Chapter 5
“In her dreams, Psyche still saw Eros, but the reality of their separation was a cold and lonely awakening.”
Lucius Apuleius, Metamorphoses
As soon as their guests had left, their suspicions of Simon’s faltering alibi still hanging in the air, John demanded they discuss the news. Simon was still reeling at the questions that unknown heirs posed, but was forced to sit in silence while his family gathered to discuss what had happened.
Molly was the first to arrive, removing her bonnet with an expression of alarm.
Being summoned to the study was an unusual occurrence, and it was clear she was worried.
Nicholas was roused from his sleep, and it took twenty minutes for him to finally appear in a state of dishevelment as if he had dressed in a hurry.
They remained in the study, on the extra chairs that had been brought in, and John informed them of the news. It was, he had reasoned, imperative they hear about it before scandal broke in the news sheets or amongst the ton.
After his mother’s heroic intervention, she had settled back into an opioid daze. Simon would have checked on her, but he was in somewhat of a daze himself, albeit for different reasons.
“So,” Nicholas drawled, rubbing his temples, “some Italian brats are now in line ahead of me? I am no longer the spare, but the damned third spare? How could my circumstances have worsened even further!”
Nicholas’s plaintive tone would have grated on Simon’s nerves, but he thought he might be in a slight state of shock because he did not feel much of anything.
Logically, though, it was he who was most affected, not Nicholas.
The meaning of his life, his adherence to duty, had all been for naught.
He had sacrificed everything he had wanted for himself and was now betrothed to a girl he did not know, or particularly like, in the pursuit of family unity.
He knew what he would do if he had been a free man.
Return to Madeline and beg her to forgive him for his neglect.
But I am not a free man.
John struck the desk with his open hand. “Can you think of no one but yourself?”
Simon thought for a moment his older brother was addressing him until he noticed John was glaring at Nicholas. Simon experienced a moment of sentimentality that John defended him so, which was quickly set straight when his brother continued speaking.
“What of me! I have to bring some European clunches into our family home as honored guests! We have no knowledge of their breeding or education! Do you have any notion of the crisis that this has created for me?”
Simon drummed his fingers on his knee, attempting to keep himself together as best he could until he was left alone with his thoughts.
John had not always been so self-absorbed.
It was a characteristic that had come to light after he had become ill, and Simon could understand that his brother had not the energy to think of anyone else when he was so sick.
“Your father would be so ashamed at such a development,” proclaimed Isla without any sign of emotion. “He so wished to elevate the family bloodlines, and these accusations are deeply insulting.”
Simon did not think the statement helpful, but he was inclined to be charitable, considering his mother had stepped in to help him with an alibi.
He was still rather taken aback at the decisive action she had taken to protect him.
Isla wandered through life in a soporific state, so the fact that she somehow noted what was taking place in the study and presented herself on cue had been the most fortune Simon had experienced in recent weeks.
He could not credit that he had been accused of murder.
What alarmists their guests had been. What on earth could lead them to make such an assault on his character?
The baron must have been killed by someone in his own household, considering the news sheets had reported his death to be late evening while he was in his study.
Their family was distantly acquainted with the murder victim at best. Perhaps Filminster had caught his steward altering the account ledgers for his own gain and been bludgeoned for his troubles.
The bickering continued, each Scott insisting they had been the most wronged by the earlier visit. Simon held his tongue, contemplating his predicament as the drama played out without his intervention. He was jolted from his woolgathering when Molly suddenly sprang to her feet.
“I am grateful for all that you have done for me,” she said, her tone sharp with emotion, “but I cannot remain silent while you speak so selfishly. It is Simon who bears the true weight of this news, and your complaints do neither him nor our family credit!”
He blinked, taken aback at the demonstration of support from the relation he barely knew, watching as Molly turned on her heel and stormed from the study. Simon wished he could follow her.
Molly had been summoned away by the head footman, Duncan Campbell, so Madeline was left to read her book in the afternoon light.
She had her parasol crooked up, along with her bonnet to shade her eyes, but the glare on her page was making it difficult to read.
Putting her book down and fiddling with the parasol to see if she could angle it to cast shade on her lap, she then picked up her novel to continue reading.
It was not a well-advised choice of book, but she had a yearning to read Waverley.
Simon’s family hailed from Scotland, but Madeline did not know much about their northern neighbors.
The descriptions of towering mountains and reflective lochs had captured her imagination.
Not a thoughtful cure to her blues about Simon’s recent betrothal, but engrossing nevertheless.
Buried in her story of highland drama, she did not notice the passage of the sun across the sky until she was startled from her bemusement by a shadow cast across her peripheral vision. Flinching in surprise, she raised her head to find Molly staring at her in a state of agitation.
“Simon needs you.”
Madeline frowned in perplexment at the dramatic announcement. Molly had struck her as a level-headed young lady, so it was odd to see her in a state of obvious disquiet. “I am afraid that Simon and I no longer visit with each other. We have not in quite some time.”
“He has just received news …” Molly shook her head, her face displaying turbulence.
“His family can think only of themselves. They care not for his distress. Heaven forfend any of the Scotts pay mind to another member of their clan.” She stopped, cocking her head at this pronouncement.
“Except for Simon. He never speaks of himself. I think him to be quite selfless. I almost wish he would lose his temper and assert his own rights.”
Madeline squinted, closing her book and putting it down on the bench.
Molly’s assessment was similar to her own.
Simon had been a well-balanced and considerate individual until the night of his brother’s accident.
That event changed him. He had been by his brother’s side for weeks, obeying the physician’s instructions and doing everything he could to help Nicholas recover.
From that time on, Simon had been obsessed with caring for the family, speaking of duty each time she met with him, which had become less frequent over the years until he had announced his betrothal to another woman.
She had accepted, long ago, that he was lost to her, but acceptance did not lessen the ache.
She should be protecting herself from further loss, but it was difficult to ignore a plea for help. If she did not assist him in a time of need, there was no one else he could turn to for support.
Madeline realized Molly was speaking again, probably because several moments had passed without response.
“I am sorry to burden you, but Simon and I are not close. He is so aloof, and I do not know how to offer my help. I think he needs someone who knows him better than I.”
He had not been reserved in their youth.
Madeline suspected the aloofness was a defense against his abandoned dreams. If he dared to consider his own desires, she thought, he would come undone.
He was the rock that held the Scotts together, and she did not believe he received any benefit for his efforts.
“What has happened?”
Molly walked over to collapse on the bench beside her. “His older brother, Peter, the one who died?”
“What of him?”
“He had sons! An heir and a spare, which means …” She did not complete the sentence, the announcement hanging in the air as if a cannon had been shot.
Madeline gasped as the realization hit her. “Simon will not inherit!”
“Just so. But it is worse than that. That baron who was murdered, Lord Filminster, it is believed he was killed to conceal the heirs.”
Every aspect of his life was up in the air like hundreds of leaves swirling in a blustering wind.
Except for one.
Despite the revelations, Simon was still required to marry Olivia Boyle, a fact that made the walls move to box him in.
As little affinity as he had for his betrothed, she was an innocent debutante whose reputation would be sullied if he left her unprotected against high-society scandal.
The demons of the ton would eat her alive if he were to break their engagement, not to mention there would be rumors that they had lain together due to the nature of betrothals.
As he contemplated the regrets he had for his decisions over the last ten years, the one comfort he could cling to was that he had tried to do what was right. But, unfortunately, what was right was to honor his commitment to the viscount’s daughter or else ruin her within polite society.
Simon realized that, for the first time in his life, he did not know what the future held.
In his youth, he had been committed to following his Psyche into trade. Bigsby’s Stone Manufactory had been a temple of possibilities to his youthful self.