Yet, there was one who frowned, and Hannish recognized her easily enough. “Is that not Emily?” he asked, nodding toward her after he and Leesil got back in the wagonette.
The Duke of Glenartair kept waving and smiling as he answered, “I sent her away and she is none too happy about it. I shall tell you all about it when we get home.”
Seated next to her, Sarah whispered to Leesil, “She threatened His Grace.”
“Threatened him?” a shocked Leesil asked.
“She said he would rue the day he sent her away.”
“More likely, she shall rue the day she threatened him,” Leesil whispered.
When they entered the glen and started down the lane, Sarah pointed out the graveyard and the way to the same loch many a MacGreagor story mentioned. “And wait until you see the river behind the castle. I could spend a lifetime watching the water. Sometimes, I toss flowers off the foot bridge, just to watch them float away.”
Leesil sighed. “I have heard so much about this glen, I feel as though I am comin’ home.”
“I felt the same when I first saw it,” Sarah admitted, “and I’m not even a Scot.”
“You married one,” said Cameron, “‘tis just as good.”
*
Although they had a magnificent painting of Glenartair Castle prominently hanging on the wall in Marblestone’s parlor, Leesil was still enamored by the impressive size of it. As the carriage pulled around the walled, center flower garden, they found all the servants standing in a line near the door of the castle to greet them. They wore matching black attire with stiff white colors on the men and lace trimmed white aprons on the women.
Cathleen could hardly wait for her sister to get out of the carriage, before she tearfully hugged her and threatened never to let go. “I have missed you beyond measure,” she said, finally standing back and wiping her eyes. It was only then that she recognized another face she feared she would never see again. When she flew into footman Egan’s arms, she shocked the Scottish servants. Next, she hugged her brother-in-law and took Justin out of his father’s arms.
Even though the faces of most of the servants had changed, Hannish still recognized them as members of the clan. He warmly greeted each as they bowed and curtsied to their laird, and then introduced his wife and son. However, he soon realized they were far more interested in welcoming Egan home. “Perhaps we should go inside,” Hannish said joining his brother at the door.
“Oh, please do,” Cathleen said, taking Leesil’s hand. “I’ve so much to tell you.”
As soon as they were gone, the footmen rushed to unload the trunks and take them upstairs, while the rest hurried Egan around to the servant’s entrance. They had plenty of questions to ask and none of them wanted to miss Egan’s answers.
*
The Great Hall sat at one end of the castle and had been built on the exact spot where the ancient structure stood before it burned to the ground. Made of stone and mortar so it would not burn again, it exhibited paintings of Highlanders and an array of ancient weapons on the walls. Electric lamps filled the room with light, vases of flowers sat on several tables, and a fire necessary to keep the room warm until late spring was burning in the hearth. It was Cameron’s favorite room and the one he took his guests to first.
Before the family could truly settle in, a second carriage arrived. From it, a well-dressed footman came to the door and asked to see the Duke of Glenartair. Alistair let him in, led the way to the Great Hall, knocked on the door, and opened it. “Someone to see you, Your Grace,” he announced, stepping aside.
“Show him in,” Cameron said rising for the occasion.
“Your Grace,” said the footman bowing, “I come to hand deliver an engraved invitation to you and Laird MacGreagor.” He handed Cameron the invitation, bowed again, and then backed up until he was out the door.
Leesil and Cathleen giggled, but Cameron closed his eyes. “I was afraid of this.” He opened the envelope, read the invitation and then handed it to his brother. “It seems we are invited to any…and all… of this season’s events. I see not how we can avoid it now.”
“All?” Leesil asked.
“Fortunately, you have arrived too late for the Derby, the Ascot, and the exhibition of the Royal Academy of Art,” said Cameron. He dismissed his butler, walked to a table and began pouring drinks.
“I might have liked seeing the art,” Cathleen said.
Hannish set the invitation on an end table next to the sofa he shared with Leesil. “‘Tis quite dizzyin’ if one tries to attend it all.”
“Lady Bayington explained it to me,” said Cathleen, accepting the glass of wine her husband handed to her. “First, the lasses go to Paris early in the year to have dressmaker, Mr. Maison Worth, make their gowns. It can take months to see them completed. Then the lasses go to a jeweler, only the best jeweler in town, mind you, to select those fit to wear positively everywhere on their bodies, even in their hair. ‘Tis all quite expensive.”
Leesil saw her husband raise both his eyebrows, which made her giggle. “Fortunately for you, we haven’t time to go to Paris.”
Hannish grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “Thank you, my darling wife.”
“You have spent it all already?” Cathleen asked.
“Do not be fooled, sister, he cannot spend it all, not in one lifetime. Cameron, what else do they do?”
He finished serving drinks and joined his wife on the sofa. “Well, at the beginning of each season, most find a place to stay in Mayfair or Belgravia, but the Bayingtons have invited us to stay with them. The balls are mostly for the young lasses who are coming out in hopes of findin’ suitable husbands, and their father’s spare no expense. They are allowed to shop madly, and when they are bored with that, they visit friends they never knew they had.”
“The lads have a much easier time of it,” Hannish added. “They attend cricket matches, archery exhibits and races of every sort.”
“The lasses do not go to the races?” Leesil asked.
“Some do,” Cameron answered.
“Then the lasses only see the lads at the balls?” asked Leesil.
“Nay,” Hannish answered. “They are together for such things as picnics and lawn tennis.”
Cameron chuckled. “Dare you forget Rotten Row?”
“What is that?” Leesil asked.
“‘Tis a bridal path in Hyde Park. Many a lad has accidentally happened upon a lass he admires on Rotten Row,” Hannish answered.
Leesil was tempted to ask if that was where he happened upon the duchess, but she decided against it. “I suppose the invitation came from Lady Okerman.”
“It did,” Cameron answered. “How did you guess?”
“She was on the ship, and I hope never to see her again,” Leesil answered.
“Oh, dear,” said Cameron, “What has she done this time?”
Leesil couldn’t help but narrow her eyes. “She was uncommonly rude, impossible to enjoy, and…”
Hannish interrupted his wife before she said too much. “Lady Okerman adores sending cablegrams, which costs Thorndike a fortune. ‘Tis likely why the invitation came so soon.”
“Thorndike can afford it,” said Cameron. “He is descended from the royal family and gets a very generous allowance each year. He is cousin to the King, twice removed, I believed, and tenth in line to the throne.”
“He would make a good King, I give him that,” said Leesil. “Him, I like.”
Cameron puffed his cheeks. “Aye, if he had a good queen to stand at his side, but no tellin’ what Maude would do to the Kingdom.”
Hannish chuckled. “Fear not, nine other people have to die before that becomes a bother. I am eager to see Lord and Lady Bayington, again.”
“We should invite them to come to us,” said Leesil.
“I fear the journey might be a bit hard on Edward,” said Cathleen. “He is not in the best of health lately. Some sort of cough he cannae seem to be rid of.”
“N
ot consumption, I hope?” Hannish asked.
“The doctors say nay, but he is to rest in bed, if such a thing is possible. Laura is havin’ a devil of a time gettin’ him to stay put.” Cathleen slipped her arm through Cameron’s and looked up at him. “They avoid tellin’ us quite well, do they not?”
“Aye, they do,” Cameron answered.
“Tell you what?” Leesil asked.
“Sister, you know very well what. Lady Okerman insulted you, did she not? ‘Twas about me, am I right?”
“About you,” a surprised Cameron asked.
“In the village, they say I am a sad little creature, who cannae speak the King’s English properly.”
“What?” Cameron asked. “Who has said this?”
Cathleen shrugged. “It matters not who said it first, the whole village says it and apparently, some have even said it to those who know Lady Okerman.”
Leesil got up, walked to the other sofa and sat beside her sister. “Sad little creature, I am here now, and I say we pay that village a little visit.”
“Oh, uh,” Hannish muttered. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “The clan knows not what they are in for now.”
*
While the brothers and their wives talked in the great hall, the servants ushered Egan through the back door of their dining hall, and began to ask questions about America. Egan was more than happy to answer them. Some of the servants practically drooled over his recounting of the voyage, the train ride and the excitement of living in the Wild West, even though it was not all that wild anymore. He had only seen one Indian. Then the inevitable question came up.
“But how did Laird MacGreagor manage to marry again? We have heard of no divorce, or of the duchess’ passing,” footman Bruce asked.
“Has Mr. Alistair not said?” Egan asked.
“He refuses to even say her name, and so does Sarah.”
“Then neither shall I. At Marblestone, the former duchess is long forgotten and not the least bit cared about.” Paul and several others looked disappointed, but Egan couldn’t help that. He found talk of the duchess disgusting; even though he was tempted to tell them she married a train robber.
“Have you nothing to do?” Alistair asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway. Instantly, the servants began to file out. There were trunks to unpack, clothes to wash and then press, a carriage to put away and horses to brush down.
Happy to see him, Alistair shook his old friend’s hand. “Welcome home, lad.”
Egan grinned. “I am happy to be here, hungry and exhausted.” He waited until all the others were gone before he whispered, “They asked about the duchess.”
“Aye, I thought they might. What did you tell them?”
“Nothin’.”
“Good. I prefer they dinna know.”
Egan took off his hat and ran his fingers through his blond hair. “Aye, but if they knew…”
“What good would come of it? ‘Twould not do if Addie somehow learns the truth, before she is old enough and His Grace has the good sense to tell her. Come, we shall see if Malveen has a bite to eat in the kitchen.”
“Malveen?”
“She cooks as well as Jessie.”
“Yum,” Egan said, rubbing his belly. He followed Alistair into the large kitchen and soon caught a whiff of fresh baked bread. Yet, when Malveen turned to see who it was, he abruptly stopped. He was not expecting to see a cook that wasn’t round, old of both. This one had a slender figure, sparkling green eyes and shiny blonde hair.
“Malveen, this is Egan, come straight from America.”
“Malveen,” Egan said, nodding. She only smiled and turned back to tend one of the pots she had on the stove.
“He is hungry,” Alistair added.
“I’ve potato soup I’ve been keepin’ warm for Her Grace,” she said, not bothering to turn around.
Egan licked his upper lip. “‘Tis my favorite.” He didn’t take his eyes off the beauty as she got two bowls out of the rack, and then went to the stove to fill them with soup. Finally, he turned his attention to a grinning Alistair, who had not missed Egan’s blatant attention to Malveen. “You’ll never guess who we ran into aboard ship,” he said, following Alistair back to the servants dining hall, and then taking a seat at the table.
“Who?”
“Lord and Lady Okerman.”
Alistair decided to sit opposite Egan. “I wager that was none too pleasant for anyone.”
“Mr. Hannish was not pleased when they returned from their first dinner with the Okermans, and Sassy was nearly in tears. Later, I heard the Okermans arguing. Lord Okerman demanded his wife apologize. For what, I know not.”
“You best not call her Sassy here.”
“She shall always be Sassy to me,” said Egan.
“And me, but others may not find it passable.” Alistair cleared his throat. “Mistress MacGreagor is looking well.”
“She is very well indeed. Yet, Cathleen does not look…she has lost the color in her cheeks.”
Alistair relaxed. “Aye, she has. We have only just discovered cook Emily was feeding her mutton. His Grace said not to have it in the house, but Emily disobeyed.”
Egan’s eyes widened. “Mutton? Rotten eggs! Why would Emily do a retched thing like that?”
Malveen moved a bowl of soup off her tray and set one in front of each man. “She thought His Grace was going to marry her daughter.”
“What?” an amazed Alistair asked.
Malveen laid a spoon beside each bowl, “Emily said she was expectin’ an engagement, but His Grace run off and married an American. Had her daughter’s weddin’ gown all decided on, she did.”
“Preposterous,” Alistair muttered. “His Grace would never…he…her daughter is…”
Malveen giggled. “You need not explain, Mr. Alistair.”
“Emily’s daughter is still unmarried?” Egan asked. “There’s a pity. I nearly got caught in that snare myself. ‘Tis why I willingly sailed to America with Cathleen.” He let the appealing aroma of the potato soup fill his nostrils, put a spoonful in his mouth and closed his eyes. With just the right touch of onion and celery, it tasted even better than it smelled. When he opened his eyes again, Malveen was smiling at him.
“Egan,” said Alistair, spoiling the moment, “Her Grace believes all the servants hate her.”
“Is it true?” Egan asked, looking from Alistair to Malveen and back again.
“Not that I can tell,” Alistair answered. “Keep a watchful eye. If ‘tis true, I shall send them away myself. There are plenty of good people in the village who would cherish a position at the castle. Am I right, Malveen?”
“Aye, you are more right than you know. I shall keep an eye out too,” she said, taking the tray back to the kitchen.
“Good,” said Alistair. He didn’t think he was very hungry until he tasted Malveen’s potato soup. Soon, he had devoured the whole bowl full. He got up, paused at the door long enough to compliment her, and then went back to his duties.
Left alone, Egan picked up his bowl and went to sit at the small cutting table in the kitchen. “Will Emily cause trouble?”
“Aye, if she can.” Malveen checked two large pots she had cooking on the stove, and then sat down opposite him. “Sassy?”
Egan grinned. “You should have seen the two of them. Sassy was a stowaway McKenna found on her ship when she sailed to America. Sassy is the nickname McKenna gave her and it suits Leesil very well. You are sure to love her, and you need not be surprised if she comes to the kitchen often. They were raised in an orphanage with never enough to eat.”
“I have heard that.”
He finally looked at her a little closer. “Do I not know you?”
“Egan MacGreagor, do you not recognize the lassie who hung on her brother’s coattail at church?”
“You are that Malveen? The parson’s daughter? How could I forget? You were always up to somethin’.”
She pretended to be indignant. “Not as often a
s you were. Nevertheless, allow me to beg forgiveness for whatever I might have done. How is Blanka? We heard when Donnel passed, but we hear little about Blanka.”
“My aunt was quite well when I left her, though she is getting on in years.”
“May I write to her?”
“Do, she would cherish it. I shall write the directions and give them to you in the morning.”
“Good. How long are you stayin’? I wish to hear all about the family in America.”
“We are to return on the fourteenth.” As soon as Leesil and Cathleen entered the room, Egan and Malveen quickly stood up.
“Egan, I shall beat you blue if you do that again whilst we are alone,” Leesil said. She put her hand on his shoulder, pushed him back down, and then turned her attention to a smiling Malveen. “I hear you make the best potato soup in Scotland?”
“‘Tis true,” said Cathleen, pulling the chair next to him away from the cutting table. She sat and then put her head on Egan’s shoulder. “Can you not stay with me? I shall see that my husband pays you better than Hannish, and you’ll have nothing to do, save keep me entertained.”
“Downcast, are ye?” he asked, laying his head against hers. “Me little Cathleen, soon ye shall have a wee bairn, and you’ll not have time for the likes of me.”
“Never,” she moaned.
Leesil winked at Malveen, “If he stays, I’m stayin’ too.”
As soon as Malveen set a bowl of soup in front of her, Cathleen sat up straight. “I cannae remember ever being so hungry.”
“‘Tis because you only ate tarts this day complete,” said Malveen.
Cathleen looked at Malveen and closed one eye. “Have you never heard of an American lad by the name of Benedict Arnold?”
Malveen laughed. “I believe I have…somewhere. Did Mr. Hannish not name his dog after him?”
“He must have,” said Leesil. “Traitor never knows which of us he likes best. Sister, I hereby appoint the cook to see you eat your fill, and if you do not, she is to call me to complain. I shall then be forced to tell your husband, he shall send for Egan and Egan shall…”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 5 Page 7
