Marblestone Mansion, Book 9

by Marti Talbott

  He quickly forced that image out of his mind.

  As he walked down the street, some of the people seemed to be watching him while others, he guessed, were pretending not to be. Since they did not yet know what was in the book, he dismissed it as his imagination. Perhaps they always watched him and he just hadn’t noticed before. He mustered his courage, tipped his hat to the ladies and continued down the street to the post office. He mailed several letters to the company’s suppliers, and then walked to the Colorado Springs newspaper office.

  “Mr. MacGreagor, what can I help you with?” the managing editor asked as he stretched out his hand. The newspaper office was no different than any other in the country. Piles of old newspapers sat in a wooden box near the door and three desks in the four-desk office were littered with books, magazines, posters, letters, and more newspapers. The managing editor’s desk was the only one with enough cleaned off space to write and the books were stacked so high on one desk, Hannish could barely see the top of another man’s head. The room necessarily smelled of printer’s ink and obviously, some of it had come off on the editor’s hands. He wore suspenders with the sleeves of his stained white shirt rolled up, and Hannish noticed several ink splotches on his pants as well.

  “Mr. Clark, I have come to ask you to print an advertisement for me.”

  “Need more carpenters? My brother-in-law is looking…”

  “Nay, ‘tis not that sort of advertisement.” Hannish reached in his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a handwritten note. He handed it to Mr. Clark and then waited for his reaction.

  The surprised editor finally looked up. “Does this have anything to do with all the rumors my wife has been hearing?”

  “I suspect it does.”

  “Five thousand dollars is a lot of money. You must truly want her found, and quickly.”

  “Aye, we do. Will you print it?”

  “Why not?” He held up his hands and used his thumbs and index fingers to form an imaginary square. “I’m thinking six inches by six inches.” He scribbled some figures on a piece of paper, and then smiled. “That’ll be two dollars and fifty cents. I can do it smaller and cheaper, but it will attract more attention if it is large.”

  “That will be fine.” Hannish dug into his pocket, paid the fee, tipped his hat, and then walked out.

  As soon as he was gone, the editor motioned to his secretary, “Bill, get my wife on the telephone.”

  “Yes, Mr. Clark.”

  *

  News that a reward poster was coming out in the next edition of the paper spread even faster than word of the feud between Abigail and Provost MacGreagor. Three women actually called McKenna to see if she had heard about it. McKenna happily answered, “I helped write it. If you see Alexandra Sinclair, please do let us know right away.” McKenna smiled, hung up the telephone and went back to practicing her piano.

  Even more copies of the book were ordered from the bookshop and speculation ran rampant. Clearly half of the women hoped Alexandra Sinclair would come back just so they could connect a face to the name. Husbands, who had no real interest in the gossip, listened and then quickly tired of hearing about it. They had more important things on their minds, such as the coming income tax.

  *

  At Marblestone, the book was already causing a certain amount of upheaval. The servants finished reading the book and talked of little else. The Scots found it irritating, while some of the Americans, who did not already know about the duchess, found it a little frightening. Just as the family feared, some wondered who would hire them after having been associated with such a notorious family.

  With the heat increasing, the MacGreagor sisters and Laura did their sewing, baby tending and talking in the downstairs sitting room where it was cooler for the better part of the day. After the sun began to set, and before it went behind Pikes Peak, the room heated up considerably and the women moved to the shade in the front of the house.

  It was outside that Stella, Karen and Harriett came to say goodbye.

  “That makes three,” said Leesil after the servants boarded the carriage so Dugan could drive them to town.

  “Four,” said Cathleen. “John tendered his resignation to Prescot this morning. He says he is needed on his father’s farm.”

  Leesil rolled her eyes. “Well, ‘tis as good an excuse as any, I suppose.”

  “Never mind, sister, we dinna need them anyway.”

  “Indeed not,” Laura agreed. “You could manage with half the staff you have now.”

  “‘Tis Hannish’s fault we have more than we need,” Cathleen said. “The lad has such a good heart, he can turn no one away.”

  Leesil shrugged. “True. I should have expected some of the servants to leave us, but not Harriett.”

  Cathleen held her embroidery up to the sunlight, decided her last stitch would do, and took another. “Harriett is but going to take care of her mother. She holds nothin’ against us.”

  Leesil sighed. “Perhaps you are right.”

  “At least all the Scots are staying,” Laura reminded them.

  “And most of the others,” Cathleen added.

  Just then, Head Housekeeper Julia came out of the foyer door. “Miss Leesil, I…”

  “What is it, Julia? Is something amiss?”

  Julia smiled. “Not at all. Miss Leesil, I have been thinking of this since Miss Gloria got hurt. As you may recall, I was once a nurse. Doctor McCormick has asked me to take a position with him. He needs my help, you see, and…”

  “Of course he does,” Leesil graciously said as she stood up. “When are you leavin’?”

  “I thought I might go in the morning, if it is alright with you. I must find lodging in town, and…”

  “So you shall, on one condition,” said Leesil.

  “What?” Julia asked.

  “That you come see us whenever you can.”

  Julia smiled and welcomed Leesil’s hug. After she was gone, Leesil sat back down and sighed again. “Six.”

  “We shall manage,” said Cathleen. “You can do the washing and I’ll beat the carpets. ‘Tis not as though we have forgotten how.”

  Leesil laughed. “Why must I always do the washing?”

  “Because you are better at it than I.” Cathleen laughed when Leesil stuck her tongue out at her.

  For a long time they each concentrated on their sewing. Three of the little ones were playing in the yard with Nanny Beverly keeping a close eye on them. A bald eagle flew over the mansion from north to south, and Cathleen stopped to watch until it was out of sight.

  She went back to her embroidery, and then set it in her lap again. “Sister, I sometimes think Cameron wants to go home.”

  “Back to Scotland?” Leesil asked.

  “Aye. Have you not heard our husbands late at night?”

  “Nay,” said Leesil, “what are they up to?”

  Cathleen answered, “They want to rebuild the castle.”

  “And for that, they want to be there?” Leesil sighed. She set her sewing aside too. “Do you imagine Hannish would truly leave Marblestone?”

  “I know not, but…”

  Leesil reached over and took her sister’s hand. “I want to go home too, but Mother is here as is Provost MacGreagor and the rest of the clan.”

  “Take them with you,” Laura suggested.

  “We could, if they are willing,” Cathleen said.

  Laura smiled. “I can think of nothing I would like better than to have all of you close again.”

  “Tis something to consider, at least,” Leesil agreed. “As long as it dinna mean we sisters are to be separated again. I dinna think I could bear it.”

  The next day, the sisters held their breaths but there were no more resignations. The butlers shifted the servant’s duties to make certain everything was handled and their wives, Millie and Sarah, offered to fill in on special occasions. If that was the worst that happened because of the book, they would be fortunate indeed.

  CHAPTER 8r />
  By the time James finally completed the 180 mile journey from Bristol to Liverpool, England, he was exhausted. The network of docks bustled with life, the same as it did every day, and it was not easy making his way from the train station through the crowds to the piers. Buggies, carriages and automobiles brought travelers to waiting ships, while other vehicles took arriving passengers away. Men shouted, confused children cried, and women scurried to get them aboard, while ship’s crews answered questions and tried to regulate it all.

  James carefully made his way to the outskirts of the crowd, and found a place to stand in front of a fence overlooking the water. It felt good to stand up, and as he took in the fresh sea air, he thought of her. He watched as tugboats maneuvered huge vessels up the wide River Mersey into the lagoons, and then to their assigned piers. Still, more tugs pushed and pulled other ships out of the lagoons, as passengers waved goodbye to friends and loved ones.

  He recognized the names of some of the passenger ships and hoped to get a position on one before his funds ran out. If not, he was well aware that goods arrived and departed by wagon or train, and kept dockworkers busy day and night loading and unloading cargo. Any position at all on a cargo ship would do just as well…as long as it was going to America.

  Ship engineering was the life James had worked so hard to become a part of, and on this day, it meant nothing to him. Nothing mattered now that Jillian was no longer his. Still, there was hope – hope of seeing Leesil and Cathleen again, hope of learning a new occupation, and hope of loving another…if it was actually possible to forget a woman he loved as deeply and completely as he loved Jillian.

  *

  For three days, James slept in a hotel, ate very little, walked from dock to dock, talked to crews, and attempted to secure a position aboard a ship bound for America. He was running out of money and was about to consider signing on to a ship bound for anywhere, when he heard the RMS Celtic of the White Star Line was short a second assistant engineer. He did not walk – he ran for the pier and quickly signed on. The ship’s crew was just as happy to see him, as he was to climb the stairs and board the ship.

  A second assistant engineer was a level below what he was qualified to do, but it paid well enough, and he needed the money so he could take the train from New York to Colorado. His duties included periodic safety inspections, and maintenance of boilers, pumps and any other mechanical devices that needed watching. His was the third watch, but he did not care. It meant three square meals, sleep during the day, and nights that promised to be too busy to think of her.

  Standing on the deck with the passengers, James watched as the tugs pulled the RMS Celtic away from the dock, pushed her through the lagoon, and then into the River Mersey. Next, he felt the vibration beneath his feet as the engines started to turn the massive screws. Under its own power, the ship sailed out of the mouth of the river and into the Irish Sea. At length, it rounded the cliffs of Holyhead, entered St. George’s Channel and navigated past Wales. It was not until he recognized the mouth of the River Avon in the Bristol Channel, that he could bear it no more, and forced himself to turn away.

  Before him lay the vast Atlantic Ocean and the new life he intended to fill with hard work. Yet, behind him was the woman he loved and the land of his birth. He doubted he would ever see either again, and the ache in his heart grew worse. More distraught than he had ever been, James looked back one last time, and then went inside.

  The HMS Celtic was over seven hundred feet long, weighed more than twenty thousand tons, and had two quadruple-expansion steam engines. Men shoveling coal into furnaces powered the engines that in turn, drove the two giant screws. The Celtic carried nearly three thousand passengers and crew.

  Work the first night was the hardest, for James could not sleep during the day. There were a multitude of dials and valves to keep abreast of, and some had been invented and installed since he was last on a ship. There was much to learn and when his shift ended, he nearly collapsed on a cot in the crew’s berthing. Fortunately, he had not had time to think of her…often.

  The second night, he was not as tired, and missed Jillian more. As hard as he tried to put her out of his mind, he could not shake the feeling that she still loved him.

  *

  In Marblestone’s library, Laura put her book face down on the table beside the sofa and smiled. “Come in, Blair. I was hoping we would have a moment alone to talk.” The early morning light was beginning to stream through the east facing windows and soon it would be too warm to spend much time there.

  “About what?” Blair asked as she began to peruse the book titles on the shelves. For nearly ten years, the MacGreagor collection of books had steadily increased, and some had already been given to the new town library so they could make room for more. As it was, the floor to ceiling bookcases along all four walls, were filled to capacity.

  “I wish to talk to you about your mother,” Laura answered.

  Blair giggled. “Which one?”

  “The one who gave birth to you.”

  “Oh, that mother.”

  Laura patted the place on the red velvet sofa next to her. “Blair, will you not come sit beside me?”

  “I suppose I am a little curious about her,” Blair said, doing as Laura requested, “but my word, how she does lie to everyone. I cannae say I am proud to be her daughter.”

  “I understand. We were once good friends, but Gormelia was always strong willed. If she wanted something, she let nothing stand in her way of getting it.”

  “She dinna want me. That much is clear.”

  “She did you a favor by not wanting you. From everything I have heard, Mr. Sinclair was a very good man, who would have taken great care of you had he lived.”

  “I believe that too. Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  “No, I wanted to explain your inheritance.”

  Blair lowered her gaze. “Is it very much?”

  “Well, it is enough to see that you never have to be without.”

  “How much is it?”

  “At the moment, it is one hundred thousand pounds, but it is in a bank where it shall gain interest until you are old enough.”

  “I see.”

  Laura brushed a strand of black hair off Blair’s forehead. “Edward wanted you to have it, but he also wanted to prevent your mother from getting her hands on it. Therefore, Cameron shall control the money for another ten years.”

  “In ten years, I shall be nearly twenty-five.”

  “That is the point. At twenty-five, you shall know how better to cope with the world. You must learn to be very cautious. There are men who will do anything to wed a woman with your kind of wealth.”

  “Men and women. Laura, you need not fret. I have read the book you know, and my mother’s quest for fortune and fame, as far as I can see, has done her little good.”

  “You are quite wise for your age, but you cannot yet know how falling in love makes women blind to the faults of men.”

  “Were you blind to Edward’s faults?”

  Laura giggled, “Not as blind as I might otherwise have been, for I was not immediately attracted to him. In the beginning, I thought if he was stupid enough to marry your mother, I would be wise to avoid him at all costs. I confess, I did not go easily into his arms. Fortunately, he did not give up.”

  “And I am the better for it. You are my mother too, you know.”

  Laura was so pleased, she gave Blair a hug. “How proud I am to be.”

  “That makes three fathers and three mothers, not counting that awful Mrs. Sinclair. But Laura, are you suggesting I cannae trust any lad?”

  “Not at all. There is nothing so glorious as being in love when you are truly loved in return. I loved Edward madly right up to the end. I still do and although losing him is devastating, I would not change the years we had together for all the wealth in the world.”

  “Well then…third mother, how do I know if I am truly loved, or if a lad simply convinces me of it, so he can get h
is hands on my money?”

  “For one thing, you can say the money is in trust and you shall not have control of it until you are…thirty or perhaps even forty. A man, who is desperate for money this very moment, will likely never darken your door again. If he comes back, then perhaps you shall know he truly loves you.”

  “I see.” Blare said.

  “We are agreed then? We shall tell the world you shall not inherit until you are forty, and keep the truth just between the two of us?”

  Blair wrinkled her brow. “We shall have to tell Father.”

  “True, and Cathleen, but only the four of us shall know the truth.”

  “Not sisters or brothers, not cousins, aunts and uncles, just the four of us?”

  “Just the four of us. Brothers and sisters talk out of turn occasionally.”

  “Laura, why do I get the feeling there is more to this than you are saying.”

  Laura sighed. “How perceptive you are. It is another twenty-five years before you reach forty. How old do you imagine Gormelia to be by then?”

  “How old is she now?”

  “I am not certain, but she is older than I, and I am thirty-five, which would make me sixty in twenty five years. She must be at least five years older and…”

  “And dead by the time I inherit?”

  “Possibly. Whatever happens, I do not envy you the situation if she comes to you. The duchess can be quite inventive and persuasive, and…”

  “And she is my mother.”

  “Yes. I know you well enough to know you could not see her alone and on the streets with no place to live. Therefore, if she shows up, might I suggest you offer her an allowance?”

  “How much?”