“And does a man have to be helpless for you to feel equal?”
“Oh, no,” Judith protested. “I—truly I cannot explain this well. I believe every woman, whether she knows it or not, is somehow an outsider in society. You will, no doubt, not agree, and I do not wish to start a debate. I am only trying to explain what it feels like to be a woman.”
“And an unmarried, poor one.”
“Yes, I suppose that adds to it. Your blindness makes you an outsider too, despite your wealth and rank; that is all I meant. And in this room, surrounded by the words I read, we are quite outside the working-day world, and in quite another. I am groping for words that will not quite express what I experience. But, no, your grace, you are not safe,” she ended vehemently. “And I must go.”
Simon rose with Judith. “And are you quite plain or quite beautiful, Miss Ware?”
“Neither, your grace,” replied Judith.
“Describe yourself to me, if that is not an intrusive request?”
Judith paused, wondering if her description would give her away. Well, her description would fit many women, after all.
“I am a little below average height, your grace.”
“Yes, I can tell that from your voice.”
“I have brown hair and hazel eyes, and I am afraid I am cursed with freckles. In short, I am rather average-looking and not at all in fashion.”
“And were I to look in my own glass, what would I see?” Until he asked his question, Simon did not realize how serious it was. The more obvious handicap of blindness was the lack of visual stimuli and his utter inability to find his way through his own house or city. Until this moment he had not realized how disorienting sightlessness was: when one sees another’s reaction and sees one’s face in a mirror, one’s existence is subtly confirmed.
Judith answered hesitantly, “You would see a man of above-average height with an almost handsome face and hair a bit longer than is fashionable right now.”
Simon was amused at Judith’s matter-of-fact description of “almost handsome.”
“Fine gray eyes,” Judith continued.
“Staring blankly beyond you, I suppose?”
“Truthfully, your grace, you are quite good at locating someone by the sound of his voice, and looking directly at him. Let me finish. Your face looks rather drawn, and I would guess from the way your clothes hang that you are thinner than you used to be.”
Simon and Judith stood still for a moment. Then they both moved at once, she toward the door and Simon to ring for Cranston. Neither was able to say anything but an awkward good-bye, and Judith left quickly.
After she was gone, Simon brushed his hand through his hair, which was long, he realized, even for a windswept look, and shrugged his shoulders, amazed at how comfortably his coat moved with them. He was no dandy, but he had always prided himself on his quiet elegance. He rang again, to summon his valet.
“Martin, you have been very forbearing these past weeks. I’m sure I have tried your patience.”
“Oh, no, your grace,” Martin protested.
“You are being too polite. My coats must have you despairing, and my hair. I want you to summon a barber and a tailor. Do you think you could persuade Mr. Weston to send an assistant here?”
Martin’s eyebrows lifted so high in surprise that they almost met his hair. He had suffered even more than the other servants from Simon’s lack of interest in his appearance. He had always regarded his master’s simple, yet elegant appearance with pride.
“I am sure that he would be happy to oblige you, your grace. But would you not rather go yourself and have more choice?” Martin was hoping to get Simon out at last. On a trip to the tailor, he would be more than likely to meet friends.
“Choice of what? Colors? I cannot discriminate with my fingertips, Martin, and I trust Weston to send his best quality. I will not make a spectacle of myself in a public place, being led around like a performing animal,”
“Yes, your grace. I will send a footman over right away.” And Martin bowed his way out and then smiled at himself for continuing that now meaningless habit.
Even if he won’t go out yet, he thought, at least he is back a bit to his old self, if he is concerned with the fit of his coats!
Chapter 15
Judith’s life had fallen into a comfortable pattern: two mornings a week with Simon, early rides with Barbara and Robin, and occasional shopping trips with Barbara. While there had been no miraculous transformation, Simon was at least involved in something outside himself if only for a few hours a week. He was clearly paying more attention to his appearance and had even allowed a footman to accompany him on some early-morning walks in the immediate neighborhood. Even this small bit of exercise had increased his appetite, and between gaining back a few pounds and his new wardrobe, he was beginning to resemble the old Simon.
After that one day of unparalleled closeness, both Judith and Simon resumed their lighthearted mode of conversation. Miss Austen’s humor and gentle satire was just the thing to help them maintain a polite distance.
As they neared the end of Pride and Prejudice, Judith decided that if Simon said nothing, then she would directly ask him if she had secured the position. He seemed to enjoy their reading and their conversations, and she could not imagine him letting go of the one thing that occupied his week.
After a Thursday, with four days stretched before him, she often returned to find Simon sunk back into a passive hopelessness. There were times when her heart ached for him, but there were more and more times when she wanted to shake him out of his apathy.
This was one of the latter. It was a beautiful fall day, crisp and clear, and Judith had walked the last few blocks. She came in smelling of fresh air and iris, her exercise having intensified the smell of her light cologne.
“It is so beautiful out, your grace,” she said as she picked up the book. “We should leave Elizabeth and Darcy inside Pemberley and go out for a walk.” She had begun rather facetiously, but as she spoke, she realized she meant it. She could not bear another minute inside the library. Simon had hovered by the fire long enough!
She stood up and impulsively reached out for his hand. “Your grace, come out with me. I would go for a long walk and would like your escort.”
Simon pulled his hand back and said, more coldly than he had in weeks, “You forget yourself, Miss Ware. If you wish to be outdoors this morning, instead of reading to me, I will excuse you and send a footman with you.”
Judith was a bit taken aback by his tone, but she was feeling so delighted by the weather and, had she thought about it, so delighted to see Simon again after four days that she was not hearing him fully.
“Thank you, your grace, but I am sure it would be good for you to get out also. You cannot stay locked inside your library forever.” Judith had completely and for the first time forgotten her place, and was speaking impulsively, as to a friend and not an employer. The walk had blown all the cobwebs out of her head, and she realized that there was a certain amount of energy that she toned down with Simon, as though he were an invalid.
There is nothing anyone likes less to hear than “It would be good for you.” Simon was himself beginning to wake up to the fact that not only would it be good, but necessary, to pull out of the morass of self-pity, or soon completely drown in it. He was terrified, however, of taking the first step back into what would be a very different life. He could hardly admit to himself, much less anyone else, how frightened he was. Fear on the battlefield was one thing; there he had not been alone, but supported by others who were facing the same dangers. This was different. And he did not want anyone telling him what was good for him.
“I fail to see what business it is of yours, Miss Ware.”
Judith was stung. To have been so close, and then to have him revert to this dismissive tone ... it was hard to take.
“You are right, your grace. But surely you yourself must be tired of being such a hermit. I know you see no one but me. You c
annot go on avoiding your friends and acquaintances indefinitely.”
“And what do you imagine me doing with my old friends, Miss Ware? Shooting? Racing my curricle? Charming the ladies with my compliments on their appearance? Waltzing with them?” Simon’s tone was biting.
“Of course I realize many of your former activities would be closed to you. But I am certain you could ride again. Your mind is not impaired: you have a seat in Parliament waiting for you, and the opportunity to speak out on all those issues that we have been discussing. And you have friends, I am sure, who miss your company.”
“Oh, yes, I can just see myself being led like a child of five on his pony. I do not wish to be dependent upon others, nor do I wish to make a spectacle of myself. I would become a burden, and friends would be making excuses and I would find myself alone, as I am now.”
“How can you be so sure? Are you God, to know exactly how your friends would react? Perhaps some would avoid you, and some, no doubt, would be initially embarrassed and ill at ease. But if you allowed them to work on their own frailties, perhaps they would become used to yours.”
“You speak with such good sense, Miss Ware,” Simon said sarcastically. “You cannot know ... you have never experienced living in total darkness. You do not have to worry about walking into a lamppost, or a footman, or off an unseen step.’’
“It must be difficult, and I know I cannot fully imagine your experience, but you are lucky—”
“Lucky?”
“Yes. You have wealth; you are not reduced to begging on the streets, as so many soldiers are. You can hire me to read to you, or someone else to ride with you. You have a carriage and driver at your disposal. There have been other blind men who have made the best of their situation: Milton, John Fielding—”
“Miss Ware, you have said more than enough. I do not wish to be the Blind Duke of Sutton. I do not wish to be an inspiration to anyone. I wish to be left alone.”
“Yes, I see. Alone, to revel in your self-pity. What of those close to you, who wish to see you happy?”
Simon shot up from the couch and felt his way behind it as he walked toward Judith’s voice. She felt his fury and realized how far she had gone. At that moment, however, she regretted none of it and stood her ground.
Simon heard her intake of breath and reached out to grasp her arm. His slid his hand up to her shoulder and shook her as hard as he could. She had spoken to him as no one had dared to, and he was outraged by her assumption that she knew what he was capable of when she had no real idea of what it was like to be without sight.
“How dare you speak to me like this, mouthing platitudes about how much I could accomplish, as though I were a trained animal.” He shook her again. He was not shouting, but his quietness was more frightening. “You play God, and you are completely ignorant of what it is like to be sightless.”
Simon felt all the rage that had been smoldering for weeks flare up. He reached out to find Judith’s face and, having found it, drew back his hand and slapped her. She finally pulled away and ran sobbing out the door, while Simon, amazed by his reactions, stood there a moment and then, forgetting everything, started to go after her, only to catch his boot on the edge of the carpet. This reminder of his helplessness set him off again, and he felt his way around the room, hurling books off the shelves and smashing the china pieces on the mantel. As he sank back on the couch, exhausted by his outburst, he became aware that he was making sounds like a child on the edge of hysteria. His rasping sobs subsided at last and he felt suddenly very old and very tired, so drained was he. He stretched out and fell asleep immediately, like a child after a tantrum.
Judith had automatically slammed the door behind herself. She stood shaking, one hand on her reddening cheek, and gradually became aware of the sounds from the library. Francis had come out of his office at the sound of the door and, seeing Judith’s face, colorless except where Simon had struck her, walked over quickly.
“What has happened, Miss Ware?”
Judith had lost all control and sobbed out, “I have been so wrong to come here ...”
Francis put his arm around her and led her into his office. “Martin,” he said over his shoulder, “stay by the library door in case his grace should need you, but do not go in unless he calls.’’ Francis sat Judith down, and sat facing her, holding her hands in his until she stopped sobbing. “Now, Miss Ware, tell me what happened?”
Judith looked up. “I lost all sense of the fact that I am an employee. I was so happy to be here and it is such a beautiful day that I started by suggesting a walk.”
Francis’ eyebrows raised.
“Oh, I know, not at all proper. I was just so tired of the duke’s passivity, and angry at his self-pity that I spoke without thinking. I said that he could be out riding or walking, that he shuts out his friends, that he is wallowing in self-pity. I was outrageous, and am afraid I have done real damage.” She half-rose as if to go back into the library.
“No, Miss Ware,” said Francis. “Let him be. You said only what all of us who care about him have been thinking. I have been so harried that I must confess to wanting to shake the duke lately.” Francis smiled at her and paused for a minute. “You know, this may have been a good thing, after all. A few weeks ago, the duke was confronted with his own helplessness and anger, and we all felt something of a change in his mood. I am sorry that this time it was you on the receiving end of his rage, but I am not sorry you provided it. Perhaps we have all been too careful.”
“Do you think he should be alone right now?”
“I think the library is in more danger than the duke,” said Francis. “Whatever is happening needs to run its course.”
“I will never forgive myself if my interference has an ill effect. And I won’t even know, for Miss Ware will certainly never be admitted again.”
“Don’t be concerned about that now. I will see you home and—”
“Oh, no,” protested Judith. “I am fine now and will go back home myself.”
“I will send a footman to the nearest hackney stand if you promise that you will be all right on your own.”
“Truly, I will be.”
“We have all been living in a quiet but heavy atmosphere, rather like the calm before the storm, as the saying goes. Now that the storm has broken, I think we will all experience some relief.’’
“I hope you are right, for I can never forgive myself otherwise.” Judith rose and averted her face as the footman summoned her.
Francis accompanied her down the front stairs and handed her in. He gave directions to the cab and stood quietly for a minute on the steps as it pulled away. He fervently hoped that he was right in his analysis of the situation.
Chapter 16
When Judith arrived back at Gower Street, she went to her room after speaking briefly to Hannah.
“Please bring me some cold cloths, Hannah. As you can see, I have been careless. I stood too close to the cab door and have a small mark to show for it.” Judith’s voice was strained, but she was able to make herself sound calm.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her hand to her cheek, when Hannah knocked on her door.
“Now, what is this foolishness about you walking into a hackney door?” Hannah asked.
“Oh, Hannah.” Judith started to sob.
The older woman sat down next to her and put an arm around her. “There, there,” she murmured, “tell me what is wrong.”
“I have been such a fool. So interfering and preachy. Simon was right.”
“The duke is responsible for this?” Hannah lifted Judith’s chin and looked at her swollen eyes and cheek in surprise. “Did he find out that you know the Stanleys?”
“No, no, not that. I was feeling so happy this morning. It was a beautiful day, and I just spilled over in my enthusiasm. I was so tired of seeing him sit there day after day. I thought ... No, I didn’t think, I just spoke. I encouraged him to get out and walk and ride, admit his friends. I even hurled
Milton at him.”
“The complete works?”
Judith had to laugh. “No, the great man himself, who ‘lived a useful and creative life despite his blindness.’ It was then Simon exploded. He shook and slapped me, and I ran out, leaving him throwing things. It was awful.”
“Maybe you did something right,” Hannah said thoughtfully. “You are bound to think the worst now, you are so close to it. I want you to rest for a few hours, and I will call on Major Stanley and have him inquire about the duke.”
“Could you, Hannah? I would feel so much better if I just know how Simon comes out of this.”
As Hannah closed the door behind her, Judith crawled under the covers and fell asleep instantly.
Hannah went downstairs to set the kitchen to rights before she set off to Clarges Street. When she arrived at the Stanleys’, she asked for the major and was shown into the smaller drawing room.
Robin could not imagine any reason for Hannah to seek him out, and he entered the room with a puzzled look on his face.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Webster?” he asked politely.
“It is not for me, but for Miss Ware.” Hannah explained the situation.
“Simon struck Judith? I cannot believe it. He is the gentlest of men.”
“She believes she gave him some real provocation, Major. Although, I must say I think it is just what he needed to be shaken out of his self-pity. For that is what the poor man has been suffering from, as well as his blindness.”
“You may well be right, Mrs. Webster. I will give Simon some time to collect himself and go over this afternoon, and by God, this time I will see him. Tell Judith not to blame herself. I suspect that I should have done something like this weeks ago.’’
* * * *
After Judith left, Francis walked over to Martin, who was still guarding the library door.
Marjorie Farrel Page 10
