Chapter 27

It was finally the day of the summer festival, and Theodore had never seen his wife quite so excited. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and music, and the scent of fresh pastries and flowers wafted through the air as they moved from stall to stall. He proudly introduced Agnes as his Marchioness, and together, they thanked the villagers for their efforts in putting together the grand event.

"Oh, it is our pleasure to give the Marchioness her first festival here," Mr. Grovel said warmly when they reached his stall, adorned with an array of fruits and homemade jams that sparkled under the sunlight.

"Your ladyship, your ladyship," a tiny little voice sounded just then, high and excited.

Theodore turned in surprise to the sight of a little girl running in their direction from the opposite stall. He watched with much curiosity as Agnes crouched and opened her arms to welcome the little creature.

"Loralei, it's so good to see you here," Agnes said, her voice filled with genuine warmth.

The name sounded familiar, and it took Theodore a moment before recognition hit him. It was the little tenant girl with the wooden carriage he remembered from their previous encounter. He hadn't realized she was acquainted with his wife too.

"I brought us the carriage," Loralei said to his wife, her voice bubbling with excitement as she whipped out the object from behind her back and showed it to her.

"Why, it's just the right size for our journeys, Lora. I love it," Agnes said, her eyes lighting up with delight at the thoughtful gesture.

Loralei let out a delighted squeal, thrilled by Agnes' approval. They appeared to be well acquainted with each other. Theodore watched the interaction, a smile creeping onto his face as he observed the ease with which his wife interacted with the villagers, especially the children. It was a heartwarming scene that made him feel more connected to the people and to Agnes.

And something oddly akin to guilt washed over him as a voice in his head reminded him yet again of something else he'd stolen from this innocent young woman: the possibility of having her own children. A family and a household full of life and laughter. He'd forced her to give all that up as well.

Theodore forced his thoughts in check just as Lora looked up and met his gaze, seeming to only just notice his presence now.

"His lordship is here too," she gasped, a small note of surprise in her voice.

"Indeed I am," he chuckled, stepping closer and ruffling her already disheveled hair, trying to ease the moment with a bit of humor.

"I brought my carriage," she said, holding it up to him now, her eyes sparkling with pride.

Theodore made another mental note to finish the one he was working on for her as soon as possible. "Am I invited in it on the adventures as well?" he asked, joining in the playful spirit.

"If you'll carry our picnic basket then yes," Lora responded, her terms set with the seriousness only a child could muster in play.

"To laughter from Agnes, who was now watching his exchange with Lora with much curiosity, he played along. "Is this basket going to be heavy?" Theodore feigned reluctance.

"Of course. We are going to fill it up with strawberry jam biscuits!" Lora cried in delight, her enthusiasm contagious.

And he heard his own laughter echo around them now, genuine and free, a rare sound that filled the air with a warmth he hadn't realized had been missing.

The little girl was a treasure. As he watched Lora snuggle closer to Agnes, Theodore suddenly felt a desire to have something similar in his life—a little soul to brighten his and his wife's days. This was a dangerous yearning, unexpected and confusing. And for the life of him, he couldn't understand why he felt this way.

"Is Lora bothering you again?" A sheepish little chuckle sounded, interrupting his thoughts.

They looked up to the sight of some women approaching them. Amongst them was Lora's mother, Mrs. Linton, he recognized with a nod of acknowledgment.

"Oh, not at all," Agnes said warmly to Mrs. Linton. "Lora's company is always a welcome delight," she added, her voice sincere as Lora wound her arms around Agnes's neck and snuggled deeper into her embrace. It was a gesture so natural, so tender, it could have been shared between mother and child.

The women chuckled at this scene, their pleasure and approval palpable in their bright smiles and gentle nods.

"We came to thank you for honoring our invitation," the women said to them now, their tones rich with gratitude.

"It has been long since his lordship graced our festival also. And I suppose we have her ladyship to thank for that," Mrs. Linton added, her gaze flicking between Theodore and Agnes with a knowing look.

"I came to get a ride in Lora's carriage," Theodore quipped, his comment lightening the mood further to laughter from his wife and the gathered women.

He went on to commend the event, expressing his admiration for the community's efforts and the warm welcome they had extended. "This festival is a testament to the spirit of our village, and it would not have come together without all your efforts. Thank you once again for such a warm reception and for keeping these traditions alive. It's truly heartwarming to be a part of it."

The men bowed and the women curtsied as a jaunty tune filled the air, transforming the atmosphere with its lively beat. Lora let out a delighted gasp, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Would you like to dance, My Lady?" Without waiting for an answer, she hopped off Agnes"s arms and began to pull her towards the source of the music. Before Agnes could even respond, a few other children joined Lora, their small hands eagerly tugging Agnes towards the dance floor.

Theodore watched with a mixture of amusement and admiration as Agnes allowed herself to be led away. It was a simple folk dance, and the children, already well acquainted with the steps, guided Agnes, who was more than willing to learn. Soon, she picked up the steps, and her movements became fluid and natural. She flowed with the rhythm, her grace and spirit merging beautifully with the dance. Something warm and tender tugged at his heart as he observed her. Agnes was always graceful, always spirited, always smiling—despite everything.

She was a woman who maintained her composure and joy no matter the situation, never once showing him discomfort or displeasure since their marriage. Watching her now, surrounded by laughing children, Theodore felt a deep yearning. He wished he could give her more—everything good, the world even. She deserved it all. He wanted to give her his heart, but felt restrained by his own fears and reservations.

As the music changed, the children crowned her with a garland of flowers, and the dancing continued with renewed vigor. The entire festival seemed to pause and watch, applauding the Marchioness and her lively entourage of children.

"My Lord?" A man cleared his throat, pulling Theodore's attention away.

Theodore turned to the sight of his steward, Mr. Stevens, just then. The man"s usually composed face bore a hint of urgency as he approached, ready to give an update on the ongoing repairs of the tenant houses.

"At this rate, the repairs would be concluded soon, it seems," Theodore said, summarizing the progress report with a nod. He was glad that things were going as planned, at least in one area of his responsibilities. The tenants could move back into their houses soon, a relief to them all.

"Ah well, My Lord," Stevens"s voice suddenly held a tentative note, causing Theodore"s brow to furrow in apprehension.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice firm, bracing for unwelcome news.

"We have run out of funds to carry on and finish what little work is left," the man confessed, looking genuinely distressed.

Theodore"s heart sank. "I had a meeting with your solicitor to see what he could get us without having to bother you about the little hindrance, but unfortunately, he was not successful in getting the funds," Stevens continued, his voice low. "He says there are too many matters at hand, it's drained every resource," he added, his gaze not quite meeting Theodore's.

"And why hasn't Thompson come to me with this issue all this while?" Theodore's voice rose slightly, a mix of confusion and frustration coloring his tone.

"I do not know, My Lord," Stevens responded ruefully. "I expect he thought he could take care of the situation without bothering you about it," he added, attempting to justify the solicitor"s silence.

"My responsibilities are never a bother to me," Theodore said, his frustration evident. He understood their caution and their desire to shield him from further stress, but he was not a man to shy away from his duties, especially not those that affected the lives of others so directly.

He took a deep breath, calming himself. "We must find a solution, Stevens. Please arrange a meeting with Thompson first thing tomorrow. We will sort this out," he decided firmly, his mind already turning over possible solutions.

He understood their caution came from a good place. But what needed to be done must be done. No matter what. This was his duty, and he would see it fulfilled.

"I shall have a meeting with Thompson and see how we can salvage the situation," Theodore reassured the steward, his voice steady but the undertone of determination unmistakable. Those repairs must be finished as soon as possible, he promised himself, feeling the weight of his responsibilities press down upon him.

Laughter nearby reminded Theodore of the festivities going on around him. As he glanced around, he couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the carefree joy of the festival and the gravity of his own situation. It was a reminder of the dual aspects of his role—celebration and duty intertwined.

Stevens bid him a good day and excused himself, understanding his lord's need to return to his guests. As Theodore's gaze drifted back to the dance unfolding before him, his eyes met Agnes's across the distance. She smiled brightly at him, her expression one of pure joy and encouragement.

That smile, radiant and hopeful, bolstered him more than anything else could. More than ever, he felt the need to do whatever it would take to change his situation, to resolve the financial turmoil that threatened the stability he so desperately wanted to provide.

For the people he was responsible for, for Agnes, he must succeed.