Madness

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  She shook her head.

  Simon looked at her bleakly. “It means that even now a ship is on its way to St. Helena. The Governor there will release Napoleon, and Europe will be plunged into war again soon.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Gabrielle stared at Simon in horror. She gripped his upper arm hard and gasped, “Release Napoleon from his prison? Are you sure, darling? Simon, are you certain that’s what it means?”

  He nodded, though his eyes were still closed against the pain. “The eagle was Napoleon’s symbol on all his battle standards. He escaped from Elba, remember? There are still people all over the world sympathetic to his cause.

  "Look at his brother Joseph. He was the worst king of Spain imaginable. He looted and pillaged Madrid like a child raiding a shop window at Christmas. Yet he ended up getting off scot-free and now lives Philadelphia, the seat of American liberty. Disgusting.”

  “At least he lost most of the treasure he looted from the poor Spaniards at the battle of Vitoria,” she pointed out softly.

  “True. I was there. He left baggage trains behind him for miles and a string of women, children and court followers. They fell prey to the mercies and not so tender mercies of the British and the Spanish. It was dreadful.” He shuddered at the recollection.

  Gabrielle soothed him with one hand, slowly rubbing his chest.

  He sighed. “I'm so tired now, my love.”

  “Yes, darling, I know you are. You’ve done very well. Been so brave. Why don’t you sleep? I’ll watch over you.”

  He squinted open one eye to look at her earnestly “Promise me you’ll keep the pistols near at hand. And understand that I can’t ever go back. I'll shoot myself first before I'll let them—”

  “Don’t say it,” she insisted. “Don't even think it. And don’t worry. I hate the idea of more war just as much as you do, and I'm damned if I'm going to lose you. Not after everything we've been through, especially weaning you from the opium.

  "So please, let's not allow our fears to get the better of us. It may not be as bad as you think. Perhaps the Governor of St. Helena won’t believe the message. Maybe he will want independent confirmation before he takes so drastic a step. You’re not the only one with the codes, are you?”

  “I would be one of very few people,” he said, then winced.

  “It will be all right. Even if the Governor does release Bonaparte, St. Helena is far away, and we have some time. Someone will stop him. It’s been nearly six years since Waterloo. I’m sure the French don’t want war again any more than we do.”

  “I pray to the gods you’re right, but I fear that as long as men hunger for power like the Little Corporal and his followers, there will always be something to fear.”

  She traced his handsome mouth with one forefinger. “Then we just have to trust in fate. It’s been pretty kind to us so far.”

  He cupped her buttock to tuck her more tightly to him. “Yes, and you’ve been most brave. They would have poisoned me for sure if you hadn’t been there.”

  "You mean poor Spence and that darling little kitten being there to save us all," she said with a sigh.

  "Aye. We've been more fortunate than I can ever imagine."

  She cradled him against her tenderly. “Sleep now, darling. Things will look much brighter once you’ve rested and eaten. And we can do whatever you like now that you’re free. Take a couple of days to go down to Dorset or wherever you like—”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head on the pillow. “Lucinda needs to be settled. All the jouncing around in the coach won’t be good for the baby. You’re my family now, and I need to look after you all.”

  “Not until you’re really well.”

  He sighed and hugged her close. “But you’ve already borne so much of the burden.”

  “It's been no burden at all. I did it gladly. I love you, and Lucinda.”

  “Still, we’re going to need money, a place to live.”

  “My cousins will help," she reassured him, hoping she sounded more confident that she felt. She still wasn't sure what she was going to tell them…. "We will all find a place in their household, I’m sure. They’re good people.”

  “If they’re anything like you they must be.” He kissed her softly, and soon their garments were in a heap upon the floor, with Lucinda slumbering peacefully on her pallet on the other side of the toilette screen.

  They made love silently under the covers, gently, though every nerve ending in her body screamed for him to take her as fiercely as a battering ram to reaffirm their life and love.

  “Please,” she begged urgently.

  “It’s all right, cherie. It’s all here for the asking. Just tell me what you want—”

  “All of you, right now, as hard as I can bear it until I tell you to stop,” she whispered back.

  “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” he said with a grin, still thrusting slowly until she drummed her heels on his buttocks in frustration.

  “If this is one of your erotic games, well, then, for once I want to give the orders.”

  Desire sparked fiercely in his eyes, rendering them molten gold. “All right, I’ll play your game. What is your heart's desire, my dearest love?”

  “All of you, right now, as hard as I can bear it until I tell you to stop.”

  "With pleasure, my love."

  It was a long time before she ever said that word. Finally she took pity on him.

  Simon collapsed at last, having lost track of how many times his spine had sizzled.

  Gabrielle dragged herself out of bed long enough to don her chemise and check on Lucinda, who was still sleeping with her thumb in her mouth.

  A short time later, Clarissa arrived with all their supplies, and caught more than an eyeful as Simon finished scrambling into his clothes and dived back under the covers with a blush.

  Clarissa grinned. “Quite a man you’ve got there.”

  “One in a million.” She shuffled back to bed, every muscle in her body aching from their cataclysmic lovemaking, and sat on the mattress with her friend to go over Clarissa's news.

  “Are you all right?” Simon asked, with a meaning look.

  She smiled happily. “Everything is perfect. I have everything I could ever want, my darling Simon. We're safe, and free. And the next time we have so much fun, it can be your turn to give the orders.”

  "Keep 'im under your thumb, dearie, that's wot I say," Clarissa advised in her broadest accent, with an even broader wink.

  "Aye, I certainly love the way she handles me," Simon rejoined with a cheeky grin.

  "But enough of this joking about," Clarissa said, her brisk self once more. "I've got a coach ready to leave at seven. It's a private party going to pick up some poor relations in Bristol, and willing to do it for half the price it would usually cost."

  Gabrielle could hardly believe her ears. "Why, that's perfect."

  Clarissa nodded. "Aye, so I've been shopping down the market real quick. Got some changes of clothes and so on. They'll have travelling rugs, footwarmers, and such like. So should I go tell 'im yes?"

  "Aye, we'll be ready," Gabrielle said, nodding enthusiastically. "And really, I can't thank you enough. However you managed it, I'm very grateful."

  Clarissa shook her head. "Tweren't me, I swear. He happened up to the coaching depot office just after the last full load went west. I heard him, and bespoke the whole carriage for the four of us before anyone else got a look in. Paid him to have supper in the tavern next door, and told him I'd be back in a trice with half his money down now, and the rest when we get there. So it's fate."

  "Still, let's just say you have a certain way about you of managing things, and leave it at that. So aye, go tell him, while Simon changes and I check our supplies one last time."

  Then she kissed Simon's cheek, and bounded off the bed to don some fresh clothes that didn't show off too much cleavage or reek of brandy.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Four days on the road i
n the private coach with the kind driver, who was a stolid sort who looked completely trustworthy and never asked any awkward questions, took them to Bristol.

  Once there they paid their driver, tipped him generously, and then secured a couple of lifts in wagons bringing their produce to market and then heading home. They got down a mile short from Randall’s residence, Barkston House in Somerset, and tramped via the bridleway to the mansion.

  Gabrielle knew they must present a rather bedraggled spectacle, but she had not only been heading for their destination, she had also tried to avoid anyone being able to trace them to Bristol, and from Bristol to here. Of course their appearance was much more respectable now, no longer so tarty, but they were still dusty and dishevelled.

  Lucinda had improved a great deal on the coach journey despite Simon's concerns about the jostling on the road being bad for her pregnancy. She seemed to enjoy the walk in the fresh air and sunshine now, and took Simon and Clarissa’s arms patiently as they strolled along.

  Simon still suffered from raging headaches due to the sun, but three of the four days on the road from London had been overcast, and Gabrielle had the presence of mind to buy him a pair of dark spectacles at an oculist before they had set out on the next leg of their journey, from Bristol into Wales, then skirting back round Bristol to Bath, and from there, south to Brimley.

  Randall was, needless to say, astonished to see them. He immediately ordered rooms to be readied for his cousins, and the two strangers who had accompanied them.

  Clarissa took Lucinda upstairs to lie down, whilst Gabrielle was left with the unenviable task of providing the explanation as to what was going on.

  “Goodness, I can hardly believe it’s the two of you, Gabrielle. What on earth has happened to you both?” Randall said, leading them into a small private parlor decorated in Wedgewood blue and cream. “Gods, you look done in. Come sit, please. I’ll ring for refreshments.”

  Simon followed them in timidly and sat in the corner, silently observing the tall, jet-haired man with lapis eyes.

  “So tell me, Gabrielle, how on earth do you come to be here of all places, with Lucinda, who was in Bedlam the last I heard?”

  Gabrielle opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She had rehearsed the speech so many times in her head. Now she quailed, and balked at telling the string of lies she had concocted.

  She took a deep breath, looked over at Simon, and decided that if she was expecting Randall to take her in, he deserved the unvarnished truth.

  At the end of her narrative he exclaimed again, as he had done at the start, “My God, Gabrielle, do you know what you’ve done?”

  “I’m telling you, Spence died. The kitten was dead too, both poisoned. They wanted to harm Simon and nearly killed Lucinda as well. They were going to slit his throat when I came into the room with my pistol. I couldn’t just leave him there, nor Lucinda either after poor Kit died in such agony. Antony refused to help with Simon—”

  “For Heaven’s sake, do you blame him?" Randall said, running the fingers of one hand through his thick dark hair. "This is a stranger, a man you know nothing about! I have fifteen children in this house to think of!”

  Simon sat in the chair, his shoulders hunched. He was right, of course. He had brought potential danger to the entire family just by stepping foot in the door…

  “Simon is gentle and kind. They don’t know he’s here, and—”

  “He’s a former opium addict!”

  "But that wasn't his fault—"

  "And in Bedlam, no less!"

  "I've told you, he was put there by—"

  Simon stood, raising his hands in surrender. “The Earl is right. I should leave. I can’t put your whole family at risk. I’m glad we told the truth, but now that we have, it’s over. You need to let me go the rest of my path on my own.”

  Randall stared at him. Something about his quiet dignity and the earnestness of his gaze now that he had taken off the dark-lensed spectacles gave him pause.

  He looked at him more closely, sensing something oddly familiar about the tall, bearded stranger. “Hmm, you say you knew him in Dorset?”

  She nodded quickly. “Yes, we met years ago, when I was younger and Mama was still alive, I believe. He recalls us well enough, anyway, all sorts of details I remember too, even if he doesn’t recall his own surname.”

  Randall lowered his voice. “And he hasn’t, er, hurt you?”

  “We've shared a bed, if that’s what you’re asking me. I went to him willingly. I love him. No woman could ever ask for a more devoted spouse. We would marry if we could. But there are the obvious obstacles, the main one being that someone falsely certified him as insane. I don’t know what to do to overcome that issue at present, but love will find a way.”

  Randall shook his head in disbelief. “Of all the people in the world to fall in love with! Gabrielle, I thought you were the more sensible sister of the two. I cannot believe that you would come here and expect me to just—”

  Simon slipped silently from the chamber, and began to make his way out of the house.

  Randall watched over his cousin's shoulder as Simon left, and thought for a moment about just letting him go, keeping Gabrielle distracted long enough for him to leave.

  But peculiar as the whole affair sounded, dangerous too, he had never known her to act so impetuously. Besides, the man, with preternaturally bright eyes and sunken cheeks, looked about all in after so many days on the road.

  “Excuse me,” he said, stepping past Gabrielle, and hurried to the door. “Simon, don’t leave, I pray you.”

  Simon paused for a moment in the corridor, but continued onwards.

  Gabrielle hurried out to him as well now, and shot him a pleading look.

  He ignored her beseeching gaze, his eyes firmly fixed on Randall's face.

  “Simon, I’m asking you to stay as my guest. I’m sorry if I spoke harshly. I was shocked. And naturally I am concerned about my children."

  "As am I. That's why I should—"

  "But Gabrielle is my family too, and she's a good woman. I’ve never known her to do anything rash or silly. In fact, she’s one of the best women I’ve ever had the privilege to know. Which coming from a former rake like me is a huge compliment.

  "So please, come back inside, sit down, and take some refreshment. If Gabrielle says she loves you, that will have to be good enough for me. Stranger things have happened in this family, believe me.”

  Simon squinted his eyes to examine the other man's expression, and could see nothing but kindness on Randall’s features. He was surprised to see him smile encouragingly at him, though seemingly without falsehood or in that patronising way people had when dealing with the ill or insane. Or was he just trying to keep him there until the authorities could be summoned…

  The two men stared across the foyer at each other, clearly at an impasse.

  Randall tried again. “Come now. You’ve been travelling a long time and I’ve been a very poor host indeed. Please come back into the drawing room. Gabrielle will never forgive me if—”

  “But you do have fifteen children to keep safe,” Simon said quietly.

  Randall flapped one hand at his side. “If you haven’t harmed her in all this time, or Lucinda, I think they will be perfectly safe. So, please, let's make a fresh start in getting to know each other, and me making sense of this whole hellish sounding business.

  "I'm very grateful for what you've done to protect the girls. So come in and have some tea. The servants should be finished with your rooms soon, and you can go up in a little while. The rooms will all be in my wing of the house. My brother Michael lives in the other part with my mother, the Dowager Lady Hazelmere. My wife Isolde is there at the minute. I shall send for her, and we can all four of us discuss this reasonably.”

  Simon nodded wearily. “Very well, I’m pleased to accept your gracious invitation.”

  He entered the room once more, and sat closer to the small low table in the center of a group
of chairs and a navy blue silk upholstered sofa.

  In the four days they had been on the road, Simon had been an easy companion, with a supply of ready conversation and the most impeccable table manners. Now his manner changed completely, as he almost withdrew into himself.

  A short time later, his silence grew even worse, as Randall's lovely red-haired wife entered the room. She was most welcoming, and not the least alarmed at the story Gabrielle told her quickly. She told Gabrielle to pour while she paced back and forth in front of the hearth, trying to make sense of the bizarre tale.