Gloria giggled and then glanced at a grinning Ben.
“Say hello to Mother O’Connell.” Abigail was saying. “Everyone calls her that these days, so you may as well also.”
Gloria extended her hand, “Mother O’Connell, it is lovely to see you again.”
“We have been waiting breathlessly for your return,” Mother O’Connell said.
“Really, are the two of you up to something?” Gloria asked.
Mother O’Connell leaned closer, “What has Ben been telling you?”
Gloria pretended to be horrified, “Nothing, I swear it.” She left Ben’s mother’s side and went next to Blair. “Good Heavens, look how you have grown.”
“I am thirteen now.”
“No. Where does all the time go?” Next, Gloria hugged each of the MacGreagors, including Judge Mitchell and McKenna, and then greeted the servants. All the while, Abigail stayed beside her daughter, adding remarks and details, just as she was famous for spreading all over town. Gloria just smiled and moved to the next person.
“Come in, come in,” Abigail insisted.
“My dear,” Claymore said, “take a moment to breathe.” He again gathered his daughter in his arms and held her close. “You must save yourself,” he whispered.
Gloria giggled and then kissed her father on the cheek. “Are you well, Father?”
“Quite well.”
Abigail was far from finished, “We hardly have occasion to have dinner at our house, but tonight is a special occasion. The cook has slaved all day to make everything you like,” she continued as they crossed the porch and entered through the door the butler held open for them, “Everyone is staying, of course, what would a homecoming be without all the MacGreagors?”
“Hardly a homecoming at all,” Gloria admitted.
“That is precisely what I thought.”
“Mother, might I have a bath first?”
“Of course, you may,” Abigail conceded. “I shall be vastly happy to help you.”
Again, Gloria glanced at a laughing Ben. “Mother, I believe I am old enough to bathe myself.”
Abigail blushed. “Of course, you are.” She watched her daughter disappear up the stairs, and then turned to Leesil and Cathleen. “Does she not look wonderful?”
“Positively glowing,” Leesil agreed.
“And why not?” Abigail went on, looping her arm around Leesil’s and walking with her into the parlor. “Everyone knows the Colorado air will put the blush back into a young lady’s cheek. I have always said…”
CHAPTER 6
“She has redecorated again,” Gloria whispered as she took her father’s arm and entered the Whitfield dining room. The wallpaper displayed a light green pattern, and white curtains hung on each side of two large windows.
“I whole-heartedly approve this time,” Claymore muttered. “I have never been fond of yellow.”
“Nor have I,” Gloria confessed. Everyone else was already there, and to no one’s surprise, the butler seated Gloria between Ben and Blair. She gave her mother a suspicious look, but Abigail ignored her and took her place at the right hand of her husband, who sat at the head of the table. The guests also included Mother O’Connell, the two MacGreagor couples, and the judge and McKenna.
In the center of the table, directly beneath the chandelier, sat a large vase that held an array of fresh flowers and on the buffet table, silver platters held various courses that filled the air with tempting aromas. “Is this not just lovely?” Abigail beamed.
“‘Tis very nice,” Hannish agreed.
“We discovered a new colt this morning,” said Blair as the footmen began to serve roast pork, pickled apples, corn, asparagus with cream sauce, and hot sliced bread.
“Did you?” Gloria asked. “Nothing marks the coming of spring more notably than the birth of animals.”
“Everyone is so excited to see it,” Blair continued. “He is pure black with not a speck of white. He has big black eyes and wobbly legs.”
“I cannot wait to see him,” said Gloria. She took a serving of pork, and then asked, “Mother, where did you get asparagus this time of year?”
“It grows wild beside the river, they tell me,” Abigail answered. “Lewis picked this batch especially for you.”
“Then I shall remember to thank him.”
Blair added, “Father says I may have the colt when he is old enough to train.”
“That should keep you occupied this summer,” said Gloria.
“Have you seen it?” Claymore asked Hannish as he waited his turn to be served.
“Seen what?” Hannish asked. He waited until his glass was filled with wine, and then took a sip.
“They now have an Automobile Hearse.”
“Claymore, what a thing to bring up at the dinner table,” Abigail complained.
“My dear, we all die eventually.”
“Not at my dinner table,” Abigail insisted.
Claymore pretended to pout. “Forgive me, my dear, I was not implying that…”
Abigail soon interrupted him. “That reminds me, Mr. Carter passed away this morning.”
“Who?” Cathleen asked as she helped herself to a slice of bread.
“Mr. Carter, at the butcher shop,” Abigail answered. “Mrs. Maps said he just fell over dead in his shop.”
“How sad,” said Mrs. O’Connell, “I liked the man, myself.”
Hoping to change the subject, Gloria asked, “Blair, do you wish to attend college some day?”
“College?” Blair asked. “I cannae think of that, I am not yet allowed to wear long skirts. Mother says I am not old enough, but I disagree. Can you not persuade her?”
Gloria was instantly sorry she brought the subject up, glanced at Cathleen, and then turned back to Blair. “You must enjoy childhood for as long as possible. Being a grown woman is not as easy as it looks to someone your age.”
“Indeed not,” Cathleen agreed.
Claymore took pity on his daughter and changed the subject, “There is a man newly come to town that paints portraits, and does it very well.”
“How delightful,” Abigail said. “A family portrait is just what we need.”
Claymore frowned. “Are we to pay his passage to England, so that Charles might also appear in the portrait?”
“And his wife?” Cameron asked.
“If need be,” Abigail returned. “It was you who mentioned it.”
Claymore frowned. “I mentioned it, thinking the MacGreagors might be interested. I, for one, am not the least interested in sitting in one position for endless hours while a man learns to draw.”
“Nor am I,” Gloria admitted.
Claymore studied the annoyance on his wife’s face and sighed. “Judge, perhaps you might save me and entertain us with another of your trial reports.”
The last to be served, Judge Mitchell began to cut his meat. “Lately, the trials have been quite boring. There are always disputes over land, water and livestock, all of which could easily be solved by men learning to talk sensibly to each other.”
“That does sound boring,” Claymore agreed.
“There is one case in Kansas that has my interest,” the judge continued. “The plaintiff claims each time his neighbor drives his automobile past the farm, it backfires right next to the hen house. The damage, you see, is that the hens have stopped laying eggs. The plaintiff is asking for an entire year of supposed income in compensation.”
“An entire year? Will he win it?” Abigail asked.
“I have no idea,” the judge admitted. “That is what makes the case so interesting. It could go either way.”
Amid the clinking of silverware on dishes, everyone continued eating until Hannish asked, “What say you about prohibition, Judge? The papers talk of it sweeping parts of Canada and the Faroe Islands.”
“Where are the Faroe Islands?” Blair asked.
“Far north of Scotland,” Cameron answered.
“Are they Scottish?” Gloria asked.
<
br /> “Nay, they are Danish,” Cameron answered.
“And they are without a drop to quench a grown man’s thirst,” Claymore added.
“I hear prohibition is gaining popularity amongst women all over the world,” said Ben.
“And rightly so,” said Abigail. “I have seen it time and time again when we take baskets to the poor. They are poor because the husband cares more for his spirits than his family. He drinks and when his wife does not please him, he hits her. I swear I have seen more than one black eye because of it.”
“Perhaps so,” Claymore started, “but not all men drink too heavily or strike their wives. Why should we all suffer for the sins of the few?”
“Suffer?” Abigail shot back. “I hardly think you would suffer in the least.”
“Perhaps suffer is an inopportune way of putting it,” Hannish suggested. “I find a drop or two pleasurable now and again.”
“Mostly now,” Cameron said, reaching for his glass of wine.
“Mock me if you will,” said Abigail, “but you have not seen a woman who has been beaten nearly to her last breath.”
“Can we not change the subject?” Cathleen asked.
“Indeed we can,” Gloria said. “I invite all the ladies to come tomorrow, so I may show them the latest styles from New York.”
“I would love to see them,” said McKenna. “I am in need of a few new things.”
“As am I,” said Leesil. “I am thinking a trip to New York might do us all good.”
“And leave the men behind?” asked Abigail.
“Why not, they go off to Denver without us often enough.” Leesil winked at her husband. “You will not mind, will you?”
Hannish was a bit hesitant. “I…suppose not.”
“Fret not, you shall have all the children to keep you company,” Cathleen joked. “Sister, we must go in autumn when it is cool.”
“A splendid idea,” Abigail said.
“May I go, Mother?” Blair asked.
“I do not see why not, unless your father objects,” said Cathleen.
Cameron sternly looked at his daughter. “Do you promise not to get lost?”
Blair emphatically nodded. “I promise.”
“There, that is settled,” said Leesil. “A shopping trip for all the ladies in autumn. I can hardly wait.” She raised her glass in salute. The women clinked glasses, but the men were not so sure they liked the idea just yet.
Claymore wrinkled his brow. “There and back shall take nearly three weeks, my love. I do not believe we have ever been apart that long.”
“Well…” Abigail slowly said, “I could call every night, if it rests your soul.”
“Yes, perhaps that might do,” Claymore admitted. He quietly finished his dinner while the others talked. At length, he mentioned, “They say Kaiser Wilhelm is buying arms from any country willing to sell.”
“So are the British,” Hannish put in.
“Yes, but why?” Abigail asked.
“‘Tis because of an interview in the London newspaper,” Cameron answered. “The Kaiser said, ‘You English are mad, mad, mad as March hares.’ The British shall never let that stand uncontested.”
“What a foolish thing to say,” Leesil mumbled.
“The Kaiser builds up his navy too,” Cameron added. “Yet, he claims his enemy is Japan and not the British Isles.”
“He means to go to war?” Ben asked.
“I hope not, but it does not look as if either side shall easily back down,” Cameron answered.
“Surely, America will not get involved,” Leesil said.
“I would not mind if Provost MacGreagor volunteered,” Abigail sneered. “How happy he would be, if only they let him fire a cannon.”
Gloria waited for the laughter to die down before she asked, “You do not like him still, Mother?”
“Not in the least. He walks with his head down and his hands clasped behind his back as if he might accidentally step in something. Furthermore, he plays that ear-piercing bagpipe at every opportunity, just to annoy me.”
“Mother, I am certain he does not…” Gloria tried.
“Oh, yes he does!” Abigail protested. “He does it just to rile me.”
When Gloria looked, both Ben and Hannish were nodding. “Truly, he does it intentionally?” she asked.
“He does, unfortunately,” Hannish admitted.
Gloria put one hand on her hip. “In that case, I shall go forthwith and poke him in the nose.”
“Finally,” said Abigail, “someone on my side.”
“We are all on your side, dearest,” said Claymore.
“Mother,” Blair said, “I have been wondering.”
“What, my darling,” Cathleen asked.
“This morning, I found something odd in the rose garden. It is a plaque and it says, ‘here lies the duchess for here the duchess lied.” If Blair noticed that nearly everyone in the room went a little ridged, she said nothing about it.
Cathleen did her best not to catch her breath. She looked at Cameron and then at her sister, before she answered, “‘Tis only a joke Leesil played on me years ago.”
“I had forgotten all about it,” said Leesil.
“Aye, but what does it mean, Aunt Leesil?” Blair insisted. “What did Mother lie about?”
Leesil smiled, “She lied about the red rock, you see.”
“The red rock?” Blair asked.
“Aye. In the orphanage, we had a red rock and we used it to place our wagers. Your mother claims she had the red rock first, but I…”
“I did have the red rock first,” Cathleen argued.
“Says you,” Leesil shot back. “I am older, therefore my memory if vastly better.”
Blair giggled. “Where is it now?”
Leesil wrinkled her brow. “I believe James had it last.”
“Your friend in the orphanage?” Gloria asked.
“Aye, the one we have not heard from in years,” Cathleen answered. Under the table, Cathleen felt her husband take her hand to show his support. “I wonder where he’s got off too. I believe I might strangle him for not writing more often.”
“He likely has six wives and fourteen children by now,” Leesil said, continuing to lighten the mood.
“Six wives?” Blair gasped. “No one has six wives.”
“They do in Arabia,” said Abigail. “They can have all the wives they want.”
“Aye,” said Hannish as he winked at Blair, “but can one husband keep that many wives from fighting?” He enjoyed the laughter, shared a disturbed look with his brother, and then reached once more for his glass of wine.
When the cherry cobbler was served, everyone remarked on the exceptional taste, sent compliments to the cook, and endeavored to talk about anything and everything not connected to the duchess. Yet, it was clear the mood had changed. Most soon excused themselves, claiming the excitement had tired them, allowed that Gloria needed to rest, and left with the women promising to come back the next afternoon for tea.
Of the guests at the dinner table that night, only three were unaware of what just happened – Blair, Mother O’Connell, and Gloria.
*
As soon as they got home, Hannish went out to the garden, found the plaque, pulled it up, and threw it in the pile of trash to be hauled away the next day. In the scant light of dusk, he walked to the corral, put one foot up on the bottom rung of the fence, and watched the horses. Rarely did he have time to be alone with his thoughts, and once more, he tried to guess where the duchess was and what she was planning. He half expected an extortion letter of some kind, or in the very least, a threatening telephone call. There was nothing and he found her silence frightening.
“You are not to blame,” Leesil said.
He reached out and put one arm around her. “I dinna hear you comin’.”
“My love, I know you take the blame upon yourself, but when you do, you excuse what the duchess has done. This mess, Blair and all the rest of it, is her fault and
hers alone. She began it years before you knew her, and it shall not end until she is in her grave. All we can do is…”
“Try to prevent her from destroying what we still have?” he asked.
“Aye, which is vastly more than she shall ever have.”
“You pity her?”
“Of course I do,” said Leesil. “I have you and four wonderful children. She has nothing.”
“I cannae help but feel something dreadful is about to happen.”
“I feel it too, but perhaps we are being apprehensive for nothing.”
“I hope you are right.”
She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his strong chest. “‘Tis such a beautiful evening. We have our health, and Blair is concerned with nothing more than wearing grown up clothes.”
“You believe Cameron is right not to tell her?”
“I dinna at first, but now I do. No good can come from her knowing before she must.”
“And perhaps she shall never have to know?”
Leesil sighed. “She shall ask someday, and we must let Cameron tell her. It is best coming from him.”
“You are right, of course. It is up to him.”
She turned in his arms to watch the horses with him. It was good to be alone with her husband – to feel his arms around her and not be interrupted. She could barely see the dark outline of Pikes Peak against the multitude of stars in the sky. “We should do this more often.”
“Aye, we should. Have you thought to tell Mother O’Connell about the duchess?”
“Nay, she is so happy here, I dinna wish her to fret. Besides, she might say something to Abigail.”
“True, ‘tis not her worry.” He paused for a long moment. “That is what I hate most.”
“What?”
“That we cannae speak freely. Part of me wishes we could tell the world and be done with it. If it were not for you, I…”
“You need not fret on my account.”
“And if they say we are not legally married?”
She giggled and turned back around. “I shall have Claymore put a shotgun to your back and make you marry me again.”
Hannish smiled finally. “I shall not need a shotgun. Have you any idea how much I love you?”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 8 Page 8
