“As do I,” Leesil agreed.
Getting more and more upset, Abigail put her hand on her chest. “Laugh if you will, but I take this calamity quite seriously. How are we to face them once they know? We shall be the talk of the town and no doubt jeered at wherever we go.”
“We shall weather the storm, my dear. We have managed so far,” Claymore assured his wife. “If need be, we shall stay and fight to the bitter end.”
“How?” McKenna asked.
“That is what we have gathered to decide,” said Hannish. He directed his next question to Cathleen. “Has Blair read the book yet?”
“I believe so, but she does not say a word.”
“Fortunately, the book does not mention her and for that, I am most grateful,” Cameron said.
“As am I,” Cathleen agreed. “So long as no one knows Alexandra Sinclair is her mother, she shall not be made to suffer.”
Hannish moved his chair back a little so he could cross his legs. “Perhaps I should simply tell our side before the book is read.”
“What is our side precisely?” Leesil asked her husband.
Hannish ran his fingers through his hair and thought for a moment. “My side is in choosing the wrong wife, and not divorcing her before I married again.”
Laura shook her head. “Hannish, are you not aware Edward and I knew, and could have warned you before you married her?”
“Why did you not?” Abigail wanted to know.
“We did not know the MacGreagors well, and feared they might expose Edward’s foolishness. It was a mistake we have both regretted. If anyone is to blame, it is the two of us, and if there is any public speaking to be done, I should be the one to do it.”
“Well, I could not let you do that,” said Cameron. “The last thing I would ever allow is for this town, or any other, to make a public spectacle of Edward’s wife.”
“I agree,” both Hannish and Leesil said at the same time.
“What then? We must say something in our defense,” said Abigail. She looked from face to face, but no one said a word.
“Sister,” Cathleen said at length, “do you recall what we did to Old Mrs. Forthright when she threatened to take away our book learnin’ privileges?”
Leesil laughed. “Aye, we told all the children she had three legs.”
“What?” a confused Mother O’Connell asked. “There’s a story I have not yet heard.”
Cathleen giggled, “We said she hid the short leg under her skirt and more than one lay down on the floor trying to get a peek at it. Billy even lifted her skirt.”
“Indeed, he did,” Leesil said. “She swatted him good, but she forgot her threat to punish us.”
“Forgive me,” said Samuel, “but what has that to do with this problem?”
“Well, little brother,” Cathleen answered, watching the glint in her sister’s eye, “it was a case of us attacking before she could. We managed to fluster her so severely, she stayed away most of the day.”
“Attack the validity of the book before anyone reads it?” Ben asked, slowly nodding his head. “I can see how that might work.”
“Attack it how?” Claymore asked.
There was silence once more until Judge Mitchell cleared his throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen, shall we not offer a reward for the capture of one Alexandra Sinclair?”
“What?” Abigail screeched. “Why on earth would we want her captured?”
“That is just it,” said the judge, “we do not, we just want the town to think we do.”
“I am not understandin’. How would that help?” Hannish asked.
The judge took a sip of his wine before he answered, “If we charge her with a crime, it will give the appearance that she lied.”
“What crime?” Hannish asked.
“Bigamy, naturally,” said Leesil.
The judge smiled, “I was thinking more along the lines of suing her for defamation of character.”
“What is that?” Gloria asked.
“Well, it is when someone says something deemed slanderous, and is intentionally meant to be harmful,” the judge answered.
Leesil slumped. “That will not work. Everythin’ she said about my husband is true.”
“Mine too,” Laura agreed.
Hannish frowned. “I dinna imagine everythin’ the book says is true, but…”
“It matters not,” the judge explained. “We have no intention of going to trial.”
“Oh, I see what you are up to now,” said McKenna, “it matters not if there are lies in the book, only that we say we are going to sue her. My husband has a devious side after all.” She grinned, leaned over and briefly put her head on his shoulder. “I adore you more every day.”
“Wait, what are we to say when asked exactly what in the book is a lie?” Gloria asked.
“We say they shall know everything when we go to trial,” the judge answered.
“A trial that never comes?” Mother O’Connell asked. She watched Ben get up, grab a bottle off a serving tray and begin to pour another round of dinner wine.
Normally shy even around the family, Francis muttered, “So long as no one captures her.”
“It cannot work…can it?” Claymore asked.
Abigail shifted her eyes to the left and then to the right. “It might. They shall gossip about us no matter what we say or do. A pending lawsuit and our refusal to talk about it, would give them something to say in our favor.”
“I think it might work too,” said Laura.
Cameron nodded. “‘Tis right dead brilliant, Judge.”
“Unless she is caught,” Francis reminded them a second time.
“She is likely back in Europe by now anyway,” said Laura.
“How big a reward?” Hannish asked.
“What does it matter, we’ll not likely have to pay it,” said Cameron.
“Five thousand dollars,” Abigail suggested. “It is a lot of money and a lot of money makes us more believable. I might enjoy hearing what everyone in town supposes we are upset about.”
“Abigail,” Claymore scolded, “I forbid you to listen…”
“Oh, Claymore, you know very well you cannot stop me. And are you not always eager to hear what I have to report each evening?”
Claymore looked Hannish in the eye. “I am caught, it seems.”
When everyone laughed, Gloria said, “We love you anyway, Father.”
Hannish was thoughtful for a moment. “Very well, five thousand.”
Laura took a deep breath and let it out. “Is it not interesting that most of the men named in the book are now passed away and cannot defend themselves?”
“How many?” Gloria asked.
“Well, there was George Graham, her first husband,” Laura explained. “Then Mr. Sinclair, my Edward, and the bank robber who was killed in a shootout.”
“Jedidiah Tanner, I believe was his name,” Claymore said.
“We stood right next to Jedidiah Tanner in the park and never once suspected he was a bank robber,” Cathleen admitted.
“Aye, we did,” said Leesil. “Mr. Tanner stole all her money and her jewels when he left her at the Antler Hotel that day.”
“Someone stole from her?” an astounded Laura asked. “How delightful.”
“Not that delightful,” said Leesil, “Hannish had to give her money to get her to leave Colorado Springs.”
Hannish still had his brow wrinkled. “What do we say in the reward notice?”
“Wanted for defamation of character,” Judge Mitchell suggested.
“Aye, but what else must it say?” asked Hannish.
The judge nodded. “You should give a description of her and where she was last seen.”
“She was last seen in my sitting room,” Abigail indignantly blurted out.
“Have you forgotten Cleveland?” Laura asked.
Abigail sighed. “Oh, good, that’s a comfort.”
“I doubt she is still there,” said McKenna, “but if she is, we dinna
want her found, remember? Let us say Atlanta or…”
“Yes, but let us not make up a falsehood,” Leesil said.
“New York City, then,” Cameron suggested. “She was truly in their lunatic asylum…for six glorious years.”
“I like that better,” said Leesil.
“Me too,” Cathleen agreed.
Laura was still giggling over the duchess being robbed when she thought of something. “The book describes the duchess as beautiful. If we do not want her caught, we best describe her as ordinary in appearance.”
“With red hair?” Gloria asked. She shook her head when Ben offered to refill her glass.
“How did she manage that, do you suppose?” Cathleen asked.
“Henna,” Mother O’Connell said. “I have seen others do it that way, but the red turns to brown after a few days.”
“We must say black hair, since it is likely brown by now,” said Leesil.
“Or gray,” Laura put in. “She is older than me and I am turning gray.”
“Yet,” Claymore said, “if she is found, can we truly sue her? The duchess did not actually write the book.”
His comment made everyone stop to consider what they were doing once more. Finally, Laura spoke up. “She collaborated, she must have.”
Cameron nodded. “Aye, she gave every detail to Solicitor Crisp, who did not publish the book either.”
“Maude Okerman got the manuscript third hand,” said Laura. “Can we not include Maude in this somehow and truly sue her?”
“Is no one else suin’ her?” Cathleen asked. “She named several others in the book.”
“I have not heard of any lawsuits,” Laura answered. “How I wish you had been there when Lord Okerman died.”
“Why, what happened?” Cathleen asked.
“It was quite a to-do,” Laura began. “Did I not write to you about it?”
“Not that I recall,” Leesil answered.
“Well, Lord Okerman was sitting in his chair reading the newspaper when the heart attack took him quite suddenly. His new wife of only two weeks inherited everything, including the house Maude Okerman lived in. Naturally, the new wife evicted the first wife, and Maude was none too pleased. They say she practically lived on the new wife’s doorstep claiming that Lord Okerman promised to maintain her expenses. Many of our acquaintances took to walking up and down the street in front of Lord Okerman’s manor, and witnessed Maude’s constant banging on the door. Then, also quite suddenly, Maude’s demands stopped and no one knew why. They say Maude carried a bundle away with her that last day, which we now know must have been the manuscript.”
“Well, someone certainly lied about Alexandra Sinclair’s marriage to Charles,” said Abigail. “When she was here…in my very own sitting room, she said they were never married and Charles says they were. I am enraged still that Charles did not warn us about the book.”
“My dear,” said Claymore, “he said he did not want to upset us.”
“Yes, but Charles does not know what happened to the wedding certificate. If only I had not burned all her things.”
Claymore drank the last drop of wine in his glass. “I wonder if perhaps Charles lied about being married to her.”
Abigail groaned. “Mr. Whitfield, I have never known our Charles to lie.”
“Mrs. Whitfield,” Claymore shot back, “if you believe he has always been completely honest with us, you must wear horse blinders.”
“Did Charles not divorce her before he married again?” Cathleen asked.
“So he said,” Claymore answered.
“I remind you, the book says she married Charles in a simple ceremony in Paris before her first arrest,” Laura said.
Abigail set her fork in her plate. “Then it matters not if he married her. The book claims he did, and that is what the people shall read. I had hoped we could declare that part untrue, at least.”
“My dear, what a splendid idea,” Claymore told his wife. “I say we call Charles and demand the truth. If he confesses that they did not marry, then she lied in the book, and we have grounds to sue Maude Okerman and the Publisher.”
“Here, here,” said Cameron.
“Something is amiss in our thinking,” said Gloria. Everyone stared at her while she gathered her thoughts. “Suppose someone hurts the duchess in an attempt to capture her. Blair might never forgive us.”
“She has a point,” said Cameron.
“I canna live with that either,” admitted Leesil. “I hate the duchess, I truly do, but I do not wish her harm.”
The judge folded his arms. “In that case, we must say she is to be unharmed, and taken to the nearest sheriff.”
“She shall not be found, I am certain of it,” Laura said. “If she had not called me in London, we never would have known she was in Cleveland.”
“I agree,” said Leesil. “We know not what name she is using either and if she marries again…”
“If she is married again, then her new husband will surely see the scar on her forearm,” Hannish said.
“True,” said Cameron, “Or anyone else in her new family. I have seen it and I am certain plenty of others have as well.”
“Yes,” said Judge Mitchell, “but will a new husband read the book?”
“If she is captured, can we not put a scarlet letter on her forehead?” Cathleen asked.
“I like that idea very much,” said Laura. She got up and walked to the window. “I am thinking of offering a reward for her in London. There is nothing she loves more than being part of London society, and such a thing would surely keep her out of my country.”
“I like the idea of the reward poster more and more,” said Leesil.
“If she is still in America and sees the reward notice in the newspaper, she will run,” Claymore thoughtfully said. “Yet to make certain she sees it, we would have to pay to have it put in every newspaper in the land. Have you any idea what that could cost?”
“Since when have you worried about the cost of anything?” Abigail asked.
“Since you decided to spend our entire fortune on our daughter’s wedding,” Claymore shot back.
“Oh, poo, she could marry fifty times and still not spend…”
“Fifty times,” said Gloria. “I shall marry only once, if you do not mind.” She changed her mind and held her glass out to Ben.
“Still,” said Claymore, “what will we do if the duchess is found?”
“I shudder to think,” said Hannish.
“Charge her with bigamy,” said McKenna. “Is that not what she is guilty of?”
“But most of her husbands are dead or in England,” Cameron reminded her.
“Mr. Nelson is not, if he is willing to be a part of it. And we can ask Charles to come home,” said Cameron. “Besides, she has already admitted guilt in the book. Once we have convicted her here, we shall send her off to England to face the courts there.”
“Where there are none left to testify against her,” said Laura as she turned back to face them.
“The Irishman has not passed, but he would likely rather not be a part of it,” Cameron admitted.
Hannish nodded. “And who can blame him for that? I would rather we not be a part of it too.”
“The gun,” Gloria whispered to Ben as he came to fill her glass.
“Aye,” Ben nodded. “Hannish, you best mention she wears a gun under her skirt for fear she shoots those tryin’ to capture her.”
“Good heavens, I forgot about that,” said Claymore. “We could cause the death of countless men. Perhaps this is not such an extraordinarily brilliant idea after all.”
Once more, everyone quietly contemplated their decision.
While his wife ate the last of her pudding, Judge Mitchell thoughtfully tapped his forefinger on the table. “We are forgetting that only the people in Colorado Springs need to see the wanted poster. Our intention is to attack her credibility before the book arrives, nothing more.”
“Yes,” said Abigail, “th
at is all we want. Therefore, we need not post the reward all over the country. No one is shot, the duchess will never see it, and Claymore is saved the expense.”
Claymore finally smiled at his wife. “I thank you for that, my love.”
“Then you agree we should post a reward?” Hannish asked his longtime friend.
Claymore heavily sighed, “We could possibly see a bad end to it, but I have no better idea.”
“If we do not truly want her found, why offer such a high reward?” Samuel asked.
“He has a point,” Cameron admitted. “A hundred dollars is more than I would be willin’ to pay to have her found.”
“Fifty makes more sense to me,” said Claymore.
“Perhaps a dollar will do,” said Abigail. It was the first time she felt like smiling all day.
“Five hundred is more than some lads make in six months,” Hannish pointed out. “Any more than that and men shall leave their happy homes to search for her.”
“Yet, a low reward might make the town suspect we do not truly want to find her,” said Leesil.
Laura giggled, “Suppose we end up with more than one Alexandra Sinclair?”
“‘Tis possible if our description of her is too vague,” Cathleen said.
“Now, I wonder if ‘twill work at all,” said Mother O’Connell.
“So do I,” said Ben as he finally set the empty bottle on the table, sat back down and reached for Gloria’s hand.
“Well, I am not dissuaded in the least,” McKenna boldly said. “Have we all forgotten the damage the duchess has done? Wherever she goes, whoever she touches, she leaves harm and misery behind. I lived with her for three years and thought her truly bound to my brother, so I said nothin’ of her infidelity. She was the talk of the village for all the wrong reasons, and I am still enraged when I think of it. I could tell stories about her that would split the hairs on your head.”
“Sweetheart,” said the judge, putting his hand over his wife’s, “do not upset yourself.”
“I cannae help it. I have stood by silently for too long while this family suffers the consequences of her selfishness. It is time to act and that is just what I mean to do?”
The judge looked worried. “What do you mean to do?”
“I mean to tell the town precisely what she did before they read the book.”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 9 Page 8
