by Regina Scott
“You inherited?” Edward pressed. He could hardly believe it.
“We did.” Tom was transformed. He’d always had a sunny outlook, but Edward had never seen him so joyous. “And we, all of us, are due in Somerset in two days’ time. The wedding will be held in a week.”
“Good heavens.” Mother was all aflutter.
In a moment, the room was filled with the anxious chatter of the housekeeper and mistress of the house making desperate plans, Father and Tom speaking of marriage settlements and the details of the inheritance, Isley offering his genuine congratulations.
Edward remained quiet. Agatha had not been chosen. While that meant there was no hope for a future between the two of them, it called into question her personal future.
What, he wondered in horror, had her father’s reaction been? And where was she now?
Chapter Nine
“Surely you know the difference between blue and lavender.” Mrs. Warrick’s slow, patronizing tone grated as much as ever.
Agatha had been subjected to it again and again over the days since the house party ended. What little consideration Mrs. Warrick had displayed during those three weeks had disappeared the moment the final guest had left. The older lady had seemed so pleased when Father had suggested Agatha remain behind as her lady’s companion. As it turned out, her pleasure did not translate into kind treatment.
Only self-directed humor had saved Agatha from tearing her hair out. “Lavender is a color?” She blinked as if utterly shocked. “I thought it was a material, like wool or straw.”
“Why would I send you to fetch a straw shawl?” Mrs. Warrick’s patience was always a bit thin.
“You didn’t,” Agatha said innocently. “You sent me for a lavender shawl.”
“Then why”—she held up the shawl Agatha had just brought to her—“am I holding this? This is blue.”
In Agatha’s defense, the blue shawl had a strong hint of purple. “If you will tell me where the shawl you want is, I will happily fetch it.”
Mrs. Warrick took a slow breath, then settled her features into a look of patience. “I do not know where it is. I have far more important things to concern myself with. Ask Mrs. Hill or Fanny.”
Agatha offered a vague smile and slid from the room. Somehow, it was easier letting her new mistress think she was slow-witted. Perhaps it was a matter of pride. Mrs. Warrick could belittle her all she wanted, but secretly, quietly, Agatha would know she hadn’t been bested, not entirely. It was likely wrong of her, but she couldn’t help it. Doing so was a matter of survival.
Though Agatha perused nearly the entirety of the second floor, she found neither the housekeeper nor Mrs. Warrick’s lady’s maid. Truth be told, she was not putting much effort into the search. Taking her time meant avoiding the inevitable haranguing she would receive if she were in Mrs. Warrick’s company. She meandered along the corridors and down the stairs, taking as much time as she could reasonably manage.
A few doors shy of returning to Mrs. Warrick’s side, Agatha spotted, gazing out the windows of the north sitting room, the one person at the Warrick estate whose company she actually enjoyed. Henrietta Sumner was a quiet sort, but underneath her air of reserve beat a heart as good as gold and as stalwart as any Agatha had known.
She suspected she knew why Henrietta kept so close to the windows overlooking the front drive. “Is your Tom due to arrive today?”
Henrietta looked back at her for only a moment. “At any moment, actually. I am likely rather pathetic for this, but I have missed him terribly these days he’s been away.”
Not pathetic in the least. In fact, Agatha felt much the same way about Tom’s brother.
“Soon, you will need not be parted,” Agatha reminded her new friend. “That must lighten your heart.”
“It does, indeed.” Henrietta turned and leaned her back against the window frame. “Tom’s family is coming with him.”
Agatha tried to smile causally, but she could feel the effort fall short.
Henrietta’s expression could not have been more empathetic. “I wish we were able to do something for you and Edward, but the Warricks have tied the inheritance up so tightly.”
Agatha nodded. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness. And I cannot blame the Warricks for that. They had good reason to make your inheritance all but impossible to draw against.”
Henrietta’s shoulders drooped. “That reason being my father.”
It was the truth, though Agatha was far too diplomatic to acknowledge it. Mr. Sumner had taken his own profitable estate and more than comfortable inheritance and had squandered every last penny. Keeping his daughter’s miraculous good fortune out of his hands was crucial, even if it did prevent Tom and Henrietta from helping the remaining members of their families.
“Have you happened to have seen the housekeeper or Mrs. Warrick’s lady’s maid?” Agatha asked. “I am charged with fetching the mistress’s lavender shawl, and it seems they are the only ones likely to know where it is.”
Henrietta offered a commiserating smile. “They are avoiding her as much as I am certain you wish you could. I do not know how you will endure her every single day.”
“Daily endurance will fall to your fate as well,” Agatha reminded her.
“The Warricks leave for London a mere two days after the wedding and do not mean to return here. We will be free of them.”
Yes, but I won’t. Not for years to come.
Years.
Agatha listened in horrified silence as the sound of new arrivals drifted into the drawing room. Mr. and Mrs. Warrick stood in all their pomp to welcome the Downy family. Agatha kept to her designated corner of the room, wishing she could simply disappear. Not only had her circumstances grown even more desperate, she was seeing him again for the first time since realizing beyond a doubt that they could have no future together. She didn’t think she could ever have fully prepared herself for that.
Her one source of joy came from watching Henrietta’s eager anticipation. The bride-to-be kept herself properly still, but her eyes danced with delight. This would be a joyous reunion for her.
The butler stepped inside. “Mr. and Mrs. Downy, Mr. Edward Downy, and Mr. Thomas Downy.”
Edward’s parents came inside first. Agatha made a quick study of them and came to the conclusion that the Downy brothers took after their mother’s side of the family, though Edward had his father’s smile. She had time to make only that cursory observation before Edward, himself, came into the room.
Oh, how she’d missed him. Seeing him again made her even more aware of the empty space he’d left in her heart. From the first moments of their acquaintance, he had recognized her odd sense of humor, had taken note of her struggles when most of the world would find her too insignificant to bother with, and had cherished their time together as much as she had. Their meeting had been nothing short of fate, though fate had, in the end, proven cruel.
All of the appropriate greetings and curtsies and bows were exchanged between the Downys, Sumners, and Warricks. Agatha was now little better than a servant and didn’t warrant any notice. She was grateful for the obscurity. Having her own corner all to herself granted her a moment to regain her composure.
Mrs. Warrick motioned Mrs. Downy to the empty seat beside hers, and the older ladies dove directly into a conversation apart from the others.
“You must forgive my haphazard appearance,” Mrs. Warrick said. “My lavender shawl is a much better match for this dress, but I am afraid my lady’s companion is not yet very reliable. I’ve not had time to properly train her.”
Mrs. Downy didn’t appear to know quite what to say.
Mrs. Warrick patted her hand. “I don’t suppose you have ever enjoyed the luxury of a lady’s companion.”
“I can’t say that I have.” Mrs. Downy’s surprise was obvious, but her manners were impeccable.
“Should you ever find yourself with one, make certain she has learned her colors.” Mrs. Warrick shot Agatha a quic
k look of smug satisfaction.
Agatha answered with as vague a smile as she could produce.
Mrs. Downy’s expression was far less arrogant, with more than a hint of curiosity. “She is young to be a companion. I hope she will be given time for socializing with her own age group.”
“She has a job to perform,” Mrs. Warrick argued. “I do not pay her to socialize.”
That was certainly true. Mrs. Warrick, in fact, hardly paid her at all.
Mrs. Downy’s chin raised a notch. “While we are all here, your companion should have ample time to interact with Miss Sumner. I cannot imagine the companionship of Mrs. Sumner and myself should prove insufficient for you.”
Was Mrs. Downy offering her, whom she must have considered a stranger, a respite from her employer? It seemed Edward favored his mother in more than just appearance.
“I have only just been showered with the attentions of dozens of houseguests,” Mrs. Warrick said. “The presence of merely two—”
“—will, no doubt, be a welcome respite.” Mrs. Downy did not permit her hostess to finish what was no doubt the beginnings of an insult. “Allow me to invite your companion to join us, so she can keep company with the young people.”
“I do not think she will accept your offer,” Mrs. Warrick said, “considering their history.”
“History?”
Mrs. Warrick sat ever straighter, a haughty rigidness to her shoulders. “Your younger son, then, did not tell you?”
Tom heard himself being discussed and switched conversations. “What did I not tell my mother?”
“That my companion was, mere days ago, a guest in this house, competing for the same inheritance you and Miss Sumner eventually won.”
With that, all eyes turned in Agatha’s direction. For the first time since arriving, Edward saw her there. His mouth dropped a bit open. His eyes pulled wide.
“Miss Holmwood,” Tom sputtered out her name. “I had no idea you were—I—I have not had the opportunity to thank you yet. Mr. Warrick told us what you did, what you said.”
Agatha shook her head vehemently even as she stood. “I do not require a thank-you. I assure you I only did what was right.”
Tom did not heed her objection, but crossed directly to her, shaking her hand. “You deserve to be thanked, though I know I could never manage to do it sufficiently.”
“Thank her, by all means,” Mrs. Warrick said. “It might make her feel less of a fool for throwing away her entire future. We might have actually considered her, if not for her pleading your cause. Instead of heiress to a fortune, she is no better than a companion.”
No better than . . . Was there no end to the humiliation the lady meant to heap upon her?
For the briefest of moments, Edward’s gaze caught and held hers. Agatha tried to smile, tried to summon her sense of the absurd and diverting. But his expression turned almost pitying, and all attempts at humor died instantly.
She was an object of pity. In that moment, despite knowing Mrs. Warrick would thoroughly scold her for it, Agatha could not remain.
Life was simply asking too much.
Chapter Ten
Edward required all of half a second to piece together Agatha’s past few days. She hadn’t been selected as heir. Her father had followed through on his threat not to “continue sacrificing for her,” and she’d been handed over to the Warricks as a no doubt underpaid and most certainly ill-treated lady’s companion. He required only a half second more to decide to follow her out into the corridor.
“Agatha?” She hadn’t gone far. “Please, wait.”
She stopped at the end of the corridor and slowly turned back toward him. “I was executing a dramatic exit, Edward Downy. You’ve ruined it.”
Behind her humor was unmistakable wariness. She was using it as a shield again, the way she had with her father the night Edward met her. And, just as he had the night they met, he sensed that joining in the jest was the best means of setting her mind at ease.
“I was enacting a heroic pursuit, and you have ruined that.”
She smiled a bit. “Oh, was I expected to flitter about down the corridor, disappearing around the corner at the last possible moment?”
He nodded solemnly. “Precisely.”
“Next time,” she said.
He closed the gap between them and reached out for her hands. Holding them tenderly, he asked, “What happened, Agatha? How is it you came to be Mrs. Warrick’s lady’s companion?” He felt certain he knew the answer, but sensed she needed a confidante.
“My father,” she said on a sigh. “He did threaten to stop ‘sacrificing’ for me, you will recall.”
He’d guessed correctly, then. “He blamed you for not being selected as heir.”
“He had reason to,” she answered quietly.
Edward slipped her arm through his and continued down the corridor with her at his side.
“The Warricks’ last requirement, that each guest explain to them why he or she was more deserving of the inheritance than any of the others, did not go well, at least in my father’s eyes.” She wrapped her arm more closely around his. There was such comfort in her nearness. He had nearly forgotten the soothing influence of her company. “I couldn’t bring myself to insist I deserved or needed the inheritance more than anyone else. It simply wasn’t true.”
Hers, then, hadn’t been an objection simply to the task, but also to being required to, in her view, lie. It was little wonder he’d so quickly come to admire and cherish her. She was a good person to the very depths of her heart.
“You told the Warricks that Tom and Henrietta were more deserving?” That was the impression he’d received listening to the stilted conversation in the drawing room a moment earlier.
“I don’t know that anyone at the house party was undeserving,” she said. “But what hope, really, did those two have of a future together, of happiness? He is a younger son, which is difficult even in well-heeled families. She is the daughter of a spendthrift who would squander any influx of income the family might have. The Warricks’ offered inheritance was a chance neither of them were likely to ever see again.”
Edward slipped his arm from hers and wrapped it around her middle. “But missing out on that chance yourself placed you in your current predicament.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder as they stepped out onto the back terrace. “Choices are difficult to make when neither outcome is a desirable one. This was a consequence I felt myself better equipped to live with. Doing wrong by Tom and Henrietta for my own gain would have haunted me.”
He turned his head enough to press a kiss to the top of her head. “You are a wonderful person, Agatha.”
“My father says I’m an unnatural and ungrateful daughter.”
“It seems to me any father who would turn away his child for being an extraordinary person is rather unnatural and ungrateful himself.”
She turned her gaze up to him. Such sadness touched their depths. “It was something of a blow, yes. I had, until the moment he left, held out some hope that he would see enough value in me to . . . keep me.”
Edward stopped their forward progress, despite having only taken a single step inside the garden. He looked more closely at her, worried at the increasing despondency he heard in her voice. “He was wrong, my dear. What he did was wrong. Please do not allow it to consume you.”
“My father’s unkindness is not what is weighing on me at the moment.”
“Then what is?” He brushed his hand along her cheek. He hated seeing her so burdened.
“The terms of Tom’s inheritance prevent him from giving any part of it to his family.”
She, compassionate soul that she was, worried for him. “I know about the terms,” he assured her. “Tom told me.”
“But you needed the income. You—We—”
He held her face gently in his hands and pressed a light, lingering kiss to her forehead. “We will be happy for Tom and Henrietta. And we will enjoy the t
ime we have together here. And we will hope that something miraculous occurs.”
She set her hands on his chest and leaned into his embrace. He held her, breathing in her warmth, the flowery scent in her hair, the joy of her near to him.
He hadn’t been exaggerating; they needed a miracle. They needed one desperately. And he hadn’t the slightest idea where to look for one.
Edward’s endurance lasted until the next morning. After yet another complaint from Mrs. Warrick about her servants and countless self-congratulatory speeches from Mr. Warrick detailing his tremendous generosity, Edward knew he’d best beat a hasty retreat before he said something he regretted. The Warricks deserved a dressing down, but Tom and Henrietta deserved to not be miserable in the days leading up to their wedding.
The estate was blessedly large, granting Edward ample space to move about uninterrupted. He would have enjoyed Agatha’s company, but, alas, her employer demanded her presence at nearly every moment.
Edward’s escape took him past the estate’s dower house, a modest Tudor-style structure, tucked a bit out of view beyond a bower of birch and ash. The approach to the home was lined on either side with empty flowerbeds. Shrubs sat beneath the front windows, vibrantly green but in dire need of trimming.
He stepped up to the dingy windows and glanced inside. He could only just make out the covered furnishings. The house had clearly been vacant for quite some time, but the exterior, other than the greenery, seemed well cared for. Even the gravel in the drive appeared to have been recently raked.
Should the Downy estate continue to struggle and Edward find himself unable to care for Mother after Father’s passing, Tom might be in a position to do so. That brought some comfort.