Marjorie Farrel (13 page)

“I fail to see what business it is of yours, Miss Ware.”

Judith was stung. To have been so close, and then to have him revert to this dismissive tone ... it was hard to take.

“You are right, your grace. But surely you yourself must be tired of being such a hermit. I know you see no one but me. You cannot go on avoiding your friends and acquaintances indefinitely.”

“And what do you imagine me doing with my old friends, Miss Ware? Shooting? Racing my curricle? Charming the ladies with my compliments on their appearance? Waltzing with them?” Simon’s tone was biting.

“Of course I realize many of your former activities would be closed to you. But I am certain you could ride again. Your mind is not impaired: you have a seat in Parliament waiting for you, and the opportunity to speak out on all those issues that we have been discussing. And you have friends, I am sure, who miss your company.”

“Oh, yes, I can just see myself being led like a child of five on his pony. I do not wish to be dependent upon others, nor do I wish to make a spectacle of myself. I would become a burden, and friends would be making excuses and I would find myself alone, as I am now.”

“How can you be so sure? Are you God, to know exactly how your friends would react? Perhaps some would avoid you, and some, no doubt, would be initially embarrassed and ill at ease. But if you allowed them to work on their own frailties, perhaps they would become used to yours.”

“You speak with such good sense, Miss Ware,” Simon said sarcastically. “You cannot know ... you have never experienced living in total darkness. You do not have to worry about walking into a lamppost, or a footman, or off an unseen step.’’

“It must be difficult, and I know I cannot fully imagine your experience, but you are lucky—”

“Lucky?”

“Yes. You have wealth; you are not reduced to begging on the streets, as so many soldiers are. You can hire me to read to you, or someone else to ride with you. You have a carriage and driver at your disposal. There have been other blind men who have made the best of their situation: Milton, John Fielding—”

“Miss Ware, you have said more than enough. I do not wish to be the Blind Duke of Sutton. I do not wish to be an inspiration to anyone. I wish to be left alone.”

“Yes, I see. Alone, to revel in your self-pity. What of those close to you, who wish to see you happy?”

Simon shot up from the couch and felt his way behind it as he walked toward Judith’s voice. She felt his fury and realized how far she had gone. At that moment, however, she regretted none of it and stood her ground.

Simon heard her intake of breath and reached out to grasp her arm. His slid his hand up to her shoulder and shook her as hard as he could. She had spoken to him as no one had dared to, and he was outraged by her assumption that she knew what he was capable of when she had no real idea of what it was like to be without sight.

“How dare you speak to me like this, mouthing platitudes about how much I could accomplish, as though I were a trained animal.” He shook her again. He was not shouting, but his quietness was more frightening. “You play God, and you are completely ignorant of what it is like to be sightless.”

Simon felt all the rage that had been smoldering for weeks flare up. He reached out to find Judith’s face and, having found it, drew back his hand and slapped her. She finally pulled away and ran sobbing out the door, while Simon, amazed by his reactions, stood there a moment and then, forgetting everything, started to go after her, only to catch his boot on the edge of the carpet. This reminder of his helplessness set him off again, and he felt his way around the room, hurling books off the shelves and smashing the china pieces on the mantel. As he sank back on the couch, exhausted by his outburst, he became aware that he was making sounds like a child on the edge of hysteria. His rasping sobs subsided at last and he felt suddenly very old and very tired, so drained was he. He stretched out and fell asleep immediately, like a child after a tantrum.

Judith had automatically slammed the door behind herself. She stood shaking, one hand on her reddening cheek, and gradually became aware of the sounds from the library. Francis had come out of his office at the sound of the door and, seeing Judith’s face, colorless except where Simon had struck her, walked over quickly.

“What has happened, Miss Ware?”

Judith had lost all control and sobbed out, “I have been so wrong to come here ...”

Francis put his arm around her and led her into his office. “Martin,” he said over his shoulder, “stay by the library door in case his grace should need you, but do not go in unless he calls.’’ Francis sat Judith down, and sat facing her, holding her hands in his until she stopped sobbing. “Now, Miss Ware, tell me what happened?”

Judith looked up. “I lost all sense of the fact that I am an employee. I was so happy to be here and it is such a beautiful day that I started by suggesting a walk.”

Francis’ eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I know, not at all proper. I was just so tired of the duke’s passivity, and angry at his self-pity that I spoke without thinking. I said that he could be out riding or walking, that he shuts out his friends, that he is wallowing in self-pity. I was outrageous, and am afraid I have done real damage.” She half-rose as if to go back into the library.

“No, Miss Ware,” said Francis. “Let him be. You said only what all of us who care about him have been thinking. I have been so harried that I must confess to wanting to shake the duke lately.” Francis smiled at her and paused for a minute. “You know, this may have been a good thing, after all. A few weeks ago, the duke was confronted with his own helplessness and anger, and we all felt something of a change in his mood. I am sorry that this time it was you on the receiving end of his rage, but I am not sorry you provided it. Perhaps we have all been too careful.”

“Do you think he should be alone right now?”

“I think the library is in more danger than the duke,” said Francis. “Whatever is happening needs to run its course.”

“I will never forgive myself if my interference has an ill effect. And I won’t even know, for Miss Ware will certainly never be admitted again.”

“Don’t be concerned about that now. I will see you home and—”

“Oh, no,” protested Judith. “I am fine now and will go back home myself.”

“I will send a footman to the nearest hackney stand if you promise that you will be all right on your own.”

“Truly, I will be.”

“We have all been living in a quiet but heavy atmosphere, rather like the calm before the storm, as the saying goes. Now that the storm has broken, I think we will all experience some relief.’’

“I hope you are right, for I can never forgive myself otherwise.” Judith rose and averted her face as the footman summoned her.

Francis accompanied her down the front stairs and handed her in. He gave directions to the cab and stood quietly for a minute on the steps as it pulled away. He fervently hoped that he was right in his analysis of the situation.

When Judith arrived back at Gower Street, she went to her room after speaking briefly to Hannah.

“Please bring me some cold cloths, Hannah. As you can see, I have been careless. I stood too close to the cab door and have a small mark to show for it.” Judith’s voice was strained, but she was able to make herself sound calm.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her hand to her cheek, when Hannah knocked on her door.

“Now, what is this foolishness about you walking into a hackney door?” Hannah asked.

“Oh, Hannah.” Judith started to sob.

The older woman sat down next to her and put an arm around her. “There, there,” she murmured, “tell me what is wrong.”

“I have been such a fool. So interfering and preachy. Simon was right.”

“The duke is responsible for this?” Hannah lifted Judith’s chin and looked at her swollen eyes and cheek in surprise. “Did he find out that you know the Stanleys?”

“No, no, not that. I was feeling so happy this morning. It was a beautiful day, and I just spilled over in my enthusiasm. I was so tired of seeing him sit there day after day. I thought ... No, I didn’t think, I just spoke. I encouraged him to get out and walk and ride, admit his friends. I even hurled Milton at him.”

“The complete works?”

Judith had to laugh. “No, the great man himself, who ‘lived a useful and creative life despite his blindness.’ It was then Simon exploded. He shook and slapped me, and I ran out, leaving him throwing things. It was awful.”

“Maybe you did something right,” Hannah said thoughtfully. “You are bound to think the worst now, you are so close to it. I want you to rest for a few hours, and I will call on Major Stanley and have him inquire about the duke.”

“Could you, Hannah? I would feel so much better if I just know how Simon comes out of this.”

As Hannah closed the door behind her, Judith crawled under the covers and fell asleep instantly.

Hannah went downstairs to set the kitchen to rights before she set off to Clarges Street. When she arrived at the Stanleys’, she asked for the major and was shown into the smaller drawing room.

Robin could not imagine any reason for Hannah to seek him out, and he entered the room with a puzzled look on his face.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Webster?” he asked politely.

“It is not for me, but for Miss Ware.” Hannah explained the situation.

“Simon struck Judith? I cannot believe it. He is the gentlest of men.”

“She believes she gave him some real provocation, Major. Although, I must say I think it is just what he needed to be shaken out of his self-pity. For that is what the poor man has been suffering from, as well as his blindness.”

“You may well be right, Mrs. Webster. I will give Simon some time to collect himself and go over this afternoon, and by God, this time I will see him. Tell Judith not to blame herself. I suspect that I should have done something like this weeks ago.’’

* * * *

After Judith left, Francis walked over to Martin, who was still guarding the library door.

“Have you heard anything from his grace?”

“No, it has been quiet for the last few minutes.”

“You may go about your work, then,” Francis said. “I think it best we do nothing and wait for some sign from the duke.”

Francis returned to his desk, where he had an unsatisfactory few hours, lifting his head at every household noise, waiting for the sound of Simon’s bell. It was almost three o’clock when he heard his door open, and he turned, expecting to see Martin. There was the duke, standing quietly in the doorway.

“Your grace,” Francis stammered, completely taken by surprise and at a loss for words. He rose and started toward Simon.

“You are here, then,” said Simon. “I thought I heard your pen scratching away.”

Francis stood still, holding his breath and wondering what Simon would say next.

“Come, give me your hand, Francis. I don’t trust my memory of your office, and I’ve bruised my shins quite enough this morning, thank you.”

Simon’s voice held neither its earlier sarcastic undertone nor its more recent resignation. His expression was open, and his words humorous, not bitter. Francis felt an indefinable something, perhaps aloofness, that remained. But the barriers erected months ago seemed to be down. Francis moved forward and led Simon to one of the chairs opposite his desk.

“What can I do for, your grace?”

“No, Francis, you should rather be asking what I can do for you to repay you for your devotion these last months. I know I have been burdensome to my household as well as my friends.”

“Never a burden, your grace. We have all been happy to serve you in any way we could.”

“And you have. Perhaps too well,” said the duke. “But I think it is time I resumed some of my responsibilities. It has been pointed out to me that I have neglected them long enough.”

Francis was not sure whether the duke was still angry at Judith, and was hesitant to mention her name, when Cranston knocked at the door.

“Come in, Cranston.”

“Major Stanley is calling, Mr. Bolton.” Cranston was through his announcement before he noticed the duke. His face registered his surprise, but he did a masterful job of keeping it out of his voice as he asked, “Should I tell him that you are busy?”

“Send him in,” said Simon before Francis had a chance to respond.

Robin entered quickly, expecting to find Francis alone, and eager to question him about Simon. “Francis, I—

“Good day, Robin,” Simon said coolly. He could imagine the expression on his friend’s face. “Francis, we will leave you for now, but tomorrow morning I wish to sit down with you and review the business you have so capably handled in my absence. Cranston, could you bring us some brandy and soda? Robin, I beg your arm?”

Robin stepped forward eagerly and Simon placed his hand lightly on his friend’s forearm and walked easily out the door. Only Simon knew the effort it took to appear nonchalant, while counting his steps and visualizing the hallway.

It will become easier with practice, no doubt, he thought as he counted off the number of steps he knew it took to the morning room.

Robin seated Simon and took a chair across from him. He searched his friend’s face, looking for some sign of welcome, uncertain of how to begin.

“It is good to see you, your grace,” he said, rather formally. “I hope I have not intruded. I have called before ...” Robin hesitated.

“And have not been admitted, due to my stupid pride,’’ Simon said. “You have been the better friend, Robin. I can only give as my excuse that I have not been myself these past few months. I feel like I have been lost in a darkness far beyond the obvious one. Thank you for your faithfulness. Other friends took me at my word after a few refusals.”

“There is no need to thank me, Simon. I came because I missed you,” Robin said simply. “Not out of kindness, but because you are like a brother to me and I ... I would give my own eyes if I could ...” His usual insouciance was quite gone, and his voice broke as he was speaking.

Both men rose, and the duke, putting out his hand and finding his friend, pulled him into a rough embrace. Simon kept his hands on his friend’s shoulders after they pulled apart, and said shakily, “And let me look at you.” He traced Robin’s face lightly. “No scars, Captain? Nothing to drive the women wild?”