Page 35 of Loving Mister Stratford
Her eyes turned back to the journal in her lap.
What shewantedto do was continue reading and learn more about what went on in Simon’s head.
She chewed her lip, huffed a sigh of resignation, and reopened the journal to the page her finger had (rather conveniently) saved.
What she read wound up breaking her heart. The words penned approximately one decade earlier struck her as sharply as a physical blow.
G claims he does so only out of concern for my social well-being, but what he cannot seem to grasp is that I have no desire to be of the world in which he has found so much fulfillment. He repeatedly mentions how I used to follow him and J around when we were all lads, but that was under a misguided boyish desire for acceptance. They were so much older than I, and I had yet to discover the unwavering acceptance of my books.
I shall undoubtedly be mocked for this, but to hide my books is tantamount to torture. I am missing a limb. I am foundering. My mind is no more steady than a finch in a gale. I am unmoored in a confusing world which I do not understand and does not understand me–
Odette set aside that notebook and retrieved another, flipping through pages until she found a journal entry from a year before the first.
R suffered another bloodied nose, though it was quite insignificant when compared to the beating that insufferable boor, M, received. Another split lip for me and ink intentionally spilled across my schoolwork; at least I managed to save the bulk of it this time. My mind has latched onto a new equation and it fills my every waking moment. I lie in bed at night and stare at the cracked plaster, watching the numbers dance and spin for me like the gears on a clock. I do not always realize when someone is speaking to me, or where I am walking, or if I am unintentionally offensive.
R continues to insist that I join him in his pugilism studies, but bruised knuckles are not for me. He insists it’ll be better for protecting myself than my fencing practice, but I argue that a sword is mightier than a fist. I smile as I hold this quill and ponder the words of The Bard, for perhaps I really am holding the mightiest weapon of all—
She fished out another journal.
Journal after journal revealed to her a man who was every bit as lonely as she had been for the majority of her life.
She’d always known he was brilliant, but she hadn’t realized the depth of the misunderstanding with which he’d been forced to contend. Each page her eyes devoured afforded her an insight into a great intellectual torrent and torment, whether or not he realized it fully.
He seemed to struggle with change—having found it more than a little distressing to manage when his dorm was moved halfway into the term after a horrible leak from the roof developed and made the space uninhabitable. He’d coped by throwing himself so deeply into his work that the new environment melted away.
Much like he’d done since their betrothal when his entire life had been uprooted…
Odette continued to flip through the notebooks. She sat on the ground, propping herself up against the gaping trunk and settling in to learn more about the man she’d married.
She cried fat, silent tears when she realized just how he’d been bullied by his classmates—even through University. She was grateful when she discovered the entries after Meredith came into his life and showed him more acceptance and understanding than most of his blood family had. She very much appreciated how George had matured throughout the years; she’d seen firsthand that their brotherhood was much improved from the early years of the journals, but she still would’ve liked to have boxed the younger viscount’s ears a time or two.
The journal entries halted about a month before she and Simon had met, taken over by unbroken chains of notes and calculations. Odette was disappointed that she wouldn’t have an insight into how he felt about their marriage or what he was currently experiencing, but it was probably for the best. She’d invaded his privacy far, far more than she should have. She could admit to herself that she felt only a little bit guilty about it, however, because now she felt like she understood him. She’d gained more insight into him in the past couple of hours of silent reading than they’d had in any actual conversation. Even if he couldn’t express himself outwardly, it was clear he felt an enormous depth of emotion, felt the weight of obligation and then of the possibility of coming up short.
Odette made the decision right then and there to make sure Simon felt secure and accepted. She would mold their marriage into a safe place for him and she hoped, in turn, he would open up to her and let her in in his way.
Now, with a goal in mind, her heart felt lighter than it had in days.
Chapter Thirteen
Odette began her efforts the very next day after spending the night lying alone and staring into the darkness, her mind turning all she’d learned over and over again. She decided to start with small gestures to show Simon that she wasn’t going anywhere; that he could be safe with who he was around her. She would need to make adjustments, herself, but she was confident that she cared enough for Simon that she could at least do her best to put in the necessary effort.
She recalled her promise to Meredith and, when Simon surprised her by joining her for tea that afternoon, she took the first step and inquired after his research.
“How goes your work?”
Simon’s brows rose, clearly indicating she’d caught him off-guard; his cup was paused halfway to his lips.“Fine, thank you.” He averted his eyes and finally took a sip of his tea.“It’s not something I’ll bore you with—”
“No!” His eyes flew back to her face and she was briefly mesmerized by them.“That is…your work doesn’t bore me.”
Simon emitted a self-deprecating huff.“I know that isn’t true.”
“Simon. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t genuinely care.” Several seconds of indecisive silence ticked by until Odette set down her cup and moved to sit beside her husband on the sofa.“Please. Tell me.”
Simon’s mouth formed a tense line as he tried to decide whether or not to launch into an explanation.
Odette leaned forward to impress upon him her sincerity.“I know it’s mathematics, but I have no grasp of your project. I should like to know. If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me. That is what marriage is.”
Simon’s eyes widened before looking away.
