It was clear to Judith that she and her brother would always have a warm and loving relationship. They shared happy memories and an interest in art and literature, but on some serious questions they were far apart. For now, while Stephen was at the beginning of his career, she knew they could live together very comfortably. But she foresaw a time when her independence and more radical opinions would interfere with their easy domestic arrangement. As Stephen became successful, and when he finally married, she would be in an uncomfortable position. This realization made her all the more determined to find a way to earn some money and perhaps be able to put a little aside for the future.
“Surely my reputation is in no danger. To whom could it matter? And as for myself, what real danger could there be from an octogenarian, sightless earl or duke?”
“I suppose you are right. But I cannot like the idea of you again at the beck and call of some stranger.”
“I am not applying for parlormaid, Stephen,” Judith said, trying to tease him from his disapproval. “It seems an ideal situation. I would only be reading a few hours a week, and have plenty of time to myself.’’
“Well, apply if you want to. There is no need for either of us to fly into the boughs over it, since you haven’t even interviewed yet. I am sorry to play the ‘older brother,’ but I only want to take care of you.”
“And I appreciate that, Stephen. Now go, before you are late, and I will no doubt greet you with the sad news that they hired a gentleman, after all.”
* * * *
In the meantime, having finished his business with his own secretary, Robin set out for Simon’s house. He was admitted by the butler and shown in to Francis immediately.
“How do you do, Major Stanley.” Francis greeted Robin warmly.
He could not but appreciate the major’s faithfulness to his old friend, despite constant rebuff. “Please sit down. I’ll let the duke know you are here, if you wish, but he has still not received any visitors.”
“No, I won’t try to see his grace today, Francis. It is you I have come to see.”
Francis looked at the major questioningly.
“It is about the advertisement you placed in the Post. At least we assume it was you, since I know of no other ‘blind nobleman’ whose solicitor is Whithedd. Why, in God’s name, does Simon think he has to hire someone? I would be happy to read for him.”
“I know that,” Francis replied. “It does look like another isolating tactic. But I am convinced this will be a good thing. It is certainly the first interest in anything outside himself that the duke has shown in months.”
“Have you received any replies yet?” Robin asked.
“I have no idea. This is only the first day of the advertisement. Whithedd may have had someone apply, but has hardly had time to inform me.”
“Good, because I have found Simon a reader. She will be perfect.”
“She? The duke requested a gentleman.”
“Yes, I saw that. But would he not agree to interview a young woman whom you recommend?”
“Perhaps. Who is it you have in mind?”
“She is Miss Judith Ware. She and Barbara were at school together. She is what you might call a gentlewoman in straitened circumstances. Good family, but no title or money. She left school to become a governess for three years. In one household there was a blind woman, and Judith read to her.”
“Why is she now in London?”
“Her brother is down from Oxford, reading law. They have set up a house together and have only a small income. She is looking for a way to supplement it, and this position would be just the thing. I would feel reassured, Simon would have an excellent reader and Judith would have the extra income she needs.”
“It sounds commonsensical to me,” said Francis. “But the duke wants no one connected with his former life.”
“She would not have to reveal the connection,” Robin said. “She would be the plain Miss Ware, telling what, after all, is the truth about her background and never having to mention us at all. Are you free now? Shall we go over to Whithedd and see where he has got with this?”
“All right,” said Francis. “This feels like it is moving out of my hands very quickly, but I can’t see what harm it would do to present her case to the duke. If he refuses to see her, it does not radically change things, since we will eventually find a reader.”
Chapter 8
As Francis and Robin were finishing their conversation, Judith arrived in the city. She had taken a hackney to the Strand and stood in front of Whithedd and Pierce for a moment before going in. She inquired of the clerk in the front room if Mr. Whithedd or Mr. Pierce were available.
“Mr. Pierce has been dead for eleven years, miss,” he replied with a look of disdain on his face, “and Mr. Whithedd can only be seen by appointment. I don’t believe you have one?”
“No, I do not, but I did not think it necessary, as I am come to answer the advertisement Mr. Whithedd placed in the Morning Post.”
“The advertisement for a reader? He wants a gentleman, I am sure.”
“Yes, I know,” Judith said patiently. “But I have had some experience with a blind person. Surely he could spare me a few minutes?”
“I will see,” said the clerk, realizing from her tone that Judith was not to be easily discouraged.
A moment later, he appeared in the doorway.
“I am sorry, miss, but Mr. Whithedd says that this position would not be at all proper for an unmarried young lady.”
Judith opened her mouth, ready to protest, but saw, from the clerk’s expression, that she would never get past him or, indeed, the absurd rules that made it inappropriate for her to earn her living reading to some elderly nobleman. As the clerk gestured her toward the door, she said with a touch of irony, “Don’t worry, I’ll find my own way. Thank you for your time.”
When the outer door closed behind her, she leaned against it for a moment and choked back a sob. It was ridiculous, of course, but she had, as usual, gotten ahead of reality, and pictured herself earning money for present pleasures and future independence. And to be turned down for some antiquated notion of propriety!
She was just about to move away from the doorway when she heard someone calling her name. She looked up and was surprised to see Robin and another young man walking toward her.
“Judith, what are you doing here?”
“Making a fool of myself. I had read an advertisement in the Post for a—”
“Reader?”
“Why, yes! How did you know?”
“Barbara and I saw it too and thought of you immediately. It is perfect for you.”
“So I thought. But Mr. Whithedd will not even see me. How can he think it improper for me to be reading to an elderly gentleman?”
“Elderly? Of course—you could have had no way of knowing. The ‘blind nobleman’ is Simon Ballance, Duke of Sutton. You met him at Ashurst one Christmas.”
“Oh, Robin, no—not Simon!” Judith was distraught when she made the connection.
“Yes. I would have thought Barbara would have told you about it by now.”
“No, she has never mentioned him.” Judith did not add that she had remembered the duke quite well and had refrained from asking about Simon because she was embarrassed by her own interest.
“Judith,” said Robin, “this is Francis Bolton, Simon’s secretary.”
“How do you do, Mr. Bolton.”
“Let us all three storm Whithedd’s office and convince him he has turned down the best candidate for the job,’’ suggested Robin.
Fifteen minutes later, the three emerged triumphant. Robin offered to drop Judith off before continuing on with Francis. She accepted, “But only as far as Great Russell Street, Robin. I would like to walk awhile, it is such a lovely day.”
When Robin dropped her off, Judith had at last some time to think. She had been so shocked at hearing Simon’s name, and things had happened so quickly, that what she had done was just becoming clear
to her.
Judith remembered Simon very well from her visit to the Stanleys’. She had been out riding and was returning to the stableyard when Simon and Robin had arrived, that Christmas three years ago. It was a dry, cold day, and the three of them were red-cheeked and invigorated. Robin had recognized Judith at once, and introduced the duke. That informal meeting in the yard, in the confusion of horses being unharnessed and baggage being lifted down—the young people stamping their numbing feet and laughing about the weather—set the tone of the next ten days. Judith forgot Simon’s rank, as most were wont to do. He was good-looking, and his face was open, curious, and sympathetic, all at once. In his eyes lurked a sense of the absurd, which over the course of their visit she discovered they shared.
Judith was not returning to school with Barbara, but going on to her first position as governess. She had made up her mind to enjoy her last days of freedom, and did. Before the weather became worse, all four of them rode in the mornings. When they found themselves snowed in, they all seemed to forget their adult status and enjoyed parlor games and card-playing and endless conversations. Barbara’s talent was obvious even then, so each evening they retired to the music room and ended the day with a quiet concert.
Judith had liked Simon immediately. But as the days went by, she realized that in addition to feeling he was one of the family, she was also attracted to him. They shared many opinions, on everything from politics to literature. Simon seemed to value intelligence in a young woman, unlike the young men of Judith’s neighborhood. As the end of their stay drew near, she realized she was well on her way to being in love with the duke, a state she was determined to avoid. After all, she had resigned herself to her future: three years as a governess, and then London with Stephen.
In the abstract, not being a conventional young lady hurt not a bit, but never before had her straitened circumstances been brought home to her. Barbara would leave school and become part of the same social set as Simon. Had matters been different, Judith might have been doing the same. She might have looked forward to being introduced to Simon again, even dancing and flirting with him. But things were not different, and on the day before she was to leave, Judith awoke from a dream of waltzing with the duke with both pain and anger in her heart. She was very quiet at breakfast and shortly thereafter sought out the library for a place to be alone.
She spent some time randomly pulling books down from the shelves, and then she gave up. She could not concentrate. She moved over to the windows and stood gazing out at the gray day. The weather was becoming warmer and the snow was melting. The pristine whiteness was no longer. The snow was dirty, and Judith felt herself sinking into self-pity. But it is not fair, she thought. It is too hard. If I were a man, I would not have to become someone’s servant.
She did not hear the door open. She was utterly sunk, and tears were beginning to slide down her cheeks.
Simon said her name softly and, when she didn’t respond, moved closer and called her again. Judith started, and he apologized for disturbing her privacy. She muttered something and tried to wipe her eyes quickly with the back of her hand.
“I fear I startled you, Judith. Is something wrong?”
“No, no,” she said, still facing the window.
“I do not wish to intrude, but it is clear you are upset. Can I help in any way?”
“No, your grace,” said Judith, turning around.
“I thought we had agreed to be informal?”
“Yes, your ... I mean, Simon. I am ashamed of myself. I was just indulging in a bout of self-pity. Our holiday has been so pleasant that I will hate to leave.”
“You do not, I think, return to school with Barbara?”
“No, I have a position as a governess in Hertfordshire. My own school days are over.”
“And do you not find that hard? Watching your friends go back to a carefree existence?”
Simon’s ready sympathy touched Judith, and she lost all sense of decorum. Instead of hypocritically denying her anger, as a well-bred young woman should, she said, with a mixture of anger and grief, “Yes, I do find it hard. Had my father lived, I would have a home to go to. Might even have been brought out, had we petitioned a distant relative. But now, I must live among strangers until Stephen is down from school. I have never been so aware of the injustice in being female.”
“I feel rather presumptuous in attempting to offer you comfort,” said Simon, “but in a small way I do know how you feel. When I was younger, I felt very trapped by my position. I wanted the freedom to be myself, and not the Duke of Sutton. I was quite ready to chuck it all at one point and go live in a Godwin-like household!”
Judith smiled through her tears. “Surely your parents would have been horrified.”
“They were already gone, which, I suppose, made it seem like a real possibility.”
“Whatever kept you from it?”
“I decided that if I was born to a title, then perhaps a more useful thing to do with it than give it away to my third cousin was to use the influence I had for those causes I believed in. My ideas have modified a bit over the years, since the outcome of the revolution in France must needs give everyone pause, but I don’t think I flatter myself in believing I have done some good. I have also developed a sort of philosophy over the years. I believe we are all limited in some way, after all, merely by being human. I think we find freedom in our acceptance of necessity. Of course, it is far easier, I realize, to hold to this philosophy in a position such as mine,” said Simon apologetically. “If there were some way for me to help you, I would. But I could hardly take you under my protection without ruining your reputation.”
Judith smiled at him. “Oh, there is nothing anyone can do, your grace. And indeed, I am being quite foolish. I have already made up my mind to what I must do, and this is only a moment of weakness. Three years is not forever, after all. I will see my brother occasionally and then I shall be free. I do not truly want to live the life of a lady of fashion. I just find myself, at times, wanting things that I don’t really want, if that makes any sense at all to you?”
Simon nodded. “I do not find that hard to understand. And I admire you very much, Judith, and wish you well.”
Judith left the library feeling comforted by Simon’s sympathy. She left Ashurst the next day and relived the memory of that Christmas holiday many times. Until she had heard Simon’s name again today, however, she had not been fully aware of how well she remembered him. In fact, she realized that someday she would probably have questioned Barbara about him, and that one of the reasons she had been happy to resume her friendship with the Stanleys was a hidden hope that she might one day meet Simon again.
I am no better than a schoolgirl, she thought. I suppose all along I have been dreaming that we would meet again and that he would immediately fall in love and rescue me from Gower Street. And now I will be going to his house under false pretenses.
Somehow it seemed all right to daydream occasionally about bumping into Simon at Barbara’s, or of Robin bringing Simon along for one of their rides, for that would have involved no deception other than pretending to have forgotten him, and no action on her part. But to reenter Simon’s life as Miss Ware, taking advantage of his blindness, made her feel a bit guilty. She had originally wanted the position thinking it was someone else. She still wanted it, but was confused about her motives. Was it only to be near the duke again? Could she not have kept looking for another situation? But Robin was so sure that the situation was ideal, since he would get firsthand reports on Simon’s progress. Robin had no second thoughts, but then Robin had never been an impressionable eighteen-year-old who formed an attachment to a good-looking, sympathetic duke.
Surely that is over, thought Judith. I have lived three years on my own, and am, I hope, matured. I do read well, I certainly care about the duke as a friend, and after all, he may well refuse to interview me.
Chapter 9
Two days later, Judith paid the hackney driver and turne
d toward the duke’s town house. She hesitated, almost ready to jump back in the cab. Why on earth was she here? How could she have imagined this would work? Why had she been so impetuous and presumptuous? She heard the clatter of the horses moving away, and walked up the steps.
The young footman who opened the door stared at her rudely.
“Yes, miss? Do you have some business here?”
“I have an appointment with the duke,” Judith answered tentatively. Perhaps Francis had not been able to get her an interview? “My name is Judith Ware.”
Francis appeared from behind the footman. “This must be Miss Ware. Come in, his grace is expecting you. I hope you had no trouble getting here?”
“Oh, no. It is not that great a distance by cab.”
“Before I bring you in to the library, I would like to speak with you myself. As the duke’s secretary, I screen all applicants for any positions, no matter how highly recommended they come.”
“Of course,” replied Judith, and followed him into his office.
“Please be seated, Miss Ware.”
Francis walked over to the window, his back to Judith. He seemed to be searching for words, and after a moment he turned back to face her.
“I am not sure you truly understand what this situation will be like, Miss Ware. I understand Major Stanley’s concern for the duke and his frustration at continuously being turned away. I know why you yourself need and want the position. But I am not sure either of you realizes how different the duke is from what you remember. He has hidden himself behind the facade of his rank. He becomes furious at the least condescension. Or, I should say, cuttingly sarcastic, since that is his usual tone these days.”
“I must confess to feeling some pity,” Judith said, slowly. “Who could not? But I do not think I am here to bolster my sense of usefulness or virtuousness. I think I am aware of the danger in that. And, after all, I am mainly here for my own self-interest. I need an income, and am here to exchange my reading for it.”
Marjorie Farrel Page 6