“Someone on the train said a whole town burned,” McKenna mentioned.
“You mean Colorado City? Indeed it did,” Abigail answered. “But everyone got out in time.”
“Oh, good,” McKenna breathed.
Claymore nodded his agreement. “Still, that brought builders, and naturally, another union to organize them. I tell you, we shall never see the end of it. Now the unions think they can do no wrong. Last year, the Daily press, owned by the union I might add, got the miners to vote union members into public office. Then, they decided Cripple Creek needed a county of its own, thus we live in El Paso County, and our mines are in Teller County. Very clever of them, for we would never vote their members into office here.”
Abigail leaned closer to McKenna. “The miners steal the gold,”
McKenna gasped. “Do they now?”
“Yes, well we put an end to that,” Charles said. “We hired Pinkerton guards.”
Hannish noticed his sister was hardly touching her meal and instead kept her hands in her lap. Charles was still gawking at her, and if it hadn’t been for Abigail and Claymore, he would have thrown Charles out. He held his ire for their sakes, but it wasn’t easy.
“Yes, and the miners walked out, as you may recall, Charles,” Claymore was saying. “On this point, the unions did us a favor. The miners are now searched as they leave, by other miners, in front of a Union watchman.”
“What has upset the miners now?” Hannish asked.
“There are rumblings, there always are. I believe the unions want a wage increase, and why are we surprised about that? I tell you, Hannish, you were a wise man to get out when you did. The Unions will be the death of us, and I am not the only one who thinks so.”
Charles had a way of eating without taking his eyes off McKenna and she’d had enough of it. “Brother, I believe I feel a headache coming on. Will you be very upset if I go up to bed?”
“Of course not.” He stood, walked her out the door and then across the parlor to the bottom of the stairs. “What a dreadful man,” he whispered. “He’ll not be coming back if I have anything to say about it.”
McKenna gave him a quick hug. “But I like Abigail very much.”
Hannish sighed and watched her climb the stairs. “So do I.”
*
No one heard his horse approach or expected it when Charles Whitfield came to call the next morning. He rang the bell, did not bother to wait for the butler, walked right in and nearly ran over a surprised Alistair. “Tell Miss MacGreagor I am here.”
“Very good, Sir.” When Alistair heard footsteps behind him, he stopped and turned around. “If you would be so good as to wait here, Sir.”
“I hope to surprise her.”
“She is not fond of surprises, if you will just...”
“I will not.”
Reluctantly, Alistair led the way to the small sitting room where McKenna was sipping tea and looking through her copy of the catalog. “Miss McKenna, Mr....”
“McKenna, but you do look all aglow this morning.” Charles interrupted, walking past Alistair to the center of the room. “I trust your headache is gone and you slept well.” He finally remembered to take off his tall, round hat and hand it to the butler. “What is your name again?”
“Alistair, Sir.”
“You may go, Alistair.”
“He stays,” McKenna said, closing the catalog.
“Must he? I wished to speak to you alone.”
“About what?”
Charles glanced at the defiant looking Alistair and straightened his shoulders. “I have come to take you to the Garden of the Gods.”
“Thank you, no. I dinna wish to see them.”
“Everyone goes to see them and you will not be disappointed. They are very fine rock formations.”
“Are they marble?”
“Well, no, they are sandstone, I believe.”
“Then I dinna wish to go.”
Charles quickly sat in a chair opposite her. “Perhaps you would rather see...”
“Mr. Whitfield, I found your behavior last night unpardonable. I dinna wish to go anywhere with you, or ever see you again. Please leave.”
“You will change your mind, once you learn how much I am to inherit when my father dies.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Poor Mr. Whitfield, does he know you wish him dead?”
“I do not wish him dead.”
“But you shall not be wealthy until he is, am I right?”
“I...suppose not,” Charles stammered.
“Perhaps you might do a little of your own prospecting. I hear there are mountains aplenty between here and California. Surely, several have gold for the takin’. Then you shan’t have to wait until he dies.”
“Ah, but I could not deprive myself of your beauty for that long.”
His grin was just as disgusting as it had been the night before, and she was tempted to throw her catalog at him. “Please leave.”
“You will change your mind about me, just you wait and see.” With that, he got up, grabbed his hat away from Alistair, and left the room.
McKenna watched Alistair hurry after Charles and shook her head. “How does a despicable child come from such very fine parents?” She jumped when she heard the front door slam.
By the time Alistair returned to the kitchen to finish his breakfast, every quizzical eye was on him and he might have made light of it, had he not been so incensed. “Charles Whitfield. When Mr. MacGreagor hears, he will...”
“Hears what?” Hannish asked, walking into the kitchen as he usually did in the mornings. “Who was at the door?”
“Mr. Charles Whitfield. I tried to prevent him, but he demanded to see Miss McKenna and followed me to the sitting room.”
Hannish narrowed his eyes. “What did he want?”
“To take her to The Garden of the Gods, but she refused him. He vowed she would soon change her mind and left.”
“‘Tis not the first time I have had to save my sister from a wretch like that. We best be more alert. If he is that brazen, she might just shoot him.”
“I hope she does,” Dugan muttered.
Hannish looked at Dugan and grinned. “From now on, I shall have my potatoes mashed just the way you did for Charles Whitfield.” He accepted the cup of tea from Jessie and went to find McKenna. Behind him, he could hear the servants laughing.
*
It happened on the evening of the next day, and everyone was tired. A quick evening meal was in order and then rest. McKenna and her brother had just taken their places at the dinner table and Keith was about to serve, when Charles Whitfield walked into the dining room. “Good evening.” He pulled the chair opposite McKenna away from the table and sat down. “Dinner looks divine.”
It took a moment for Hannish to grasp what had just happened, and as he slowly stood up, Prescot and Alistair rushed into the room.
“Forgive me, Mr. MacGreagor, he slipped past me,” said Prescot.
Hannish raised his hand to silence the butler and glared at Charles. “If ever you enter my house again without an invitation, my lads have permission to shoot you on sight.”
Charles stayed where he was and grinned at McKenna. “But I feel so at home here.”
Hannish gritted his teeth. “Dinna make me throw you out.”
Fearing what might happen, McKenna quickly got up and went to stand behind Alistair. She had seen her brother’s wrath before and it frightened even her. At the same time, Keith realized he best get out of the way and backed into one of the sideboards, knocking the clock over.
Still undaunted, Charles tried to look around Alistair. “McKenna, tell him I am welcome here.”
“Miss MacGreagor to you!” In one swift movement, Hannish grabbed Charles by the coat, yanked him to his feet and with a fierce glare shouted, “Get out of my house, and dinna come back!” He was tempted to toss the smaller man across the room, but thought better of it. Just as abruptly, he let go, nearly causing Charles to los
e his balance and fall over the chair. “Prescot, get him out of here afore I kill him.”
Prescot hurried around the table, grabbed one arm just as Alistair took the other, and together they hauled a shocked Charles out of the dining room. “Wait until my father hears about this!” Charles shouted.
Prescot released the man once they got him out the front door, but Alistair shoved as hard as he could, making Charles stumble, fall off the steps and land face first on the grass. “I am an excellent shot and I shall not miss!” Alistair warned. He dusted off his hands, followed Prescot back inside, and intentionally slammed the door.
The ruckus caused all of the servants to rush into the dining room, just as Hannish wrapped his arms around his trembling sister. “I dinna mean to frighten you so.”
“He threw Charles Whitfield out,” Keith explained to calm the others.
“Are you hurt, Miss McKenna?” Sassy asked, walking around Hannish to see for herself.
“Nay, I am fine, Sassy.” She took a deep breath, kissed her brother’s cheek, and smiled to reassure him. “I had forgotten you’ve a temper when you feel the need to protect me.”
“I had almost forgotten myself.” He took her back to the table and seated her.
Keith turned the knocked over clock upright on the sideboard and straightened the rumpled table scarf. His nerves were not in much better shape than McKenna’s were. He had seen the MacGreagor temper once before, and wasn’t sure Charles would live through it.
“He’ll not be back,” Prescot said, walking back into the dining room.
“You are wrong,” said Hannish. “Be on your guard, for his kind does not give up easily.”
The next day, the whole household waited for an angry Claymore Whitfield to come and protest his son’s treatment. He did not come, and everyone guessed Charles wisely decided not to tell his father.
*
It was four days after the Scots arrived before a rider brought a telegram to the mansion from Duchess Olivia MacGreagor. She had not yet left New York City, but promised to arrive on the 14th. In the foyer, Hannish handed the telegram to his sister, took off his jacket, handed it to Prescot and walked out the front door.
McKenna slowly read the telegram and then sighed, “Another fortnight.”
A perplexed Prescot asked, “Where does he go?”
“Where he always goes when he is enraged,” McKenna answered, “to chop wood. No doubt he will have chopped enough to see us all through winter by the time we see the end of this.”
“Two weeks?” Alistair muttered. “What is she up to?”
“I have been thinking about that.” McKenna began to wander into the parlor and both butlers followed her. “How did she choose who to bring and who to leave behind?”
“How?” Alistair asked.
“She brought the ones who would not tell him, first because they fear her, and second because all of you love him too much to hurt him.”
Alistair nodded. “She is right on that account.”
“Aye, but Olivia dinna know I was on the ship until after it sailed, and by then it was too late to hide our dear Mr. Graham. She dinna believe she could keep me quiet, so what does she do?”
“What?” Prescot asked.
Alistair shook his head in disgust. “She waits to see if her husband has heard and will telephone to accuse her. ’Tis just the sort of thing she would do.”
“That is what I think too,” said McKenna, “but she does not know Hannish well enough. He will not telephone; he will wait until he can see the truth in her eyes.”
“He might believe her excuses,” Alistair cautioned. “She has very clever ways of getting what she wants, especially from her unsuspecting admirers.”
Prescot gasped. “She has more than one?”
Alistair glanced back to make sure Hannish was not nearby. “You dinna hear that from us.”
“Of course not,” Prescot said. “How could his wife be so heartless?”
McKenna folded the telegram back up and put it in her pocket. “I assure you, she has no heart.”
*
Everywhere Sassy was, Keith seemed to be also, but she ignored him for the most part. He was not an unpleasant looking man. In fact, if she did not find his too obvious smiles annoying, she might have fancied him a little. Happy were the days when Keith had plenty to do.
Aside from that, there was the problem of getting her hands on a catalogue. Each time she reached for one, someone else got to it first. There was the one in her employer’s study, but she was certain she was not to go in there without asking. Still, after he went to bed and McKenna was asleep, Sassy lit a candle, slipped down the back stairs, through the empty kitchen, across the dining room, the parlor and into the study. As quietly as a mouse, she closed the door, turned on the lamp and there it was, right in the middle of his roll top desk.
An hour later, her eyes and mind were filled with glorious things she never imagined existed, and she thought about it long and hard before she took his fountain pen and put a check mark beside the delicate figurine of a grand lady in a pink ball gown. She put everything back the way it was, turned out the light, picked up the candle and, as quietly as she entered, went out the door and back upstairs.
Sassy quietly closed the door to her room, changed into her nightshirt and carefully hung the frock Charlotte finally finished hemming in her small closet. Each night, she still moved her bowl and pitcher of water to a different location on her dresser, and then checked first thing in the morning to see if it pleased her. This night was no different and before she could think of sleeping, she put the bowl on one side and the pitcher on the other. At last, her day was finished and she could rest.
*
Hannish was not a stupid man and he prayed what he suspected was not true, but just in case, he did not intend to let his wife get away with much more. He spent the next morning in his study drafting a very important letter, sealed it and then called for his horse. He rode to town alone, posted the letter at the post office, and then sent two cablegrams: one to the captain of the ship his wife arrived on, and the other to an old friend - his banker in Scotland. He said not a word about his dealings to anyone when he got home, and simply went about checking lists and ordering what they needed to fill the mansion.
Two days later, McKenna asked to go to town. She hoped to find patterns, embroidery threads and a few yards of white linen to help her pass the time, especially in the evenings. Bored with his lists and invoices, Hannish decided to go with her. The sun was shining, the air smelled of lilacs, and with Shepard driving the red carriage, the leisurely ride was a pleasant one.
Hannish took her to the general store, went inside with her, introduced her to the owner, and directed him to put anything she wanted on his bill. While she shopped, Shepard drove him to the telegraph office where he sent two more inquiries to Scotland. Once that was accomplished, he went to the bank, withdrew some cash and told them to expect a very large deposit.
However, when Shepard pulled the carriage to a stop in front of the general store, McKenna was outside standing between two of his friends, Simon Merth and Gregory Goodwin. She was furious and they were trying to calm her down with little success. “What is it?” He asked as soon as he opened the carriage door.
She tossed her packages into the carriage and then let him help her climb inside. “It matters not.”
Hannish was not happy with that answer and turned a questioning eye on the two men. “Charles Whitfield accosted her,” Mr. Merth answered.
Hannish narrowed his eyes. “Accosted her how?”
Mr. Goodwin looked as angry as McKenna did. “He blocked her way and would not let her leave the store.”
“Did he touch her?” Hannish asked.
Mr. Merth nodded, “He had ahold of her arm.”
“Brother, I am quite all right. Let it pass,” McKenna pleaded.
Hannish ignored her. “Where is he?”
Mr. Goodwin answered, “Where he always is; in t
he hotel lounge with his friends, pestering Margaret Ann.”
“Wait here, McKenna,” said Hannish. “Shepard, stay with her.”
“Yes, Mr. MacGreagor.” Shepard tied the reins and climbed down to stand by the door of the carriage.
“Where are you going?” McKenna asked, leaning her head out of the carriage window. It was too late. All she could do was watch her brother walk down the middle of Main Street, climb the steps, and disappear under the archway entrance of the Antlers Hotel. Not wanting to miss watching Charles get what he deserved, Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Merth hurried after him.
*
Charles Whitfield never saw it coming. A doubled up fist hit him square in the eye and sent him flying across the room. Men sitting at a table managed to get out of the way just in time, before his hurled body knocked over the table, two chairs, and a bottle of whiskey.
Hannish MacGreagor’s glare was fierce when he pulled Charles to his feet, and the look in his eyes left no doubt that he was willing to make good on his next threat, “You come near my sister again and I will shoot you!” This time, he gave into his urge, shoved hard and tossed Charles backwards over a second table. On his way out, he nodded to the bartender, “Send the bill to me.”
“Yes, Mr. MacGreagor.”
With that, Hannish stomped out of the hotel.
Behind him, a thoroughly embarrassed Charles sat up and put a hand over his swelling eye. “He will regret this day. I swear he will.” He failed to notice the grins on the faces of Mr. Merth, Mr. Goodwin, and Margaret Ann.
*
They were halfway home before either of them spoke. “Did you get what you wanted from the store?” Hannish asked after he had calmed down. “We can go back...”
“I managed to buy enough for now. Did you kill him?”
“Nay, he will live to accost someone else’s sister.”
“I am relieved. What do we tell Claymore and Abigail? He will surely complain to them this time.”
“He’ll not need to complain, the whole town will hear soon and someone will tell them. Do you suppose they do not know what sort their son is?”
McKenna signed. “Most mothers think their sons can do no wrong. My mother did.”
At last, he smiled. “True, but if we ever behaved that deplorably, she would have made certain we suffered for it.”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 1 (Scandalous Duchess Series, #1) Page 5
