by Merry Farmer
“This is a fabulous step forward for both of us,” she said, lowering her voice. “There are things that prominent citizens of a town can get away with that ordinary folks never could.”
Andrew fixed her with a wry grin. “Now Aggie, don’t go giving yourself airs.”
“I’m not, I swear,” she replied with a giggle. “Although it did sound that way, didn’t it?”
He arched an eyebrow, unable to keep from smiling.
“It’s true, though,” she insisted, resting a hand daringly on his arm. “No one would dare to protest if we wanted to be married now.”
A spike of anxiety took Andrew by surprise. He closed his hand over hers on his arm. “You might be surprised,” he said, growing serious. “And we haven’t talked about anything close to marriage yet.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks splashed pink and she looked suddenly embarrassed. “I suppose we should talk about that more formally. It’s just that with the letter you received from Col. Montgomery, and with the way we get along so well, and the fact that I don’t think I could ever feel anything for another man besides you….” She lowered her head and bit her lip.
It was a rare thing to see Aggie reduced to a state of speechlessness. Andrew’s heart squeezed with fondness. He wanted nothing more than to close his arms around her and hold her close forever. But he wasn’t a fool.
“We’ll find time to discuss this later,” he said. The sound of footsteps heading toward the dining room caused him to take a large step back from her and to drop her hand. “Nothing needs to be decided immediately.”
“Yes, but I so want—”
“Agatha, we have much to talk about,” her father said as he rounded the corner into the dining room. “Your guest will have to leave.”
“Oh, Papa, but Andrew and I were just having such a lovely conversation,” Aggie protested.
“It’s all right,” Andrew said, taking another step away from her. He saw the writing on the wall, and it would only cause trouble to stay where he was for much longer. “I have things I need to do tonight as well.”
“Let me escort you to the door,” Crimpley said, surprising Andrew, and Aggie, if the look on her face was any indication.
“Good night,” Aggie said, waving to him as her father gestured for Andrew to leave the dining room.
“Good night,” Andrew said, giving Aggie an indulgently fond smile. It was the least he could do to show Crimpley that he wasn’t going to simply leave with his tail between his legs.
Crimpley frowned, and if Andrew hadn’t turned to head into the hall and toward the door on his own, he had no doubt Aggie’s father would have manhandled him to get him out of his house.
“I trust we are clear on what transpired here this evening,” Crimpley said once Andrew was safely on the other side of the door.
Andrew faced the man squarely, posture stiff, defiance in his eyes. “I understand that you don’t approve of me as a suitor for your daughter,” Andrew said. He had as little desire to beat around the bush as Crimpley apparently did.
“You are ridiculously unsuitable,” Crimpley said with a sneer. “And now that my daughter has something more substantial to occupy her time with than the irritating defiance she has thrown in my face by deigning to associate with you, I expect her to lose interest and cast you aside, as she should have from the start.”
Anger reverberated through Andrew. The only thing that kept it in check was his solid faith in the fact that Aggie was her own woman and that she knew her mind. “I think you will find that there is more substance to your daughter than you expect, sir. She knows her mind and she knows her heart.”
“She’s a foolish young woman, and she knows neither,” Crimpley snapped.
“If you persist in thinking that, sir, I fear you will find yourself disappointed by Aggie’s strength and originality. And no father should meet his daughter’s very best characteristics with disappointment.”
Crimpley narrowed his eyes with undisguised hate. “If you interfere with her, I’ll have the police deal with you.”
“The police only deal with criminals, sir,” Andrew said, jaw stiff.
“We both know there are exceptions,” Crimpley countered, his voice a tense hiss.
Andrew stood his ground, but there wasn’t much point in continuing the verbal joust. “In the end, it will be Aggie’s choice, not either of ours,” he said, then nodded. “Good night, sir.”
Before Crimpley could hurl any more insults at him, he turned and marched off. But in spite of having held his own against the odious man, worry gnawed at Andrew’s gut. Aggie was strong, but she had no idea of the mountain she was up against.
Chapter 3
“And so, each category of grocery is recorded in its own section of the ledger so that we can keep an adequate record of profit and loss per product type,” Aggie’s father explained to her the next morning as the two of them stood, side-by-side, behind the counter of Crimpley’s Market.
“How clever,” Aggie said with a smile. “If, for example, we failed to make a profit selling farm implements, we could stop selling them and give that space over to—” she scanned the ledger’s main page “—sewing notions, which sell very well.”
“Precisely.” Her father nodded, beaming proudly at her.
Aggie returned his smile, feeling an unusual sense of closeness to the man who had been so gruff and strict with her for so long. Her smile shifted to a concerned, businesslike look as she said, “Of course, that would inconvenience the farmers in the area, should they not be able to purchase what they need from us.”
Her father shrugged. “It they really need it, then they’ll buy now to ensure they can buy later. If not, they’ll have to go to Ambleside or Windermere.”
“But that might be difficult for farmers who have to work so hard to keep their land producing,” Aggie argued.
“This is business, my girl,” her father said, raising his chin so that he looked imposing and wise. “We don’t run a charity.”
“Hmm. I suppose you’re right.”
She turned to study the ledger once more. Profits and loss were important to shopkeepers, and if she was going to rise to be Brynthwaite’s first female general shopkeeper not involved in a feminine trade, like haberdashery, she would have to grasp all aspects of business. But it did seem rather harsh to her to undercut those who depended on the availability of goods to eke out their living just so that her family could afford fancy clothes or a fine carriage or holidays in Scotland.
“I will learn all of this, Papa,” she said, closing the ledger and resting her hand on top. “I’ll make you proud.”
“I’m sure you will, my dear,” her father smiled. “I’m sure you will.”
“And now,” she went on, heading to the end of the counter and slipping out toward the door, “I have an engagement.”
Her father’s brows drew together. “You do?” he asked, suspicious.
Aggie’s face heated over the lie she was about to tell. “Yes, I promised I would help Lady Waltham with, um, some gardening she has been doing at her father’s old cottage.”
“I see.” Her father nodded once, picking up the ledger and carrying it out from behind the counter.
Aggie couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. Her heart thumped against her ribs in dread that he would ask further questions. The truth was that she had plans to go for a walk with Andrew, but after their uncomfortable supper, it was clear as day to her that as much as her father approved of the progress she was making in mastering the art of running a shop, he did not and likely would not approve of any connection she might have with Andrew. But it was too late. The connection was already there, and it reached in to the very center of her heart.
“Mind you wear a wide-brimmed hat while gardening,” her father said after a long, tense silence. “Lady Waltham is a countess and can get away with a freckled complexion due to sun exposure, but you cannot.”
“No, Papa,” Aggie replied, inching back to the
counter to fetch her hat.
“A clear, porcelain complexion is most pleasing on a lady of refinement,” her father went on. “And a dark, dusky one is utterly unacceptable.” He met her eyes with a pointed stare.
Aggie swallowed the anger her father’s comment sparked. She had half a mind to argue that Andrew was as strong and gentlemanly as any man in Brynthwaite, but not only would that have shown that she understood the full meaning of her father’s words and disagreed with him just when he’d said he was proud of her, it would have betrayed that she still had every intention of spending as much time with Andrew as possible and more, no matter what he said. She couldn’t help but think that if her father knew she still intended to pursue Andrew, he would take the shop away from her, and frankly, she was determined to have her cake and eat it too.
“I shouldn’t leave Lady Waltham waiting,” she said at last, plunking her hat on her head and fixing it in place with a long pin to avoid meeting her father’s eyes and betraying her true thoughts. “I’ll be home in time for supper.”
“I shall let your mother know,” her father said.
Aggie slipped out of the store and hurried up the sidewalk toward the bookshop before she could do or say anything else that would betray her intentions. Her father would be hard at work in the shop for another hour at least, so as long as she and Andrew began their walk in the other direction, she could keep their meeting a secret from him.
“Are you ready to take in some sunlight and fresh air?” she asked Andrew as she strolled into the bookshop a few minutes later.
Andrew stood behind the counter, in discussion with Lord Waltham. He turned to her, his brow lifting in surprise. “I wasn’t sure you would still want to go for a stroll after last night.”
Aggie blinked. “Of course I still want to go for a stroll. We go every afternoon at this time.”
Andrew exchanged a quick glance with Lord Waltham, whose expression seemed to be saying, “I told you so.” He walked out from behind the counter, making his way toward Aggie.
“Don’t worry about the shop,” Lord Waltham called after him. “I’m sure I can find someone to take your place while you make the journey.”
“Thank you, sir,” Andrew replied with a wave.
A cold shard pierced Aggie’s stomach, and she lost her smile. “While you make your journey?” she asked as they stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. She steered him in a direction that would take the long way down to the lakeside, but that would avoid walking in front of the grocery. “Are you leaving?”
“I telegraphed my father’s brother yesterday to see if he knew anything about Col. Montgomery,” Andrew said, offering her his arm as they crossed the street. “Uncle James telegraphed back this morning. He knows Col. Montgomery well, and he thinks that he’s old and frail and could be suffering from consumption. He advised me to make my way to South Africa as quickly as possible if I ever want to know the truth about my origins.”
“Oh,” Aggie said, the sound coming out breathless. She swallowed, then asked, “When will you leave?”
Andrew shrugged. “As soon as possible, I suppose.” He glanced at her as they reached the public stairs leading to the path that skirted the lake. “It seems as though it will be for the best that I leave as soon as possible.”
“What do you mean by that?” Aggie demanded, frustration mixing with her fear.
Andrew leveled her with a wry twist of his lips that wasn’t quite a smile. “Come on, Aggie. We both know that we’re dreaming if we think there’s a future for the two of us.”
“No,” she snapped instantly. “We most certainly are not dreaming. Anything is possible.”
He sighed as though he didn’t want to argue with her. They descended the rest of the stairs to a wooden landing that jutted out over part of the water. A man with a cart was selling ices to a gaggle of children and their minder.
“Let me buy you an ice,” he said, putting enough pressure on her arm to stop her from walking on down the lake path.
“An ice isn’t going to convince me to ignore what my heart is screaming at me,” she said, keeping her voice low.
Andrew grinned at her. “That’s what I admire so much about you, Aggie. Even in the face of impossible odds, you insist that you’ll prevail.”
“I will prevail,” she said, proving his point.
He laughed. “Thank God you’re a good woman who wants good things. Who knows what kind of mischief you’d inflict on the world if you weren’t.”
As much as part of her wanted to argue and fight, Aggie found herself smiling and laughing along with Andrew. “That’s what I like so much about you,” she said as they joined the line for ices. “You keep me from running off with my mad ideas.”
“Someone has to,” he said with a wink.
The line moved forward. Andrew searched in the pocket of his jacket for the pennies they would need to pay for the ices. But as they reached the front of the queue, the man selling the ices took one look at Andrew, then leaned to the side, craning his neck to look at the man standing behind them. “What can I get for you, sir?” he asked.
Aggie caught her breath in offense. “Excuse me,” she said, snapping her fingers at the man. “We are next.”
The ice seller pursed his lips peevishly and glanced to Aggie as though she were a waste of his time. “What do you want?”
Aggie’s back went up even further. “My companion will be purchasing your ices. Speak to him.”
“Aggie,” Andrew warned her in a low whisper.
“I don’t serve blacks,” the ice seller said without a hint of shame.
Aggie saw red. “Mr. Noble’s money is the same as anyone else’s,” she said, louder than she should have, back straight.
“Aggie, it’s more trouble than it’s worth,” Andrew continued to whisper.
“I’m not going to stand by and let one of Brynthwaite’s more prominent businessmen be treated in such a manner,” Aggie pushed on, glaring at the ice seller. “Who are you anyhow? You’re obviously not a member of this community. If you were, you would know the respect Mr. Noble commands, and you would have the decency to serve him the same way you would serve anyone. Do you even have a license to peddle your wares in our town?”
The ice seller met her speech with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. His initial look of condescension transformed into worry as she finished and stared at him, demanding he answer. “I have just as much of a right to sell ice here as anyone else.”
“Do you?” Aggie asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Fine, fine. What flavor do you want on your ice?” the seller grumbled, darting an anxious look from side to side.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” Aggie said. She tilted her chin up and stepped out of line, dragging Andrew with her. As soon as they reached the lakeside path, she hissed, “Odious man.”
Andrew surprised her by saying, “You shouldn’t have done that,” in a tight voice.
She turned to him, eyes wide with shock. “I shouldn’t have stood up for you? Why not?”
Andrew sighed and rubbed his free hand over his face. He forced her to slow her quick, angry pace until they walked along at a reasonable rate. “I don’t need you to rush in to play my savior in situations like that.”
“But that man was unforgivably rude,” she insisted. “He should be horsewhipped.”
Andrew huffed a humorless laugh. “He isn’t going to change his mind because a white woman shouted at him. There are issues that are worth taking a stand over, but a penny ice is not one of them.”
“I can’t believe you would say that.” She shook her head. “Incivility is never acceptable.”
“And yet, it’s a fact of life.” He sighed again, steering them to the side of the path where there was an alcove that gave them a modicum of privacy.
“It shouldn’t be a fact of life,” Aggie insisted, feeling it down to the core of her bones. “It aggravates me to no end that people only see what’s on the outside. I simply refuse t
o stand by and let good, intelligent people be treated differently because they are from Africa—or India or the Orient, for that matter—or because they are women. I’m just as capable of running a business as any man.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Is that what this is about? Did someone question your ability to run your father’s shop?”
“No, and I wouldn’t stand for it if they did. Just as I will not stand for some cheap so-and-so refusing to sell you an ice.”
“And yet, if we were foolish enough to defy society and custom to be together, you’d find yourself fighting against everyone every day of your life,” he said with more seriousness than Aggie expected. “Which is why we can’t—”
“Don’t say it,” she begged him, suddenly on the verge of tears. “I refuse to hear you say that it’s impossible for the two of us to be together.”
He took hold of her hands, staring flatly at her. “Aggie—”
“No,” she cut him off before he could say what she didn’t want to hear. “I love you, Andrew. That should be all that matters.”
His stern expression softened, and deep tenderness filled his eyes. “Do you?” he asked.
“Yes.” She leaned closer to him, glad for the privacy of the alcove. “It’s been building up inside of me for a year or more. I’ve never met anyone like you, and it has nothing to do with your physical appearance. I’ve never met anyone I can talk to so freely or who treats me as though I have an opinion worthy of discussion.”
“You have insightful and original opinions,” he said, brushing his fingers across her cheek and resting his hand there.
“I’ve never had a friend who encourages me to learn and think and grow,” she told him, burning with the need to make him understand how essential he was to her. “I feel as though I am free to be myself when I’m with you. And every day I discover more about you, how kind you are, how intelligent and how brave, that makes me want to spend my every waking moment with you.”