Madness (41 page)

“I don’t under—”

He silenced her with one finger on her lips and looked at her carefully. “I know what you’re trying to do. Please don’t. I don’t want to have another seizure. But even more important, I don’t want to look back. I want to look forward."

"But Simon, your family, the possible danger—"

"My future is here in Somerset with you, Gabrielle," he said firmly. "To dig up the past can only hurt us all. I was lucky enough to have escaped from Bedlam, and I shall thank all the gods and you for it for the rest of my life.

“But I won’t go back. If we ask questions, go poking around in the past, they will find me, and I'll be lucky if they kill me."

Her eyes flew wide in the mirror, and she spun around on the seat to face him. "Lucky? Don't say such things!"

"I mean it, Gabrielle," he insisted, pacing in front of her as she sat on the small velvet stool. "If they tried to take me again, if I were to lose you, I would kill myself. So no purpose can be served by this constant probing, searching and sifting of yours. Unless—” He paused in his pacing to stare at her, a dark shadow passing over his face that she had never seen before.

“Unless what?

“Unless you really don’t trust me at all," he said in a low tone full of dismay. "Unless you really think I might be some kind of monster, or—”

“No, never!” She sighed and shook her head. “The honest truth is that I was hoping you’d have some family somewhere who loved and cared about you.”

He knelt before her, and grasped her hand firmly in both of his own. For a moment her heart gave a little leap, for he looked like a man about to propose marriage.
 

“They couldn’t possibly love or care for more than you or any of the people here. Just leave it, love, please. If you trust me, then just let it go. Promise me. I’m not going to get you killed, and I’m never ever going back to my old life. So no more probing, I beg of you. Please.”

She gazed at him levelly. “So there’s more you remember, but you’ve not told me?”

“Yes, bits and pieces,” he admitted.
 
“Nothing I want to share.”

“Was your childhood really terrible?” she asked, sliding over on the bench to make room for him to sit, and resting her head against his shoulder once he did so.

He shook his head. “Not before the Revolution. Certainly afterwards. I saw Georges kill a man trying to harm my sister and mother. She died anyway not long afterwards. My mother, that is, and both my sisters too a short time later. Georges became a killer then. He was only eleven. Still a child. It was a terrible thing to see. It changed him forever. And I’ve sent men to their deaths just as assuredly as if I had wielded the sword myself.”

“But it was war! You had no choice! And you did it for love, love of your family,” she protested.

He stood up and began to pace in front of her. “But don't you see, Gabrielle, that’s just it. I
did
have a choice. The trouble is, I can’t honestly say I wouldn’t do the exact same things all over again, even knowing how it all turned out in the end. Except for the part about being locked in Bedlam, of course." He gave a rueful smile.

“But then if I hadn't been, I never would have met you, and never been here with my new family. So perhaps even with all the suffering, it really was a blessing in disguise.”

“Oh, I’m sure not,” she said, feeling a terrible pang at the thought of everything he had endured at the hands of his puppetmasters before she had finally had the courage to help him.

He kissed her hand tenderly.
 
“Ah, but you all you have to do is gaze at me with those wonderful eye of yours. Bestow upon me that wonderful look of love and devotion. Then I can say it was nearly all worth it. I hated the addiction, and not having any books to read, people to be with, but all the rest—”

She stroked back the thick fall of hair from one eye.
 
“If you want to be more independent and retired from the world, not teach the children, I’m sure we can—”

“No, I do adore it. Of course an aristo would never have been a teacher. Well, only an impoverished aristo. But it’s good, honest work. It feeds and clothes my family, so I’m happy to do it. Plus I adore them. Such lively little minds.”

She moved over to the windowseat now to catch the last rays of the sun before it dipped below the verdant horizon. Then she held out her arms to him.

He came to sit with his head in her lap. She began to run her fingers through his thick ebony hair, massaging his scalp to soothe him. “I hear the Duke of Ellesmere has actually asked if his boys can come over for lessons too.”

He blushed. “That is most gratifying, but I wouldn’t want to upset Jonathan Deveril. He’s a very good man.”

“Yes he is, which is why he wouldn’t be upset if you started teaching them instead. After all, he has a busy parish to run as our vicar, and would most likely appreciate the help.”

"I'll think about it. As I said, I love to help the children, but these are my family.
 
Being tutor to the Duke's sons would be an honor I little dreamed of, but I don't want to take more time from my family and you than I can help."

She asked quietly after a moment, “Speaking of Jonathan Deveril, do you think we might be able to go to Sunday services some time?”

He looked almost nervous. “Oh, I, um, I was raise a Catholic, of course, and I’ve never really, um, well, but if you want...” His voice trailed away uneasily.

She smiled and shook her head. “No, it’s all right, really. I can see you might not want to be gaped at in public.”

He nodded. “That’s exactly it. I mean, what if someone recognizes me?”

“Well, we’re not going to make this house into another prison cell either.”

He shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“Then we’ll go out and enjoy ourselves. If anyone says they think they know you, we'll just tell them they’re mistaken.”

“Good.” He sat up and moved over to the bed. “Now come here and let me kiss you properly.”

She gazed at him warmly. “I’d rather you kissed me improperly.”

“In that case, lift your skirts.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no.”

His face fell.

Her eyes glowed. “It’s much more fun if you lift them for me, darling...”

The following morning the two sisters and Simon set out for a delightful expedition to Bath.

The day was bright and sunny, without only a couple of mare’s-tail clouds in the sky.
 
They had a wonderful time wending their way through the gray stone streets around the magnificent medieval Abbey, inhaling the crisp air laced with the sulphurous tang of the healing medicinal hot springs which bubbled and steamed in the center of the city and had given the town its name.

They wander through stalls and shops buying everything that struck their fancy so long as Simon pronounced it a good price. He haggled and bargained with the best of them, even at the dressmakers. Gabrielle was delighted to see him in his element, and even Lucinda was alert and responsive to the silks, satins, and in particular the baby clothes.

They paused only to go to Sally Lunn's for some of the impressively-sized tea cakes. Lucinda licked the butter off her fingers, and gave the first genuine smile Gabrielle could remember for a long time.

She beamed up at Simon herself, and he caught her eye, nodded, and kissed her in full view of the entire small front parlor of the shop, earning them many stares, most of them friendly and not a little envious.

She had certainly noticed a lot of people looking at Simon, but at least not in a suspicious or threatening way. He really was wonderful to look at now that he was clean shaven and dressed as dapperly as Randall the Earl, who had laden him down with 'cast offs' Gabrielle knew all too well were really new.

She was happy to think that her family had taken to him so well, even the suspicious Randall and the less than forthcoming Michael, who sought him out to practice his languages with him every day.

After their sumptuous tea, they launched into a serious, focused effort to make sure Lucinda would have all she needed for the baby. Oh, she was certain Isolde and Randall would shower them with gifts once it was born, and a mountain of handmedowns from their enormous brood, but it would be nice to make sure the babe had a special layette of its own.

As a result of Simon's impressive husbanding of their resources, they stretched their money as far as it could go to buy all they needed, and still ended up having something left over.

“Let’s go get some treats in the food store to take back with us in the carriage,” he suggested. “We can have a sort of picnic on the way home.”

“Good idea,” Gabrielle said with a fond smile, even though she was still digesting the welsh rarebit and the tea cakes they had had at Sally Lunn's.

They paused only to admire Bath Abbey, listening for a time to the organist practising as they looked around the Gothic interior. Then they stopped in at the victualler's, and got some ginger beer and various pies and pasties.

By the time they had finished, the sky had grown gray and overcast.

Simon looked up at the sky and began to shiver.

Gabrielle stared at his suddenly pallid complexion in alarm. “Darling, what is it?”

 
“I feel a storm coming on. Possibly even a seizure.”

“Oh no, Simon, are you sure?” she gasped, taking the basket from his left hand and snugging him to her with her arm around his waist.
 

“There’s something not quite right in my head, I know that. Ever since yesterday, there’s a sort of prickling sensation.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, but I feel, well, odd. Driven by some strange compulsion.”

“Compulsion?” she echoed in confusion.

“Destiny, fate, call it what you will.”

“Simon, now you’re scaring me.”

He put his arm around her shoulder and he looped his other arm around Lucinda’s waist. “It’s all right, but we need to go. The storm is heading straight for us.”

By the time they got to the coach, left Bath, and were on their way back down the road to Brimley, the sky had opened up. The rain was pulsing down in torrents, so that the coach driver could barely see an inch ahead of him, and the horses became more and more fractious.

“We need to take shelter,” Simon said abruptly, tight-lipped with nerves.

Lucinda let out a sudden cry.