Marblestone Mansion, Book 8

by Marti Talbott

  *

  “I cannae believe it,” said Leesil. She was seated at a table for four with Cathleen, Hannish and Cameron. “Have we no birthdays this month?”

  “Not that I am aware of?” Cathleen said.

  Cameron looked his brother in the eye. “We must learn to plan our children more appropriately.”

  “Yes, you must,” Leesil teased. “We have far too many born in January and June, and not any in May at all.”

  At another table, Mother O’Connell and Abigail chose to play gin rummy with McKenna and the judge. Both mothers constantly glanced at Gloria and Ben. Abigail drew another card and then said, “They get along so famously.”

  Mother O’Connell nodded. “Aye, they do.”

  “Just think, we might soon be related,” Abigail mentioned.

  Shocked, Mother O’Connell drew back. “I had not considered that.”

  Abigail rolled her eyes and laid down her cards. “Gin!”

  “Not again,” Mother O’Connell moaned. “I swear you practice night and day.”

  “And I swear you let me win,” Abigail complained.

  “What a despicable thing to suggest,” Mother O’Connell started, “but if it pleases you.”

  Just then, the children ran into the room with Justin in the lead. He wore his play knickerbockers and collarless blue shirt, while the girls wore short cotton dresses with leggings.

  “No running in the house,” Hannish admonished. Instantly, all of the children slowed to a walk.

  “Father,” Justin said, “Traitor stole our baseball again. He’s run off at full speed and we cannae find him.”

  “Traitor?” Gloria asked.

  “The dog, remember?” Ben scooted his chair back and stood up. “Excuse me, duty calls.” He took hold of the top of Justin’s head with his hand and turned the boy around. “You take the front and I shall take the back.”

  “Right oh!” Justin shouted. He abruptly fled, leading the trail of children back out of the ballroom.

  As soon as Ben was gone, Blair moved into his seat across from Gloria. “Do you fancy Ben?” she boldly asked.

  “Did my mother tell you to ask me that?”

  Blair giggled, “Not yet. Do you fancy him?”

  “He seems to be a very good man. Do you like him?”

  “Oh yes, I like him very much. He is always kind and helpful.”

  Gloria frowned. “Are you certain my mother did not tell you to say that?”

  “Nay, she did not, but we are all hoping you fancy him.”

  “You are? Why?”

  “Because we think he fancies you.”

  Gloria leaned back in her chair. “Has he said so?”

  “No, but grandmother says he has that look in his eyes.” Blair wrinkled her brow. “What look does she mean?”

  “I have not the slightest idea,” Gloria admitted. What look, Gloria privately wondered. She had not noticed that or any other particular look in Ben’s eyes.

  *

  At another table, Adrian seemed to be winning every hand, much to Claymore’s mortification, and Geddes was none too pleased either. Twice, Harriet suggested they change from poker to something else, but Geddes was determined to win back his pennies.

  At the table next to them, Cathleen leaned toward her husband. “I believe it is time for the surprise.”

  “I agree,” said Cameron.

  Everything was arranged. Cathleen got up, went to the table where Blair sat with Gloria, and when Lillie Mae peeked through the open door, she nodded. “My darling, we have a surprise for you?”

  “For me?” Blair asked. “‘Tis not my birthday.”

  “Did you not say you wished to go to the ball?” Cathleen asked as she pointed toward the door. “Look over there.”

  As soon as she saw the blue silk ball gown Lillie Mae was holding up, Blair caught her breath. “Mother, it has a long skirt?”

  “You may thank Gloria for that. She has convinced me it is time.”

  With all eyes on her, Blair quickly got up, ran to Lillie Mae and touched the gown. “I cannae believe it!” In a flash, she hurried back to Cathleen and threw her arms around her. “Oh, thank you, Mother.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  “May I stay late at the ball too?”

  “You must ask your father about that. Go try it on so we may…” Before Cathleen could finish her sentence, Blair had Lillie Mae’s hand and was practically dragging her out the door.

  *

  When Cathleen knocked on the door a little while later, excited giggles were still coming from inside Blair’s bedroom.

  “Come in?”

  “‘Tis just me?” The moment she saw Blair in the ball gown, Cathleen paused. Blair had her hair piled on top of her head, and looked stunningly grown up. “How lovely you are.”

  “Am I?” Blair asked, spinning around to make the long skirt flare.

  “Truly.” Cathleen had only seen the duchess once, but in a ball gown that exhibited Blair’s figure, and with dark hair and blue eyes that caught the color of the gown, she felt a little anxious. The similarities were shocking and she decided she should warn everyone before they saw her.

  “May I go downstairs and show everyone?” Blair asked.

  Cathleen shook her head. “We ladies like to surprise the gentlemen on the night of the ball. Besides, the seamstress has not yet finished your petticoats and you must have new shoes.”

  Lillie Mae was just as excited as Blair, when she asked Cathleen, “How shall she wear her hair? I will need practice if I am to get it right.”

  “We have several styles we can choose from,” said Blair, “There are pictures in the magazines in the sitting room.” She laughed when Lillie Mae quickly darted out the door to fetch them.

  Cathleen watched her daughter’s image in the mirror for a moment more. “Remember, ‘tis Gloria’s ball, and as her friends, we must make every effort to let her have all the attention.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “If ‘tis at all possible,” Cathleen muttered.

  *

  The outdoor concert planned for the next evening was cancelled due to rain, which amazed both Ben and Gloria. Perhaps their mothers didn’t have power over the weather after all. To compensate, the MacGreagors hosted yet another dinner at their house. By now, Gloria didn’t wait to be directed to a seat, she just automatically went to the chair at the table next to Ben’s. She smiled, he smiled, she sat, he sat, she began to eat, he began to eat, and not once did she see that look in his eyes. Everyone else was simply delusional, she decided.

  It was the night before the ball. The decorations were set, the orchestra hired, the drinks prepared, the clothes laid out and everyone was excited – except Gloria. All she could think about, as they chatted and finished their dinner, was the disappointment she would see in her mother’s eyes when she announced her engagement. She could change her mind and not marry Mr. Harrington, but if her father found out, he would be upset. According to Claymore, a promise was not to be gone back on – under any circumstances. Still, there must be exceptions, even to that rule.

  “Ben,” she whispered, “what is honor?” He looked at her as if he did not understand the question. “I mean, in the marriage vows, it says I am to honor my husband. What does it mean exactly?”

  He lowered his voice to match hers. “I suppose it means something different to a lad than it means to a lass.”

  She picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. “How so?”

  “Well, if a lad honors his wife, he must protect and provide for her. A lass honors her husband by…”

  “Yes, go on,” Gloria encouraged.

  “I confess I am not certain what it means.” Finished eating, he let Brookton take his plate away.

  Leesil couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. “I should like to know too?”

  “Know what?” Hannish asked. Everyone quieted and waited for Leesil to answer.

  “The question before us is th
is,” Leesil began, “does honor in the marriage vows mean something different to a lad than it does to a lass?”

  “What an odd question,” Abigail said.

  “Mother, if I am to honor my husband, I should like to know what is expected of me,” Gloria explained.

  “Have you a particular husband in mind?” Mother O’Donnell brazenly asked.

  “Perhaps,” Gloria answered, knowing full well Ben’s mother would get her hopes up, “but not until I fully understand what it means to be a wife. Father, can you not explain it?”

  “Well,” Claymore started, “I believe a wife honors her husband when she does not embarrass him publicly.”

  “No, no, that will not do,” said Abigail. “A woman cannot help but embarrass her husband occasionally. One never knows what will embarrass him and what will not?”

  “She is right,” admitted Cathleen.

  “I agree,” said McKenna. She normally ate slower than everyone else and was not bothered by it.

  “Thank you,” Abigail said.

  “Mr. Hannish, what do you believe it is?” Gloria asked.

  About to take a last bite of roast beef, Hannish laid down his fork and his knife before he answered. “A husband and a wife alike, honor each other when there are no lies between them.”

  “No lies between them,” Abigail gulped. “I assure you there are plenty of lies between a husband and a wife.”

  Claymore set his fork down too and folded his arms. “Such as?”

  “You lied when I asked if I should wear the pink or the purple ball gown.”

  Claymore rolled his eyes. “I did not lie, Abigail. You asked a trick question and you well know it.” He looked at Hannish. “I said the pink and she asked what was wrong with the purple. That is a trick question if ever I heard one.” He picked his fork back up, and shoved a bite of potato in his mouth.

  “Yes, but then you said you liked them both, and that was a lie. Later you confessed you did not like the pink one at all.”

  Claymore quickly swallowed. “Only because you forced me to choose. What was I supposed to do?”

  “I like the pink one,” said Gloria.

  “Turncoat,” Claymore muttered, making everyone laugh.

  Judge Mitchell grew serious before he spoke. “I believe there are many ways to honor a husband. Faithfulness is one of them, naturally.”

  “Not just faithfulness,” said Mother O’Connell, “but not putting yourself in a position where faithfulness might be in doubt.”

  “I see,” said Gloria. “What else? There must be more to it than that.”

  Cameron decided to take a stab at it. “If a lad loves his wife, he honors her by seeing to her needs before his own.”

  “Ah, but is that not what love alone does,” asked Leesil. “Is honor not something different?”

  “Perhaps love and honor are the same,” Ben said.

  “Then why do the vows name each separately?” Gloria asked.

  Everyone seemed stumped for a time before Mother O’Connell answered, “Because they are not the same. Claymore is right when he says a wife should not strive to embarrass her husband. She should not point out his faults, laugh at him cruelly, or accuse him falsely where others might hear, even their children.”

  “My hat is off to you,” said Claymore. “No one could have said it better.”

  Mother O’Connell smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I agree,” Hannish put in. “Perhaps honor is the same as respect. A wife, who respects her husband’s place at the head of the family, honors his wrong decisions, when he makes them, and then speaks to him about it in private.”

  “And a husband honors her the same way?” Gloria asked.

  Hannish wrinkled his brow and then looked at Leesil. “I assure you, my wife never makes a wrong decision.”

  Leesil burst out laughing. “Only every day, at least twice.”

  “Gloria,” McKenna asked after everyone stopped chuckling, “what is it? What is bothering you?”

  “I find I do not completely understand what love is. I want to be as happy in my marriage as my parents are.” She watched as Claymore reached for Abigail’s hand. “There, see how he takes her hand? I know that is love, but what if my husband does not take my hand after we are married? Furthermore, how can I know if he truly loves me before we marry?”

  Finished with his dinner, the judge set his plate on the silver tray footman Brookton held for him. “Miss Gloria, you ask a question that has evaded mankind for all time, particularly when it comes to the law. In my years on the bench, I know very well what love is not. It is not selfishness or unkindness. If a husband says a hurtful thing to his wife, she shall not forget, and in fact, shall take his harsh words with her to the grave. The same is true if a wife is unduly critical of her husband.”

  “Aye, but in the anger of a moment, all of us are guilty of saying something harsh,” Cameron pointed out.

  “True,” said the judge. “I am guilty of that myself.”

  Gloria directed her next question to Judge Mitchell, “You are saying that love and honor are what we strive for, but cannot truly accomplish?”

  Silent the entire time, Blair finally spoke up. “Father, you say I must honor my commitments. Is that the same sort of honor?”

  “Very well asked,” Gloria said. “My father says the same.”

  Cameron was proud of his daughter. “A wise question, indeed. In that case, honor is the same as honesty. A promise given must be a promise kept.”

  “In business,” Claymore added, “if we do not honor our commitments, we shall soon be out of business.”

  “Yet, suppose you made an unfortunate commitment – one that you do not wish to honor?” Gloria asked.

  It wasn’t hard for Ben to guess what she was getting at and to see how she was struggling. “Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I have committed myself to a marriage I discover will make us both miserable. Do I dishonor myself and my family if I decline to go through with it?”

  Mother O’Connell glared at her son. “Ben, what have you done?”

  “He has done nothing wrong, I assure you,” said Gloria. “Yet, his question requires an answer. If two people in love marry, then they can look forward to a long, happy life, but if one does not truly love the other, and it is discovered beforehand…”

  Claymore cleared his throat the way he always did before giving a speech. “In the case of marriage, one never knows if love is true in the beginning. Love must have time to grow, just as the trees in the fields must, before they bear fruit.”

  “But father, what if…” Gloria tried.

  “Do not interrupt me, daughter,” Claymore scolded. “A promise of marriage must be taken under carful advisement before it is made. You see, a commitment once made cannot be revoked without causing heartfelt injury to the other participant. Had your mother changed her mind, I would have…I do not know what I would have done. The thought of it pains me even now.”

  Both Ben and Gloria lowered their gaze.

  “A man’s heart must not be trifled with,” Claymore continued.

  “Nor a woman’s,” Mother O’Connell agreed as she continued to glare at her son.

  Ben thought to take Gloria’s hand under the table to comfort her, but he didn’t dare, not with everyone watching his every move.

  “Gloria, have I answered your question sufficiently?” Claymore asked.

  “Yes, Father,” she answered. “Thank you.”

  Abigail could stand the suspense no longer. “Might those wedding vows pertain to someone we know?”

  Gloria forced a smile. “Possibly, but I dread waiting so long for Justin to grow up.” Everyone else laughed, but inside, Gloria’s world was crumbling. She either had to honor her commitment, or disappoint her father. Until now, she had not considered Mr. Harrington’s feelings. Perhaps Claymore was right – Mr. Harrington’s love would grow in time. At any rate, she had committed herself to him, and no matter the consequences, h
onoring that commitment was the right thing to do.

  CHAPTER 8

  Gloria could not have looked lovelier in her pastel green ball gown. It was made of silk chiffon with an empire waist and puffy sleeves. The sashes of the dark green embroidered waistband were tied in a bow and hung down the back of her two-foot train.

  “You look far more beautiful than even Mrs. Taft at her husband’s inaugural ball,” said Abigail.

  “I am certain not, but thank you for the compliment, Mother. You decided to wear the purple ball gown, I see.”

  “Your father said it makes me look more elegant.”

  Gloria giggled. “He is a very wise man.” She once more inspected her hair in the mirror. “Do you not think the tiara is a bit much? It is only a ball.”

  “Oh, you must wear it. It is your ball and just everyone shall be there.”

  “Well, if you insist, but…”

  “But nothing,” Abigail answered. “You might just catch a husband, this night, if you are fortunate.”

  “Catch one? You make it sound like baseball.”

  “Oh, do not speak of that terrible game. It is all you father talks about these days.” Abigail smoothed the front of her gown with her hand and admired herself in a wall mirror. Instead of a tiara, she chose pins with tiny white sparkles scattered throughout her red hair.

  “It is not terrible, I like baseball too.”

  “You would, you like everything your father likes.”

  “And we both like you,” Gloria said, hugging her mother. “Tell me these are not truly diamonds.”

  “They are not. I wanted them to be, but your father would not allow it. They are only rhinestones.”

  “Good. Diamonds are not a very sensible thing to spend money on, or so some people have suggested.”

  “What people?” Abigail asked.

  “No one in particular. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “What is money for if we cannot spend it? Shall we go? I believe there is a handsome gentleman waiting for you downstairs.”

  “He is handsome, is he not?”

  “Very, and he has taken a shine to you. I can tell.”