Marblestone Mansion, Book 9

by Marti Talbott

  “Well, that is entirely up to you. You shall have a good understanding of what it takes to sustain life by then, and you shall know how much to allow her.”

  “I like that idea very much. Tell me if you know, what happened to her arm? I mean the book says she has a scar.”

  “That is true. Her father burned her arm to punish her.”

  Blair gasped. “How awful.”

  “He was a cruel man and I did not blame her for quickly marrying to get away from him.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “Has she ever loved anyone, do you suppose?”

  “I do not know,” said Laura. “I think she loves me…in her own way. Of course, I can usually see right through her devices and her manipulation. If it is not love, I think she at least admires that in me.”

  “I admire it in you too.” Blair kissed Laura’s cheek and got up. She headed for the shelf filled with books she was forbidden to read, looked back and winked at Laura. “Fret not, my first mother will likely have found another rich husband by the time I inherit.”

  Laura didn’t object when Blair slipped a book out of its place on the shelf, tucked it behind a fold in her skirt and walked out the door. “Fret not,” she muttered, “I do fret, darling Blair. You are more like your mother than any of us imagined.”

  *

  It was Tuesday and Leesil wasn’t looking forward to attending the weekly sewing circle at Abigail’s house. In fact, she dreaded it so, she felt like she might throw up.

  Hannish was already dressed and just putting on his shoes when she came out of the bathroom. “Potato soup?”

  Leesil giggled. “‘Tis your way of askin’ if I am with child again, is it not?”

  “Well, are you?”

  “I hope not. I should like a little rest, if you dinna mind.”

  He stood up, took her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I dinna mind if we have no more children at all. We have four and ‘tis plenty to keep track of.”

  “Except that you adore them most when they are little and you can haul them around the house.”

  “That I do. That I do.” He kissed her cheek and then let go of her. “Are you certain you are not ill, my love?”

  She went to her dressing table, sat down and started to brush the tangles out of her hair now that Harriet was no longer there to do it for her. “Not the way you think and I shall be much better after this day is over. I dread answerin’ all their questions, and there shall be plenty now that they have heard of the reward. Furthermore, I shall have to give my opinion of the duchess, and truly, what is there to say? I loathe her. I resent all that she has done to us, and I…”

  “My love, what bothers you most?”

  She put her brush down and turned to look at him. “I fear losin’ you most.”

  “Impossible, you shall not lose me, no matter what happens.”

  “You might be arrested, you know?”

  “Sweetheart, we have a judge in the family. He shall see to any legal problems we might have.”

  “Aye, but he is a judge, and therefore, he cannae represent us.”

  “Then he shall recommend someone he trusts who can. Besides, we cannae fret over what might be. Let us just be happy for what we have now.”

  Leesil smiled finally. “You are right, and I am very joyful for what we have.” She kept up a good face while he put on his jacket, but as soon as he left the room, her smile faded. Like her husband, she wasn’t at all certain they were doing the right thing. Too much could go wrong, especially when it concerned the duchess.

  *

  Abigail started her sewing circle not long after Claymore made his fortune in gold and built her a mansion on the hill. Yet, she was never uppity. She came from common stock and never forgot it. Some of the members of the circle had been with her since before they struck gold, and none of them came from wealth either. The ladies made quilts for the poor, organized bake sales and simply enjoyed each other’s company. At one time, they entertained the idea of running an orphanage, but that notion fell by the wayside. Instead, they donated money and quilts to the orphanage in Denver.

  As soon as all the ladies arrived and took off their hats, Abigail led the way to the dining room. Triangles, squares and circles of cloth, plus all the sewing supplies needed for making the quilts, was neatly set out on the table. Several pieces of cloth were already sewn together, making larger squares that would eventually be added to the width and the length of the quilt.

  Leesil was the last to join them, took a seat next to her sister at the end of the table, and hoped she did not look as fearful as she felt. She tried not to look at anyone, realized how foolish that was, and discovered none of them were watching her. She was relieved.

  “Have all of you met Lady Laura Bayington?” Abigail asked and then answered her own question. “I shall introduce you anyway. Lady Bayington, this is Mrs. Maude Goodwin. Her husband is a banker. Seated next to her is Mrs. Vivian Mabs, and next to her is our dear Loretta Swinton, Pearl Hughes, and of course, you know Mother O’Connell, McKenna, Gloria, Leesil and Cathleen.” She smiled, glanced around and realized she had skipped someone. “Oh dear me, I did not mean to ignore you. Mrs. Merth. Mrs. Merth’s husband manages the train station. I believe that is all.” Abigail nodded and then sat down.

  Laura smiled at each as they were introduced and then took a seat next to Abigail at the head of the table. Ample place settings of cloth napkins, teacups, forks and spoons had already been set out, and the footmen were beginning to offer tea and slices of fresh apple pie made from the first ripe apples of the season.

  “Should we have curtsied?” Pearl asked Laura.

  Laura had a sparkle in her eye when she answered. “It is a rather old fashioned custom greatly enjoyed by the British, but did you not win your independence from British customs?” She nodded her appreciation to the footman as soon as he finished pouring tea in her cup.

  “Is that what that nasty little war was all about?” Mrs. Mabs asked. “We are saved from curtsying?”

  Laura giggled. “That and taxes.” She mockingly put the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed. “My dear, we are still trying to make up the difference. Your little war robbed us of millions in taxes, you see.” She got them all to smile and hopefully eased Leesil’s apprehension a little.

  “Leesil,” Loretta Collins Swinton said in a more serious tone. “I can bear it no longer. There are rumors, of course you know that, and now that Hannish has posted a reward, well…” She paused and looked around to see if anyone was going to caution her.

  Leesil mustered all her courage. “Go on, Loretta, what?”

  “Well, it is just that I have not forgotten how Hannish came to my rescue when my husband…I mean, Slippery Jack Walker tried to trample me with his horse. I am yet wounded from all the unkind things people said about me at the time, and I cannot abide seeing it happen to you.”

  Leesil was genuinely grateful and relieved. “I thank you, but we shall manage somehow.”

  “Promise you shall call on me if you need anything…anything at all,” said Loretta.

  “I promise,” said Leesil. “I am certain this will pass for us, just as your troubles have now passed.” She accepted a cup of tea, and then added a teaspoon full of sugar from the bowl the footman held.

  Cathleen had never seen her sister add sugar to her tea, and suspiciously eyed her, but said nothing.

  “But, about the book?” Pearl asked.

  “Oh, that,” said Abigail as she stood up and busied herself handing out the precut pieces of cloth. “It is hardly worth mentioning.”

  Laura set her teacup down. “You wish to know if we know what is in the book?”

  “Well, yes, do you? There are rumors that…” Mrs. Mabs suddenly thought better of what she was about to say.

  “You need not be wary of broaching the subject. Do tell us about the rumors.” Laura said.

  “Well, I do not know all the particulars, but the book is said t
o mention Hannish MacGreagor and…and Charles Whitfield. Is it true?”

  Laura smiled. “It is true. My husband is mentioned as well, along with several other well-known members of London Society.”

  Loretta’s mouth dropped. “Then it is true?”

  “What is true?” Laura asked.

  “That the book is about…”

  “The book is about a bigamist,” Laura interrupted, “and how she nearly ruined all our lives.”

  Pearl asked, “Do we know her?”

  “Possibly,” Laura answered. “Abigail, does she know the duchess?”

  Mrs. Goodwin leaned a little to the left while the footman served her a piece of pie. “The duchess?” she asked, directing her question to Leesil. “Is that the one Hannish was first married to?”

  Leesil took a deep breath, lifted her teacup, blew on the hot liquid, and then tasted it. To her dismay, it was sweet. She ignored her grinning sister and finally answered, “Aye.”

  “Are you talking about the wife my husband saw get off the train one day,” Mrs. Merth asked, “and back on it the next? Mr. Merth didn’t think much of her, although he did say she was quite beautiful.”

  “What made him think little of her?” Gloria asked.

  “He said she got all up in arms over something, and nearly slapped the man loading her baggage,” Mrs. Merth answered. “My Simon was happy to see her go and told her so.”

  “I am not surprised,” said McKenna.

  “You know her?” Loretta asked.

  “Know her? I lived with her in the castle for three horrible years while Hannish was in Idaho minin’ silver.”

  “Why was it horrible?” Vivian Mabs asked.

  Leesil was beginning to relax a little. It was comforting to know Mr. Merth didn’t think much of the duchess either. He was a well-respected man in town and people would listen to him. Indeed, she was beginning to feel better already.

  “I heard she called Leesil a gutter rat,” Mother O’Connell was saying. She chose a needle, passed the needle cushion down, and then used scissors to cut a length of white thread off a spool. She seemed to be the only one who remembered what they were there to do.

  “She called me the same,” said Cathleen. “Children in orphanages are called that all the time in some circles.”

  “In the worst kind of circles,” Abigail said.

  Pearl said, “I heard Provost MacGreagor say something about a duchess the other day, but I thought he was talking about you, Cathleen.”

  Instantly indignant, Abigail put her hands on her hips. “What did that old goat say?”

  “Mother,” Gloria tried, “He is…”

  “Gloria, why do you always take his part against me?”

  “I do not always…do I?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Gloria bowed her head. “Forgive me, Mother, I do not mean to.”

  Hoping to rescue Gloria, Loretta asked, “How are the plans for the wedding going?”

  “I believe everything is done that can be done, until it is time to dress,” Gloria answered.

  “What was she truly like?” Pearl asked, directing her question to McKenna.

  “I dare say, there are not enough foul words in the English language to describe her adequately. We hated her,” McKenna answered. “Hannish and the duchess had been married but two weeks when he sailed for America. He had no notion what she was truly like, nor did we at first.”

  “Both you and Cameron lived with her?” Pearl asked.

  “Aye. ‘Twas before Cameron married Flora. God rest her soul.”

  “McKenna, are you certain we should tell them about her?” Abigail asked.

  “Dearest Abigail, I can be still no longer. The duchess…perhaps I should explain. She uses so many different names, one knows not what to call her. So we call her ‘the duchess’. The book calls her Alexandra Sinclair, but they are one and the same.”

  “Abigail, if you ask us not to repeat what we hear, none of us will,” said Loretta.

  “As far as I am concerned, you may tell everyone you know,” said McKenna. “‘Tis long past time to tell our side of the story. When she married Hannish, she said her name was Olivia.”

  “Oh, do tell us more,” Mrs. Merth said as she put the last bite of apple pie in her mouth.

  “Well, my brother had not been gone a day when she went shoppin’, although she knew Uncle left very little money for our existence. There were servants to pay, horses to feed and…well, you can guess what it costs to maintain a castle. Yet, she cared nothin’ for the runnin’ of the place and thought only of her own pleasure. She put everythin’ she could think of on my brother’s account, includin’ ball gowns fit for a queen. Before she was finished, she had a gown in nearly every color, save yellow which she claimed did not become her.”

  “Ball gowns? She attended balls without a husband?” Abigail asked.

  “As often as she could. I can think of only two balls she missed, and that was because she could not find a suitable escort.”

  “It is true,” Laura added, “she is very beautiful and men found her charm hard to refuse.”

  “Once she was dressed,” McKenna went on, “she practically begged for our compliments, which Cameron and I refused to give. She wore her girdle so tight, ‘tis a wonder she has not crushed her ribs.”

  Mrs. Goodwin said, “I have heard that tight girdles cause serious injury to some women.”

  “A gown of every color, and Hannish without the funds to pay for them?” Pearl asked. She was further shocked when McKenna nodded.

  “How very selfish of her,” Abigail said.

  “Indeed, she was most selfish,” said McKenna. “It was not long before the expenses began to add up, but she just tossed the notices in the hearth and watched them burn.”

  “What did Hannish say about that?” Pearl wanted to know.

  “We dinna tell him. Hannish was thousands of miles away and had enough to worry about. At the silver mine, he had men and equipment to consider. Cameron and I were forced to sell valuables just to pay the servants, only to discover she was not giving them the money we gave for their pay.”

  Cathleen folded her arms and beamed with pride. “Aye, but then Hannish sold the silver mine, built Marblestone, and found out what she was up to.”

  “How did he find out?” Mrs. Merth wanted to know.

  “Well…” McKenna was about to explain when Laura interrupted her.

  “I told him,” said Laura.

  “Told him what?” Mrs. Merth asked.

  “That the woman he thought was Olivia MacGreagor was already married when she married Hannish.”

  “She truly is a bigamist?” Mrs. Merth asked.

  “Seven times over,” said Cathleen.

  “That we know of,” Leesil added. “Sister, how many did she confess to in the book? Oh well, I’m sure they shall read it soon enough.”

  McKenna and Laura told them more of the story, and never had there been such horrified women than those at Abigail Whitfield’s Tuesday afternoon sewing circle. They talked about what they would do if they found out their husband was a bigamist, and they commiserated with Leesil for putting up with the first wife’s nonsense. Secretly, however, the ladies were suffering. What they were dying to do instead of chatting and sewing quilts, was leave so they could repeat every word they heard to everyone they knew. Therefore, when McKenna mentioned having to leave for her piano lesson, the guests departed in record haste.

  When they were gone, the MacGreagor and Whitfield ladies laughed.

  “Well done,” said Leesil as she slipped one arm around McKenna and the other around Laura.

  “I agree,” said Cathleen. “It should be all over town by midnight.”

  “How I longed to tell them she was right here in my very own house,” Abigail confessed.

  “Me too,” said Gloria, “but then they would ask why she came. We did well not to mention it, Mother.”

  “They did not even ask about Charles,” Abiga
il said.

  “They will,” said Laura. “Give them time. Next week, they shall have plenty of questions.”

  “I suppose so,” said Abigail. “Laura, have you any idea what kind of perfume the duchess wore? I hope never to make the mistake of buying it.”

  Laura went to the mirror to put her hat on and pin it in place. “I believe she got it in Paris. In fact, I believe my husband bought it for her.” She turned around and grinned at Abigail. “He hated it, but other men apparently like it well enough.”

  Abigail turned up her nose. “The lot of them should be put away.” She suddenly caught her breath, “We forgot to tell them she was lately in an asylum.”

  Leesil pondered that idea for a moment and then smiled. “Abigail, I hereby put you in charge of telling about the asylum. After all, you were hardly allowed to say a word this afternoon.”

  “I am honored,” Abigail said in a mocking tone. She hugged Leesil and then let her go. “Feel better?”

  “Much, now that it is over with.”

  Cathleen suddenly frowned. “Oh, dear.”

  “What?” Leesil asked.

  “We told them she was beautiful and the poster calls her ordinary.”

  McKenna sunk into a chair. “That was my doin’.”

  “And mine,” Laura admitted.

  “I knew offering a reward would never work,” said Abigail. “Now what do we do?”

  Mother O’Connell took a turn looking in the mirror and putting on her hat. “We shall say, she was once beautiful, but the years have been unkind and now she is quite ordinary looking.”

  Abigail clapped her hands. “That should do it.”

  “In the very least, it shall confuse them,” said Laura. “I must confess, for a moment I was about to make it worse.”

  “How?” Cathleen asked.

  “Does Blair know the duchess tried to sell her to Edward?”

  Cathleen shook her head. “I doubt it. Should I tell her? I worry it is too much for her already.”

  “Perhaps this is one thing no one needs to know,” said Leesil.

  “I agree,” said Laura. “Blair has more than enough to contend with.”

  *

  Later that afternoon, after her piano lesson, McKenna offered her piano teacher a cup of tea, just as she always did. Matilda Meriwether was unusually quiet and after a time, McKenna asked, “Is somethin’ amiss?”