Page 56 of The Trouble With Titles
Mrs. Bigsby came to relieve him at dinner time, and he rushed home to complete the arrangements for the bodies and to check on John. The guards were still standing in the hall, but John’s rooms were no longer locked and Duncan was assisting Molly when he entered.
After Duncan left to collect broth from the kitchen, John beckoned for Simon to sit beside his bed as he struggled into a sitting position.
“Molly tells me the mystery has been solved.”
“My mother.”
“Do we know why?”
“To clear the way for me to inherit.”
His brother blinked profusely as he considered this. “Was Isla … mad?”
Simon huffed a humorless laugh. “My mother refused to allow an emotion to cross her face. I think it is safe to assume that she was addled in the head. I shall read her journals to learn more, but I suppose we should have known something was amiss.”
John shook his head, and Simon was pleased to note his pallor had improved somewhat since his collapse that morning. “It will not help to mull on that. When you interact with someone on a daily basis … it would be difficult to notice a descent into gradual madness over a period of time. Not to mention, Isla being so undemonstrative.”
Simon stroked his beard, thinking about the horrors of the day. There was much to discuss with John, but for today, his brother must be allowed to rest. “I am so sorry.”
His brother frowned. “For what?”
“For bringing this on our household.”
“Do not be ridiculous. You are my brother. Isla’s actions are her own. How were you to know she was a potential Bedlamite?”
“I do not know … but I should have.”
“While Father was a terrible bigot. He harassed Mrs. Bigsby to an extent which was far beyond the pale. Am I to be blamed for that?”
“I do not think his dreadful behavior had anything to do with you. And Mrs. Bigsby does not seem to hold it against us.”
John lifted a hand, palm up. “There it is. In the best of all worlds, you or I would have noticed something was wrong. But she was your mother, and I do not think it a good idea to dissect your conscience over it. Learn from it, but move on. You are a good man, and I regret that I have not shown more appreciation for the work you have done in my stead. I suppose you are a Scottish viscount now?”
Simon raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Can you believe it? I thought my mother would live a hundred years. She could have been mistaken for my sister. It never struck me that I would become Lord Campbell. I never wished for a title, but now I possess four or five. I still have to find our Debrett’s to see which ones. The irony is, I have never been to Scotland.”
John chuckled, before coughing into a handkerchief. “What will you do?”
“I do not know. I do not wish the titles to define me. I wish to follow my own path, but this has become complicated. Again.”
“I can attest that a close brush with death has made me rethink my priorities. Even more so when I discovered my ill health has been part of a vindictive plan. See to the people and responsibilities attached to the titles and, then, perhaps you can find a way forward that allows you some liberties.”
“I hope so.”
Next, Simon visited Nicholas in his bedchamber, his brother still contending with the physical miseries of casting aside drink, to inform him of what had transpired since they had spoken earlier. His younger brother was morose, having heard the news that their mother was dead.
“I am not sure how to feel about it,” Nicholas admitted in a dull voice. “We were not close, and I did not know her well. I think she did not have much time for me as the youngest.”
“That might be the case, but I do not think Mother was close to anyone. John and I have just spoken about how we each had apoor sense of who she was. She, in the most literal sense, wore a mask to hide not just her emotions but her thoughts.”
“I suppose we are safer without her.”
It was a sad truth that they were.
Simon departed soon after to return to Madeline’s side, with the infamous journals tucked under his arm. He had promised Madeline they would remain together, and he planned to do just that as long as he could.
CHAPTER 15
“Mother, your cruelty knows no bounds, for I love her more than life itself!”
