Hannish had not yet gotten out of his automobile at Marblestone when Leesil came out the front door to meet him. “What is it, is something amiss?”
“Nay.” She smiled and kissed him on the lips. “Tonight, you are takin’ me to dinner at the Antler Hotel.”
“Am I?” He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “Tell me I have not forgotten a special occasion.”
“Nay, ‘tis not a special occasion. ‘Tis just that it has been too long and I wish to be alone with you.”
He guessed what she was up to, drew back and looked her in the eye. “You wish to show the town you are not ashamed to be seen with me.”
She giggled. “That too.”
“Perhaps we should make a display of being seen in town together, but my love, the book has only just arrived. They have not yet had time to read it.”
“True.” She handed him the bag she was carrying. “Therefore, I brought two of our copies with me. Would you care to read one while we enjoy our dinner?”
He slowly grinned. “Indeed I would. You are right dead brilliant, Mrs. MacGreagor.” He took her hand, led her around to the other side of his automobile and opened the door for her. “Shall we not read it aloud?”
“We could, though that would be a bit too obvious. I suggest we whisper and laugh occasionally.”
He tossed the bag in the back, hopped back into the driver’s side and started the engine. “I am looking forward to it.”
*
At home that night, Hannish walked with his wife up the marble stairs. Together, they looked in on their children and then went to the bedroom they had shared for years. “I quite enjoyed that. We must have dinner away more often.” He tossed his jacket across the back of a chair and then began to unbutton the back of her dress. “I cannae believe I was fortunate enough to marry such a divertin’ wife. Never do you cease to amaze me.”
She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Never do you cease to think of me first, and all the others second. You cannae know how much I love you for it.” Leesil turned back around and let him finish his practiced nightly chore. “I am relieved, now that everyone knows about the duchess. We have no need to whisper, to gather where no one can hear us, and hopefully, the children are too young and shall never suffer gossip.”
“If you are relieved, then so am I.” He finished with her dress, traded his clothing for pajama bottoms and climbed into bed. “How is Abigail takin’ all of it these days?”
Leesil slipped a nightgown over her head and then happily got in bed beside him. As he always did, he welcomed her into his arms. “Abigail fears the duchess shall be captured.”
“What will we do if she is?”
“I have given that considerable thought. The duchess has a way of gettin’ herself out of trouble, and if we are very fortunate, she will again. A better question is – who gave a picture of her to the newspapers?”
“Mr. Nelson, possibly.”
“Or a husband she managed to marry since escapin’ the asylum.”
“‘Tis possible. But my dear, if she is captured, Claymore and I shall be out five thousand dollars.”
“I forgot about that.” She snuggled closer. “We could sell some of the horses.”
“Or some of Abigail’s expensive furniture?”
She laughed. “Please promise to let me be there when you suggest it to her.” Leesil was still giggling when he kissed her.
*
Women everywhere were talking about the book, as the servants who ventured into town the next day could testify. By now, several had read the book and were more than happy to tell others what was in it. They talked about it on street corners, in the general store, in the hat shop and even while selecting fresh produce the local farmers brought to town to sell. All of them agreed that the book should not be read by certain easily influenced teenage girls. Not far away, their teenage daughters peeked around corners, moved closer and pretended not to be paying attention to what was being said.
“I heard she wouldn’t let any of her husbands touch her in the marriage bed,” said one.
Said another, “Not let Hannish MacGreagor touch her? The woman is truly a lunatic.”
“Not even on the wedding night…nights?” a third asked.
“That’s what I heard,” said the first.
“Where did she find that many wealthy men? I have yet to find just one?” the third complained.
“Well, I heard she ran up terrible debts and that is why they threw her out,” whispered the second.
“Where do you suppose she is now?” the first asked.
“Who knows?” said a forth. “I did not manage to get a copy of my own. I called the store to place an order and Mr. Wyley hung up on me.”
The first rolled her eyes. “He’ll be happy enough when he sells a hundred more copies.”
A fifth woman joined in the conversation. “Mr. and Mrs. Hannish MacGreagor dined at the Antler Hotel last night, and each of them had a copy of the book. They read a little, smiled and even laughed from time to time.”
“Just as I expected, the entire book is made up,” said the first. “No wonder they offered a reward for her capture.”
“I hope they catch her. What a trial that shall be,” the fifth woman said.
It was the third woman who finally realized the girls were listening and shooed them away.
*
The Fourth of July came right on the heels of the arrival of the book in Colorado Springs. The whole town was talking about it – they had to be, yet on the telephone, no one said a word. Abigail would know if they did, for she listened constantly. Hearing nothing of what they were saying or thinking disturbed her greatly, and she was bound and determined not to attend any of the Fourth of July celebrations.
“Abigail, we must not be in hidin’,” said Leesil, as she went to Abigail’s closet to choose something for her to wear. “I think shocking red shall do.”
“A ball gown?” Abigail squealed. “I would do better to dress up like a clown.” She was still in her nightgown and refused to get out of bed. “It is impossible that they have forgotten the book so soon, but I hear nothing at all.”
“Aye, but dinna forget we flooded them with gossip before the book arrived. They have tired of it.” Leesil chose a pink summer dress with puffy sleeves and laid it on the bed. “Wear this.”
Abigail grabbed the dress, held the front of it up so she could look at it, and then tossed it back where she got it. “My biggest regret is that Charles is not here to witness the degradation he brings upon us all.”
“You are too harsh on him. He is a lad, after all, and some lads think no higher than their belt buckle.”
“How right you are. But Leesil, suppose they shun Gloria’s wedding? I could not bear it if they did.”
Leesil moved to a closet with shelves and tried to choose a hat to go with Abigail’s dress. “If they do, they shall expose what sort they truly are and we shall be glad to know it.”
“Oh, well, perhaps you are right.”
“I am right. Now get dressed. Everyone is waitin’.”
*
Abigail was right to worry. Along the parade route, in the park and near the various displays and games, pockets of people looked at them and then turned away to gossip. Others were friendly; although it was obvious they had burning questions they were too polite to ask. Abigail repeatedly sighed, while Laura, Leesil, and Cathleen tried to calm her nerves.
“I believe I am mistaken,” Abigail said halfway through the afternoon. “I am violent after all, and if she were here, I would strangle the duchess right before their very eyes.”
“And I would help you,” said Leesil.
“And rob London of the first public beheading in generations?” Laura asked. “I cannot let that happen!” She made Abigail laugh finally.
“Shall we not see how the bake sale is goin’ this year?” Leesil asked.
Abigail looked that direction and was relieved to know the crowd was not shying
away from the sewing circle’s most important means of making money for the orphanage. “How happy we are that Pearl and Loretta offered to run it this year. The people do not shun them.”
“You forget, Loretta was harshly shunned in her day. She survived it and so shall we,” said Cathleen. Leesil and Cathleen each took an arm and began to usher Abigail through the crowd.
When Laura looked back, the husbands were deeply involved in a conversation with the banker and several other men. The closely watched MacGreagor children were happily playing within sight of the nanny, Laura’s twins were enthralled with one of the gold ore displays, and Blair was surrounded by friends. Hannish had the sound asleep baby on his shoulder, and Laura smiled.
It was exactly how she wanted to remember them.
*
Seated on a park bench, Blair was surrounded by girls her own age that had plenty of questions. Most of them were silly and somewhat intrusive. For a time, she wondered if her boldness to expose who her real mother was might have been a mistake. As soon as one group seemed satisfied with her explanations and moved away, another one or two girls approached.
One of the girls giggled. “I do not think what your mother did was so very awful. I intend to attract a wealthy husband by any means possible too someday.”
“Aye,” Blair said, “but you would not swindle a husband the way my mother did.”
“How did she swindle them?” the other asked.
Blair sighed. “You best read the book. It would take a week to explain it all.”
“But how did she…” another girl started to ask.
“Perhaps you should leave Miss MacGreagor alone now,” said Doctor McCormick.
Blair turned around to see who was behind her and when she looked back, the girls had already scattered. “You have saved me once again, Doctor,” she said as he came around to the front of the bench.
“How is your ankle?”
“Completely healed, I am happy to say.”
“Good.” He would have stayed longer, but the wail of an injured child drew his attention. He tipped his hat. “I best go see if it is anything serious.”
“Aye.” She smiled, got up and went to see what Laura’s twins were up to. Hopefully, her inquisition was finally over.
At noon and after the Mayor’s long-winded speech, unmarried women in want of a husband offered their box lunches to be raffled off. Everyone gathered around, including the MacGreagors and Whitfields, to see which eligible bachelor would bid on which box. After that, they ate, walked through the park, played games and waited with great anticipation for darkness to fall. A newly organized orchestra was scheduled and once they began to play, the dancing would begin. There were a few who continued to gawk and gossip, but it seemed to be tapering off, or so the ladies convinced Abigail.
*
The duchess could not have cared less about a Fourth of July celebration, but what could she do? It would be un-American and far too obvious if she stayed away. She was already irritated that morning, because all the shops were closed, which meant she could not pick up her daily copy of the Denver and New York newspapers. As it was, Salina was such an out of the way place, the papers were never very current anyway.
Furthermore, she had little idea what she should put on, so she telephoned to see what Mrs. Jolly was wearing. According to the sheriff’s wife, it was customary to wear one’s Sunday best. Not having stepped foot in a church, save on her wedding days, she had no real idea what one’s Sunday best was. In the end, she chose a white blouse with long sleeves and a purple skirt. Naturally, she needed to take her parasol to protect her light skin from what promised to be an outrageously hot, dry day.
During their telephone conversation, Mrs. Jolly invited the duchess to sit beside her in the makeshift grandstands in front of the bank. She accepted the invitation as graciously as she thought necessary, but she hated the very idea of putting herself so prominently on display. Again, what could she do?
The Fourth of July celebration was for all American citizens, even Matt and Dale, who were certain to get a good meal out of the deal. They cleaned up as best they could without having to actually work at it, and arrived in town just in time to see the beginning of the parade. It wasn’t long before they spotted the duchess walking to the grandstand. They soon found a place directly across the street so they could both get a good view of the woman of their dreams. Neither of them noticed when other people turned up their noses and moved away.
A smiling Mrs. Jolly greeted her and right away pinned a cloth broach with a red, white and blue ribbon on the duchess’ blouse. When she was finished, the sheriff’s wife scooted down so the duchess could sit. “I am so happy you came,” she said.
“I would not miss it for the world,” the duchess lied. She soon spotted the brothers watching her and looked away. Matt was grinning and she was pretty sure Dale had his eyes glued to her bosom. How irritating. She was relieved when the parade began. Riders in matching western outfits sat on three magnificent palomino horses. The men held poles upon which hung three flags – one for Kansas, one for Salina, and of course, the American Flag.
Unfortunately for the duchess, they stopped directly in front of the grandstand and turned to face the crowd. The people all stood, put their hands over their hearts and began to say, The Pledge of Allegiance.
Absolutely everyone was reciting it, but she had no idea what the words were – and Mrs. Jolly noticed. There was no faking it, no passing herself off as mute, and pretending an illness would draw even more attention. So she smiled and put her hand over her heart. What else could she do? Mrs. Jolly’s brow remained wrinkled and it was not until the end of the pledge that she looked away.
The impossible moment had passed.
Next, a uniformed marching band came up the street playing trombones, saxophones, and bass cornets that were remarkably in tune. They too stopped in front of the spectators and stayed to play John Phillip Sousa’s The Stars and Stripes Forever. It did nothing to lighten the duchess’s mood, for she remembered that tune from her glorious days with Jedidiah Tanner in Denver. The duchess wanted to crawl in a hole or better yet, run. It didn’t help that the pesky brothers across the street were constantly waving and trying to get her attention.
Her degradation was beyond measure.
Three new automobiles followed the marching band and behind them was Sheriff Jolly, waving his hat to the crowd and driving the vehicle the town had so generously bought for him. Behind the Sheriff came several horse-drawn wagons draped with bunting, and displaying men in poses representing the Revolutionary War against the British.
The duchess wished the British had won.
Behind the wagons were marching men wearing sashes and feathered hats that represented the War of 1812, the Civil War, and the Spanish American War. Each of them wore swords and carried muskets or more modern guns. It was sickening. The parade queen looked a lot like a conceited girl she remembered from her youth. She truly hated that girl.
Having seen all she wanted to see of that, she looked at the spectators instead. While some were dressed appropriately, according to Mrs. Jolly’s standards, others were not. Boys wore floppy duster hats and shirts with suspenders that held up knee pants. Farmers hadn’t bothered to change out of work clothes, and their wives didn’t seem to mind at all.
At last, the parade was over and the duchess could not have been more relieved. There were no clowns on donkeys, no floats with paper flowers or Paper-Mache birds, and apparently, there was no rodeo or masquerade ball to attend later – all of which would painfully have reminded her of Jedidiah.
After the crowd dispersed, she found a rummage sale in a nearby vacant lot and went to see about it. It was the perfect excuse to drift away from Mrs. Jolly, who looked as though she might soon ask the one question the duchess was not prepared to answer. She had a good eye for valuables, and since most of the items up for sale came from a dearly departed widow’s estate, the duchess found several objects of interest. No
ne, however, intrigued her more than a very valuable Louis XVI Silver Candelabra. Apparently, she was the only one to realize its value, and when she offered five dollars for it, the proprietor of the sale hailed the duchess a hero. All the profits, she said, would go to a family who had fallen victim to a house fire.
The proprietor was happy and the duchess was ecstatic. She picked up the candelabra, admired a painting, decided it was not an original, and went to the next table to examine the jewelry. She sorted through the box and was about to leave when she heard a man’s voice beside her.
“They need to be horsewhipped.”
“Who?” the duchess asked.
“The Fifer boys. They have attached themselves to you, it appears.”
She looked around, and spotted them at the edge of the crowd with silly grins on their faces. “I suppose they mean no harm, but they are a bother on most days.”
He lifted his hat an inch. “I am Jeff Baker, at your service. I voted to have them run out of town, but the irrational men amongst us voted to let them stay. If ever you are in need of a little help, do not hesitate to call on me.” He lowered his hat and walked away.
The duchess watched him leave, glanced at the brothers and then pretended to examine another item of jewelry. Voting to run people out of town was something she had not considered, and she wondered if Mrs. Jolly might be planning to do just that where she was concerned. The duchess looked around and spotted Mrs. Jolly happily talking to a group of women. It didn’t appear they were talking about her, so she dismissed her worry. There was nothing she could do about it now anyway. She worked so very hard to change her accent so she would sound American, so why, oh why, had she never bothered to learn that silly pledge?
Everywhere she went, the brothers followed. She bought a turkey sandwich, sat down on a bench to eat it, and before long, Matt sat down on one side of her and Dale on the other.
“Go away, you are ruining my lunch,” she demanded.
“We love you,” said Matt. “Will you marry us…I mean, me?”
“No! Now go away, you smell to high heaven.”
“Do not,” Dale sneered. “We need a wife to cook for us.”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 9 Page 16
