Brynthwaite Summer_A Silver Foxes of Westminster Novella

by Merry Farmer

  Aggie’s heart swelled and filled her chest, even as the rest of her sagged with dread at the turn her life had taken. “Andrew,” she said, putting every ounce of emotion into the single word.

  Andrew’s jaunty smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Elaine answered for her. “Well, apparently people don’t want to shop here today because the two of you were spotted kissing in the town square, but they’ll get over it.”

  Aggie lowered her head in shame as Elaine blurted out the truth. Andrew darted a questioning sideways look to Elaine, then moved to lean against the counter where he could reach for Aggie’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, though his eyes said, “I warned you something like this might happen.”

  “I should leave the two of you alone,” Elaine whispered as though they were all part of a conspiracy. “I didn’t really need to buy anything anyhow. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  Before Aggie could stop her and beg her to buy something so that the morning wouldn’t be a total failure, Elaine bounded off through the door and into the sunny morning. As soon as she was gone, Aggie groaned in misery.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said. “Papa will be so disappointed.”

  “Is that what matters most to you?” Andrew asked, resting his large hand over hers on the counter.

  Aggie’s throat squeezed, and she glanced up to meet his eyes. “No,” she said. “What matters to me is that we are together.”

  She wanted it to be true, but her words came out weak, and the doubt in Andrew’s eyes left her questioning everything. It had seemed so obvious to her just a few hours ago that she could have everything she wanted. Her hope had gone unquestioned. It seemed like a crime that the bedrock she’d been building her dreams of the future on—the certainty that she could have both Andrew and the prestige of being a shopkeeper against all odds—was proving to be shaky.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, lowering her eyes to stare at her hand twining with Andrew’s. “I thought it would be so much easier than this.”

  Andrew let out an ironic laugh and held her hand tighter. “This is easy. If you throw your lot in with me, it’s likely to get much, much harder.”

  She glanced up at him. “But I love you, Andrew. I don’t think I could ever not love you.”

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Aggie jumped and gasped, gripping Andrew’s hand tighter as her father marched through the door. He glowered at Andrew, but his anger was tempered with confusion as he glanced around the store. “Where are the customers?” he demanded.

  “There aren’t any,” Aggie admitted with as much courage as she could muster. She had to let go of Andrew’s hand to walk around the counter in order to face her father more boldly, but she moved to stand by his side all the same. “They refuse to patronize the store with me in charge. I’m sorry, Papa.”

  As if he knew full well what was keeping his customers away, her father stared hard at Andrew. “I thought I made it clear that you were to have nothing to do with my daughter.”

  Aggie frowned, the suspicion she’d almost forgotten about slamming back into her. “Papa, did you say something to Andrew?”

  “I told him to stay away from you,” her father admitted, standing at his full height and looking down his nose at Andrew. “I thought it was understood.”

  “I understood what you said to me,” Andrew said, just as strong and immovable as her father. “I never promised to obey you.”

  “You will obey me now,” her father snapped. “Get out of here at once. If I see you near my daughter again, I’ll have the police after you.”

  “Papa, that’s horrible,” Aggie said. She grasped the last bit of courage her bruised heart could muster and went on with, “I love Andrew.”

  Her father sniffed. “You’re a young and impressionable girl. I’ve given you too much responsibility too soon. You don’t know what you want.”

  “I do,” Aggie insisted.

  “She does,” Andrew came to her defense. “You can order me around all you want, but I will do what Aggie wants me to do, not you.”

  Her father quivered with rage, his face going red. Aggie had rarely seen him in such a state, and it took more willpower than she had not to cower. “Get out at once,” he snapped, jabbing a finger toward the door.

  Aggie turned wary eyes to Andrew. “Perhaps you’d better go for now,” she said, her voice failing her. “Papa and I need to have a talk.”

  “We do indeed,” her father growled.

  Andrew stared at Aggie. It was clear as day that he didn’t want to go anywhere. “Do you truly want to deal with this on your own?”

  “My daughter—”

  Andrew stopped her father from going on with one raised hand and a fierce look. Aggie was surprised that her father stayed silent. It gave her the will to go on.

  “Let me speak to my father. We can discuss this more later,” she said.

  “If that’s what you want,” Andrew said with a nod. He took a step toward the door. “If you need me, I’ll be with you in seconds.” He sent a look to her father, letting him know that his words were meant to leave him without a doubt as to where he stood, how he would defend Aggie in an instant.

  “Thank you, Andrew,” Aggie said through the lump of sadness that formed in her throat. “For everything.”

  Andrew nodded, leaving the shop reluctantly. That left Aggie alone with her father and her failure.

  “No one has come into the shop today?” he asked.

  “No one,” she confirmed, holding her head up as high as she could. “They object to me,” she went on, though she was loath to admit to her father it was because she’d been seen kissing Andrew. She’d let him discover that bit of gossip on his own.

  “I’m disappointed in you,” her father grumbled, shaking his head. “I shall have to rethink this entire arrangement.”

  Without another word, he marched past her to slip behind the counter. He checked the day’s ledgers without looking at her. Aggie stood where she was for a moment, no idea what to do.

  “You may leave,” her father said at last. “Go home and work on your embroidery or some other pursuit simple enough for your weak, female mind.”

  “I could stay and help with stock,” Aggie offered.

  “No,” her father snapped. “You’ve done enough damage for one day. Go home.”

  Aggie swallowed hard. There was nothing she could do, no way she could fight back that she could see. It was a position she’d never been in before, and she hated it. Her heart was heavy as she turned to leave the store, desperate to find a way to make the world something other than what it was.

  Chapter 6

  The frustration that Andrew felt over the way Brynthwaite had turned on Aggie stayed with him. Friday morning, as he helped set up booths and decorations for the summer festival, it was still eating at his soul. He’d been snubbed at almost every turn throughout his life, but watching Aggie’s neighbors turn up their noses at her for what was likely the first time in her life brought the injustice of it home as if it were new to him as well.

  “Could you hold that end a little higher?” Lawrence Smith asked, pulling Andrew out of his thoughts. The young man from Brynthwaite Municipal Orphanage was a natural builder, and in spite of being more than a decade older than him, Andrew followed Lawrence’s instructions.

  “Personally, I think a man should be able to pursue whatever woman his heart desires,” Jason Throckmorton said, as though in the middle of a conversation. He and Marshall Pycroft were busy building a second booth next to where Andrew and Lawrence worked.

  “Not every woman,” Marshall said with a scowl for Jason.

  “And why not?” Jason stopped what he was doing to straighten in indignation. “It shouldn’t matter what the conditions of a man’s birth are. What matters is what he’s made of himself.”

  Marshall snorted and shook his head. “If you think that, you’re ignorant as wel
l as foolish.” He finished hammering a nail into one of the booth’s joints, then lifted the frame upright. “An orphan will never catch the eye of an earl’s daughter, no matter how hard he works.”

  The tension that had filled Andrew’s chest loosened slightly. The boys weren’t talking about him and Aggie after all. He should have remembered that Jason had ambitions to catch the eye of Lady Elizabeth Dyson. He went back to work with a wry grin, helping Lawrence stand their booth upright.

  “It’s just like you and Miss Crimpley,” Jason went on, proving that Andrew had spoken too soon. “You’re a liked and respected member of this community. Why shouldn’t you be able to court whomever you want?”

  “Jason,” Marshall hissed. He sent his friend a sharp look, as though the answer was obvious, then glanced apologetically to Andrew.

  Andrew sighed and nodded to let Marshall know there were no hard feelings. Except that there were. Marshall was young, too young to have formed all his own opinions. He was merely reflecting what society thought. And if society didn’t think he should be allowed to love freely, perhaps it was time to find another society to live in.

  “Ah, Noble, there you are.” Andrew glanced up as Richard Merriweather, one of the teachers at Brynthwaite School, strode across the square toward him. “I was hoping to find you here today.”

  Andrew straightened and tried to smile at the bright-eyed, middle-aged man’s approach. “What can I do for you, Merriweather?” he asked, wondering if he was about to be told off for pursuing Aggie yet again.

  Merriweather smiled with open enthusiasm, the same kind he directed at his pupils. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to come to the school once term starts in a few weeks to do a presentation about the wonders of books as a way to see the world without the expense of travel.”

  Andrew blinked, taken by surprise. “I’d love to,” he said. “Reading and research are two things every child should learn.” He was just a little baffled that Merriweather would ask him to be the one to present to the school.

  “Excellent.” Merriweather’s smile grew. “You have such an exciting way of speaking,” he went on. “I’m sure the children will be thoroughly engaged by everything you have to say.”

  “Thank you.” Andrew’s smile relaxed.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Merriweather said, thumping his arm, then turning to go.

  “See,” Jason said, mostly to his friends. “It doesn’t matter where a man comes from, he can still be a valued member of the community.”

  “Oh, one more thing.” Merriweather stopped and pivoted back to Andrew. He retraced his steps, coming to stand close enough to Andrew to lower his voice and still be heard. “What’s this business I hear about you and Agatha Crimpley?”

  The acid poured back into Andrew’s gut. “We’re in love,” he said, bold and simple, dreading what would come next.

  As jovial and open as he was, Merriweather winced. “Are you sure that’s the best thing, old fellow? I mean, Agatha Crimpley and all.”

  “We’ve been friends for years,” Andrew argued, his voice growing hard.

  “Of course, of course,” Merriweather said with an uncomfortable smile. “But don’t you think it would be a little more,” he glanced up and to the side as he thought of the right word, “acceptable to, uh, set your heart on, um, someone more like you?”

  Disappointment loosened Andrew’s tongue. “Aggie and I are very much alike,” he said, knowing full well what Merriweather meant. “We’re both interested in history and politics, we enjoy the same pastimes, and I fully support her efforts to be a modern, independent woman.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Merriweather went on. He seemed to take Andrew’s comments at face value without seeing the subtly or point behind them. He leaned closer and whispered, “You’re black, you know.”

  “Yes, I am aware,” Andrew said in a flat voice.

  “And, well, race mixing just isn’t done, old chap.” He smiled apologetically, as though embarrassed about the rules and Andrew’s failure to follow them.

  Coming from any other man, Andrew would have snapped back in offense. But poor Merriweather was as innocent as his pupils, and setting him straight would be like lecturing a child on the ways of the world.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, hoping the bitterness didn’t shine through in his voice or expression.

  “Good man.” Merriweather nodded, then turned to be on his way.

  As soon as his back was turned, Andrew’s smile dropped into a hard frown. He watched Merriweather go for a moment before his gaze shifted to take in the whole of Brynthwaite’s town square. Everywhere he looked, volunteers were working hard to construct what was needed for the summer festival. Farmers worked alongside shop-owners. Men and women mingled. But even though the entire strata of Brynthwaite society was represented, from the Brynthwaite boys to banker Quinn, Andrew stood out. He would always stand out.

  “Don’t let it get under your skin,” Lawrence said, handing Andrew the joist that needed to be hammered into place to complete the booth. “Merriweather can’t see past his own nose.”

  “He should get spectacles,” Jason muttered.

  “That isn’t what he meant,” Marshall said.

  “I know what he meant,” Jason snapped back. “I was being poetic.”

  “Oh, so you’re a poet now too?” Marshall smirked.

  “Women like poetry,” Jason said with a shrug.

  Andrew would have grinned at the exchange if he hadn’t just been gored with casual bigotry. At the same time, the banter between the young friends left him feeling strangely hollow. He would have loved to have friendships like the boys from the orphanage did. They had been raised together like brothers, whereas he had been an only child, adrift in a foreign land.

  Of course, he might not be an only child. Col. Montgomery knew something about his origins. If that included who his mother was and why she had left him the way she had, it could also mean that he had an entire family he didn’t know about, a family like him.

  “I think I should leave for South Africa as soon as possible,” he said, mostly to himself.

  The Brynthwaite boys all glanced to him, making Andrew wonder if he’d spoken too loud.

  “South Africa is a long way away,” Lawrence said with a considering look.

  “But if it gives him the answers he’s looking for,” Marshall added.

  “Are you really going?” Jason asked, an excited look in his eyes.

  Andrew shrugged, focusing on work as he held the joist in place for Lawrence. “I think I might have to. I’m not sure I’ll be able to live without getting answers.”

  They continued to work, completing construction of the two booths, but Jason kept glancing Andrew’s way. It was clear that the young man was up to something and that plots were forming behind his blue eyes. Andrew wasn’t surprised at all when Jason approached him as they finished and Lawrence and Marshall went in search of more work to do.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Jason said as though he’d been contemplating for days instead of minutes. “If you go to South Africa, would you take me with you?”

  Andrew’s brow shot up in surprise. “Cape Town is a long way,” he said.

  “Not as far as that.” Jason shook his head, holding up a hand. “Just as far as London. I want to go to London.”

  “Why?” Andrew crossed his arms and studied the young man. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, and as far as Andrew knew, he didn’t have a penny to his name.

  As if reading Andrew’s thoughts, Jason said, “I have to make my fortune somehow, and I’m never going to be able to do it if I stay here in Brynthwaite.”

  “You have a point,” Andrew admitted.

  “I have to go to London,” Jason repeated. “It’s the only place where a man who comes from nowhere and nothing can work hard to advance himself. And I’ll never be able to win Lady Elizabeth’s hand if I don’t advance myself as far as it is possible to go.”

&nb
sp; “Are you sure Lady Elizabeth is what you want?” Andrew asked, trying not to grin at the ridiculousness of the match.

  “Absolutely,” Jason insisted. “You should understand,” he said with growing passion. “We share a kind of solidarity, you and I. Both of us have romantic ambitions well beyond what society tells us is possible.”

  “I’m not sure,” Andrew said, his defensiveness on the rise.

  “We both want someone we’re not supposed to have,” Jason rushed on. “We have to do everything in our power to overcome the obstacles in our way.”

  Strangely enough, the young man might have had a point.

  “Which is why I have to go to London,” Jason went on, pleading in his eyes. “I know I’m young, and I don’t expect it to be easy, not at all. But I’ll work hard. I’ll do whatever it takes. I know I can find my way in the world. I just need someone to help me take that first step.”

  “And you think that coming with me as far as London will help you?”

  “Yes,” Jason said.

  “Who’s going to London?”

  Andrew jumped at the sound of Aggie’s voice. He hadn’t seen her approach, and now she was right beside him, glancing between him and Jason with a curious frown.

  “I’m going to London,” Jason said proudly. “Andrew is going on to South Africa.”

  Aggie turned to Andrew with a look of surprise and hurt. “But…when?”

  Andrew winced. He could see the hurt in Aggie’s eyes and would have preferred to sit down and talk to her in private. “We’ve talked about this. And I realize you don’t want me to go, but I have to,” he said with an apologetic look. “I’ll never know where I fit in the world if I don’t get to Cape Town before Col. Montgomery dies.”

  “So you were just going to sail off to the other end of the world without telling me?” Aggie demanded, crossing her arms.

  “I’ll just leave the two of you to talk about this alone,” Jason said with an embarrassed whisper, then turned tail and ran.

  Andrew watched him go with a frown, his jaw clenched. It wasn’t Jason’s fault that he’d dropped an unexploded shell between him and Aggie, but now Andrew had to diffuse it before disaster struck.