“We do not know Loretta keeps him out of her bed.”
“Well, she said she intended to. I heard it with my own ears. How I wish you had been there to see what misery that man has caused our poor dear Loretta. She cried well into the night.”
“Does she love him, do you think?”
“I suppose she thinks she does, although I cannot believe how she could now. He cast his charm on all of us when he first came to town, and oh how handsome he was.”
“I wager he is still handsome.”
“My dear, even handsome can be undone when the man turns out to be a scandalous reprobate. I bet Miss Green was not his first conquest, and I am positive she will not be the last. Just look at the lives Mr. Swinton has troubled, not to mention your husband and mine. I tell you, Leesil, this shall come to no good end until Mr. Douglas Swinton is gotten rid of somehow.”
Leesil said, “I would gladly shoot him, but I doubt my husband would allow me to hold a gun. I might hurt myself.”
“You do not know how to shoot? I shall talk to Claymore about that. All women must have a way of defending themselves and perhaps Claymore shall convince Hannish of it. As I was saying…”
*
As soon as they reached the middle of town, Tom turned the team up the road to Palmer Lake. He hadn’t missed the defeatism in Leesil’s voice when she complained of not knowing how to shoot, and noticed how long she let Abigail talk without interruption. Something was clearly wrong, and he hoped it was not with her marriage. Never had he seen two people more in love, and if those two could not make a marriage work, what chance had anyone else?
“He married Loretta without even courting her,” Abigail was saying. “One moment she was hoping the druggist would propose and the next, plop, she married Swinton. How I would have loved hearing how that came about, but there was no time to discover it. We held the reception the moment they came back from their honeymoon, and before they could cut the cake, Miss Green made her appearance.”
“Pearl does not know how the marriage proposal came about?”
“If she does, she is not saying. Poor Pearl, Loretta will not take her calls either. We simply must make Loretta see that we have not forsaken her, although I hate the very thought of seeing that…Mr. Swinton again. Oh, Leesil, if he has murdered Miss Green, what are we to do?”
“We can do naught but tell Loretta we shall stand by her no matter the outcome.”
“Yes, yes, we shall tell her that.”
“Abigail, it cannae be helpful…I mean, we tend to gossip about Loretta a bit more than we should.”
“Gossip? I do not see it as gossip if we tell only our closest friends.”
“Aye, but our closest friends have other friends, whom they then tell.”
“Well, I cannot be blamed for that. Always, I begin by charging them not to tell another living soul. Do I not say that to you?”
“Not always.”
“Then I shall be more mindful of it in the future.”
It was apparent Leesil wasn’t getting her point across, and just now she didn’t feel up to pressing the issue. Besides, Hannish said Claymore was trying to get her to break the habit of listening in on telephone conversations, and it was truly Claymore’s responsibility. At the thought, she bit her lip. One moment she was complaining that her husband had too much power over her, and now she was expecting Claymore to do something about his wife’s propensity to gossip. The controversy upset her, so she tried to think of something else.
*
It was of Madeline, Tom was thinking when he drove past the café and looked in the window. She was there, but she had her back to him. He continued to the front of the Swinton mansion, halted the horses, tied them to the hitching post and then helped his passengers step down.
Next, he hurried to the picket fence gate and opened it for them. “Miss Leesil, do you mind if I go see Miss Foster for a moment?”
“Not at all,” Leesil answered as she lifted her skirt and started up the front steps.
Tom closed the gate and expected their visit to last most of the afternoon. He had only just begun to walk down the street, when he heard Leesil raise her voice. It made him stop and turn back to listen.
“Did you not tell her we were comin’ to call?” Leesil angrily asked the housekeeper.
“I did, Mrs. MacGreagor, but she refuses to see anyone.”
“We are her dearest friends,” Abigail protested.
The housekeeper lowered her voice. “She’ll not even see Pearl, nor will she take a telephone call from her husband when he is away. She mostly stays in her room.”
“I know just what to do,” Abigail said, starting to push her way past the housekeeper.
“Please, Mrs. Whitfield, it is too soon. Perhaps if you wait a day or two more. She is like a china doll and she might break soon if you are too persistent.”
“Yes, yes, I see,” Abigail said. She took a deep breath and started back down the steps.
There was nothing left to do, so Leesil lowered her voice. “You will tell her we were here, will you not?”
“Of course,” the housekeeper said.
Abigail stopped halfway down the steps and turned back. “I have but one question. Was Mr. Swinton home night before last?”
The housekeeper defiantly folded her arms. “I do not know; I went to visit my sister.”
Tom was disappointed, but as soon as Leesil headed to the carriage, he hurried back to help her. As he drove past the café, he again looked through the window. Not only did he see Madeline watching him, but Mrs. Swinton sat alone at a table drinking her afternoon tea. He thought about saying something, but he didn’t want to be the one to break the china doll, so he kept quiet.
All the way home, Tom listened to Abigail talk about everything from her disappoint over not being able to see Loretta, to her servants and Marblestone’s servants, and her son, Charles. Leesil, he noticed, still had little to say except when asked a direct question. The woman, whom some of the servants still called Sassy, was not her usual self at all, and he was becoming even more concerned, although he had an idea. Nevertheless, he knew better than to ask in the presence of Mrs. Whitfield, so he waited until they dropped Abigail off and were on the way back to Marblestone.
Gently, he pulled the carriage to a halt, tied the reins to a tree, walked to the carriage door and rested both arms on the rim. “I am a very good listener, if you need someone to talk to.”
Leesil stared at the footman for a long moment, and then looked away. “I thank you, but you cannae help.”
“I have been meaning to ask something anyway.”
“What?”
“I wish to ask a certain lady to go to the baseball game with us come Sunday.”
That brought a smile to Leesil’s face. “A certain lady from Palmer Lake?”
“That is the one. Her name is Madeline Foster.”
“Of course you must bring her to the baseball game, and around as often as possible, so I may give my approval. I’ll not let you marry but the best sort of lass.”
“And what do you deem to be the best sort to be?”
“Well, she must be kind and thoughtful, yet not silly and not at all without sound wits. If she is a horrible gossip like Abigail, I shall shoot her on the spot.”
Tom chuckled. “Mrs. Whitfield does not see the error of her ways, but she is a very good woman. She was very helpful to us while you were away.”
“‘Tis what Prescot said. I do love her in spite of her gossipin’, but I cannae help worry that she might someday go too far and hurt someone I love.”
“Then we best not tell her any more than we have to.”
“We do that already. Now, tell me about your Miss Foster. I do not recall ever meetin’ her.”
“She works long hours and doesn’t go to town often. I shall cherish your good opinion of her, and I was hoping you might sit by her at the baseball game. She might be a bit overwhelmed by all of us.”
Again Leesil sm
iled, “I shall be honored, and right you are, we are a bit overwhelmin’… quite overwhelmin’. In fact, we have become downright crowded.” Her voice began to rise as she continued, “My son is off playin’, my household is constantly overflowin’, and my husband…my husband will hardly have time for me now that we are home. In Scotland, we were together constantly, but as you see, he is off to his business already, and we are not yet home one day complete. Abigail is makin’ me daft, the girls broke my favorite vase and…” She remembered to breathe, paused, and put her gloved hand atop his. “Oh, Tom, I cannae think what is wrong with me.”
“I can, my mother was like this each time her pregnancy began, which was nearly every year?”
Leesil slowly lowered her eyes, trying to remember if that could be it. “Tis possible…while we were away, I dinna take note of...” she stopped and rolled her eyes. “I should not be tellin’ this to you.”
“You need not worry, my mother made certain we boys knew all about such things.”
“Did she get upset and not know why?”
“She did, until she understood what was happening. Sometimes my father would guess before she did.”
“You are very good to me, Tom Boland. Since I am not yet certain, do you promise not to say anythin’ about this? Once Hannish knows, he will fuss over me the way he did before Justin was born.”
Tom grinned. “First, you are upset because you fear your husband will not spend enough time with you, and then you fear he will fuss over you too much.”
“You are right, and just now…you best let me out of this carriage. My lunch is comin’ back up.”
CHAPTER 5
The August heat was stifling in their bedroom when Hannish pulled the sheet up and waited for his wife to snuggle close to him. This time, she did not and he didn’t blame her. “I have been thinkin’ about Blanka all day.”
“So have I. Shall we simply pack her things and put them away?”
“Perhaps we should ask Dugan what he thinks we should do. She was his aunt.”
“Aye, we should let him decide. Perhaps there is somethin’ he wishes to send to Egan in remembrance of her.”
“If he can find Egan. Malveen has concerts all over Europe before she comes to New York.”
“In that case, we shall keep it here until they come see us in February, if the snow does not prevent the trains from runnin’.”
He kissed her on the cheek and then turned on his side. “I wonder what woke Blanka in the night.”
“Do you not suspect the girls were up to somethin’? We have not yet asked them if they heard her, not that I expect them to admit it.”
“They are bein’ as good as gold, just as Prescot said.”
Leesil giggled, “Particularly when Abigail is here.”
“Which is daily. Why do you suppose she comes so often?”
“She has not enough to do and is lonely, I think. Her son has gone off to live in England and Gloria grows up so fast, she no longer needs her mother’s constant care. Moreover, Abigail never misses a chance to hold one of our babies. Once that is accomplished, off she goes.”
“I had not noticed that. Perhaps she is lonely. Do you not still have your sewin’ circle?”
“We do, but Abigail says Loretta will not come. Pearl rarely speaks and the sewin’ circle is not as pleasant as it once was.” She closed her eyes and thought about the baby that might be well on the way. Leesil was not unhappy about it, and she wanted to give her husband at least six, but that didn’t help the queasiness in her stomach.
“Shall we not go to the kitchen and see what we can find?” he asked.
“You go, I am not hungry.”
“Jessie made a cherry pie.”
Leesil’s eyes instantly opened. “I believe I might be wanting at that.” She threw off her half of the sheet, sat up, and reached for her robe, while he pulled on his pants. Barefoot, and acting like wayward children, they slipped down the marble stairs, across the parlor, through the dining room, and into the hallway that led to the kitchen.
An odd thud made both stop in their tracks and look at each other. “What is that?” Leesil whispered.
“I know not. Stay here and I shall see.”
“Stay here?” She ignored him and instead followed right behind him as he walked down the hall, turned toward the back of the house and then stopped outside the only bedroom on the first floor…Blanka’s room. Cautiously, he opened the door and turned on the light. Her bed was made and her belongings were just as she left them, but nothing seemed amiss.
Again, he heard the sound, and when he turned around, he nearly ran into Leesil. “Did I not say to…”
“You did, but I wish to see for myself. ‘Tis upstairs somewhere.”
“Aye, directly above us in the hidden room.”
“Is that not where you have put the money?”
Hannish rubbed the back of his neck the way he always did at times like these. “Aye.” He took her hand, quietly closed the door to Blanka’s room and crept to the end of the hall. Next, he guardedly peeked around the corner. At the same time, Leesil peeked around him. Convinced the coast was clear, he continued around the corner and then started up the servant’s staircase.
Once more, the sound of a thud made them pause, and this time is was louder. As quietly as possible, they finished climbing the first set of stairs, and were almost to the top when he stopped, turned around, and took hold of Leesil’s shoulders. “Promise you will stay here!”
Reluctantly she nodded. “Why have you not taught me how to shoot?”
“What?”
“I could protect you if I had a gun.”
“Can we not discuss this later?” He was relieved when she nodded. On the wall of the landing between the second and third floor, he pushed until the secret door to the hidden room began to open.
Suddenly, a shot rang out. The bullet whizzed past Hannish’ head and struck the wall on the other side of the staircase. Leesil caught her breath and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Give me that!” Hannish shouted. He stepped inside, grabbed the six-shooter out of Young Mr. Wade’s hand, opened the pistol’s chamber and dumped five more rounds on the floor.
Awakened by the shot and wearing nothing but his nightshirt, Moan raced out of his bedchamber on the second floor, ran down the hall to the back stairs and yanked open the door.
Leesil stood as close to the wall as she could get with her eyes wide and her hand still over her mouth. “Leesil, are you hurt?”
“‘Tis someone in the hidden room,” she answered, pointing to the open door.
At the same moment, Tom opened the third floor door at the top of the second staircase, with a Colt automatic pistol in his hand. Not knowing about the secret room, he was surprised to find an opened door on the middle landing and slowly started down the stairs.
“Are we being robbed?” Elizabeth asked, suddenly appearing behind her husband.
Hannish set the gun on the small table inside the hidden room, picked Wade up, carried him back to the landing and closed the door. Still a bit shaken, he set the boy down in front of his father and then went to make certain Leesil had not been hit. He looked her over and then took her in his arms.
Wade’s eyes filled with tears as he looked up at his horrified father. “I was only practicin’ my quick draw.”
“With a real gun?” Moan asked. “Have you shot yourself, laddie?”
“Nay, Father.”
Moan lifted the child into his arms. “I know not if I should kiss you or give you a sound thrashing.”
“I recommend both,” said Hannish a little more forcefully than he meant to. Still upset, he released his wife and then rubbed the back of his neck again.
“I agree, cousin Hannish.”
Hannish instantly felt bad. “Forgive my harshness, Cousin. ‘Tis my fault for keepin’ the gun loaded.”
“Aye, but who guessed he could find that room?” Leesil asked.
Hannish looked up
the stairs at all the servants staring down at him. “It seems the secret room is a secret no more.”
“I suppose not…not if an eight-year-old can find it,” Leesil put in.
Hannish looked back up the stairs. “No harm has been done this day. Go back to bed, everyone, and Tom, unless you mean to shoot me, lower your very fine pistol.” Behind Tom, several of the servants laughed. Tom smiled, lowered his gun, followed the rest of the servants out, and closed the door behind him.
“Come alone,” Moan said, following his wife back through the door. “I shall deal with you in the morning, Wade MacGreagor. You know very well you are not to touch real guns. You know it very well indeed.”
Alone with his wife again, Hannish went to the opposite wall and examined the place where the bullet entered it. It could be easily fixed with a little paste and paint, but that would have to wait for another day. When he was finished, he opened the door to the secret room and went back in.
Leesil quickly followed. She watched her husband pick up the bullets and reload the gun. “Tom could teach me to shoot,” said Leesil.
“Aye, he could, but you need not know how. We shall protect you.”
“I need not know how? Why am I not surprised to hear that?”
He looked for a place up high to put the gun, but found nothing suitable. “I need to build a shelf,” he muttered more to himself than to her.
“Where do you mean to hide the money now that everyone knows about this room? You cannae just leave it there.”
“I think to keep it on your side of the bed?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Who is it who said a fool and his money are soon parted?”
“I know not, who?”
“The wife who found her husband sleepin’ with his money.”
“Ah, I shall take that to heart, my love.”
“Still want that cherry pie?” she asked.
“More than ever, now that I am yet alive to eat it.”
“We best take the gun with us for now.”
“I intend to.” He kissed her lips and then opened the door. “By the way, the money is not hidden in this room. I meant to tell you that. Instead, I put it…”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 6 Page 7
