Well, I find it very suspicious you have not put them away.” Cathleen lifted the satchel and felt the weight. “You dinna mean to stay?”

  “I was too tired.”

  “Tis just as I suspected,” said Leesil. She got up and began to inspect the empty drawers. “She owns little and her husband has much shopping to do.”

  Beverly giggled. “Not for my underthings.”

  Cathleen pretended to be shocked. “Of course not. A lad never gets the size right on the underthings…or so I have heard. I am yet unmarried, you see.”

  “Inspector Cathleen, if ‘tis underthings she needs, I say we take her shopping.”

  “Can we, Inspector Leesil? I long to go shopping.”

  Leesil headed for the door. “I shall ask my husband directly. He shant say no, he denies me nothing.”

  “Wait,” said Cathleen. “We best ask her husband first.”

  “Where is Dugan?” Leesil asked.

  “How should I know?” Cathleen said.

  Leesil sighed. “Husbands are always getting lost around here. Come sister, we have work to do.” She winked at Beverly and then went out the door.

  *

  The sisters found Dugan and Egan sitting at the kitchen table polishing the silver. Without saying a word, Cathleen sat on one side of Dugan and Leesil sat on the other. Dugan suspiciously looked from woman to woman and back again. “What might you two be up to this fine day?”

  “We have come to ask permission to take Beverly shopping,” said Leesil.

  “We like her, you see,” Cathleen added.

  “I am happy to hear it. You dinna need my permission, she will go wherever she wants.”

  “Aye,” said Leesil, “but she is not yet fully awake and a wife should at least tell her husband where she is going, so he does not fret. Hannish gets greatly annoyed when he does not know where I am.”

  “True,” said Dugan.

  “Then we may take her?” Cathleen asked.

  Dugan rolled his eyes. “When h
ave I ever denied the two of you anything?”

  Cathleen wrinkled her brow, leaned forward and looked at her sister. “Has he?”

  Leesil put a finger to her brow and tried to remember. “Not that I recall. Come, sister, we must ask Mr. Hannish to call for a driver.” At the same time, they both stood up and hurried to the door.

  After they were gone, Dugan couldn’t help but smile. “They like her,” he muttered.

  “Aye,” said Egan nodding. “Your wife just became a MacGreagor.”

  Dugan nodded back. “And they just asked you to drive for them.”

  Egan chuckled, “That they did.”

  *

  Egan took the sisters and Beverly to town and dropped them off, while he picked up the butlers and their wives at the train station and took them home. When he returned, it wasn’t hard to see that Beverly was completely overwhelmed. Egan loaded all the packages on the back of the buggy and then helped the ladies aboard. He climbed up to the driver’s seat and then looked back to make sure they were ready. With no top on this buggy, it was easy to see Leesil’s nod and to hear what was going on in the back. He gently eased the horses away from the general store.

  “Tomorrow, we shall come again. You are in need of shoes, two pair, I think,” Leesil said.

  “‘Tis too much, Mrs. MacGreagor,” Beverly said. She wasn’t quite certain what to make of them. In some ways, they were such children. Dugan said they grew up in an orphanage, but she didn’t expect them to be that immature.

  “‘Tis not too much for our teacher,” said Cathleen. “We mean to soften you up so you will give us high marks.”

  “Aye, but you might leave a little for the peasants,” Beverly said. She was suddenly terrified she had offended them, but both began to roar with laughter and even the driver chuckled.

  *

  Despite Beverly’s protests, the sisters hauled her to town each day, until she was fully clothed, and also chose yard goods so the MacGreagor seamstress could make more. Beverly, they soon learned, was not a conventional teacher with books, paper and pen, but liked to take them on long walks instead. She gave them the Gaelic name for things just as mothers did with their children.