by Joan Wolf
Simon approached cautiously, prepared to be met with anger and reproach. Instead Elise opened her arms wide and said, “Simon! Thank God the both of you are safe.” Relief flooded Simon’s heart, his long legs covered the ground between them, then he was safe in Elise’s arms.
“I’m sorry we frightened you,” he said, his mouth next to her ear.
“And well you should be,” she retorted. But her arms tightened and he felt the knot that had been in his stomach ever since they left Jarvis House begin to loosen.
From behind him Richard Jarvis’ deep, authoritative voice said, “I assume this lady is your mother, Claire?”
Simon stepped back and turned to his uncle. “I’m sorry, Uncle Richard. Mrs. O’Rourke, this is my uncle, Richard Jarvis. He was good enough to send his carriage to bring us back from Carlisle, and he has transported us here today as well.”
Elise smoothed her somewhat disordered hair and smiled at the banker, holding out her hand. “Thank you for coming to the rescue of my children, Mr. Jarvis,” she said.
“Let me assure you I did not assist in this elopement, Mrs. O’Rourke,” Jarvis said. “My only involvement was to return them to you.”
Elise took back her hand and collected herself. “My goodness, we can’t keep standing here in the yard. Please, won’t you come into the house, Mr. Jarvis. I’m certain you could use a cup of tea after so long a journey.”
“Thank you, Mrs. O’Rourke, I could.”
“Simon,” Elise said. “Liam is at the farm. Could you find him and bring him home?”
When Elise spoke in the tone Simon and Claire had secretly designated as her I am the daughter of the Comte de Sevigny voice, you did not ask questions. “Of course,” Simon said, hoping his dismay didn’t show on his face. He would have much preferred to meet Liam while he was with Claire.
She gave him a sympathetic smile as she moved toward the house with her mother and Jarvis, but she didn’t offer to accompany him. He was on his own, and he started off down the hill that would bring him to the stud farm with his chin up and his shoulders back, like a soldier going into battle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Simon found Liam in one of the barns watching the blacksmith put shoes on one of Fergus’ most promising yearlings. Their old blacksmith had retired and left the business to his son, and Liam wanted to make certain the young man wasn’t holding the horses’ legs up for too long. He was so intent on watching he didn’t notice Simon until Simon spoke his name.
Liam’s head swung around and Simon looked back, trying not to look apprehensive.
“Simon!” Liam said. He looked over the boy’s shoulder. “Where is Claire?”
“She’s up at the cottage, sir. Mrs. O’Rourke sent me to fetch you.”
Liam said to the blacksmith, “Carry on, Jem.” Then, to the groom who was holding the colt’s halter rope, “put him out in a paddock when he’s done. Give him a chance to move around before you return him to his stall.”
“Yes, sir,” the groom replied.
Liam came over to Simon and put an arm around his shoulders. “Come along with me to the office, Simon. We have things to discuss.”
Simon eyes closed in relief when he felt that strong arm encircle him. He said, “I know you must be angry we ran away, but it was my idea, sir. Claire’s not to blame.”
They stepped out of the stable and into the bright sunshine. Liam said, exasperation in his voice, “Whatever possessed you to elope? Why didn’t you come to me first?”
The words poured out of Simon; it was so important to make Liam understand! “I didn’t come to you because I knew there was nothing you could do to help us. My father would never allow us to marry, and, until I’m twenty-one, I’m under his power. Eloping was the only possible way to circumvent him.” He glanced anxiously at Liam’s profile. “He wanted to send me to Oxford, and I couldn’t bear being separated from Claire again. I was just so sick of school and boys and being away from home.” Simon looked straight ahead, his mouth set hard, his voice a little unsteady. “And I’ll admit it - I was afraid of him. If he ever discovered I loved Claire he would have done something terrible to separate us.” His chin went up. “But we’re legally married now, and there’s nothing he can do about it.”
They had reached the building that held Liam’s office and Simon followed him inside. Once they were in the familiar room, Liam shut the door and took his usual chair behind the big, scarred old desk. Simon sat in his own usual seat and thought nostalgically of all the happy hours he had spent here with Liam talking about horses. He desperately wanted Liam to accept him and what he’d done.
Liam pushed a pile of papers away and regarded Simon, his expression very somber. “Something quite unexpected happened while you were gone, Simon, that is going to change your life. And Claire’s life as well.”
Simon had never seen Liam look quite like this. “What is it?” he asked in alarm.
“Your father is dead, dear boy.”
Simon blinked. Had he heard correctly? “My father is dead?” he repeated in bewilderment.
“Yes. It happened two days ago.”
Simon stared into Liam’s eyes, the eyes that were so like Claire’s. “How can that be? He wasn’t that old. And he was perfectly healthy the last time I saw him.”
Liam leaned down and took a bottle out of the bottom drawer of his desk. He poured a small amount into a glass, which had also come from his drawer, and handed it to Simon. “Take a dram, my boy. You’ll need it.”
Simon took the glass. It burned going down, and his eyes watered, but it did energize him. He blinked a few times and said, “That was pretty strong.”
“Irish whiskey. The best.” Liam poured a glass for himself.
Simon had never thought of his father as a mortal being. It had always seemed to him that the earl would be there forever, doing every thing he could to thwart his son’s happiness.
“I would be lying if I said I was sorry,” he said now. He drank the last of the whiskey and stared into the empty glass. “But …” his voice trailed off.
“What is it boyo?” Liam asked gently.
Simon hesitated, then he almost whispered, “It’s that now I’ll never know why he hated me so much.”
Liam reached out and put his hand on Simon’s arm. “It wasn’t your fault, Simon. It was some twisted thing in your father. There has never been anything wrong with you.”
Simon managed a wobbly smile.
Liam leaned back in his chair and said, “He was shot to death, Simon. That’s how he died.”
Simon’s eyes flew open wide. “Shot? By who?”
Liam finished his own dram of whiskey and said, “This is how it all happened. Once I knew you and Claire were safely out of reach, I sent a letter to the earl where he was staying in Wiltshire informing him of your elopement.”
Simon held onto those words: Once I knew you were safely out of reach. Liam had wanted them to get to Scotland! He wasn’t angry about the marriage. A tremendous feeling of relief swept over Simon. He heard Liam’s voice going on and brought his attention back to his words.
“The earl came back to Welbourne in a roaring fury. I’ve never seen him so angry – not even when Elegant Lady got interfered with in the Oaks and didn’t win.”
As Simon knew, his father’s anger at that particular moment in his life had been epic.
Liam continued, “According to the countess, they were having a late dinner when one of the footmen mentioned he had heard shots coming from the abbey woods. The earl said, ‘Shots? Are those damn poachers daring to come into my own woods?’
“The countess said he was like a madman. He jumped to his feet and called for his gun.”
Simon’s face was stunned. “He called for his gun? My father went after the poachers himself? Why would he do such an idiotic thing?”
“I’m thinking he was in the mood to shoot someone, my boy, and he had been railing against those poachers for the entire summer. At any rate, his g
un was brought and he strode out of the house, still in his dinner clothes, determined to aid in the capture. The countess tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Liam looked somber. “The poachers had guns of their own, of course, and in the exchange of fire, your father took a bullet in the chest. He lived only a few hours.”
Simon sat in dazed silence, one thought going round and round in his head. My father is dead. My father is dead. He has no power over me anymore. He is dead and I am …
Simon’s head lifted and he stared at Liam in horror. “But if my father is dead that must mean that I … that I ...”
“You are the Earl of Welbourne, Simon. You have been for two days now.”
It was all too much for Simon to take in at once. He looked up at Liam, who had always helped him, and said helplessly, “But I have no idea how to be an earl, Mr. O’Rourke. My father never shared anything with me.”
“You’re a smart lad, and you’ll learn,” Liam said. “Your father’s solicitor and agent will help you. All of the servants at Welbourne will help you. Your uncle will help you, and so will Claire, Elise and I.”
Simon felt his lips tremble and was horribly afraid he was going to cry. He fought a silent battle with himself, then managed to say with calm dignity, “Thank you, Mr. O’Rourke. Thank you for everything you have done for me over the years.”
Liam grinned. “Since I’m now you’re father-in-law, do you think you could call me something more personal than Mr. O’Rourke.”
“W-what do you suggest?” Simon wouldn’t dare to come up with a suggestion of his own.
“Not ‘Da,’ that belongs to Claire. How about just plain ‘Liam?”
The incipient tears threated again and Simon clamped down hard. “I’d like that,” his voice only a little emotional.
“I’d like that too.” Liam sighed. “I hate to land you with this, Simon, but we’re going to have to talk about your father’s funeral. His body has been lying in the icehouse waiting for you to return home to make the decisions.”
Simon was horrified. “I’ve never even been to a funeral. I have no idea what to do.”
“According to Elise, who is the daughter of a Comte, it is going to have to be very elaborate with lots of mourning coaches in the cortege. She says the way he died is sure to cause speculation, as will your elopement and marriage. A properly solemn and respectful funeral will help to demonstrate your fitness to take over the duties of the Earl of Welbourne.”
As Simon listened to what Liam was saying his chest tightened. How on earth was he to organize such a funeral? But a part of him also knew Liam was right, he was going to have to show the world that he and Claire were perfectly capable of assuming the duties required of the Earl and Countess of Welbourne.
“Has a death notice been sent to the papers?” he asked.
“Yes. The countess – er the dowager countess - sent a notice.”
The two men looked at each other.
“Good God,” said Simon in horror. “What am I going to do with my father’s wife?”
“There is a will. You won’t have to make any decisions until the will is read. That will take place after the funeral.”
“And Charlie! What will happen to Charlie?”
“We’ll know more after the will is read,” Liam repeated.
He stood and pushed his chair back under the desk. “Come along, my boy, and we’ll go back to the cottage to see how the women are doing with your uncle.”
Simon followed his new father-in-law out of the stable, his head in a whirl. All he wanted to do right now was grab Claire’s hand and hold it tight. It would be all right, he assured himself as he walked beside Liam up the path to the cottage. As long as he had Claire he could face anything. His teeth clenched; even his stepmother.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Earl of Welbourne’s funeral was the largest event in the surrounding area since his marriage twenty years before. Over fifty coaches, all draped in black and carrying half the members of the Jockey Club, as well as noble friends of the earl from London, formed the funeral procession to the church. Simon sat in the first coach with Claire, Elise and Liam. Liam had wanted Elise to go without him. “You’re the daughter of the Comte de Sevigny,” he had said. “You’re the one who gives status to Claire – not her horse trainer father. It’s best for me to remain out of sight.”
“Claire is not ashamed of you. I am not ashamed of you. Simon wants you. You must come.” Elise, who rarely disagreed with her husband, had been adamant, and so he had joined his family in the coach.
The earl’s widow, who was riding in the second coach with Charlie, had refused to lift a finger to arrange the funeral reception. This was not because she was overcome by grief; the fact is, she was furious. “I will never forgive him for this,” she said as she stood with Claire and Simon watching as the earl’s coffin was carried to the black draped hearse. “To grab a gun and go out to shoot a poacher by himself! It was just like him, though. He always thought he could do anything he wanted to. Stupid man.”
Simon and Claire exchanged a look at the dowager’s comment, and Simon’s mouth twitched. Claire had to look away so she wouldn’t giggle.
The dowager rounded on Simon. “I am not going to live in the Dower House,” she announced, her pale eyes narrow with temper. “I am too young to shut myself away from life in the country. I want to live in the London house.”
“We can certainly discuss that,” Simon said in his mildest manner.
Claire thought she could see the smoke rising from the dowager’s head, she was so angry. “I would kill him for this if he wasn’t already dead,” she said.
Simon’s mouth twitched again and Claire coughed into her hand. They were as pleased by the earl’s death as his wife was furious, but, unlike the dowager, they were trying to maintain a decorous manner.
The funeral service was impressive, with the president and vice president of the Jockey Club giving ardent eulogies about Welbourne’s contribution to English racing. When all of the mourners had filed out of the church, their coaches wended their way back to the abbey for the funeral reception Elise had organized.
This last week Claire had been hugely grateful for her mother. Elise may have been only fifteen when she fled France for Ireland, but she had been reared to be the wife of a great noble, and she knew how to deal with a large house filled with servants. It didn’t take long for her to enlist Carstairs and Mrs. Willis as her loyal deputies. Like Claire, they were extremely relieved to discover that someone in the family knew how things should be done.
The house was draped in black when the carriages returned from the service, and the window drapes were drawn. There was more food than Claire had ever seen in her life, and footmen walked through the crowd with trays of wine. Claire thought that Simon was magnificent. Grave and beautiful, he stood beside Claire accepting condolences from his father’s friends and distant family members he had never known existed. Claire, who knew how overwhelmed he was feeling, did her best to support him. She called upon all she had learned from Charlotte’s governess, stood straight as a lance, and replied to the condolences with the graciousness of a seasoned hostess.
# # #
Elise felt it was her duty to mingle with the guests. She understood perfectly how closed an aristocratic circle could be, and she wanted to establish Claire’s credentials for admittance. Elise was still beautiful, had a delightful French accent, and was a member of what had been one of the most closed aristocracies in the world. She had been reared to charm, and she had enough sense to exert that charm on the women, not the men. Women were the ones who ruled Society.
Though she didn’t tell him, Elise was worried that Liam would find himself isolated in this kind of company. With Claire and Simon receiving, and herself circulating, he was left on his own. So she kept an eye on him, and was both surprised and pleased to see that he appeared to be the most popular person in the place. Jockey Club members surrounded him from the t
ime they arrived until the time their carriages pulled away down the drive, leaving the family tired but relieved that everything had gone well.
# # #
Simon and Claire went to bed early. They had not yet moved into the earl’s bedroom suite. The widow had made no mention of moving out, and Claire assured Simon she was perfectly happy in one of the guest bedrooms. In fact, she liked it much better than she thought she would like the bedroom where Simon’s father and his wife had slept.
Simon was in bed first and Claire joined him, snuggling her head into his shoulder. His arm closed around her. He said, “Just think, one month ago you and I thought we might have to wait three years to be married.”
“I know. She turned her head to kiss his jaw. “I always knew we were meant to be together.”
“Do you know, I never really thought I would be the earl? I knew I was the heir, of course, but I just never believed it would happen.”
“Did you think your horrible father was immortal?”
He laughed. “Perhaps I did.”
“I wish I could give that poacher a reward,” Claire said.
“He did get away.”
“Good.”
“Thank God my stepmother doesn’t want to live in the Dower House. It’s only half a mile away from here!”
“Will you let her live in the London house?”
“I’ll let her live anywhere except near us.”
“Amen,” she said fervently.
He let out a long breath. “I had a long talk with Uncle Richard after you went to bed last night. He’s going to help me. He said not to worry about money, he would make certain Welbourne was in good financial shape.”
“I pray for Uncle Richard all the time,” she said. “If it wasn’t for him, and the trust fund, we wouldn’t have been able to marry.”
“I would have found some way,” he said fiercely.
She arched her neck to smile up at him.
“Are you too tired?” he asked softly.
