“Perhaps she will see me,” said Leesil.
“Why would she see you and not me?” Abigail wanted to know.
“Because, my dearest Abigail, she is mortified. Such unpleasantness happened in your home, at the weddin’ reception you, her dearest friend, kindly arranged for her. Surely she feels she is too embarrassed to face you.”
Relieved, Abigail said, “That is it…that must be it; she is too embarrassed to see me.”
“I am certain of it. Shall we go see her tomorrow?” Leesil asked. “She will not turn us away if we simply arrive on her doorstep.”
“Indeed we shall, and we shall ask where her husband was the night Miss Patella Green was murdered in her bed.”
“Abigail, we do not know she was murdered,” said Hannish. “Doc Parker has not yet said a cause of death.”
“Well, it is quite obvious to me. In the very least, she died of a broken heart, and if he didn’t murder her in the night, Mr. high-and-mighty Douglas Swinton the same as killed her.”
“Mr. Green finally put barbed wire around his property,” the judge muttered.
“What has that to do with anything?” Abigail asked.
“He has long been at odds with his neighbors over water rights, so he put up a barbed wire fence. I suppose Swinton could have crawled under the fence, but…”
McKenna giggled, “You best not speculate, my husband, less Mr. Swinton be arrested and you must recuse yourself.”
“I would in any case, I know too many of the people involved. Let them send the case to Denver, just as Denver sent the last murder trial to me.”
Abigail sighed. “I do so hope he is arrested, but what will poor Loretta do with her husband put away in prison for the rest of his life?”
“What will Mr. and Mrs. Green do without their daughter?” McKenna asked.
The room fell silent for a moment before Abigail said, “I took an apple pie as soon as I heard, and I was not the only one. The children will have enough to eat for a week, at least.”
“When is the funeral?” Hannish asked.
“Day after tomorrow, the usual three days after a death,” Abigail answered.
“We should go,” said Leesil. “I can think of nothin’ worse than the death of a child.”
“Especially one heavy with a grandchild…and no husband,” said Abigail.
“My love, these things happen,” Claymore tried to soothe.
“Not to my daughter. Claymore, I demand you lock Gloria in her room until her wedding day.” She didn’t mean it as a joke, and was surprised when everyone laughed. “Well…you know what I mean.”
“‘Tis why we have chaperones,” Hannish mentioned.
“And well we need them,” said Claymore.
“Indeed we do,” Abigail agreed. “A daughter who becomes pregnant without a husband brings shame upon the whole family.”
“Because she has done evil?” Leesil loudly asked, stunning everyone at the table. “Why is it, that such a thing is always the fault of the lass? Has the lad not also done evil?”
“Uh oh,” Moan whispered.
“I am serious,” Leesil said. “We cannae even vote. Lasses are thought of as too dimwitted to know what is right, and we cannae vote until the lads vote aye to let us.”
Elizabeth giggled. “Half of whom cannae read and write. ‘Tis the same in England.”
“Precisely,” Leesil went on. “‘Tis a lass who teaches her sons right from wrong, and when they are grown, they rule over her, tellin’ her what she cannae do and where we cannae go.”
Shocked by her outburst, Hannish said, “Sweetheart, you are tired. Perhaps…”
“Hannish, I am not that tired. You speak of the new automobiles, but not of teachin’ us how to drive them. Am I to have a lad drive me everywhere I go for the rest of my life?”
“My love, I shall be happy to teach you, once someone teaches me,” said Hannish.
“Then you will cast your vote in our favor, when the time comes, and allow me to vote?”
“Vote on what?” Claymore asked.
“I care not on what, I only want the right. I can read the newspapers as well as any lad. Lasses can vote in New Zealand and Australia. Are we less capable here than they are there?”
“I must have missed that article,” Hannish mumbled.
“As did I,” Claymore confessed.
Leesil closed her eyes for a moment. “I dinna mean to bring it up just now. Forgive me.”
“Perhaps you should call your sister and let her know we have arrived safely,” McKenna suggested.
Glad to change the subject, Leesil smiled. “What time is it there? Come to think of it, what time is it here? All the different times from here to Scotland and back made me positively dizzy.”
Hannish pulled the two watches out of his pocket and laid them on the table for her to see.
“Aunt Leesil,” Paulette finally got brave enough to say. “We are truly sorry we broke your vase. I know ‘tis what upsets you most. Can you forgive us? We do not want to live somewhere other than here, and…”
“I do not forgive you,” Leesil interrupted, glaring at Paulette. “Perhaps I shall tomorrow, but just now, I am not in a very forgivin’ mood.”
Her outburst was so unlike her; none of them knew what to say or to do. Finally, Hannish stood up and offered his hand to his wife. “I am puttin’ you to bed this very instant.”
“Splendid idea,” said Claymore also getting up. “Come Wife, we have intruded on their kindness long enough.”
“As have we,” the judge agreed.
In only a few minutes, all the guests had said their goodbyes and were gone. Word spread quickly to the servants that Leesil was upset and needed to rest, so instead of their usual merriment during dinner, they ate quietly, all pitched in to do the dishes and then went outside. It was just as well. It was too hot and too early to go to bed, and there was nothing like the cool of the evening in the front yard.
Dugan and Tom exchanged knowing looks a couple of times, but neither of them said just how upset Leesil had become or recounted what was said. To Prescot, however, all the servants told everything important regarding the family, so he could make the best possible decisions, and Tom was not surprised when Dugan took Prescot aside.
*
In their second floor bedchamber, Hannish sat in a chair watching his wife sleep. She was just as beautiful and looked just as innocent as she had the first time her saw her auburn hair spread across a pillow.
Something was wrong other than the right to vote, and he suspected he knew what it was. There were times on the voyage that she oddly fell silent instead of being her usual happy self. He asked what was wrong, but she would not say. Therefore, he guessed she resented having to be half a world away from the little sister she spent her life protecting, in the despicable orphanage they grew up in.
Neither he nor his brother had planned it that way, they had already chosen to live with an ocean between them, and just happened to fall in love with sisters. He could see now how cruel it was for Leesil.
Yet, the thought of giving up Marblestone and his love of building houses was something he could not even contemplate. This was his life now, and he wanted to stay. Hopefully, Leesil would adjust again in time.
CHAPTER 4
At the same time Hannish was turning out the light in the bedroom he shared with Leesil in Colorado’s Marblestone Mansion, some four thousand, six hundred miles away in London, Kate, a.k.a. the duchess, was about to finish dressing.
She almost decided not to accept the invitation from the highly regarded Lady Husher, but in the end, the duchess’ curiosity won out. Right on time, the Husher’s finest coach came to collect its passenger, complete with a uniformed footman riding on the back, who instantly jumped down to open the door for her. He offered the back of his hand; she placed her dainty gloved hand on his, and ascended the two metal steps into the coach.
Her manner of dress was hardly appropriate to be in such a grand
means of transportation, but what else was a grieving widow to wear, save black from head to toe. The only splash of color the duchess allowed herself was the high collar of the pastel green blouse, and the bottom of the matching crocheted sleeve that hung just a touch below the sleeve of her tightfitting black jacket.
She had been in many a grand coach, but none with red velvet upholstery and gold braid tassels. How very sad to be going to her demise in such a fine coach. She tried, really tried to relax and enjoy it while she could, but her nerves were a tangled mess and besides, she could hardly see through the black mesh netting of her new hat. That too was a sign of her demise, for Lady Husher obviously didn’t want anyone to recognize her.
The duchess supposed she would be left waiting once she was shown into the smallest of what she imagined were several sitting rooms, in the rather sparsely furnished London home of Lord and Lady Husher. She had heard that Lady Husher liked simplicity above all else, and the furnishing in that particular room proved it was true. The delicate pattern on the fashionable wallpaper was neither loud nor sedate, but rather the perfect backdrop to the solid blue upholstered English Tutor chairs and the American Lion Paw sofa. One long table in front of the sofa and two smaller ones held unassuming alabaster carvings and unadorned silver vases. The only other item of note was a grandfather clock that chimed just as the duchess finished looking around.
A servant promptly opened the door, carried a silver tray to the low table in front of the sofa, and instead of staying to serve it, just as quickly left without a word. The tray held a silver teapot, two china cups with saucers, white linen napkins, and a platter of the kind of buttered crumpets Queen Victoria always preferred. No sooner had the duchess lifted the widow’s net up over her hat, than the door opened and Lady Husher entered. The duchess curtsied, as was proper in the presence of someone of quality, and smiled as though nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.
“My darling, how nice to see you again.” Dressed in a somewhat unflattering red dress with short sleeves and a high waistline, Lady Husher lightly hugged the duchess and returned her smile. Her chestnut hair was in ringlets atop her head, and was not as flattering as it could have been, for it made her square face even more pronounced.
Considering the warm and seemingly sincere greeting she received, the duchess returned the pleasantries and thought perhaps she was not to be sent to the gallows after all. “The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”
“Do sit down, I have much to discuss with you.” Lady Husher made certain the door was completely closed, chose a seat on the davenport next to her guest, and then began to pour the tea herself.
“Lady Husher, do satisfy my curiosity. How did you find me?”
Lady Husher handed the first cup of tea to her guest. “My dear, when you are in this grand London society, but not completely sure of it as I was in the beginning, you learn resourcefulness.” She poured a second cup of tea, took a sip, set the cup in the saucer, and then set both on the table. “You are aware that your picture was recently in the paper, are you not?”
The duchess had indeed seen the picture, under the most unthinkable circumstances of which she would rather not be reminded. “I believe it might have been.”
“Of course it was, although you do not do the picture justice. You have lost considerable weight, my dear.”
For the life of her, the duchess couldn’t figure out what game Lady Husher was trying to play. She certainly did not need to be told she was too thin, found it a bit insulting and somewhat sarcastically said. “A good meal has been a bit hard to come by of late.”
Lady Husher reached for the plate of crumpets and offered it to her. “Perhaps these will help.”
The duchess took one, savored the first taste and tried not to gobble it down too quickly. When she finished, she blotted the corners of her mouth with the white linen napkin. “Thank you.”
“It was Maude Okerman who published the notice and made your disappearance the talk of the town, you know.”
“Lady Okerman? I cannot think why, we are not the best of friends.”
“I never suspected you were.” Lady Husher offered her a second crumpet and as soon as the duchess took it, she set the plate down and thoughtfully looked up at the ceiling. “I have not yet discovered why Maude has such an interest in you, but then she hardly ever needs a reason to begin a scandal. How laughable to think it is Maude who is the scandal these days.”
Of her second crumpet, the duchess took small bites befitting the behavior of a polished lady. “Maude? What has she done?”
“You have not heard? Of course not, you have been stashed away in that dreadful boardinghouse for weeks.” Lady Husher paused to take another sip of tea, scooted back in her seat and made herself more comfortable. “I do not know all the particulars, but when Hannish showed up with a new wife…without explaining what happened to you, Maude declared you missing. You were dead, or so everyone thought, and it did not help when the new wife said you were buried beneath the rose garden at their home in Colorado.”
The duchess tried not to let her rising temper show. “She says that, does she?”
“All in fun, I was assured, though not everyone took it as the joke it was meant to be. Do you know Hannish’s new wife?”
“Not well.” It was the truth, for the only time she encountered the woman she called a little gutter rat, was in Colorado just before Hannish so grievously sent her, his duchess, back to Scotland. He promised to sell Marblestone and join her later, but it didn’t take long for the duchess to figure out he had tricked her. She should have known then, that Hannish was throwing her over for a poor unfortunate orphan. He always was too kindhearted for his own good.
“Kate?”
“What?”
“I thought I lost you for a moment. What were you thinking of?”
“Thinking? Oh…I was just considering what you said, about my being missing.”
“You were not missing. Lord Okerman put the rumor of your death to rest, when he reported seeing you and announced you were decidedly quite alive. You did see him, did you not?”
Panic was about to set in, for she had no idea how much Lord Okerman had said about that appalling little gathering, where upon she was forced to face several of her husbands. To buy a little time to think, the duchess reached for her tea and washed down the last bite of crumpet. “I believe I did see him.”
“In Scotland, he said it was.”
“Yes, in Scotland.” She held her breath and waited to see how much more Lady Husher knew.
“Lord Okerman is divorcing his wife.”
“Divorcing her. Truly?”
“Truly. He found the very idea that his wife had begun such an unfounded scandal unacceptable. He has tossed her aside, never to be heard from again.”
At that, the duchess forgot all about her own apprehensions. “I can scarce believe it. She must be positively devastated.”
“She must be, although I have not seen her since that upset with Hannish MacGreagor at the ball. The best of them come and go in London society, as you well know.”
The duchess completely understood Lady Husher’s meaning. She had personally witnessed the setting aside of several, in her three glorious years in London society. Mentioning it so directly, was meant to remind her she was no longer a member. It was the first real dagger Lady Husher had thrown and she braced herself for more to come. “What sort of upset with Hannish?”
“At the ball, Maude demanded to know what he had done with you, and our darling Hannish suggested she ask your other husband.”
The duchess gasped. “My…what?”
“Your other husband, the one you neglected to mention before you married him.”
Beads of sweat were beginning to form on her upper lip. Not in a million years did she guess Hannish would expose the truth. “He truly said that…in front of witnesses?”
“I heard him say it myself. My dear, is it not the truth? I mean, do you not have more than one husb
and?”
The duchess was found out, and there was nothing she could do but nervously laugh. “Do you ask me to admit to bigamy?”
Lady Husher smiled and reached for her tea. “Not at all, my darling. It is hardly my business, and frankly, I could not give a whiff what you have done in the past. That is not to say you are not the most delicious scandal our society has seen in years.” She took a sip and returned her tea to the tray. “I cannot remember a time when I have been so entertained.”
“Then I am happy to oblige,” the duchess said, finally taking a forgotten breath.
“And my dear, I am not the only one to find your exploits entertaining, nor am I most likely the only one hoping to discover your whereabouts. There are those, you are aware, who hunger for the least tidbit to add to their musings over the scandal. You must take care in whom you confide.”
The duchess had to admit, she would have loved a scandal of this sort, if she were not the subject of it. Nevertheless, she was the subject, and it was undeniably true; her hopes of reentering London society were now dashed against the jagged rocks of the Scottish shoreline. “I know of no one I care to confide in.”
“Good, I am happy to hear it. Olivia…or Kate, if you prefer. As I said, while I find your history intriguing, I care not what you have done. I only care what you can do for me in the future.”
Ah, there it was, the duchess thought. There had to be a reason Lady Husher suddenly wanted to be the best of friends. If she had any wits at all, she would walk right out, but the duchess was in the presence of money – and money always spoke louder than wits. “What have you in mind?”
*
“First, I must have your word that you shall be completely discreet. What I am about to tell you must be kept in the strictest of confidence.”
“Go on.”
“It is quite simple really, and something a woman such as you who is sought after by many a man, can accomplish with ease. I want you to ruin a most unfortunate connection between my nephew and the appalling woman he has chosen to marry.”
“I see.”
“Can you not see how perfectly suited you are to accomplishing it? I delight in how suited you are.”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 6 Page 5
