Chapter 10

CHAPTER10

In all the commotion of preparing for the journey to London, Agnes received a gracious reprieve from the unsettling attentions of George. It had been three days since the luncheon at the Marquess’ residence, and he had not even joined Lady Finch and her guests for dinner, likely making preparations of his own.

Perhaps, that last kiss upon Agnes’ hand had been a farewell, and she had to keep reminding herself that that would be for the best.

“Can you believe it, sister?” Rose sighed, perching upon the window-seat in her guest bedchamber. “We are to venture to London! In all my eight-and-ten years, I do not think I have looked forward to anything more. Do you think we shall have time to explore, or will there be too many gatherings to attend?”

Agnes chuckled, wishing she had a gift for painting, for she would have captured the radiant excitement of her sister, who sat haloed by the sunlight streaming in behind her. “I am certain we will have a few moments to explore the city,” she assured. “We can pretend that we are using excursions to bolster our social standing and simply enjoy ourselves.”

“What are you most excited about?” Rose kicked out her legs, squirming upon the window seat like a child who knows they are about to receive a longed-for gift. “I am eager to see the galleries and the botanical gardens, and I have always wanted to walk along the Serpentine. It is a rather frightening word, is it not—serpentine? I cannot help but imagine a giant snake, coiling through London.”

“And you are eager to see that?” Agnes grinned. “Goodness, you must be more determined to avoid your coming-out ball than I thought if you would relish a meeting with a giant snake.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I am not determined to avoid my coming-out ball. After all, it cannot be avoided, and so, I have decided to perceive it with a kindlier mind. If I think of it as just a party, in honor of someone else, then it does not scare me so much.”

“I would not dream of blowing my own trumpet, dear sister, but I have taught you well. Indeed, you are becoming so wise that you will no longer have any need of me,” Agnes teased. “I shall have to retreat to a mountain somewhere, becoming a being of myth and legend, and shy young ladies will make pilgrimages to me to learn of my mysterious ways.”

Rose did not seem amused. Instead, her cheerful smile faded at the precise moment that a cloud scudded in front of the sun, casting a gloomy gray light around her. “If I should find a husband this season, I shall have to live with him.”

“That is generally the concept, yes.” Agnes sensed what was coming—a conversation she had tried to delay even more than she had tried to delay Rose’s debut.

“But what will you do when I am no longer at Snowley House?” Rose’s voice wavered as she chewed upon her lower lip. “Cousin Matthew will, of course, allow you to remain for as long as you need, but… I cannot stand the notion of you being there without me, indefinitely.”

Agnes wafted a dismissive hand. “I shall relish the peace and quiet.”

“Be serious, sister,” Rose replied, slipping down from the window-seat and padding over to where Agnes sat perched upon the end of the bed. “You cannot truly wish to be a hermit… or whatever the lady’s version is.”

“Being a spinster does not scare me,” Agnes assured. “And I will not be a hermit. I have… friends. I will amuse myself well enough.”

She could not admit to her sister that while being a spinster did not scare her, being alone did. Thinking about it left her frozen in fear which was why she refused to let herself contemplate her own future.

Rose scoffed. “Agnes, you do not have friends. You have had no opportunity to make any acquaintances, for you have been occupied with raising me all of these years. And I worry that when you no longer have that to divert you, you will… Well, I do not know what you will do, and it pains me.” She blinked up at the ceiling, and a tear fled onto her cheek. “I am so very sorry for being a nuisance to you. I am so very sorry that it has fallen to you to nurture me. I am sorrier still that I have allowed it instead of nurturing you in return.”

Agnes stood sharply and pulled her sister into a tight embrace, gently stroking the back of her silky hair. “It has been the greatest achievement of my life, Rosie. If I do nothing else with my existence, I shall always have pride in you.”

“But it is unfair, Agnes!” Rose muttered into her sister’s shoulder. “Being here, experiencing the affection and kindness of Lady Finch, I have realized even more how… deserted we have been, and how much you have done to remedy that, how much you have done for me. If you had not written to Lady Finch and begun a correspondence, I might not be debuting at all.”

Agnes held her tighter, wishing she could hug Rose into silence. “What is done is done. Mother has been in pain for a long time, and if you find love this season, perhaps you will be able to understand why she has suffered so. And when you are beloved and in love, I hope you will enlighten me so that I might understand too.”

“But a mother should love her children, no matter what happens,” Rose whispered. “How could Mama allow you to play her part? How could she bear to let you struggle in her stead?”

Agnes forced a laugh. “I have not struggled, Rosie. You have always been a golden child. It was no effort whatsoever to raise you. As I said, you are my pride and my greatest reward.”

“Are you not tempted to find a husband of your own?” Rose drew back slightly, peering into her sister’s eyes. “You would be free of Snowley House. You might yet be happy, having something that is your own.”

Agnes shrugged. “I am three-and-twenty, Rosie. In the world of polite society, I am the strange trinket gathering dust in the corner of an old library. I cannot compete with the beautiful ladies who are younger and wealthier than me, and I do not have the inclination to try. I am too tired for all of that nonsense.”

And too afraid of the rejection…

“But if someone were to come along and dust you off?” Rose looked so hopeful, brimming with the innocent optimism of her sheltered naivety.

Agnes could do nothing but chuckle. “It is unlikely, but I would have to assess his dusting talents.”

“The Duke seems to be fond of you,” Rose said, immediately clamping her lips together like she should not have mentioned it.

“The Duke is not fond of me, Rosie; he is confused by me.”

Rose frowned. “Confused?”

“That look upon your face—that is precisely how he feels about me.” Agnes sighed, for she had hoped she could forget him entirely now that he had decided to make himself scarce. “He is unaccustomed to not being adored. He cannot comprehend my disinterest, and that infuriates him. Any “fondness” is a ruse to try and make me behave in the manner he is used to, and he shall not receive satisfaction.”

Though his kiss upon your hand was a moment of utter magic, her mind sang, dredging the memory through a mire of resistance and into the forefront of her thoughts. For a moment, she was convinced she could smell wild cherry blossoms in the air.

“Because you truly are disinterested in him or because you do not want to give him any satisfaction?” Rose queried, flashing a knowing look. “You are stubborn, Agnes. When the boys from the village used to taunt you and say you could not possibly climb the oak tree by the river, you hitched up your skirts and climbed it, just to prove them wrong. And when Papa said you could not manage another bite of mackerel, you forced down everything that was left upon the platter, only to be quite unwell afterwards. I wonder if you are averse to him because he is fixing his attentions upon you, and you wish to prove yourself immune to his charms.”

Agnes would have been lying if she had said she had not thought of that, for it had always been a flaw of hers—the desire to prove others wrong, to prove that she could do anything, to prove she was strong.

“I truly am indifferent to him, Rosie. There would be no benefit in me being stubborn for stubbornness’ sake, considering his wealth, his title, and his station, for even I am capable of seeing how that could merit my future. The trouble is, if I were inclined to marry, it would have to be for a love so powerful that it could remove every speck of dust from me,” she explained, realizing it was true as she spoke the words. Not the indifferent part, but the part about love.

I dreamed of it as a young girl, but that dream was taken away, she lamented.

Rose nodded slowly. “It is the same for me, and that is why I am so worried about this entire season. What if it does not happen for me? What if I must settle for less than love? I understand that it is my duty to wed, but… love is what every woman hopes for, is it not?”

“You shall have it,” Agnes assured. “Being the fine lady that you are, how could you not? You shall have your choice as every gentleman in London will be besotted with you.”

Rose batted her sister lightly on the arm. “You are teasing me.”

“I am not! Once you have overcome your nerves, and they see who you truly are, you will have a whole carpet of gentlemen to walk upon, for they will be hurling themselves at your feet.”

Just then, Lady Finch appeared at the threshold of the bedchamber, knocking lightly though the door was already open. She looked harried as if she had not been able to take her morning turn around the garden and her habits were in tatters.

“The luggage has been loaded onto the carriages, dear girls,” the Dowager declared, huffing and puffing like she was the one who had done the heavy lifting. “Agnes, might you have a quiet word with your mother? The maids and the footmen have been attempting to gain entry to her chambers to collect her belongings, but she has locked the door, and we are already rather behind schedule.”

Anger boiled inside Agnes’ stomach, spouting up into her throat where it was certain to make her words heated. She had expected some resistance, but after her last discussion with her mother, she had hoped that the transition from the Dowager House to London would be smoother than the journey from Snowley House.

“I shall tend to it,” Agnes said darkly, giving Rose’s arm a squeeze as she stalked toward the door.