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Authors: Barbara Woster

Fate's Intervention (54 page)

BOOK: Fate's Intervention
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That

s
good,

Matthew grinned.

I

d hate to think it was because I was a Daragh.


Daragh name or no,

Stanharbor insisted,

if I didn

t think I could trust you to keep your mouth shut about it, then this conversation would not even be taking place. I

ll have to trust you as well, Ma

am,

Stanharbor said, turning his head to address Lilith.


You have my word as Matthew

s mother,

Lilith said,
her curiosity peaked
.


Very well, then,

Stanharbor sighed.

A
s well you know, I

ve been married nine times, and the death of those wives have been the fuel for the rumor mill for a really long time.


The
re

s speculation that you killed them because they got too old for your tastes,

Matthew said bluntly, and Lilith gasped.


Hardly, dear lady,

Stanharbor assured quickly.

I have a taste for good food, not murder.


The
n why the secrecy?

Matthew said.


Embarrassment,

Stanharbor said quietly.


Embarrassment?

Matthew asked, not sure he

d heard right.


You know, in a way, I did cause my wives deaths. The last seven anyway. The first two died giving birth to their last child,

Stanharbor sighed sadly
,

b
ut no, I didn

t deliberately murder any o
f
them.


The
n how?


Quite accidentally, I assure you,

Stanharbor said.

My fourth wife, Danielle, died when the balcony out our bedroom collapsed. I

d never gone out there prior to that night because I was fearful of that very thing happening, but Danielle was insistent. She wanted to see the stars with me. The minute I stepped onto the balcony, however, it gave way.
The debris crushed her
.
My seventh wife, gentle
Ann
ie I called her, hung herself. Her note said that she couldn

t handle the strain of raising so many children.
My fifth wife, Marianne, was shot.


By you?

Matthew questioned softly.


A
ctually, yes,

Stanharbor said, his voice equally soft.

Marianne liked the sport of
foxhunting
. Fairly begged that we hold the event on her birthday. I hadn

t been hunting in some five years, but since I thought it would make her happy, I told her we

d do it.
I lined up a shot, but then my finger got stuck in the trigger guard. When I was trying to pull it free, the gun fired.
The round hit
Marianne in the head.
The rest are just the same. Unintentional circumstances brought about by my love of food. One of my wives, number three, died in my bed. I rolled over on top of her in my sleep and she suffocated. I wasn

t even aware of any struggles, nor her death, until morning. I

ve not spent the night in the same room with a wife since.


Perhaps you should consider losing a little weight before remarrying,

Lilith said gently.


Perhaps, but I fear my love of food is too great. In reality, I had considered not
remarrying at all, but I need someone to care for the children.


Hire a nanny,

Matthew offered as a possible solution.


Perhaps,

Stanharbor said again,

but I enjoy the female company.


So
much so that you can overlook the harm you

ve caused them?

Matthew asked.


You

re right,

Stanharbor sighed.

Perhaps I

ll join a club for overweight people when I get to
New York
, and then I

ll start looking for a wife.


Well, I certainly wish you luck, Clifford,

Matthew said in all sincerity.


You too, son,

Clifford smiled.

Now, what

s say you pass over that menu so I can see what there is to eat.


Mr. Daragh?

A
man wearing a porter

s uniform approached, looking directly at Stanharbor.


I

m Matthew Daragh,

Matthew supplied at the same time that Stanharbor pointed in his direction.

What can I do for you?


The
re

s a telegram for you, sir. If you

ll just sign here,

the porter said, pointing to a line on a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard.


How long before we get underway?

Matthew asked, eyeing the telegram.


S
houldn

t be long, sir. This was an unscheduled stop to pick up that there telegram for you. Came down the line that it was urgent.

Matthew

s brows knitted and he eyed the telegram more closely, a tight feeling clinching his chest.

Thank
you,

he murmured.


T
hink nothing of it, sir.

The porter waited expectantly, but Matthew was too preoccupied with the telegram to take notice of him further, so Lilith reached into her reticule and handed him two bits.


Thank
you for bringing the telegram forthwith, sir.


My
pleasure
, Ma

am,

H
e
beamed and moved away.


Who

s it from, Matthew?

Lilith asked, noticing the concerned knit of her son

s brow.


Nancy,

Matthew answered simply.


Who in blue blazes is
Nancy
?

Stanharbor asked.


The
Weatherman

s housekeeper,

Matthew said.


Well, aren

t you going to open it and read it?

Stanharbor demanded.

When Matthew didn

t answer, Lilith leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on her son

s arm,

Would you like me to open it, dear?


No,

Matthew sighed and broke the seal.
A
fter
another minute, he leapt to his feet, dropping the telegram.

Porter! Wait!

He yelled, running down the corridor.


What in heaven

s name was that all about?

Lilith asked as Stanharbor strained to lean over and retrieve the fallen dispatch.


We

ll soon find out,

he groaned. His fingers latched onto the paper and he flung himself back against the seat, hauling in a large breath.

Now!

He pronounced after catching his breath,

Let

s find out what all the hubbub is about, shall we?

He unfolded the paper and read the telegram
aloud
,

T
errible
trouble. Stop. Get back soon. Stop.
Nancy
.

That

s it? That

s what caused Matthew to get so riled? Sounds nothing more than an easily distraught female to me. I mean, trouble could be anything from a ranch hand quitting to a leaky barn roof. Certainly nothing to pay good money on a telegram for.


Mr. Stanharbor, sir,

Lilith said, watching her son conversing with the porter,

if the situation wasn

t urgent, then a telegram wouldn

t have been necessary to begin with and it most certainly wouldn

t have been sent by the housekeeper.
Obviously,
something untoward has befallen Marcelle and her
father
, or both. Something bad enough that the housekeeper sought out my son for his assistance. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to find out what Matthew intends.

Stanharbor struggled to a standing position and Lilith quickly sidled by.


A
n overly distraught female, I

d wager,

Stanharbor muttered again after Lilith had moved away.

Waste of good money it is.

He looked out the window in time to see Matthew mounting a rented steed,
and
then the train started moving again.

I wouldn

t be all that eager to get back to that lunatic you intend to propose to, Matthew,

he muttered, wadding the paper up and tossing it aside before signaling to a passing waiter and ordering half the menu for his breakfast.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-
SEVEN


Marcelle!

Matthew barreled into the house, searching every room for anyone in the residence.

Peter!
Nancy
!

He yelled, his voice reverberating through the abandoned house.
When a complete search turned up nothing and no one, he ran from the house and across the clearing to Nancy

s house.
He raised his fist and banged on the door, rattling its frame with the intensity of his blows,

Nancy!

Nancy
pulled the door open with a cry of relief,

Oh, Mr. Matthew, sir. Thank God above you

ve come. I didn

t know whether the telegram would reach you and something terrible has happened. I know it has!

Nancy
tugged on Matthew

s arm, pulling him into her small living space before slamming the door behind him and settling back onto a chair at the table.

He noticed her red-rimmed eyes and his tension mounted. It was obvious she

d been crying over a long
period
, and even though she was happy at his arrival, her state of despair was such that she didn

t readily tell him what had caused such a state.

BOOK: Fate's Intervention
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