Marblestone Mansion, Book 8

by Marti Talbott

  *

  At Marblestone, and in keeping with the covert quest to see that all the servants who knew what the duchess looked like were put on alert, the pretend interviews were finally coming to an end.

  In the butler’s office, Lillie Mae hadn’t expected to be interviewed by both butlers, but there they were. Both of them stood when she entered, and then sat after she made herself comfortable in the chair facing Alistair’s desk. “My, but you look handsome today, Mr. Alistair.”

  “More handsome than yesterday?” he asked.

  Lillie Mae Flynn had a round face, thin lips, and more curly brown hair than any young woman wanted to bother with. She did her best to control it with hairpins, but her servant’s cap just would not stay straight. Why it slanted to her left more often than to her right was a topic of conversation among the other servants, although Lillie Mae never knew it. “I suppose I did say that yesterday.”

  “Indeed you did. Tell me…” Alistair started.

  She began to pout. “I did not mean to step on Cook Jessie’s toes, and I have apologized profusely.”

  Seated near the end of the desk facing her, Prescot asked, “You stepped on Jessie’s toes?”

  Lillie Mae fidgeted with a fold in her deep blue uniform skirt. “I did not mean to.”

  “I understand. Tell me,” Alistair tried again. “What…”

  “What are the cooks making for lunch? I do not know, but I am starved.”

  “No,” said Alistair.

  “What time will I finish my work?” Lillie Mae guessed.

  “Not that either. Lillie Mae, I wonder if…” Alistair tried once more.

  “If I am happy here?”

  Prescot chuckled, which made Lillie Mae wrinkle her brow and stare at him.

  “Are you?” Alistair asked.

  “Am I what?” Lilly Mae asked, turning her attention back to Alistair.

  “Happy here?”

  “Oh, yes, I am very happy here.” She abruptly dropped her gaze.

  “But?” Alistair asked.

  “Well, the horses are lonely.”

  “What?” Prescot asked.

  “Have you not noticed? Few ride them, you see, now that Mr. Hannish has two Automobiles, one for himself and one for his brother, Mr. Cameron. Therefore, their horses spend all day just eating and sleeping.”

  “I see. Do you wish to ride the horses?” asked Prescot.

  “No…well, perhaps I could, if someone would teach me.”

  “You dinna know how to ride a horse?” Alistair asked.

  “Gracious no, Father forbid it. Walking is very good for the health. Of course, here we ride in a carriage. I love riding in a carriage. Do you?”

  “I…I suppose so,” Alistair stammered.

  “Do you know how to ride?” Lillie Mae asked. “Of course you do. Could you teach me? The horses have very sad eyes.”

  Alistair cleared his throat. “Perhaps Brookton might teach you.”

  “Brookton?” she instantly looked down and fidgeted with her skirt again. “Well…if you insist.”

  “You do not like Brookton?” Prescot asked.

  “Oh, I like him fine, he is very handsome.”

  “You find all the lads at Marblestone handsome?” Alistair asked.

  Her eyes widened. “You disagree?”

  Alistair puffed his cheeks. “I suppose not. About Brookton, I…”

  “He is very wise.”

  “Aye, he is. Now…” Alistair started again.

  “Mr. Alistair, I would love to stay and hear more of your questions, but I am supposed to be cleaning the downstairs sitting room. If I do not finish on time, I shall miss lunch.” She abruptly stood up. “Perhaps we might visit again later.” Lillie Mae flashed her impish smile at Prescot, walked out, and closed the door behind her.

  Prescot put a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “The horses are lonely?”

  “Sad, and lonely,” Alistair softly chuckled. “I offered to have Brookton teach her.”

  “I wonder why she does not get along with Brookton? Everyone else likes them both.”

  “I wonder too.” On a page in the book lying on his desk, Alistair put a check mark beside Lillie Mae’s name and closed his log. “‘Tis all of them.”

  “Good. I believe we have Blair well protected now, at least when she is at home.”

  “Aye, but if she is bold enough to come, who shall protect the duchess from the cooks? Jessie would like nothing better than to push her off a cliff.”

  “And Halen would happily help her do it,” said Prescot.

  *

  At age sixteen and after eating far too much chili in a New York restaurant, Ben O’Connell took the oath and became a member of the MacGreagor clan. At twenty-two, his hair had turned a deeper auburn, he was ready to take a wife, and the woman he hoped to marry was about to arrive on the noon train from Denver. He wore his best black suit, complete with shined shoes and a black top hat. Eagerly, he waited while the train slowed and then stopped, releasing a last puff of steam.

  It was unusually crowded, considering most tourists waited until later in the season to vacation in Colorado Springs. Those standing on the train station platform excitedly watched, and then greeted them as friends and relatives disembarked one by one. Beyond the platform, carriages and buggies waited to take them away, while wagon drivers patiently put off loading newly arrived goods until the crowd dispersed.

  Ben would have known her anywhere.

  She was even more becoming than he remembered when she appeared in the passenger compartment doorway. She was wearing a deep purple traveling suit, and a white summer hat decorated with multi-colored silk roses and green leaves. He paused just to watch her for a moment as she stepped down, and then made his way through the crowd. When he reached her, he took off his hat. “Miss Whitfield, welcome home.”

  Gloria returned his cheerful smile. “Mr. O’Connell, I might have known mother would send you to meet me. She talks of nothing but your magnificent qualities each time she calls.”

  “My magnificent qualities are not nearly as fine as yours, or so I have been told…repeatedly.”

  “Oh, dear, we are being conspired against.”

  “Blatantly conspired against. Your mother and mine have become as thick as thieves since you were here last. I doubt you shall have a moment without me by your side.”

  Gloria grinned. “I see. Are we to marry soon?”

  “I suspect they shall let us fall madly in love at our leisure, as long as we make the announcement within the week.” He fully enjoyed her giggle, put his hat back on, offered his arm and was pleased when she took it. “This way.” He carefully walked her back through the crowd toward his waiting buggy.

  “Have they determined our entire future together?” Gloria asked.

  “Apparently, they have nothing better to do.”

  “Idle hands?” she asked.

  “Precisely.” He tipped his hat to a passing lady, and then guided Gloria around a wooden crate placed near the edge of the platform ready to be loaded on the train.

  “Do their devices include where we are to live and how many children I am to give you?”

  “They have not yet said how many children, but as I have a house, where we shall live is assumed.”

  Gloria playfully placed the back of her gloved hand on her forehead. “Whatever are we to do?”

  “We could run,” he suggested.

  “In opposite directions?”

  “Naturally.” When they reached the two-seater buggy, he took hold of her elbow and helped her in. “How many trunks must I begrudgingly fetch for you.”

  “What? Mother did not send seven wagons for all the new clothes she insisted I buy in New York? I am completely speechless.” Ben’s exasperated sigh made her laugh again. “You shall be relieved to know I brought but three hatboxes and two traveling cases.”

  “How kind of you.” He flashed his dimples, tipped his hat once more and went to fetch her luggage.
Privately, he found her lack of luggage disturbing. It indicated that Gloria might not intend to stay. Two years earlier when she came to visit, he resented being asked to spend time with her. If the daughter was anything like her mother, every word he said would be repeated all over town. He was quite mistaken about her, and pleasantly so. The daughter was nothing like the mother, and the more time he spent with Gloria, the more he liked and admired her.

  While she waited for Ben to tie her luggage on the back of the buggy, she looked around. It was good to be home where the air was dry instead of unbearably humid the way it was on the east coast. The people had changed, however. There were more of them and most she did not recognize. When she spotted an elderly man sitting in a chair outside the station, she asked, “Is that Provost MacGreagor?”

  Ben followed her gaze, nodded, and then climbed in the buggy beside her. “You dinna recognize him?”

  “His gray beard has turned nearly white and it is much longer now. For whom does he wait?”

  Ben knew, but since the MacGreagors didn’t want Abigail to know, he said nothing to Gloria about the expected arrival of the duchess. “He comes twice a day just to watch the people,” he answered instead. Ben had been so excited to see Gloria, he forgot to watch for the duchess. When his eyes met the elder man’s, Provost MacGreagor shook his head to indicate the duchess did not get off the train. Ben was relieved.

  “The Provost is the one man Mother is not fond of, but she does not say why. Do you know?” Gloria asked.

  “‘Tis because he dinna let Miss Abigail get away with much, especially when it comes to gossipin’ about the Scots.”

  “Good for him.”

  Ben untied the reins and got the horse started for home. The streets were filled with a mixture of automobiles and horse drawn vehicles. He used the newly invented hand signals to carefully wedge the buggy between two automobiles, and then drove down the main avenue, until he could turn on the road that led up the hill to the Marblestone and Whitfield Mansions.

  “How is everyone?” Gloria asked.

  “They are all very well and excited to see you again.”

  “Are you happy living here?”

  “Very happy. I have employment, I am out of New York City, and everyone I love is here.”

  “Not to mention, you are given time away from your tedious employment to indulge my mother’s wishes.”

  Ben chuckled, “You forget, my employer is also son-in-law to my mother. Hannish once confided that he’s his hands full with an unpredictable wife, and knows better than to disappoint her mother. The consequences could well be dire.”

  Tired of wearing it, Gloria pulled the long pins out and removed her hat. “And with your mother and mine in collusion, he is even more at their bidding?”

  “Completely at their bidding.”

  “And you? Are you at their mercy as well?”

  He sighed. “I am, but I am quite happy to be at your service. If you were another, I might not be so obliging.”

  “How flattering.”

  “I confess that if I were not a member of the MacGreagor clan, my life would be unbearably uneventful.”

  “And the MacGreagor clan would not be nearly as entertaining without the Whitfields?”

  “Precisely!” He smiled at her and held her laughing eyes with his a moment more than he should have, for she soon turned her head away. He feared the answer, but he asked the question anyway. “How long shall you be with us?”

  “A week or two. I must get back.”

  Ben did his best to hide his disappointment. “Our mothers will be devastated if you go back so soon.”

  “Speaking of mothers, how is Mrs. O’Connell?”

  “Happy. She is surrounded by grandchildren, and keeps busy making baskets for the poor, and attending your mother’s sewing circle.”

  “The gossip circle, you mean?”

  Ben glanced back and noticed two automobiles behind the buggy hoping to pass them. He waited until they were on a small plateau, and then pulled to the side of the road, where he halted and held tight to the reins. It didn’t happen often, but there were times when the blast of an automobile horn caused a horse to bolt and flip a buggy, tossing the occupants out on the hard blacktop. With Gloria beside him, he meant to see that didn’t happen.

  He watched the automobiles pass and was about to pull the horse back onto the road, when she put her hand on his arm. “Mr. O’Connell, might we stay here for a moment?”

  “Are you unwell?”

  She realized she was touching him, and withdrew her hand. “Not at all. It is just that there is so little silence on a train, or in the big cities. When I get home, Mother shall talk incessantly. The servants shall scurry in all directions and Father shall try to say a word or two…without much success. Then he shall lean closer and assure me Mother shall run down in a week or two, perhaps.” Gloria drew in a deep breath of fresh air. “There is nothing so peaceful or as calming as the silence in these mountains.”

  “I agree. Do you wish to get out?”

  “No, I can enjoy it from here.”

  Ben nodded and continued to hold the horse steady. She was right, the world was changing at a rapid pace, and every new invention filled their lives with more noise. When the O’Connells first arrived from New York City, he too found the silence enthralling, not to mention the lack of smoke and the smell of horse manure. Yet, it had been a while since he took the time to listen to the silence.

  A slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, the sunshine felt warm on his back, and save for the horse pawing the ground and birds chirping in the trees, there was indeed a pleasant, peaceful hush.

  At length, Gloria broke the silence, “Mr. O’Connell, I am in need of your assistance.”

  He grinned. “According to my mother’s resolute instructions, your wish is my command.”

  “I am serious.”

  “Very well, how may I assist you?”

  “I am to be married in June.”

  He had a devastating sinking feeling, but he tried to make light of it anyway. “To someone other than me? My heart is broken.”

  Gloria laughed. “So shall my mother’s be. She longs for me to live near her, but my intended, Mr. Harrington, insists we live in New York.”

  “I see. You fear Claymore and Abigail will move to New York to be near you instead?”

  “Good heavens, I had not thought of that.”

  Ben let another carriage and an automobile pass, and then guided the horse back onto the road. “The MacGreagors would greatly miss the Whitfields, if they did.”

  “Let us pray my parents do not think of that.”

  “Tell me, what do you wish me to do?”

  “I wish you to pretend you do not like me.”

  He considered that for a moment. “I find that impossible, for I do like you, so long as you do not tell stories about me all over town.”

  “Consider yourself safe where I am concerned, but I make no promises on my mother’s behalf. I ask your assistance, because if mother thinks we are not a good match, she shall accept my news more graciously, perhaps even warmly.”

  “I am not much good at pretending, but I shall frown from time to time, if it pleases you.”

  “That might help. Mother expects you to be my escort to the ball, but I see no need for the two of us to be in each other’s company any more than that.”

  Ben looked at her through the corner of his eyes. “You think that is all they have planned, do you?”

  “Oh, dear, how silly of me. Well, I shall make my excuses as often as I can, and you can make yours.”

  “You forget my mother. Consider an older Leesil with a little of Cathleen thrown in, and you have Mother O’Connell. She is quite fond of having her way, and in tricking me to get it. She’ll trick you, if she can.”

  “I thank you for the warning. I have heard so much about her these two years, I look forward to renewing our acquaintance.”

  Ben sighed. “You have no i
dea what you are in for, but you shall soon see. She waits for us with your mother as we speak.”

  *

  Gloria had not overestimated the commotion that waited to welcome her home. When Ben finally turned down the lane, the Whitfields, their guests, and their servants were lined up outside to greet the returning favorite daughter.

  “What? No marching band?” Gloria whispered.

  “That comes later,” Ben teased.

  Opulent was a word often used to describe the three-story Whitfield Mansion. The bright sunlight magnified the beauty of the all-white exterior, and a stone walkway stretched from the edge of the lane, across an expansive well-kept lawn, to a wide porch with southern style pillars. Beyond the width of the porch, the Whitfield butler stood ready to open two large, hand carved, oak doors. The lawn was bordered with various statues and all sorts of native flowers, including purple and blue columbines that were just beginning to bloom. At the bottom edge of their property, a well-worn path led down the hill to Marblestone.

  While Ben halted the horse and got down, Gloria took in the sweet smelling fresh air. “Home at last,” she said as Ben took her hand and helped her step down. Almost immediately, she found herself in the arms of her mother.

  A hint of a tear was in her eyes when Abigail said, “You are home, at last.”

  “Mother, I was just here two years ago,” Gloria managed to say.

  “Two very long years,” Abigail moaned, “but now you are here to stay. Was it not wonderful of Ben to meet your train? We do so like him, both your father and I. When you have…”

  Gloria ignored Abigail’s jabbering and went into Claymore’s arms. “I have missed you so, Father.”

  “And I you,” he returned, kissing the top of her head. Then he whispered, “She shall run down…in a week or two, perhaps.”