Chapter 17

"You have been pacing for the last half hour, Aggie," Emma remarked, her tone laced with concern as she watched her friend traverse the length of the room yet again.

Today was Agnes's wedding day, and her closest friends had arrived early in the morning to lend their support and companionship during these nerve-wracking hours. Despite their presence, Agnes found herself unable to find a moment's peace.

"I simply cannot bring myself to sit," Agnes confessed, her fingers twisting the handkerchief in her hands as she voiced the turmoil swirling within her. The intensity of her anxiety was unparalleled; never before had she imagined a person could be consumed by such a potent mix of nerves.

The ceremony was set to unfold in her family's living room, a fact that did little to quell the butterflies in her stomach. The mere thought of her parents, Theodore, and their guests assembled downstairs, awaiting the moment she would descend to join them, sent her heart racing. They were only waiting for the vicar's arrival before calling her down.

"Frannie, was it like this for you on your wedding day?" Agnes turned to Frances, seeking solace in her friend's experience.

"Among other emotions," Frances answered.

"Oh dear," Agnes sighed, the reality of Frances's words doing little to ease her nervous anticipation.

"You might have employed a gentle fib to soothe her worries, Frannie," Emma chided gently, her gaze flitting between the two.

"Such efforts would have been in vain, I'm afraid," Frances admitted with a knowing look. "And that, my dear, is precisely why I spared us the attempt," she added, understanding all too well the futility of trying to mask the inherent anxieties of a wedding day.

Finding it impossible to remain still, Agnes drifted toward the window, seeking a distraction from her spiraling thoughts. What met her gaze was entirely unexpected—a gathering crowd outside their residence, their numbers swelling with each passing moment.

"Are those additional guests?" Agnes inquired, peering out the window with growing apprehension. The prospect of her mother altering their plans last minute, opting for a larger ceremony than initially agreed upon, sent a wave of panic through her.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" Emma's response had a mixture of surprise and concern.

"Heard what exactly?" Agnes pressed, her curiosity piqued.

Emma hesitated before revealing, "There's a fresh piece of gossip circulating through Town—that the wedding has been called off, and that the Marquess has withdrawn his suit following the scandal."

"So, they've congregated to verify the authenticity of this news themselves, as a portion of society remains skeptical about the ceremony proceeding," she explained, shedding light on the unexpected assembly outside.

"It appears Lady Kirkland is the architect behind this latest tale," Frances interjected, her tone betraying neither shock nor amusement at the matron's audacity.

Given their last unpleasant encounter with Lady Kirkland, Agnes felt a resigned sense of inevitability that she would seek to further tarnish their reputations.

"You've kept this development concerning Lady Kirkland from me, Frannie?" Emma sounded both affronted and envious. "And how is it that you always seem privy to the most intriguing tidbits?" she added, her voice laced with playful indignation.

"I might attribute it to having an abundance of idle time," Frances replied with a nonchalant shrug, downplaying her knack for unearthing gossip.

"Or perhaps it's a case of having more resourceful servants adept at gathering intelligence," Emma retorted with a light-hearted laugh.

As much as Agnes wished to partake in their levity, the gravity of the situation and the impending ceremony held her captive to a carousel of anxious thoughts?—

"It's time," Caroline's voice, firm yet gentle, interrupted the trio's conversation as she re-entered the room. Having been preoccupied with final preparations downstairs, her return marked the moment of truth.

"They're all assembled and await your presence, my dear," her mother informed her.

Frances and Emma got to their feet, and Agnes marveled at how hers were able to carry her down the stairs in her anxiety.

By the doorway to the drawing room, Theodore's sisters stood, their pink dresses adding a splash of color to the occasion. "You look beautiful, Agnes," Harriet said, her compliment genuine and warm, prompting a grateful smile from Agnes. The lump in her throat grew, emotions swirling as she braced herself for the ceremony ahead.

Her mother's eyes mirrored her own feelings—pride mixed with the poignant realization of the moment's significance. Inside the drawing room, a small assembly awaited: her father, brothers, Theodore's solicitor, the family butler, and, of course, Theodore himself. Preston stood by as his witness, accompanied by another gentleman Agnes assumed was associated with Theodore's legal affairs.

The vicar's sermon, brief as it was, seemed to stretch into infinity, marking the solemnity and gravity of their union. The exchange of vows, however, was met with cheers and applause, a celebration of their commitment witnessed by those dearest to them. A modest wedding breakfast was set to follow, a prelude to their imminent departure for Essex.

As Emma's parents offered their congratulations, Agnes couldn't help but notice Theodore's apparent preoccupation. His attention flitted across the room, as if in search of someone or something. "Are you expecting someone?" she inquired, curiosity getting the better of her amid the festivities.

"Just observing the count of those we've managed to persuade of our genuine intentions," he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice, before escorting her back to her parents.

"I'll ensure the carriage is prepared for our departure," Theodore informed her, excusing himself momentarily. Agnes understood this as her opportunity to bid a heartfelt farewell to her family, the thought of which she had been dreading.

This was the moment she had been dreading—bidding her family farewell.

"Where are the boys?" Agnes inquired, her voice trembling slightly as she fought back the tears threatening to breach her composure.

"They're awaiting you in the drawing room," Caroline informed her, her own voice laced with emotion.

Led by her parents, Agnes made her way to where her brothers were gathered. She could overhear Harry's explanation to George as they entered. "I told you, she's leaving now that she's wed," he was saying, a note of finality in his voice that tugged at Agnes's heartstrings.

Upon noticing her, George sprang up and hurled himself into her embrace. "Is it really true? You're going away?" he inquired, his young face marred by the tracks of tears.

"Yes, Georgie, I must," Agnes admitted, her heart aching with the admission.

"That's what marriage does. People leave," Harry reiterated to George, his attempt at being the knowledgeable older brother doing little to assuage George's distress.

"But it doesn't mean we won't see each other again," Agnes hastened to reassure them, especially as George's eyes mirrored the turmoil of a sea during a storm.

"When will we see you again, Agnes?" Philip's voice cut through, surprisingly laden with emotion. It was a sentiment echoed in the hearts of everyone present.

"Soon, I promise," she responded, both determined and hopeful.

In that moment, Harry, too, surrendered to the emotions of the day and embraced her. As Agnes hugged and kissed her brothers, Caroline wrapped her arms around them all.

"Oh, this isn't a forever farewell," her father reassured amidst the emotional scene, though his own face bore a heavy, somber look that belied his comforting words.

"We will miss you, little girl," William told her, his voice thick with emotion.

"Not so little anymore," Agnes managed a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as she embraced her father.

"I will miss you, Agnes," he murmured, planting a tender kiss atop her hair just as Theodore made his timely return to her side.

Stepping out of her childhood home and into her new life, Agnes noticed the crowd outside had swelled, their eyes filled with curiosity and surprise. Whispers filled the air, and heads turned, everyone eager to catch a glimpse of the newest couple in Town.

"It's actually happened," someone exclaimed in a combination of shock and awe.

"Gracious, there goes my wager," lamented another, revealing the extent to which society had gambled on the outcome of their union.

"Their obsession with gossip is truly astounding," Theodore whispered to her, his tone a blend of amusement and disdain. His arm was securely around her, his grip possessive yet reassuring as he looked down at her with a smile, playing the part of the elated groom to perfection.

Even the Richmond servants had come out to witness their departure, partaking in the celebration by showering them with rice and flower petals—a tradition meant to symbolize prosperity and fertility.

The spectacle of her wedding was the very picture of joyous matrimony, a beautiful facade that masked the true nature of their arrangement. To her family and the onlookers, it was a love match. To society, it was fodder for their endless gossip.

Nevertheless, Agnes maintained her smile as she waved farewell to the Richmond servants who had gathered to send her off. Among the familiar faces, she caught sight of George, energetically hopping about with a bowl of rice in hand. His earlier sorrow at her departure seemed momentarily forgotten in his childish antics. Agnes couldn't help but watch in amusement as George, in his exuberance, attempted to taste a handful of the raw rice, only to promptly spit it out with a look of dismay. The sight coaxed a genuine chuckle from her.

"Shall we?" Theodore's gentle inquiry pulled her back from her momentary distraction, his voice a soothing presence.

"We shall," Agnes affirmed, placing her hand in his with a sense of finality, stepping into the carriage that symbolized the start of their new life together.

"If that isn't love, I don't know what is," an onlooker's voice carried through the air.

"Such unfounded rumors we were told," another spectator mused, their words reflecting the shift in public opinion at the sight of the couple's apparent affection.

In that brief exchange of smiles with Theodore, Agnes felt an unexpected stir within her, a flicker of emotion that seemed both foreign and intriguing. It was a sensation that beckoned with the promise of something more, something real, despite the arrangement that had brought them together.

Yet, as the carriage door closed, sealing them away from the eyes of the world, Agnes felt the crushing weight of their reality settle upon her. Whatever this budding feeling might be, she recognized the danger it posed to the fragile balance of their agreement. With a silent resolve, she quelled the spark of hope, allowing the mask of contentment she had donned for the crowd to fall away.

Theodore's face, too, became a mask of neutrality, his earlier warmth retreating behind a veil of inscrutability. Profound silence enveloped them.