Simon's Brides

by Allison Knight

  Jacob nodded, but Simon had more to say. He began to pace again.

  “And, we’ll need several women, good workers. Women who don’t mind cleaning this filth.” Simon pointed in the general direction of the parlor. “I’ll want the women to start as soon as possible. Oh, and we’ll need an evening meal. The local tavern! Their food shouldn’t be too bad.”

  But Simon hadn’t finished. He pulled a bag from his jacket pocket. Amy heard the jingle of coins.

  “Take the carriage,” he commanded. “Report back with help or with the names of people who are interested in earning this coin.”

  Amy swallowed hard and watched Jacob nod his head. Simon stomped ahead and shouted more directions to his driver.

  She stared after them, stunned at what Simon had done. He had given Jacob carte blanche to hire guards and workers. But, he couldn’t know no one would accept his offer. Harold had seen to that months ago.

  Amy grimaced as she remembered the gossip Jacob had mentioned each time he visited them in the cottage. She remembered the day that Jacob told them Harold had finally mentioned the curse. He asked the villagers how a woman could be so tall and still be a normal woman? He’d insisted to anyone who would listen that the curse also made the Hargrove sisters strange.

  How he found out about the curse, Amy never knew but somehow he learned all the details. He also mentioned the day Caro had stopped a runaway pony, quieting the animal with whispered words. Bewitching the animal, he’d claimed.

  Harold said Amy mixed potions meant to cause harm, hinted she might be responsible for Patience’s death. Another bit of gossip had Beth lighting huge fires in their fireplace, and after the midnight hour. Harold claimed it aided in mixing of the potions. Little did he know Beth needed the light to finish her needlework.

  Harold even talked to the blacksmith about how he had to sell Neville’s horses because they had been spooked by Caro. He insisted that his dog had run from her. He’d even mentioned how Ellie’s and Dora’s music mesmerized the other animals around the estate.

  Harold convinced the baker’s wife the women moved to the cottage because Amy needed room to grow her poison herbs out of the estate workers’ view. And, the villagers had believed every tale Harold told. The Hargrove sisters had all inherited their father’s height, but the curse had nothing to do with their height.

  The curse had always meant the women living on the estate would lose their lives birthing a child. Patience had been the exception. She had died of a stomach ailment. But, she had died.

  Amy shook her head. The curse affected those bearing offspring, but although Patience had been unable to have another child she passed on as had all the other Hargrove wives.

  Amy did mix potions, but they were intended to aid the villagers’ aches and pains, just as the mistresses of Kirkley Manor had always done. Caro had always had a way with animals. Both Dora and Ellie loved music. They played and sang with enthusiasm. And, Beth’s needlework was judged exquisite by all who saw it.

  The suspicious villagers didn’t know Harold intended her harm. She doubted they would have believed her if she’d told them.

  Simon would find out soon enough that the villagers did not trust anyone at the Manor. No matter how she felt about Simon, it seemed only fair to warn him about the villagers.

  Amy stepped in front of her sisters. “My Lord, before we take our leave, there is something you should know. Harold has made the villagers fear us. He fed them vile tales about all of us. They won’t come here to work.”

  She could read the disbelief in his face. He would find out soon enough.

  “Come, sisters. We need to leave.” As she said the words something about leaving hurt, deep inside. Was it because the house had been her home, or was it Simon’s presence that caused the ache?

  “No,” Simon growled. “You are not leaving here.”

  She couldn’t believe it, but something close to relief flood through her.

  He continued, “I can’t have you walking through the wood by yourselves. I won’t permit it. Besides, if Jacob returns with any women, one of you will have to oversee the cleaning. Now, until help arrives, I must see to Harold.”

  He was ordering her about, again. Amy squared her shoulders and glared at him. “I don’t understand why you insist Harold stay here in this house. He’s caused nothing but trouble.”

  Simon glanced at her and once more Amy acknowledged a strange warmth invading her soul. Why did Simon’s deep blue gaze fire her blood? What kind of sorcery was he employing? Why, when she knew she had reason to be angry with him, did she suffer from the thought of leaving the manor and him?

  She took another deep breath trying hard to ignore the sensations flooding her.

  “Besides,” she continued, trying hard to keep her voice calm, “I can’t understand why you need to guard the man. The door can be secured.”

  Simon shook his head. “I suspect he has keys to every room in this house and I wouldn’t doubt that they are on him. However, I have no desire to search him. He also has a scheme of some kind. For that reason alone, I want him here, locked away, until we have some idea what he has planned. You’ll have to trust my judgment on this. Now, I know it’s not the thing a lady should do, but the kitchen and the dining room need attention if we are to partake of a meal this day.” He gazed at each of them. “You can begin there.”

  Amy bit her lips in anger. She knew she wouldn’t want Simon for an enemy, but, why couldn’t he understand that they didn’t want to stay with Harold in this house? And, how could he expect them to do the cleaning? He was certainly no gentleman if he thought to make char women out of them. What had her father been thinking when he named Simon their guardian?

  Well, she might not want Simon as an enemy, nor could she understand why he affected her so, but she knew now she couldn’t like him. She and Simon were not going to get on at all. Everything would end in an argument. And, that included cleaning this house. No one would come from the village and she and her sisters would have the task of cleaning up Harold’s mess.

  Of course, the cottage had been an unspeakable disaster when they had taken up residence. She supposed she could give in, at least, concerning the house. After all, it had been their home. With bitterness lacing her tones she turned away and growled, “Sisters, shall we begin?”

  Simon watched all five women march toward the back of the house. Slowly, he climbed the stairs. He shouldn’t have asked them to clean. However, they couldn’t eat in this filth. Suddenly, he wondered if there were clean linens for their bunks.

  For a second, a vision of Amy, her glorious hair spread around her, her unclothed body glistening in the moonlight, her skin as white as snow, danced through his mind. His groin tightened. Swear words begged for release. If he were honest with himself, of all of Neville’s daughters, she was the most tempting. However, he didn’t need to be captivated by a woman when it was his duty to espouse her to another man.

  He positioned a chair before Harold’s locked door. His thoughts turned to his guardianship. Planning to buy husbands for these women was no longer something he could consider. With their beauty, he might end up having to beat suitors away. But, how best to present them to the men he knew?

  He could invite some of his old friends, his classmates, to the estate. He pondered the situation for a moment and grimaced. His classmates? Not a chance. Those men were not the kind he wanted for Neville’s daughters. He thought about his closest unmarried business associates. He didn’t want them near these girls either. In fact, few of the bachelors of his acquaintance would make satisfactory husband material. He groaned. This might prove to be more difficult than he thought.

  “Damn,” he swore as he sat. Thank God he had already sent for his Aunt Agatha before he left London. At least Neville’s daughters would have a decent chaperone.

  He didn’t remember his Aunt Agatha, though. He’d only met her once, but she was the proper age to act as chaperone and a widow since her last husband had die
d several years ago.

  As he sat mulling over the situation, the sounds of an arriving carriage made him glance at his pocket watch. Aunt Agatha? Or perhaps Jacob? If it was Jacob, had he managed to secure help in less than an hour. Or had he failed completely? Would the villagers come? Perhaps, Amy was correct. However, his coin was good. Money, he knew, could buy anything. His father had taught him that.

  He left his chair and took the stairs two at a time, a mixture of apprehension and anticipation racing through him. A timid knock on the front door announced a visitor.

  A wizened face appeared.

  “My Lord,” the voice squeaked, “I have come.”

  Well, it wasn’t Jacob and it certainly wasn’t his aunt.

  “Do come in,” Simon ordered.

  He stared at the slender, bent old man who moved through the door and struggled to stand at attention. He was dressed in livery, old, stained and worn.

  “Who are you?” Simon asked.

  “I am Bolton, my Lord. I was valet to Neville Hargrove, Baron Kirkley and his father before him. After Patience died, Harold dismissed me.”

  Simon shook his head. Another sin to lay at Harold’s feet. This old man should have been pensioned off. He wondered if some kind of provision had been made and then ignored by Harold. Neville would have taken care of his people. He’d have to check that will again.

  “I don’t need a valet,” Simon said.

  Then, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut as the old man slumped in despair.

  “However,” Simon amended, “I do need a butler. Could you assume those duties for me?”

  The old man straightened, and Simon decided the twisted lips comprised a smile. “Where are you staying, Bolton?”

  “I have a room in the village, my Lord.”

  “Good. Could you return here tomorrow with your things and begin your duties in the afternoon?”

  Simon watched Bolton nod then turn and flounder through the door, like a ship in a storm without a sea anchor.

  Simon groaned. Five women, an ancient butler/valet, a miscreant to guard, and a will to fulfill. Could this be a sign of what fate had in store for him now that he had returned to England? He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace.

  As Simon paced, the arrival of another carriage drew his attention. He opened the front door and walked to the portico. His own carriage had returned.

  This time, Jacob stepped from the vehicle, a pleased expression on his face. Simon sighed with satisfaction.

  “My Lord,” he began, “Good news. I got two of Foley’s boys with me and a friend of theirs who will help watch Mr. Bottomsworth.”

  He stepped aside and Simon watched the young men climb down from the top of the conveyance. Two were stocky, broad shouldered and looked capable of holding their own against any member of his crew. They also resembled each other. These two were the brothers! The third boy was dark-haired, slender, and Simon wondered if he would be of any value in guarding their prisoner.

  “Chester, my Lord,” Jacob said pointing to the stockiest of the three. Chester removed his cap, twirling it as he bowed his head.

  “How do, my Lord.”

  “Clifford,” Jacob pointed to the other brother, “Foley kept Caleb at home, my Lord. He said he had to keep one of his boys. David, here, volunteered to come in Caleb’s place. He ses he’s Caleb’s friend.”

  “Fine,” Simon said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll explain what needs to be done.” He started toward the stairs.

  “My Lord,” Jacob’s voice stopped him.

  Simon turned and noticed a woman climbing out of the carriage. Two more women and one girl followed.

  “Ah,” Simon clasped his hands behind his back and paced across the portico toward the women.

  They curtsied, and Simon stood waiting for introductions.

  Jacob pointed to the first woman who had climbed from the carriage, heavyset, with black and gray curls peaking from the edge of her cap. A wide smile graced her round face.

  “Betty Foley, my Lord. She is the miller’s wife and mother of Chester, Clifford and Caleb. Nellie Craig,” he pointed to the second woman. “Nellie is her sister-in-law.” Simon smiled at them. Nellie was as thin as Betty was plump. And her angular face gave the impression a smile would crack her flesh.

  Jacob stepped next to the last woman. This one was as tall as Jacob and thin. She gave Simon a timid smile while Jacob proclaimed with pride, “My wife, Margaret.”

  He turned to the young woman, “This is my daughter, Lilah.”

  Simon nodded and Lilah blushed. Shy, he decided.

  “Thank you for coming this late in the day. I’d like for you to begin in the kitchen.” The women nodded as they murmured their assent and climbed the front steps.

  Simon looked at Jacob, “Food?”

  “Aye, my Lord. I’ve a pot of stew, a loaf of bread and a bucket of ale.” Jacob shrugged, “It were all the Innkeeper had, my Lord.”

  “That will do. Did I give you enough coin?”

  “More than enough, my Lord,” Jacob returned the pouch, much lighter now.

  “I’ll bring in the food.” Jacob spun away and Simon remembered the young men waiting at the bottom of the steps.

  He raised his left eye brow and gazed at the three. Chester and Clifford seemed at ease but David appeared a bit nervous. Could it be that he had no idea what he would be called upon to do? Possible, Simon decided.

  “David and I will take the first watch,” Simon announced. That way, Simon could assure this David that the task would not be difficult. Still, David stirred, his actions restless. Simon noted his discomfort.

  “This will not be a difficult assignment,” he told the young men confronting them. “I have an unwanted guest locked in one of the bedrooms. Your task is to see that he stays in that room no matter what he says. I’ll see to his needs. No one else need be concerned with him. He may have a key in his possession but I want him to realize it won’t do him any good.”

  The two Foley boys agreed but David seemed almost offended. Simon frowned. Perhaps he ought to send David back to the village. Yet, it would be a great help to have three bodies to watch over Harold until the other sailors arrived.

  Simon glanced at the waiting carriage. Damnation! He hadn’t yet had a chance to send for his men. That was a task that must take place now. And, he was starved. At the thought, his stomach rumbled.

  Clifford grinned, “My Lord, we’ve et. We’ll watch and you get some of that stew. We know what you want us to do.”

  “We’ll have to feed our visitor,” Simon added, not happy with that thought. “I’ve a message that must be sent, and then after I’ve eaten, I’ll arrange for a tray for Harold. And thank you.”

  He showed the three up the stairs to Harold’s door. Patience’s stepbrother wasn’t going any place. When Simon determined the boys were comfortable, he left. He’d send his message and then eat. He grinned as he started for the kitchen, heartened by the sounds of women busy at their chores.

  He glanced around at the mess Neville’s home had become. In time, he assured himself, in time, it would be neat and clean. Spotless, like one of his ships.

  Four

  Amy stood in the doorway and stared at the two women entering the kitchen. How on earth had Jacob Pinion convinced Betty Foley and Nellie Craig to come? But, of course! It made sense that they’d come to see for themselves what had transpired at Baron Kirkley’s manor.

  Well, she would give them something about which to gossip.

  Dora must have read her mind, for she put a restraining hand on Amy’s arm. “Not now,” she whispered.

  Behind Betty and Nellie, Margaret and Lilah bustled into the room. Much to Amy’s surprise, Margaret took charge. Suspicion flooded Amy’s thoughts. Simon--again?

  Amy watched as water was drawn and placed over the fire to heat. Buckets appeared from their hiding places, soap was scraped and brushes wetted. As the women worked, they talked about happenings in the villag
e.

  Amy didn’t want to listen to any of it. After all, she and her sisters had been the subject of the villagers’ gossip too often. She didn’t want to hear anything else about the Hargrove women today. Instead, she gathered her sisters into the dining room.

  “We’ll clean this room,” she announced.

  She divided tasks between them, knowing it would take lots of work to restore the room to some semblance of cleanliness, but they could do it.

  As Beth spread lemon oil on the big table, Amy breathed in the sweet smell and memories of more pleasant times drifted through her mind. She sighed, and grabbed one of the brooms Ellie had found.