Between Randall and Michael’s family there were twenty children all together, ranging in age from twelve to infancy. She feared that her beloved might find the contrast between his lone years of incarceration and suddenly being thrust into a busy family life almost too much to bear.
To her surprise, he was exceptionally patient with the huge Avenel brood. After a week or so of timidly testing him, the children actually began to seek him out for games and little chats.
These conversations were so adorable she simply had to smile. No matter what the age of the child, he always had something to say to him or her.
Simon seemed to know all sorts of unusual things about nature, and could identify almost any species of flower and every breed of rose without any difficulty whatsoever. He always seemed to manage to adjust his discourse to interest each child.
Even the babies, though they could not speak, basked in his attention. Gabrielle could see them look around and smile whenever they heard his deep voice. They gooed and cooed at him like turtledoves.
He did it right back, earning him some very warm looks from Isolde and Bryony, who both declared him a marvel as soon as the women were alone together sewing.
“You’re so lucky. What an extraordinary man. Not that I’m complaining about my spouse, but I’ve never seen anyone so devoted to his, well, wife and family,” Bryony praised.
“He certainly is unique, it has to be said,” Gabrielle agreed with a small smile.
Randall and Michael’s mother, the Dowager Lady Hazelmere took to the ‘young man’ at once. Gabrielle was amused at the description, but Simon seemed to have a special innocence about him despite all he had been through.
She guessed that he had to be well into his thirties, if not older. The number of years he had mentioned as having passed, things he recalled about the war, all had to make him nearly contemporary with the Rakehells so far as she could tell, yet Michael, one of the eldest of the group, didn't know him, a fact which dejected her no end.
But at last she decided the past didn't matter. It was who he was now that counted.
The good dowager agreed, and seemed intent upon making him a third son, she was so kind and affectionate with him. She even asked them both to call her Mama. Since this was preferable to calling her by her given name, the only other choice she declared they would be allowed, they acceded to her wishes.
Gabrielle sat helping her cousins' wives with their endlessly full work baskets while Simon and the Dowager worked in the garden and the children were at lessons.
Sooner or later the younger ones would come out for a game or a look at what he was doing and want to ‘help.’ More often than not they got covered with dirt, but he would make sure the boys were clean and tidy.
He would also mop the girls’ faces and hands and put clean pinafores on them with an unflappability which was quite remarkable in a man his size with such fierce intelligence.
For it soon became apparent that there was very little he didn’t know. He was continually providing precise dates and explanations which showed a thorough knowledge of each subject.
He didn’t simply like to hear the sound of his own voice. In fact, most of the time, he seemed to be listening to something else entirely.
Gabrielle often observed him following several conversations at the dinner table at once all around him without any difficulty whatsoever. Again, it was remarkable considering how many years he had spent almost totally alone.
She decided it was not just vain and affected showing off, and desire to insert his opinions, but a genuine interest in and sensitivity to people.
One day Simon overheard the boys discussing the dates of the reigns of the kings and queens of England, and corrected their numerous errors without even batting an eyelash.
Randall was surprised that the tutor could have made so many mistakes, and went to look up the contentious dates. He then called in Mr. Steyning, and confirmed that the chap had in fact got them all wrong.
Simon had shrugged and said it wasn’t so important to memorise things as to get children to think for themselves. But Randall became rather uneasy a few days later when he overheard Mr. Steyning being highly critical of Radical reformers.
“Rather like biting the hand that feeds you, is it not, sir?” Randall asked the sharp-featured little man coolly.
He had bowed curtly. “I meant no offence. But I am entitled to my opinion.”
“And the children to theirs. They should have the benefit of all sorts of different viewpoints, and not be told that they are stupid, treasonous, even. Or a few of the other choice words and phrases I myself or my brother have heard you utter.”
“If that man Mr. Drake is trying to take my post, sir, then he has another think coming,” he said nastily.
“No such thing, If anyone has taken it from you, Mr. Steyning, it’s you yourself. You came to me highly recommended, but on the whole I fear that your knowledge is far too limited to ever give my sons the polish they will need for school and university. The boys have already pretty much outstripped what you have to teach.
"So consider yourself given a month’s notice. You will drill them in Latin, the only subject upon which you appear to speak with real authority, and you will not discuss politics in any way shape or form with them. If they have any questions, they can come to me or their uncle.”
Mr. Steyning was furious, and acted oddly whenever he saw Simon after that. But since there were no overt moves for Simon to replace him, he went at the end of the month without causing too much trouble.
That was not to say that the persecution of Simon stopped there, however. For the nursery maid Margaret, who had set her sights on the handsome man, only to be rebuffed time and time again, decided she would cause trouble as well.
She envied Gabrielle her seemingly easy situation as a poor relation of the family, and was determined to make life as uncomfortable for them all as she could.
Simon was oblivious to the buxom wench’s machinations, mainly because he had eyes only for Gabrielle, and didn’t bother to wonder at the significance of the scheming girl’s behaviour.
But one day she came up with a plot so foul, Simon was convinced his happy new world had come crashing down around his ears.
Little Adeline had been helping in the garden, and she and some of the other children had initiated a game of hide and seek. Whilst playing excitedly, Adeline fell down in a puddle of mud up to her waist, which soaked right through all her layers of clothes. Simon scooped up the child and soon saw she was saturated.
“Darling, she’s soaked through,” he called.
Gabrielle, working with Randall on his correspondence, popped her head out of the French doors which led to the library. “Do you mind taking her up to the nursery? One of the maids will get her changed.”
“I don’t mind at all. Sorry to interrupt.” He gave her a warm kiss, dangling the little girl between them for a moment, before raising her for a kiss too.
“You can interrupt our estate business like that any time,” she said with a smile, and patted the little girl on the cheek.
“I'm just going to tend to Adeline, Mama," he called over to the Dowager, who pruining at the far end of a trellis.
She looked up, and her eyes widened at the site of the muddy little mite. "Oh, er, yes, quite. Thank you."
"See you in a minute. Don’t let the boys play with the secateurs.”
The Dowager pointed to them safely out of the way of tiny fingers. She waved at Simon, and off he went upstairs.
But when they got up to the nursery, there was no one about. “Oh dear, Adeline. It’s the servants’ half holiday.”
“Icky. Wet.”
“We’ll have you fixed up in a trice. Do you know where your clothes are, sweetie?”
She nodded and took him by the hand and led him to her little chest of drawers. He got out some small underthings and a dress and stockings, and a clean pair of shoes.
He was just finishing tying her garter
s and laces and making a jolly game of it when Margaret the nursery maid came in and started screaming.
“You’re disgusting! Get away from her!”
“Wha-?” Simon gasped, completely at a loss.
Margaret snatched up the child, squeezing her hard enough to make her scream. She continued shouting foul accusations at the top of her lungs until the child was hysterical, not so much by the words, as the fury in them.
Simon's head spun. None of it made any sense…. He felt sick with terror that he had had a black out or seizure and really had done something wrong.
Even more confusing, he could hear some of the other children’s crying echoing in his head. He was sure it was some dreadful flashback from the war and his head began to pound like the sound of the surf against a cliff. He cowered in a low chair with his head down and his hands over his ears, trying to get a grip on his reeling world.
Randall came tearing in, only to find his daughter bawling and the maid snarling like a rabid dog. Margaret was still screaming that Simon had tampered with and hurt the girl, and was calling him every foul name she could think of.
For a moment, he saw red, but it soon became apparent to Randall that his daughter was certainly not seeking to be rescued by Margaret, but rather, to escape from her.
"Let me go!" she insisted, trying to struggle away from the maid’s grasp."I want my fwend. You hurt him."
Randall stared.
"No, you can't go near—"
Adeline wriggled with all her might, and got free. Margaret tried to snatch her back, but she ducked and dodged around the chair and table to evade her. "No! Go away. I want Simon. I want Simon!"
Randall gripped the maid's arm hard. "Leave her be. Let's see what she does."
Margaret looked about to rebel, so Randall shook his head. "That's an order. Leave her to do as she chooses.
Once Adeline saw she was no longer being pursued, hurried to her friend's side.
“Please don’t cry, don’t cry, Simon,” the little girl pleaded to him in a touching voice. She reached up to take his hands away from his face, patted his cheek, and then tried to hug him.
Margaret looked livid and began to accuse him again. But her jaw dropped when little David and Edward came out from where they had been hiding.
They had frozen in terror at the inexplicable commotion. They had been in the room the whole time, hiding behind Simon in the corner and wondering when he would spot them.
They had been continuing the game of hide and seek, or so they had thought, and had followed him up to the room. The young men told their tale in firm tones.
“There were no maids here. It’s their afternoon off. He didn’t do anything other than change her. They were tying her garters and laces and playing pat-a-cake when Margaret came in and started yelling at him for no reason."
“Show me,” Randall ordered.
Adeline untied her garters, then tied them again proudly. Then she held up her hands to Simon and smiled winningly, begging to be picked up.
The boys nodded. "That's all that happened. She was muddy, he changed her and taught her how to tie her things herself. We were here the whole time. He didn't do anything wrong."
Simon cuffed the tears from his eyes as he listened to the stout defence of his character and actions by the two lads. Now the little girl began to stroke his cheek with her own tiny hankie. Her face was wreathed in smiles once more as he patted her head.
“Me do it again! Look!” She yanked her laces open and retied them slowly and carefully.
“You see, Simon didn’t do anything bad. Margaret hurt Adeline and Simon, and we don’t like her,” the eight-year old David stated now in a very grown-up voice.
“That’s right. She’s mean. She slaps and pinches,” Edward asserted with an angry look.
Margaret lost her temper then. “It just goes to show you how much he has them under his spell!” she accused. “It’s not normal or natural for a man to take so much of an interest in children. Especially little girls. It’s disgusting, I say.”
Simon ducked his head as though he had been slapped.
Gabrielle, who had been standing at Randall's elbow, unable to get into ther room without pushing past him, now moved further into the nursery to hug his shoulders.
He laid his head against her bosom and held on tightly.
Randall looked at the devastated couple and glowered at Margaret. “The only thing disgusting in this house is you.”
He dug into his waistcoat pocket and flung some money at her. “I want you out of this house, now. Take your things and go. I don’t know what possessed you to try to ruin a perfectly harmless man and defile perfectly decent relationships. You revolt me utterly. I've never encountered anything so spiteful and vindictive in my life. You will get no references and—”
Margaret quailed in the face of his towering rage. “All I wanted was for him to pay attention to me,” she said tearfully. “But he never did. He’s a servant, just like I am. Why couldn’t I have a good decent man in my life?” She pointed lividly at Gabrielle. “What does she have that I don’t?”
Simon looked up at her with a pitying shake of his head. “You can’t possibly even begin to imagine. But I can tell you one thing. Gabrielle has all my love. For all time. There has never been and can never be any other woman in the world for me. I’m sorry you deluded yourself into thinking you could win me over somehow. Gabrielle is my life. There’s no one else in the world I could ever love as I do her, except possibly our own children one day.”
Margaret looked completely dismayed, and with a last resigned sniff she left.
Randall took the boys to the door of the room. “Can you bring your sister outside while I talk to Simon and Gabrielle for a moment?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, Papa,” David agreed. “You’re not mad at them, are you?”
“No, not at all,” Randall reassured him firmly. “Now off you go.”
Simon was still embracing Gabrielle, but he stood now that he could trust his legs to hold him up. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. I think given the circumstances that perhaps I should leave—”
Randall shook his head. “I’m going to have to be even more careful about the servants I hire. This is the second person who didn’t have the children’s best interests at heart. But you do. The boys especially could do with a good firm hand. I want you to start teaching them from now on.”
“Me? But—”
“It will mean a greatly increased salary, of course. I would also like to speak with you about your future plans with Gabrielle, if you don’t mind."
He looked wounded anew. "Plans? Well, if you want us to move out, you have only to—"
"No! Not at all," Randall insisted, patting him on the shoulder. "I simply meant that your little nest egg is growing thanks to her, and now your own efforts will not be inconsiderable. So I thought you might like to start making arrangements regarding some decent investments with this money.”
This was music to Simon’s ears, for of course mathematics had been his greatest love.
“Yes, I would very much like to ensure that Gabrielle and I are independent. Though of course I would never forget the huge debt of gratitude I owe to your entire family for making me feel so welcome and having faith in me.”
"Nonsense—"
He looked Randall straight in the eye. “Tell me the truth. Did you suspect me at all of, well, what she said?”
Randall met his gaze with equal candor. “Not for one single second.”
Simon offered his hand and the two of them shook warmly. “Come, let’s go back down to the study and go over a few papers together, all three of us.”
Simon was now in his element, and it showed. He took the papers which Randall offered him, cast a glance over them, and named three stocks he was sure were going to do well based on past performance.
Randall stared at him. “But how can you tell so much from just a five-second glimpse?”
Simon shrug
ged. “It’s something I was always good at,” he said modestly.
Gabrielle hugged him and beamed at Randall. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you for this chance. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t, Simon. You haven’t thus far. Thank you both. I’m so glad you’re here.”
She glanced up at her cousin's deep lapis eyes, and was certain he meant every word he said. And thanked the gods for it.
She heaved a sigh of relief. Once again, they had narrowly averted disaster. She only hoped their luck would continue to hold…
Chapter Twenty-four
Madness Page 23