Chapter 31

What a fool I am!

Theodore rose from his chair and walked toward the door. He had allowed his fears to speak for him, and he had said the most hurtful things to his wife. He needed to rectify his recklessness, to seek Agnes out and apologize. When he opened his study door, however, he was surprised to find his sister by it, eyes blazing in apparent displeasure.

This was likely the most displeased he had ever seen her, and she was blocking his path. "Will you let me pass?" he asked, his voice calm despite the urgency he felt.

"No, you are not going anywhere, Brother," she said as she walked further toward him, forcing him to take steps back into the study.

"I have no time for this," he responded impatiently, but he did not attempt to move past her. "What is the matter?"

"The nerve of you to ask what the matter is, Theodore," his sister responded angrily.

"You should not have said anything to my wife." He folded his arms across his chest and glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. Two hours had passed since his talk with Agnes, and he did not want to allow more time to go by without apologizing to her.

"Oh, you are now blaming us?" Harriet cried in disbelief. "How were we to know that you were yet to share the truth with your wife, Brother?"

"I am not blaming anyone, Harriet," he countered, his tone firm yet weary.

"Do you think Agnes deserves what you did to her, Theodore?"

"Of course she does not, and?—"

"Did you see how wounded she was? Yet you saw it fit to do what you did," Harriet cut him off, her voice sharp.

"I saw it fit to protect her from our ugly past, Harriet," Theodore ground out, his irritation now matching his sister's.

"For how long will we continue running away from our past?" Harriet sighed, her expression worn.

"For as long as it takes," he returned bitterly, his eyes not meeting hers.

"For as long as it takes to what exactly, Theodore? Change the events and their horrors? If only that were possible," she countered, her voice softening with a sorrowful wisdom.

Lord! She is right,he thought to himself, but he really had no choice. The past was indeed unchangeable. But it could be left alone too. He didn't need anyone digging about and reopening wounds.

"You do not understand, Harriet," he said, his voice suddenly sounding as exhausted as he felt.

"I understand that Agnes is your wife. And she has every right to know," his sister returned firmly, her stance unyielding.

"What good would it do any of us to go unearthing what has already passed, Harriet?" He asked.

"Perhaps that is precisely what you need to do for us to heal once and for all. Left to its devices, it will haunt us for the rest of our lives. You need to accept that," she argued, her.

"What if the truth sends her away?" Theo heard himself ask, only realizing his fear of losing Agnes.

Harriet was quiet for a moment before she responded, seeming to choose her words carefully, "Agnes cares about you more than you know. She deserves the truth. I am certain it wouldn't send her away." Her confidence in Agnes's character shone.

Theodore paused, considering her words. The notion of confiding in Agnes, truly sharing his burdens with her, was terrifying...

"But—" he began again, and she interjected with a firmness that brooked no argument, "Your wife is a rare woman, Brother. And if you lose her, you shan't find any other like her."

He watched his sister silently exit his study after, leaving her last words hanging heavy in the air like a solemn pronouncement. I do not wish for another, Theodore thought to himself. Agnes was more than enough, more than he had ever hoped to deserve.

A sudden realization hit him, and his heart pounded in his chest. Before he had any time to examine it, however, a knock sounded on his study door, yanking him out of his miserable thoughts. Quentin appeared in the doorway with the announcement of his solicitor.

"Send him in." Theodore walked back to his seat behind his desk as Mr. Thompson was shown in. "Stevens told me about the pause in the renovations," he stated as soon as the solicitor was in his sight.

"Yes, My Lord. I asked him to hold off on telling you because I'd been hoping to handle the problem," Mr. Thompson replied, adjusting his spectacles as he sat.

As much as he appreciated the efforts, Theodore did not like the arrangement. He felt a flicker of irritation at being kept in the dark about matters affecting his own estate.

"This is not something to be kept from me," he pointed out firmly. "The tenants have been inconvenienced long enough. We need to source these funds for the repairs," he added, his mind already turning over the possibilities and potential sacrifices required to ensure the welfare of those dependent on him.

"Indeed," Mr. Thompson agreed, a hint of relief in his tone. His posture seemed to relax, as well, piquing Theodore's interest. "As a matter of fact, the merchants from India have signed a contract for two vessels, My Lord," he announced, his voice carrying a new buoyancy.

Theodore briefly wondered if he was dreaming upon hearing such good news. It seemed almost too fortuitous given the dire straits his affairs had been in lately.

"They want to lease for one voyage, and if they are satisfied with our vessels, they wish to have you build ships for them. This shall only be the beginning of their business with us, My Lord," the solicitor elaborated, unfolding the details like a herald bearing tidings of victory.

"Why, that is excellent news!" Theodore could hardly keep the elation from his voice. At last, some light pierced the dark tunnel of his recent existence.

He quickly made arrangements with Thompson for the vessels to be readied for the journey, his mind racing through the possibilities.

"...and of course, a part of these funds from the transaction is to go toward the tenants' repairs," Theodore instructed.

"The remaining debt..." Thompson began, sounding uncertain.

"There is a significant sum left to be paid, Thompson. I cannot subject my tenants to such a wait and sacrifice their comfort. Heaven knows they have been patient enough," Theodore responded.

"I wish the creditors would be as patient," Thompson sighed.

"We have come quite far. They have to be." Theodore wanted to be optimistic, despite the challenges they faced. "We will use this new contract as proof if we have to. We are working on their funds, and hope to remit it in full as soon as business permits."

"I shall communicate this to them at once then," Thompson responded, his expression brightening a little. "Hopefully, it earns us more time."

Theodore left his study to find Agnes after his meeting, but he could not find her anywhere. "Have you seen my wife?" he asked a footman in the front hall.

"She left for the village a moment ago, My Lord," he replied with a bow.

"By herself?"

"All the ladies of the manor, My Lord, and the lady's maid."

"I see…" Theodore returned to his study, intending to apologize before dinner.

Theodore took great care dressing for dinner tonight. "It must be a special occasion, my lord," his valet, Audley, observed at his enthusiasm.

"It is," Theodore replied.

"Every day is a special occasion for a married man. Especially a newlywed one," Audley went on, and Theodore smiled.

As he slid his arms into his deep blue coat, he decided that he would share the good news of his deal with Agnes at dinner. With every second that passed, he found himself looking forward to seeing her.

Upon reviewing his appearance in the mirror, Theodore felt a surge of confidence. Romance rarely failed to placate an angry wife, or so he had been informed by Preston. Tonight, he intended to employ that very strategy.

Arriving very early in the drawing room, he hoped to find a moment to apologize to Agnes before his sisters joined—they were habitually late. He picked up three large peony blooms from the flower arrangement on the fireplace mantle, thinking they might soften her heart toward him.

He kept his gaze fixed on the door, anticipation and a trace of anxiety mingling within him. After fifteen minutes had passed with no sign of Agnes, he began to wonder if she would come down at all. It wouldn't surprise him if she didn't; she must be furious with him. Pushing aside this qualm, Theodore resolved that, if necessary, he would draw her out even if she elected for a solitary meal in her chambers instead.

Just as he was about to consider his next steps, footsteps sounded, but when he looked up, it was Quentin who appeared in the doorway. "Dinner is served, My Lord."

"Where are the ladies, Quentin?" he asked, his voice tense with concern, hoping that his efforts for reconciliation would not be in vain tonight.

"Her ladyship and the young ladies are having dinner at the Leighton residence tonight, My Lord," Quentin replied, his tone impassive.

Theodore felt his brow quirk in shock, his plan to reconcile at dinner unraveling suddenly. "They received a dinner invitation?" He heard himself blurt.

"Yes, My Lord."

"And why was I not informed of any of this?" He struggled to understand why Quentin hadn't shared the invitation with him earlier.

"Her ladyship said there was no need to disturb you, My Lord," Quentin gave a slight shrug, his demeanor suggesting this was a simple matter of fact. If Theodore did not know the man better, he would say he was supporting Agnes and punishing him.

"Not to disturb me?" Theodore echoed, his voice rising slightly in incredulity. "Since when was family dinner considered a disturbance?" he added, his disbelief growing with each passing moment. You said she was not family earlier, his mind's voice reminded him, but he squelched it.

Quentin did not respond to this; instead, he maintained his impassive demeanor. "Shall we serve your dinner now, My Lord?"

For some strange reason, this question only sent Theodore's irritation soaring. To dine alone tonight, while his wife and sisters were elsewhere, seemed an unwelcome prospect.

"You shall not," Theodore responded curtly as he headed for the door, his mind made up.

He had a horse readied for him outside and swiftly mounted it. Riding out into the woods, he allowed the cool evening breeze to wash over him, hoping it would soothe his racing mind and calm his frayed nerves.