Marblestone Mansion, Book 8

by Marti Talbott

  “Perhaps he hoped the book would not become available in America,” Cathleen suggested.

  “Has it?” a still shocked Leesil asked Laura.

  “According to a Mrs. Brown on the ship, it has been here for several months.”

  As she stood up, Abigail said, “There is a bookshop across the street, and I must know what it says, before I break the awful news to Claymore.”

  “Get us all a copy,” Leesil asked just before Abigail fled out the door. After she was gone, Leesil turned her attention back to Laura. “Maude Okerman published it? What could she know about the duchess?”

  “Oh dear, now I am in real trouble,” Laura answered.

  “How so?” Cathleen asked.

  “I am afraid your husbands have always known about the manuscript, just as Edward did. The first time it was written, Edward and Cameron burned it, but the second time, Maude found out and paid a high price to the author for it. Lord Okerman then took it away from her and put it in his safe.”

  “How did she get it back?” Cathleen asked.

  “Lord Okerman died. He promised to destroy it, but apparently he did not.”

  Cathleen respectfully bowed her head. “I am sorry to hear of Lord Okerman’s death. I liked him, ‘twas Maude we could not abide.”

  “Nor could the rest of us,” Laura said.

  Leesil was heartsick. “Hannish knew about it all this time and dinna tell us?”

  “My darlings, I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” said Laura. “Yet, I wanted to be with you when…”

  “When Colorado explodes in gossip?” Leesil asked, raising her voice a little. “What could you possibly do to prevent it?”

  “I cannot prevent it, but I can testify to the true nature of the beast, for I have known her the longest. At any rate, I have seen the ugliness the book brings, and I pray you are spared the worst of it. London society can be quite cruel when it wants to be.”

  When Abigail came back, she handed one copy of the red book with gold lettering to Leesil, and another to Cathleen. She kept one for herself, didn’t bother to read it from the beginning and skimmed the pages until she found her son’s name. For several minutes, she read in silence, and then with a bang that startled the others, she slammed the book closed. “I pray she comes back, so I can strangle her.”

  “Comes back?” Laura asked.

  “We did not tell her,” Cathleen confessed to Abigail.

  “I see,” said Abigail. “Have I got a story to tell you!”

  For the next hour, while Leesil and Cathleen read the part of the book that pertained to Hannish, Abigail told Laura every detail of the day the duchess came to see Blair.

  “Blair is fourteen?” Laura asked when Abigail finally ran out of things to say. “Did she say what month Blair was born in?”

  “July,” Abigail answered.

  Laura counted the number of months on her fingers. “She is Edward’s daughter. There can be no doubt about it now.”

  “Cameron always thought she was,” Cathleen admitted.

  “Mrs. Whitfield,” Laura asked, “how would you like to go with me to see the duchess?”

  “You know where she is?” Leesil asked.

  “I do, and it is right on our way to Colorado,” Laura answered. “It is time I pay Mrs. Gormelia Graham a little visit.”

  “I would like nothing better than to go with you,” said Abigail.

  Leesil frowned. “I have no desire whatsoever to see her.”

  “Nor do I,” said Cathleen. “Besides, I have a husband to talk to.”

  Leesil asked, “What else do you suppose they have not told us, sister?”

  Cathleen sneered, “I dinna know, but I mean to find out.”

  “I will count myself fortunate not to hear that discussion,” said Laura. “Therefore, Mrs. Whitfield…”

  “Abigail,” Abigail corrected.

  “Thank you. Abigail and I shall take our leave in Cleveland and catch a later train.”

  *

  The duchess was expecting room service when she opened the door wide. “Laura?” she asked, quickly stepping back as though she feared an attack.

  Before she had a chance to close the door, Laura walked in and so did Abigail Whitfield. “Close the door, Abigail,” said Laura.

  “What are you…I mean how did you find me?” the duchess stammered.

  “Pinkerton men know right where you are,” Laura answered. She glanced around, and found the expensive decorations interesting.

  The duchess gulped. “Pinkerton men?”

  “All of London is looking for you. I know not who hired them, but I doubt you shall be safe anywhere. Sit down, Gormelia, and do not bother to get your gun. You will not shoot us and risk prison, of that much I am certain.”

  While Abigail stood in front of the door, Laura took a seat on the couch and removed her gloves. “Well now, you have made quite a mess of things. Mrs. Whitfield would like to strangle you, but she has agreed to wait until after we have a little chat, you and I.”

  The duchess swallowed hard and then eased into a chair opposite Laura. “Chat about what?”

  “You know what, Gormelia.”

  The duchess gathered her wits and narrowed her eyes. “Laura, you know I hate that name.”

  “You shall be happy to know, I do as well. By the way, the King has read a book about you.”

  “He has?”

  “I suppose that means you have seen a copy. Of course, you have. How pleased you must be to see your wickedness in print.”

  The duchess ignored the insult and instead asked, “What did the King say?”

  “They tell me he was irked at first, but later he was heard laughing.”

  “Laughing?” she wrinkled her brow. “What did he find laughable?”

  “I know not. He wants to meet you, but of course, it is not safe for you in London these days.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because half the people want to hang you,” Laura was happy to say.

  “And the other half?”

  “They favor a beheading, as do I.” Laura paused a moment to let her words sink in. “I understand you went to see Blair. Therefore, you have seen for yourself that she is far and away more beautiful than you ever were.”

  The duchess cringed and bit her lower lip.

  “Have you thought of a way to use her charm and beauty to your advantage yet?” Laura accused.

  “I know not what you mean.”

  “Gormelia, do you not know who you are talking to? It is me, Laura, the same Laura who can prove you did not kill my first husband. They shall ask, you know, once the book makes it to that lonely Scottish island we were born on. Everyone will remember you, how could they not? And they will remember we ran away the very night he died.”

  “You cannot prove I did not kill him, you waited in the boat for me.”

  “True, but only you and I know that.”

  The duchess finally remembered Abigail, and looked at her. “And now she knows.”

  Laura nodded. “And now she has heard it from your own lips. I was not there.”

  “George Graham killed him, not me.”

  “Yes,” Laura returned, “but who will believe you? You have admitted in front of Abigail that you were there, and George is dead.”

  The duchess feared she was about to go into her catatonia state, but pushed it away long enough to ask another question. “Do the Pinkerton men know about…about the murder?”

  “If they do not by now, they soon will. Poor Gormelia, where can you possibly hide? Perhaps Jedediah Tanner told you how to find his hidden mountain cabin. Of course, a cabin has few comforts and you would have to hunt for food. Still, I see no opportunities left to you.” Laura paused, but the duchess had nothing more to say. “Well, I have said all I came to say.”

  Laura put her gloves back on, stood up and walked to the door. “Hannish requests that you visit Blair any time you choose. Colorado Springs has Pinkerton men too.” She started t
o leave and then pretended to remember something else. “One more thing. I fear you have made a grave error.”

  “What error?” the duchess asked.

  “You told Blair how old she truly is. I found the decree of divorcement Edward filed against you, and it is certain – she is Edward’s daughter.”

  “That is not true,” the duchess tried.

  “True or not, before he passed, Edward claimed her as his own in front of witnesses. Therefore, she is not illegitimate after all, and is entitled to a very generous inheritance, one which you shall never get your hands on.”

  Laura watched the color drain from the duchess’ face. “Good bye, Gormelia. I hope we shall never hear from, or see you again. If we do, I shall be forced to tell the authorities you killed my husband.”

  “That is a lie!”

  Laura smiled. “Darling Gormelia, I have never been above lying where you are concerned. Our roles are reverse, you see. This time, it is I who holds the hammer over your head.”

  Abigail had not said a word, but after Laura walked out the door, she glared. “I have made the acquaintance of a few Pinkerton men myself.” With that, Abigail walked out and slammed the door.

  In the elevator on the ride down, Abigail asked, “How much of that was true?”

  “Half perhaps, but it shall take her a while to figure it out.”

  “She will run and we may never find her again,” Abigail pointed out, as she followed Laura out the hotel door to the waiting carriage.

  “She would have run anyway.”

  Abigail got in and paused to catch her breath. “Blair is not Edward’s daughter?”

  “Oh, that part is true. He adored her, and swore he fathered her in front of witnesses to protect Blair. The duchess has tried to use Blair’s paternity as a means to gain wealth for years, and now she cannot.” Laura sighed. “I believe I am at peace now, finally.”

  “Well, we shall be at peace too…until that vile book shows up in Colorado.”

  *

  It was not the happy reunion Hannish and Cameron expected when they picked their wives up at the train station. Leesil and Cathleen were pleasant, explained that Laura and Abigail would be coming later, and barely let their husbands kiss them. Dugan helped the others into the carriage and loaded their luggage, while the two MacGreagor couples climbed into Hannish’ automobile.

  “Perhaps we might go somewhere and talk,” Leesil suggested.

  It was not a good sign, and Hannish could not imagine what was wrong, but he did as she asked and drove to a nearby park. He pulled to the side of the street and stopped. “Will this do?”

  “I suppose it must,” said Leesil. She pulled the book out of her bag and handed it to him. In the back seat, Cathleen handed her copy to Cameron.

  Cameron loudly exhaled. “Lord Okerman swore he would destroy it.”

  “Then you have known about it all along,” Cathleen asked.

  “What else have you neglected to tell us?” Leesil demanded.

  Hannish shook his head. “Where did you get this?”

  “In a bookshop in New York City. It is selling very well,” Leesil answered. “Why did you not tell us?”

  Hannish rubbed the back of his neck for a time before he answered. “Because we dinna want you to fret over it.”

  “I would not have fretted,” Leesil answered. “I would have insisted you make certain it was destroyed.”

  “Cameron, why did you not burn it a second time?” Cathleen wanted to know.

  “I would have, but Maude Okerman had it and we needed to go back to Scotland.” Cameron answered. “We dinna think…we truly thought Lord Okerman would see to its destruction. He gave us his word.”

  “Well, he dinna destroy it, and he is dead,” said Leesil. It took a moment for her to calm down. “‘Tis too late now anyway. We have done our best to keep the world from findin’ out about the duchess, and here it is – all put down in a book we cannae deny.”

  “Has Blair seen it?” Cameron asked.

  “Nay, but we best let her read it, before she hears about it from a classmate,” Cathleen answered.

  “I suppose so,” said Cameron. “Have you read it?”

  “Parts of it,” Cathleen answered. “It is very unkind. Maude Okerman even calls me a simpleton, unable to speak proper English.”

  “Sister,” said Leesil. “I say we let them take us home where they can read it, while we rest. I am in need of a bath.”

  “So am I,” Cathleen agreed. Her sister might be upset enough to resist her husband, but Cathleen wasn’t. She soon welcomed his strong, comforting arms. “Perhaps ‘tis good we are not still in Scotland.”

  “Perhaps,” said Leesil, “after they have read it, our dear husbands might think of what else they have forgotten to tell us…so we will not fret.”

  Hannish took a deep breath, started the engine and headed home.

  *

  A week later, everyone in the immediate family had read the book. The gathering included Laura and the twins, the two MacGreagor couples, Blair, the Whitfields, Ben, Judge Mitchell, McKenna, Samuel, Francis, and Mother O’Connell.

  “I say we sue the publisher,” Claymore demanded.

  “And Maude Okerman,” Cathleen added.

  Cameron did not agree. “Would that not just bring more attention to the book?”

  “Perhaps,” said Hannish, “but I see no other choice.”

  Judge Mitchell said, “Defamation of character is not easy to prove. You must have damages and the book is not yet here.”

  “You mean people must refuse to buy our houses because of it?” Claymore asked.

  “Precisely,” the judge answered. He managed to make everyone pause after that comment.

  Ben glanced at all the gloomy faces and said, “I have an idea.” He scooted his chair back, helped Gloria stand up, and then got down on one knee. “Miss Gloria Whitfield, will you consent to become Mrs. Ben O’Connell?” he pulled a diamond ring out of his pocket and showed it to her.

  “Ben, it is beautiful,” said Gloria. She let him put it on her finger, and when she looked around, everyone was grinning.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” he asked.

  “Of course, it is a yes,” Gloria said. She waited for him to stand up, threw her arms around him and kissed him.

  “Finally,” Mother O’Connell gushed, as she reached over and put her hand over Abigail’s.

  “You do not mind that he is marrying into a scandal?” Abigail asked.

  Mother O’Connell winked at Gloria, “My dear Abigail, being friends with you is already a scandal.”

  Ben laughed, released his future bride and turned to Claymore. “Mr. Whitfield, may…”

  “Yes, yes, of course you may. If I were to say no, both my lovely ladies would throw me out of the house.” Claymore stood up and shook Ben’s hand.

  Blair giggled. “It seems my mother cannae spoil all our happiness after all.”

  “Indeed, she cannae,” said Cameron.

  “Father, do you realize I now have a third father, another mother and a brother and sister I dinna know I had?”

  “She is right,” said Laura, “and I could not be more pleased.”

  Blair stood up making all the men rise. “If we may be excused, my new brother and sister and I, wish to play billiards.”

  “Billiards?” Cathleen asked. “Billiards are hardly proper for young ladies.”

  “Well, I shan’t tell anyone,” said Blair. With that, the three teenagers hurried out of the room.

  Cameron sighed. “She has been a very good sport about all this.”

  “Because she is well loved,” said Laura.

  “The twins seem to be happy, as happy as they can be just now,” said Leesil.

  “They are,” Laura admitted, “now that we are away from London. At home, reporters tried to talk to them at school, and…”

  “At school?” Cathleen asked. “We must better protect Blair.”

  “We must tell all we know b
efore the book arrives,” Abigail claimed. “That way, the news shall be old news by then.”

  “She might be right,” Hannish said, “though I dread trying to decide what to say.”

  “And if the book never arrives?” Leesil asked. “We shall have stirred the hornet’s nest for nothing.”

  “She might be right too,” Abigail conceded. “Oh how I wish we knew what to do.”

  *

  On a fine spring day, the book published and printed thousands of miles away in England, arrived in Cleveland. Next, it appeared in Chicago, and sooner or later, shipments were bound to arrive in Denver.

  In the meantime, Leesil and Cathleen planted three trees in the back yard in memory of James, Carl, and Lord Bayington. They placed a large, flat, red rock in front of the one for James, and said a prayer for him, wherever he was, dead or alive.

  Hannish, Cameron and Claymore, grappled with the idea of suing the British publisher and Maude Okerman, but as the judge said, they had not yet suffered damages.

  Abigail and Mother O’Connell were determined to give Ben and Gloria the biggest wedding the town had ever seen, until Claymore flatly forbade it. He suggested they use the money instead, for the education of the children that were sure to come. Neither mother was easily persuaded, especially Abigail, but they eventually cut back on the expenses…a little.

  All of them, collectively and in smaller groups discussed what to do when the gossip began, and still none of them had a firm answer. Some planned to ignore it, some planned to own up to it, and others just prayed it would never happen.

  Yet, it was coming and there was nothing they could do to stop it. The only question was when.

  CHAPTER 14

  In 1909, South Dakota became the first U.S. state to officially recognize Mother's Day. In Germany, a new tax law was passed. The higher a man’s income, the more votes he was allowed to cast. Civil War Veteran, William Jackson Palmer, who founded the city of Colorado Springs, passed away. In Havana, Cuba, the mother of fourteen gave birth to quadruplets, the keel of the RMS Titanic was set in Belfast, Ireland, and a meteor crashed through the roof of a house in Shepard, Texas.