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Sitting in Stella’s chair, he realised that what he was really mourning was the certainty of life he had felt when Stella was his wife and their whole lives were laid out in front of them. He had felt like all his choices were made, that the puzzle of life had been worried out and then, suddenly, snatched away. He had found another type of certainty in Stella’s death—the certainty of the driven widower who would never marry.
With Marion, uncertainty plagued his life. Could his turmoil of feelings be less about conflict in his heart between Marion and Stella, but rather between his attachment to his previous life and his fear of the future? When Simon thought of the future with Marion, it was a valley of unknown territory. He didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling, and her secrecy made him furious, but also filled him with a desperate need.
God, I want her. God, I want her so much!
Simon groaned involuntarily at the thought, feeling a flush of passion throughout his body.
“Are you well, My Lord?” Hughes asked softly.
Simon looked up at his butler, who watched him carefully.
“I am well, Hughes,” Simon sighed heavily. “Just distracted.”
“I see,” Simon shuffled some papers. “I see that the Countess is travelling to London today.”
“Yes, again.”
Simon closed his eyes, trying to suppress the heady violence of his jealousy when he thought of Marion’s mysterious London visit yesterday. He didn’t believe that she was going to visit Eleanor. He believed she was going to meet that man again. Should he even let her leave the house?
I will not debase myself by begging for her love,Simon swore to himself angrily.Not for anything.
“Forgive me, My Lord, but Loretta has informed me that the Countess still seems …” Hughes stumbled for the correct word. He was on shaky ground, making a comment about his employer’s wife, but Simon knew that Hughes would never overstep the line. “…distracted. Is there anything we might do to ease her transition in the household?”
“You assume that it is the transition that is the problem,” Simon said glumly. He knew that he could tell Hughes anything, and slumped even deeper into the soft cushioning of Stella’s chair. “Perhaps I simply make her unhappy.”
“That cannot be so, My Lord,” Hughes said, quick to defend his master. Simon smiled ruefully. Hughes would never suspect the depths of rage, of fury that his master was capable of. Would Hughes have been so ready to defend him if he had seen the way that Simon had thrown that drunkard to the floor yesterday?
“Well,” Simon shrugged dismissively. “Perhaps there are other circumstances contributing to her dissatisfaction.”
Other circumstances.Simon thought of the man in the park. Was Marion on her way to see him at this moment? To whisper words of love?
“Might I speak plainly, Milord?” Hughes asked carefully.
“Of course.” Simon waved for Hughes to sit opposite him in Simon’s own chair. It was unusual for servants to sit in the presence of their masters, but Simon had long considered Hughes a member of his family. He was glad to accept the opinions and thoughts of a man who had served him for so long and who, at this moment, sat with him like an equal.
“Thank you, Milord.” Hughes sat carefully, clearly a little taken aback by the invitation as he folded his long fingers together and sat straight up, as if a poker was up his back.
“What is it you wanted to say, Hughes?” Simon asked.
“Milord, I have been with you many years and I have seen you travel through some of the hardest times a man could endure,” Hughes said softly, his eyes on his hands. “It has been my great honour to be of service to you in these times.”
“Thank you, Hughes,” Simon said, feeling touched by his butler’s kind words. “I could not have survived without you all.”
“Thank you, Milord.” Hughes nodded respectfully. “Serving you for so long has afforded me a privileged position and I can say, without exaggeration, that I do not think I have seen you more…yourself, than when you have been married to My Lady the Countess.”
Simon couldn’t speak. The truth of Hughes’s words struck him deeply. He picked at the brocade on the arm of the chair. He nodded for Hughes to continue.
“I feel that you care for her deeply, Milord,” Hughes said quietly. “And I do not think that is a detriment to the memory of the late countess.”
Simon felt choked.I miss her, but I do not love only her any more.Somehow, in the last few weeks, an overlooked chamber of his heart had reopened. He no longer loved Stella in the same way. Somewhere, his attachment had shifted to Marion.
“I do care deeply,” Simon said hoarsely. “I…I love her.”
It felt astonishing to say the words aloud, especially sitting where he was sitting, but it was true. Even seated in the chair that reminded him so much of his dead wife, all he longed for was his living wife. All he wanted was Marion. Hughes nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips.
“I have been happy to see you in love again,” he said. “Especially now that I believe you are in love with someone who can bring you immeasurable happiness.”
“That can only happen if she returns my affection,” Simon said quickly. His heart had lurched powerfully at Hughes’s words, his mind whirring over all the possibilities of immeasurable happiness. In his mind’s eye, he saw tangled bedsheets, picnics in the garden, kisses in the sunshine and the smiles of dark-eyed, dark-haired children.
