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Authors: Allison Knight

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BOOK: Simon's Brides
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He positioned a chair before Harold’s locked door. His thoughts turned to his guardianship. Planning to buy husbands for these women was no longer something he could consider. With their beauty, he might end up having to beat suitors away. But, how best to present them to the men he knew?

 

He could invite some of his old friends, his classmates, to the estate. He pondered the situation for a moment and grimaced. His classmates? Not a chance. Those men were not the kind he wanted for Neville’s daughters. He thought about his closest unmarried business associates. He didn’t want them near these girls either. In fact, few of the bachelors of his acquaintance would make satisfactory husband material. He groaned. This might prove to be more difficult than he thought.

 

“Damn,” he swore as he sat. Thank God he had already sent for his Aunt Agatha before he left London. At least Neville’s daughters would have a decent chaperone.

 

He didn’t remember his Aunt Agatha, though. He’d only met her once, but she was the proper age to act as chaperone and a widow since her last husband had died several years ago.

 

As he sat mulling over the situation, the sounds of an arriving carriage made him glance at his pocket watch. Aunt Agatha? Or perhaps Jacob? If it was Jacob, had he managed to secure help in less than an hour. Or had he failed completely? Would the villagers come? Perhaps, Amy was correct. However, his coin was good. Money, he knew, could buy anything. His father had taught him that.

 

He left his chair and took the stairs two at a time, a mixture of apprehension and anticipation racing through him. A timid knock on the front door announced a visitor.

 

A wizened face appeared.

 

“My Lord,” the voice squeaked, “I have come.”

 

Well, it wasn’t Jacob and it certainly wasn’t his aunt.

 

“Do come in,” Simon ordered.

 

He stared at the slender, bent old man who moved through the door and struggled to stand at attention. He was dressed in livery, old, stained and worn.

 

“Who are you?” Simon asked.

 

“I am Bolton, my Lord. I was valet to Neville Hargrove, Baron Kirkley and his father before him. After Patience died, Harold dismissed me.”

 

Simon shook his head. Another sin to lay at Harold’s feet. This old man should have been pensioned off. He wondered if some kind of provision had been made and then ignored by Harold. Neville would have taken care of his people. He’d have to check that will again.

 

“I don’t need a valet,” Simon said.

 

Then, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut as the old man slumped in despair.

 

“However,” Simon amended, “I do need a butler. Could you assume those duties for me?”

 

The old man straightened, and Simon decided the twisted lips comprised a smile. “Where are you staying, Bolton?”

 

“I have a room in the village, my Lord.”

 

“Good. Could you return here tomorrow with your things and begin your duties in the afternoon?”

 

Simon watched Bolton nod then turn and flounder through the door, like a ship in a storm without a sea anchor.

 

Simon groaned. Five women, an ancient butler/valet, a miscreant to guard, and a will to fulfill. Could this be a sign of what fate had in store for him now that he had returned to England? He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace.

 

As Simon paced, the arrival of another carriage drew his attention. He opened the front door and walked to the portico. His own carriage had returned.

 

This time, Jacob stepped from the vehicle, a pleased expression on his face. Simon sighed with satisfaction.

 

“My Lord,” he began, “Good news. I got two of Foley’s boys with me and a friend of theirs who will help watch Mr. Bottomsworth.”

 

He stepped aside and Simon watched the young men climb down from the top of the conveyance. Two were stocky, broad shouldered and looked capable of holding their own against any member of his crew. They also resembled each other. These two were the brothers! The third boy was dark-haired, slender, and Simon wondered if he would be of any value in guarding their prisoner.

 

“Chester, my Lord,” Jacob said pointing to the stockiest of the three. Chester removed his cap, twirling it as he bowed his head.

 

“How do, my Lord.”

 

“Clifford,” Jacob pointed to the other brother, “Foley kept Caleb at home, my Lord. He said he had to keep one of his boys. David, here, volunteered to come in Caleb’s place. He ses he’s Caleb’s friend.”

 

“Fine,” Simon said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll explain what needs to be done.” He started toward the stairs.

 

“My Lord,” Jacob’s voice stopped him.

 

Simon turned and noticed a woman climbing out of the carriage. Two more women and one girl followed.

 

“Ah,” Simon clasped his hands behind his back and paced across the portico toward the women.

 

They curtsied, and Simon stood waiting for introductions.

 

Jacob pointed to the first woman who had climbed from the carriage, heavyset, with black and gray curls peaking from the edge of her cap. A wide smile graced her round face.

 

“Betty Foley, my Lord. She is the miller’s wife and mother of Chester, Clifford and Caleb. Nellie Craig,” he pointed to the second woman. “Nellie is her sister-in-law.” Simon smiled at them. Nellie was as thin as Betty was plump. And her angular face gave the impression a smile would crack her flesh.

 

Jacob stepped next to the last woman. This one was as tall as Jacob and thin. She gave Simon a timid smile while Jacob proclaimed with pride, “My wife, Margaret.”

 

He turned to the young woman, “This is my daughter, Lilah.”

 

Simon nodded and Lilah blushed. Shy, he decided.

 

“Thank you for coming this late in the day. I’d like for you to begin in the kitchen.” The women nodded as they murmured their assent and climbed the front steps.

 

Simon looked at Jacob, “Food?”

 

“Aye, my Lord. I’ve a pot of stew, a loaf of bread and a bucket of ale.” Jacob shrugged, “It were all the Innkeeper had, my Lord.”

 

“That will do. Did I give you enough coin?”

 

“More than enough, my Lord,” Jacob returned the pouch, much lighter now.

 

“I’ll bring in the food.” Jacob spun away and Simon remembered the young men waiting at the bottom of the steps.

 

He raised his left eye brow and gazed at the three. Chester and Clifford seemed at ease but David appeared a bit nervous. Could it be that he had no idea what he would be called upon to do? Possible, Simon decided.

 

“David and I will take the first watch,” Simon announced. That way, Simon could assure this David that the task would not be difficult. Still, David stirred, his actions restless. Simon noted his discomfort.

 

“This will not be a difficult assignment,” he told the young men confronting them. “I have an unwanted guest locked in one of the bedrooms. Your task is to see that he stays in that room no matter what he says. I’ll see to his needs. No one else need be concerned with him. He may have a key in his possession but I want him to realize it won’t do him any good.”

 

The two Foley boys agreed but David seemed almost offended. Simon frowned. Perhaps he ought to send David back to the village. Yet, it would be a great help to have three bodies to watch over Harold until the other sailors arrived.

 

Simon glanced at the waiting carriage. Damnation! He hadn’t yet had a chance to send for his men. That was a task that must take place now. And, he was starved. At the thought, his stomach rumbled.

 

Clifford grinned, “My Lord, we’ve et. We’ll watch and you get some of that stew. We know what you want us to do.”

 

“We’ll have to feed our visitor,” Simon added, not happy with that thought. “I’ve a message that must be sent, and then after I’ve eaten, I’ll arrange for a tray for Harold. And thank you.”

 

He showed the three up the stairs to Harold’s door. Patience’s stepbrother wasn’t going any place. When Simon determined the boys were comfortable, he left. He’d send his message and then eat. He grinned as he started for the kitchen, heartened by the sounds of women busy at their chores.

 

He glanced around at the mess Neville’s home had become. In time, he assured himself, in time, it would be neat and clean. Spotless, like one of his ships.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Four

 

Amy stood in the doorway and stared at the two women entering the kitchen. How on earth had Jacob Pinion convinced Betty Foley and Nellie Craig to come? But, of course! It made sense that they’d come to see for themselves what had transpired at Baron Kirkley’s manor.

 

Well, she would give them something about which to gossip.

 

Dora must have read her mind, for she put a restraining hand on Amy’s arm. “Not now,” she whispered.

 

Behind Betty and Nellie, Margaret and Lilah bustled into the room. Much to Amy’s surprise, Margaret took charge. Suspicion flooded Amy’s thoughts. Simon--again?

 

Amy watched as water was drawn and placed over the fire to heat. Buckets appeared from their hiding places, soap was scraped and brushes wetted. As the women worked, they talked about happenings in the village.

 

Amy didn’t want to listen to any of it. After all, she and her sisters had been the subject of the villagers’ gossip too often. She didn’t want to hear anything else about the Hargrove women today. Instead, she gathered her sisters into the dining room.

 

“We’ll clean this room,” she announced.

 

She divided tasks between them, knowing it would take lots of work to restore the room to some semblance of cleanliness, but they could do it.

 

As Beth spread lemon oil on the big table, Amy breathed in the sweet smell and memories of more pleasant times drifted through her mind. She sighed, and grabbed one of the brooms Ellie had found.

 

“Let’s finish soon so we can leave for the cottage,” Amy said.

 

“But, I thought Simon, er, Baron, er, my Lord said we had to stay here,” Beth mentioned.

 

Amy leaned on her broom.

 

“We don’t have to obey his every command, now do we? We need to go back to the cottage. We can’t stay here, not with all these men and no chaperone. Our reputations have suffered enough.”

 

“Perhaps,” Caro entered the conversation, “we should just go along with Simon today and wait until tomorrow to go to the cottage.”

 

“Maybe one of the women could stay. Mistress Foley would be a more than adequate chaperone.” Ellie stopped dusting the curtains then chuckled at her suggestion.

 

A deep voice from the doorway interrupted.

 

“The matter has been addressed.”

 

That voice! An indefinable feeling washed over Amy. She tried to ignore the sensation. When it wouldn’t go away, she looked for an excuse for it. Apprehension, she decided. That had to be what it was.

 

Simon walked into the dining room. He reached out and touched Amy’s arm. Immediately, scorching heat shot from the spot he touched to her toes. Dear Heavens! What was this man doing to her?

 

He looked just as startled.
Had he felt it
,
too,
Amy wondered. For a moment they stared at each other, then clearing his voice, he glanced away and removed his hand. He looked at the others and she took a quick breath. The man was impossible. Now, given the chance, she ordered her swirling emotions to calm.

 

“I’ve already sent for my Aunt Agatha,” Simon explained. “She should be arriving sometime this afternoon. I’m sure you will all agree that my father’s oldest sister will make an adequate chaperone.”

 

Amy glared at him. He had done it yet again. He had just removed her primary argument for returning to the cottage. And, he looked arrogant and unaffected by the sensations he had wrought only moments ago. He also looked more than pleased with himself. She wanted to scream at him, or swing the broom.

 

She closed her eyes in frustration, then took a deep breath. Sandalwood. Simon! Her eyelids flew open. She sighed. She needed to get away from him. The cottage was the answer. But how? There was the possibility that his aunt mightn’t arrive today. Then she remembered. There was the matter of their clothing.

 

“My Lord,” she said, pleased her voice didn’t reflect her frustration. “We cannot stay here without our things. We have no clothing in this house. Everything we own is in that cottage. If we clean this filth, we’ll need a change of clothing. Therefore, we must return to the cottage--today.”

 

“I’ve said you would be sleeping here this evening.” His voice deepened, and Amy heard the sharp ring of command.

 

He continued, “All of you are now my responsibility. I have no intention of allowing you to leave this house until I can be assured of your safety. Therefore, you must stay here until I can arrange adequate transportation back to the cottage.”

 

She could tell he was annoyed as he announced, “My carriage is just too wide to traverse the path I used to get to the cottage.

 

“The matter is closed, for now,” he added ,stepping away from the door.

 

Amy’s hand clutched the broom she held. He must have sensed her agitation for he turned back, “You can collect whatever you want from the cottage in a day or two when I have an escort for you or have time to go with you myself. Surely you can do without for a day? Until then, you must stay here. Now, do I make myself understood?”

 

Amy gritted her teeth and leaned the broom against the wall. He made her so furious. They had lived in the cottage for months. Now, because he had arrived, they were to be imprisoned like the thief confined on the second floor. Oh, good heavens! If he was this obstinate about the cottage, what would he say about her desire to avoid marriage?

 

She watched as Simon stomped off. He was angry, too. What a shame! She jammed her fists on her hips and glared at his back. He wasn’t going to order her around. He didn’t know it yet, but she had her own ideas on how things went. She intended to see them accomplished. The sensations he engendered in her would be ignored. She raised her chin and stared after the dratted man.

 

After all, those feelings were only a result of fear. And, as her guardian he could pressure her into marriage. Fear! That must be what she was feeling. It couldn’t be anything else.
Now,
she urged herself,
think of some way to get us back to the cottage.

 

She wondered if her father had been aware of Simon’s domineering attitude. She groaned. If getting to the cottage this afternoon proved impossible, she’d demand they go tomorrow. Surely, he would allow them that. And, if not, what then? Well, she thought, they would go anyway.

 

She smiled at her sisters. Somehow she had to assure them things would be alright now that Simon had arrived, even if she had her own doubts. And, she most certainly had her own suspicions.

 

Oh, Papa, what have you done to us?

 

A short time later, Amy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the fireplace. As filthy as the uncleaned rooms! Just then she heard another carriage approach and she stiffened. She ran to the parlor and watched from the window.

 

The driver jumped to the ground and pulled the carriage door open. A tiny woman alighted. She wore a black gown covered with row upon row of ruffles and lace. An enormous black bonnet hid her face.

 

Simon’s Aunt Agatha?

 

Amy strained to hear her words as the woman pointed to an overflowing boot.

 

“What are you looking at?” Caro demanded coming behind her.

 

“Who do you think that is?” Dora asked now at Amy’s left.

 

“It could be the aunt Simon sent for,” Amy responded, her voice grim.

 

Beth whispered, “It looks like she brought her whole household with her.”

 

“I’ve never seen so much luggage,” Ellie stepped beside Beth. “She must think to stay forever.”

 

Amy smoothed her skirts, “I’ll have to greet her.” As the oldest, duty demanded she meet their guest and welcome her, whoever she was.

 

If only we didn’t look so dirty,
she thought.

 

“You don’t look too bad,” Caro said as if reading her mind.

 

“I’m filthy. So are the rest of you. Beth, could you see if there’s anything for a tea? Dora, you and Ellie see to the beds. I doubt Simon has given a thought to where everyone will sleep. Caro, you stay with me. I don’t want to meet this woman alone.”

 

A sharp rap on the front door announced their guest.

 

She came through the doorway and Amy got a good look at her face. Tiny, elfin, curious, popped into Amy’s mind as she stared at the little woman who stood a bit under five feet. Snow white curls peaked from under her bonnet. Amy watched as she untied her bonnet, then raised her lorgnette to her blue eyes and studied Amy.

 

She uttered, “My God, you are filthy.”

 

She stepped further into the hall, glanced around and announced, “This place is an abomination.” She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. “It smells terrible. I see I have my work cut out for me.”

 

Then, in a loud and shrill voice she shouted, “Simon Warner, where are you, you rascal?”

 

Next, she turned to Amy, “You need to clean yourself up, my girl.” She lifted her glasses to her eyes and glanced at Caro. “And you, you are just as dirty.”

 

Amy opened her mouth to tell this woman to leave. Before she could say a word, Simon rushed into the room. Once again Amy fought the strange emotions flooding through her. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sensation.

 

Simon stopped before their visitor. “Aunt Agatha! I see--” he began.

 

“Simon, these girls are filthy. This house is filthy.”

 

“Aunt Agatha, these--”

 

She stepped up next to Simon and tapped his chest with her lorgnette, “These girls need a change of clothing.”

 

“Look, Aunt Agatha, these girls--”

 

“Well, my boy, you sent for me. You told me it was urgent.” She glanced around, “Where are the servants? They will certainly have to be replaced. They obviously have no idea how to care for a house. And, who will bring in my trunks?”

 

Simon bristled under her regard and opened his mouth once more, but she interrupted again, “I need to rest. I’m not used to riding in a closed carriage for hours. Oh, the rocking and the bouncing were terrible.”

 

Simon groaned. Perhaps Aunt Agatha had not been the best choice for a chaperone, after all.

 

“Look, Aunt,” he started again, “There’s a lot here you don’t know.” He pointed to Amy and refused to acknowledge the thrill that shot through him. “Amelia is the oldest of the women who are now my responsibility.”

 

“Hummm,” Agatha lifted her glasses once more and Simon watched as she looked Amy over. He wondered if she saw what he saw. Her words told him she did not.

 

“My dear, cleanliness is next to Godliness,” Agatha offered.

 

Simon frowned and turned to the other sister. “This is Carolyn. And, they are both so dirty--”

 

She interrupted, “They are filthy.”

 

“Aunt, they’ve been forced to clean because the miscreant who tried to take over the property left the place a mess.”

 

Agatha opened her mouth, but now that he had the floor, Simon rushed on. “Deplorable, I know, but he also dismissed all of the servants, so Amy and her sisters have been trying to help with the cleaning.”

 

Agatha leaned toward him and whispered, her voice loud enough for all of them to hear, “Well, I’ll have to see to hiring servants immediately.” She lifted her glasses once more and gazed at the hall and the visible rooms. She shivered, “A mess, yes, an intolerable mess.”

 

“Aunt, I can see to the...”

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