by Merry Farmer
Aggie froze with her teacup halfway to her lips. Her heart was already pounding, but now it squeezed with unexpected emotion. She didn’t know how to react, what to say. Her father’s words were lovely, but they were a day too late. “Thank you,” she said at last, blinking.
“Starting first thing on Monday morning, I’d like you to resume your position as sole operator of Crimpley’s Market,” her father said, gifting her with a proud smile. “You are competent, no matter what other flights of fancy have taken you lately.” His face darkened for a moment, and Aggie knew he was thinking of Andrew. “But you are, first and foremost, my daughter. I have raised you to be who you are, and I am proud of the woman you have become.”
The pain that pierced Aggie’s heart was sharper than anything she could have expected. How long had she waited to hear her father express that kind of approval of her? How many years had she spent trying to make him proud? And now that he finally saw her the way she wanted to be seen, she had one foot out the door.
She was saved having to come up with a reply by her mother’s irritated tut. “What has gotten into Joanna this morning? Where has the girl gone?”
Aggie felt the blood rush to her face. Her eyes snapped to her plate, and she swallowed hard.
“She’s a fickle girl,” her father said, stabbing the last piece of sausage on the plate in the middle of the table and taking it for himself. “With the summer festival today, she’s probably slipped out of her duties so that she can make merry in the town square.”
Her mother huffed. “Remind me to deduct the price of making merry from her wages.”
“I’ll go look for her,” Aggie said, pushing her chair back and standing. She wasn’t sure she could sit still for another moment, and if Joanna arrived home and blurted out what she’d seen, all of the love and approval in her father’s eyes would come crashing down.
But to Aggie’s dread, her father stood with her. As she sidestepped toward the breakfast room doorway, he moved to intercept her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I am not a man who expresses emotions well,” he said with a tender smile, “but I want the best for you in all things, my dear. You must understand, that is why I am against you forming any sort of attachment with Andrew Noble. He isn’t good enough for you. I want you to have the best in life, and he isn’t it.”
A jolt of indignation cut through the affection for her father, but she remained silent, darting a quick glance into the hall. Her carpetbag couldn’t be seen from where she and her father stood. The house was still silent, no sign of Joanna returning at all.
“You will find a better man,” her father went on. “The very best Cumbria has to offer, I swear to you. And in the meantime, I will do my utmost to make sure you are given every bit of respect you deserve and all the responsibility you want.” He ended his declaration with a smile, leaning close to kiss her cheek.
Aggie stiffened, afraid of what he might smell on her. She hadn’t had time to do more than run a damp sponge over her skin, and she feared she still smelled of Andrew’s soap and his sheets. But her father leaned back, still smiling, without a hint of suspicion.
“I have to go,” she said, her voice small and shaky.
“Yes, of course,” her father said. “The summer festival needs you.” He took a step back.
Aggie studied him. Her father had grown into a mature man in the last few years, but he was still in the peak of health. He would outlive them all. She was certain that he would become mayor of Brynthwaite, that he would do just fine without her. She glanced to her mother, who was mopping up the last of the yolk from her egg with a corner of toast. Her mother was content with her life, secure with the wealth and position her father could give her. No matter how far Aggie ran with Andrew or how long it would be until she saw them again, they would be fine.
“Goodbye, Papa,” she said, blinking back her tears. On impulse, she lunged forward, hugging him the way she had when she was a child. Her father wore a startled look when she stepped back. “And thank you.”
Her throat constricted as she crossed to her mother and hugged her sideways as she sat. “Goodbye, Mama,” she said, her voice cracking.
“For heaven’s sake, Agatha. What’s gotten into you?” her mother asked with a frown.
“I just love you both,” she said, barely managing to get the words out. She hurried for the doorway. “I wanted you to know that. But now I have to go.”
“Are you certain you’re not coming down with a fever?” her father asked. “You look peaked.”
“I’m fine,” Aggie said, not able to look him in the eye. “I need to go now.”
“Very well,” her father said as she hurried out of the room. “But don’t over-exert yourself at the festival today. If you need to come home to rest, do.”
Aggie could only nod at him before dashing out into the hall and grabbing her carpetbag. As fast as she could, before she could second-guess her decision to abandon her life for love, she fled through the front door and into the unknown.
Chapter 9
Andrew kept as low a profile as possible as he hurried through Brynthwaite. Though it was still early, it seemed as though half the town was up, rushing to put up last-minute decorations, bringing everything from pies to chickens to beer to the town square to be judged, and generally preparing for what was sure to be a day of merry-making. But at least the crowds meant that if Joanna had gone to fetch the constable, they would have a harder time spotting him amongst all those people.
He needed to find Jason Throckmorton, to find out if the young man still wanted to come with them to London. It was a stroke of luck that Jason and his friends were already in the town square, helping to set up a booth of sundries that were being sold to support the orphanage.
“Jason,” Andrew hailed him, darting looks to the side to be sure neither the constable nor Mr. Crimpley had come after him.
“Mr. Noble,” Jason greeted him with a smile. That smile dropped to a curious look when Andrew failed to smile in return.
Andrew marched straight up to him and asked in a low voice, “Do you still want to come to London?”
Jason’s eyes lit up. “What, now?”
“Right now,” Andrew confirmed with a nod.
Jason’s jaw dropped. His friends left what they were doing to flank him. Lawrence seemed as excited as Jason, but Marshall frowned, ever-cautious, and said, “You can’t just leave.”
“And why not?” Lawrence asked. “This could be his golden opportunity.”
“We have to leave immediately,” Andrew went on, sending another cautionary glance around the square. “So I’ll understand if you don’t want to—”
“I’ll pack a bag and meet you at the train station,” Jason said, excitement making him seem even younger than he was. He turned and dashed off toward the orphanage, Lawrence and Marshall trailing him, Marshall saying, “This is madness.”
It was madness, but Andrew didn’t have the time to argue with himself or the luxury of acting rationally. He headed back across the square, mentally calculating what from his meager belongings he would need to bring with him, how he would protect and support Aggie on their journey, and how he would explain to his friends—like Basil Waltham, who had entrusted him with so much by letting him run the bookshop. More than anything, though, he was wary of being cornered by Constable Baxter and Mr. Crimpley.
A plan of sorts to stave off that disaster came to him as he saw Ted Folley marching through town, a puzzled look in his eyes. Andrew changed direction to intercept him.
“Ted, I’m glad I caught you,” he said as he approached. “I need your help.”
“Can it wait?” Ted asked, trying to move on. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“I just need you to tell people that you’ve seen me at the festival later,” Andrew said. If friends like Ted told people he was still in town, then it would stop Constable Baxter and Mr. Crimpley from looking at the train station or coming after them until they’d put plenty of distanc
e between themselves and Brynthwaite.
Ted paused furrowing his brow. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” Andrew said. “I just need you to tell people, especially Robert Crimpley, that you’ve seen me around the festival, should he ask.”
“I take it you aren’t going to be around the festival, then?”
Andrew shook his head. “Aggie and I….” He let out a breath. “It’s complicated. I’ll write to you and tell you all about it later.”
“Write to me?” Ted asked, looking baffled. There wasn’t time to explain. Andrew thumped his arm and started to rush off, but Ted called after him with, “Have you seen June this morning?”
Andrew paused, turning back to Ted. “Yes,” he said. She’d been one of the first people he’d seen when he set off to find Jason. “She was up at her father’s house, sweeping the front porch. Why, is something wrong? You two have a spat?”
“Something like that,” Ted mumbled, glancing away.
As much as he wanted to be there for his friend, Andrew had his own problems to tackle. Ted walked on, and he set off toward his flat. It felt ridiculous, in a way, to press his back to the wall and peek around the corner of the building to make sure the police weren’t waiting for him. Brynthwaite was his home and had been for years. He shouldn’t have to sneak around like a criminal simply because he’d spent the night with the woman he intended to marry. But the rules were different for a black man in Queen Victoria’s world, and they were constantly changing. It wasn’t fair, but that didn’t stop it from being the way things worked.
When he was certain his flat wasn’t being watched, he dashed to the door and inside. There was no time to lose. He pulled down an empty case from the top of the wardrobe and, with a bitter heart, packed as much as he could as quickly as possible. His only consolation was that he did have friends in Brynthwaite. Basil owned the building containing his flat, and Andrew was certain that if he wrote to his friend and asked him to pack the rest of his belongings, Basil would see that it was done.
“Andrew?”
He looked up at Aggie’s soft whisper, then crossed from the bedroom to the main room. There she was, tidy and dressed for travel, a carpetbag in her hands. Her eyes were wide and color splashed her cheeks. She was unmistakably ready for adventure, but underneath the excitement, something wary lurked.
“Aggie.” He swept her into his arms as best he could with her carpetbag between them and gave her a quick kiss. “Jason Throckmorton will meet us at the train station. Have you seen Joanna at all?”
Aggie shook her head. “Papa doesn’t suspect a thing,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice.
Andrew nodded. “It will be all right, but we have to leave now.”
He rushed back to the bedroom to fetch his suitcase, then the two of them headed out. It was lucky that things had come to a head on the day of the festival. While plenty of people were out and about in the streets, they were all distracted, filled with high spirits about the festival. Enough people carried parcels or baskets of goods to sell or enter into contests that Andrew and Aggie didn’t seem particularly out of place with their traveling bags. They kept a steady pace as they cut through town and headed down the hill toward the train station. Even at the station, there was enough hustle and bustle that they didn’t raise eyebrows or questions.
“Where is Jason?” Aggie asked once they made it to the platform.
Andrew looked around for an answer. A few seconds later, Jason strode out of the ticket office, a suitcase in one hand and a smile on his face. He spotted Andrew and Aggie, and his smile widened. “I’ve got tickets,” he announced proudly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Andrew said, though he was grateful that task was taken care of.
Looking incredibly proud of himself, Jason said, “I had the money for it. And I thought it would look less suspicious if I purchased three tickets. Saul thought they were for me, Lawrence, and Marshall.” He paused, leaned closer, then added, “You are in trouble, aren’t you? That’s why we’re running, right?”
Andrew was impressed in spite of himself. Jason was clever. Whatever he got up to once he reached London, he would most likely make something of himself.
The train’s whistle screeched, cutting off whatever answer Andrew would have given Jason. “Come on,” he said, taking Aggie’s hand with his free hand and leading her toward the train.
They slipped aboard and found seats in an unoccupied corner of the car, settling in for the journey. As the train rolled forward, Aggie glanced out the window, biting her lip.
“It will be all right,” Andrew reassured her, squeezing her hand. “I promise you, we’ll have a life of happiness and adventure together. I’ll keep you safe.”
“I know you will,” she answered, her smile grateful. “And I love you.”
“I love you too,” he answered. But in his heart, he wondered if love was enough.
Jason bought the wrong tickets. Although, if she were honest, Aggie couldn’t fault him for acting impulsively as he did. He purchased tickets on the very first train out of town…a train that was headed to Scotland, not London. They were in Gretna Green before they had a chance to disembark and wait for a train headed in the right direction. The irony of their stop was not lost on Aggie either. It was only a shame that the tiny, Scottish town had stopped performing impulsive, clandestine marriages decades before.
It was late in the afternoon before they were able to purchase three seats on a train heading where they needed to go. And unfortunately, halfway through the Yorkshire Dales, the train broke down. They were forced to spend the night in the middle of nowhere while the train’s engineers first tried to fix the engine, then gave up and called for a new one to be sent to replace it.
By the time they reached Manchester in the early afternoon on Sunday, Aggie was exhausted, sore, and hungry.
“It will be all right,” Andrew assured her for what felt like the hundredth time as they stepped down from the cramped and uncomfortable train car at last.
She believed him, or at least she told herself she did. “I wanted an adventure,” she said with a sigh. Although the one she found herself on certainly wasn’t the one she would have volunteered for.
Manchester was far larger than Brynthwaite. It was the largest city she’d ever been to, but in her current state of unease, it wasn’t as exciting as it should have been. She didn’t feel unsafe standing with Jason as Andrew approached the ticket window to see about getting them on to London, but she wasn’t relaxed either. A voice in the back of her head kept questioning whether she was doing the right thing.
“Are you all right, Miss Crimpley?” Jason asked as they waited for Andrew. “Do you need me to get you a glass of water? Maybe beer?”
She managed a weak smile at what she assumed was a joke. “No, I’m fine for now.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a commotion in the ticket line made her feel like a liar. Andrew had reached the front of the line, but the ticket seller was determined to help the man behind him first.
“Excuse me,” Andrew said, raising his voice. “I was next.”
“You’ll wait your turn,” the ticket seller said. The man behind Andrew didn’t seem inclined to support him in the least and pushed past to the window.
Aggie’s throat constricted in rage. “You can’t do that,” she said, breaking away from Jason. “He was here first.”
The man who had pushed past Andrew to buy his ticket looked at Aggie as though she were a bit of filth he’d stepped on. “Mind your own business,” he said, then turned to the ticket seller and said, “Bristol.”
“This is my business,” Aggie insisted.
“Aggie,” Andrew warned her in a low voice.
She turned to him with a look of incredulity. “This man cut in front of you in line. Mr. Noble was next,” she nearly shouted at the ticket seller.
The ticket seller had handed one ticket to Bristol over to the rude man, but
rather than serving Andrew, he gestured for the next man in line to come forward.
“You can’t do this,” Aggie said, her voice rising. “Mr. Noble was next.”
“He can wait until the proper customers have been served,” the ticket seller snapped. “Next.”
“But he is a proper customer,” Aggie shouted. Her heart ached at the injustice of the scene, and her stomach flooded with acid.
“Aggie, it’s all right,” Andrew continued to try to soothe her.
“Uh, you can let him go ahead of me,” the next man in line said, looking wary and put out by the scene.
The ticket seller was annoyed, but he gestured for Andrew to step forward. Aggie’s anger didn’t lessen by a hair, though, even after Andrew purchased three tickets to London. The ticket seller sneered through the whole transaction and barely looked at Andrew at all. When they stepped away from the window, Andrew looked at the tickets and sighed. “They’re for tomorrow morning.”
“What?” Aggie snatched the tickets from his hand. Sure enough, the next day’s date and the absurdly early hour of 5:30am was printed on them. “This is outrageous. We asked for tickets for today.”
She turned to march back to the window, but Andrew caught her arm. “He won’t give us anything different,” he said. “At least we have these.”
“But this isn’t fair,” Aggie said, not wanting to sound like a petulant child, but unable to stop herself. “How could a man be so rude and then not give you what you asked for and paid for on top of that?”
Andrew and Jason exchanged a look that answered the question without words. Aggie was well aware of the answer herself. Because of who Andrew was. Because of the color of his skin. That knowledge burned like fire in her stomach.
“If we’re stuck here, we should find a place to stay for the night,” Andrew said wearily, his expression grim.
“We can try,” Jason answered. He scratched his head uneasily. “Maybe I should try to get the room. It might be better if I say I’m Miss Crimpley’s husband.”