Chapter 12 #3
‘Why did they consider me so great a threat? All they had were rumours, and the few moments your sister saw me in your keep. Surely that was not enough for them to judge me. Olly, were you told anything else?’
‘Nothing.’
‘They knew of the incident at your father’s funeral,’ Agnes added.
Ash frowned. ‘Of course. I had just assumed that rumour spread fast, but … it is unusual for a family across the border to hear of such an event. How did you come to know?’
‘I had been told by a friend of Nicholas. That is not surprising, seeing as many knew I was seeking a husband. But I am unsure how my family were told. I had assumed it was just salacious gossip spreading fast, but …’
‘But?’
‘But now I am unsure. Someone must have told them – and told them enough for them to see you as a true concern.’
‘Someone wishing to cause trouble?’ Oliver asked candidly.
‘Perhaps. Or—’ Agnes’s throat tightened. ‘Or to ruin the match entirely and ensure we did not wed.’
She looked up. Oliver looked thoughtful, but Ash’s face too was stuck in a mask of fear.
‘I think I may know—’
‘That bastard might have—’
They spoke over each other. Oliver watched them, his eyes darting between them as they stared at each other.
‘Who?’
‘What do you know?’
Agnes straightened her back. ‘Do you remember me telling you of Francis? I would not be shocked to learn that he is this … family friend.’
She could not help the bitterness that crept into her voice. Ash raised his eyebrows.
‘Do you believe he could do such a thing?’
Agnes couldn’t keep his eye. She was flung, suddenly and horribly, back to her youth. The rolling, verdant land that cradled her father’s keep. The discovery. The smell of grass. Her father shouting, after.
She said nothing, staring at the fire. She nodded, just once.
‘I do not think that they would kill Ash just to secure a union with another man,’ Oliver said, breaking the silence.
‘They may have been able to justify the union with my death, though,’ Ash responded. ‘Abused and manipulated by a cruel man and reeling from his death, Agnes could have returned to the comfort of her family and the willing arms of a man who wants her as a wife.’
‘I refuse to marry him,’ Agnes spat. ‘I will not be forced to.’ She swallowed back the rest – the more forceful words threatening to spill out. ‘What of your suspicions?’ she said instead, driving the focus of the conversation onto him. ‘Who is this bastard you mentioned?’
Ash looked contrite. ‘My uncle,’ he said. ‘Hugh. You know already some of my dealings with him. Hugh is a spiteful old husk. He may be spreading rumour just to tarnish my name, encourage people to refuse me.’
‘You think he could have gotten word to my family?’
Ash shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to think. Christ— I hate these politics. I should have been born a farmer.’
‘You’d be a terrible farmer,’ Oliver put in. ‘You hate animals.’
‘I like dogs.’
‘You cannot farm dogs.’
‘Fine, then, a … a—’
‘Yes?’
Ash scowled at him. Agnes watched them both, wondering if they were always like this.
A day ago Oliver had been a prisoner, destined for the noose.
Now he was a member of the household, a fixture at Ash’s side.
No wonder his mood was so jovial, if his own heartbreak had matched that which she had seen in Ash.
‘Regardless.’ Ash shot a sour look towards Oliver, who winked at him, before turning back to Agnes. ‘We must decide what we will do next. I suppose we must deal with the matter of the attempted murder first.’
The lightness in Agnes’s chest was extinguished as quickly as it had flourished.
She could not believe that her family would choose such a dreadful thing alone.
The more she thought about it, the surer she was that Francis was involved in some way.
He had already been pouring sweet promises into Muriel’s ear: why not her parents too?
He could have convinced them that murder was the only way to save her.
What if they were still convinced of it? Especially if Ash’s uncle – a man they would trust – was the one telling them such lies?
‘What if another attempt is made?’ she said.
‘Do you think they would do that?’ Oliver asked, concerned.
‘I did not believe they would do it once,’ Agnes said.
‘But they have. Or at least, someone has, and if it was Francis driving the force of the blow, then … yes. I do believe he would make another attempt, if he felt it justified. And,’ Agnes said, now unable to dam back the tide of her own anxieties, ‘they could still attempt to scupper the marriage. They could seek an annulment by claiming that my vows were made under duress, or that you are too mad to truly consent.’
Ash slumped back into the chair. ‘Fuck. So what do we do?’
‘If we cannot be protected by laws they have already tried to break, we must find something better to shield us.’
‘Such as?’
Agnes thought. Nobody – herself included – expected her to marry for love.
She would marry for land, and wealth, and protection, like all women of her status did.
They would want her to be fond of her husband, and they wanted him to be kind in turn, but love?
It was almost unthinkable. It was why, she assumed, Muriel was so keen for her to wed Francis.
‘We could convince them it is a love match. Make my family believe that we are truly in love. No coercion, no manipulation. It would be easy for them to attempt to ruin a pragmatic match, but one of love? I think that would be harder for them.’
‘Would that work?’ Oliver spoke for the first time in a long while. ‘An attempt to win over their hearts rather than their reason?’
‘We can only hope so. Father is more practical, but I think the idea could win Mother over. And Muriel is terribly romantic; perhaps the notion would encourage her to drop the idea of Francis altogether. And …’ She caught Ash’s eye. ‘We could marry now.’
Ash froze. ‘What?’
‘We have already decided on it,’ Agnes said. ‘Waiting longer may force those who are against the match into action. But if we wed now – or as soon as we may – then there will be at least some protection for us, and it will make it seem even more as if we are desperately in love.’
Ash began to nod slowly. ‘We could have the first banns read today and be married within the week.’
‘Can it be arranged so quickly?’
‘If I can speak to the priest, I can see no reason why it should not,’ Ash said. ‘So long as the banns are read and time is given to contest—’
‘But not too much time,’ Agnes added. ‘Just in case.’
Ash grinned. ‘But not too much time,’ he agreed. ‘Yes, I see no reason why they should not accept. Father was popular with the priest in Skeldale, and we may be able to tug at his good nature a little.’
‘Tell him of the attack,’ Agnes said, nodding along as the plan grew more solid. ‘Desperate to wed, left reeling from the attempt on your life …’
‘… we wish to hurry the union lest any other bad fortune befall us,’ Ash finished. ‘It could work.’
‘I will write to my sister and parents,’ Agnes said.
‘I will inform them that we have arrived safely and tell them of an unfortunate incident on the road. I can say that the horror of it has convinced us both to act quickly and wed as soon as we can. It will be a great shame that they could not be present, but I can then invite them to the keep to celebrate. Let them arrive after we are married, so they cannot interfere, and we have a better chance to show them who you really are.’
‘And let them see you both being sickeningly in love, of course,’ Oliver added casually.
Agnes swallowed. Ash had not, she realised, agreed to that idea.
‘Only if you think it is wise, Ash,’ she said. ‘Only if you agree to it. I understand that it may be …’ Her eyes darted to Oliver. He quickly looked away. ‘Difficult.’
Ash looked pained when he spoke. ‘It is … it is a good idea. And the only idea we have. I agree with you: a marriage alone will not be enough to stop whoever arranged the attack if they feel justified in a second attempt.’
He looked so unsure. Agnes felt a knot of grief in her chest. Was pretending to love her as awful as that? Or was it merely being forced to play-act when the true subject of one’s desires was so close?
‘And the matter remains of whether you wish for us to invite my family to Dunlyn,’ she added. ‘You would be well within your rights to refuse, considering all that has happened.’
‘They are your family,’ Ash said, looking serious. ‘If you wish for us to invite them here, then I will stand by that decision. Just as I would stand by you if you refused to see them again. This is your choice.’
Agnes stared at him.
‘I …’ She took a breath. ‘Thank you, Ash. It is not as if I hate them, they just … complicate matters. They do not— They refuse to—’
‘They do not understand?’
Agnes’s head snapped around. Oliver had spoken quietly, but his words had struck her regardless.
‘Exactly that,’ she said. ‘I love them. But they do not understand me, or my choices. I want to allow them one more chance.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘But just one.’
‘Then we can give them that chance,’ Ash said. He turned, then, back to Oliver. ‘You were hired by someone else? A middleman?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Did he tell them anything about you?’
‘As far as I’m aware they do not even know my name,’ Oliver said. ‘I think John had intended to deal with the finer details after the deed was done.’
‘That is something, at least,’ Agnes mused. ‘It means we will not need to hide you away lest they realise the man they hired to kill Ash is now’ – blood rushed to her cheeks; she was deeply aware that Oliver was staring at her with a small smile – ‘is now a part of the household,’ she finished.
Oliver’s smile widened. He had clearly noticed her blush. ‘An apt way of putting it.’
Agnes chuckled despite herself. ‘Quite,’ she said. ‘God … but I cannot spend all day here talking. There is so much to do.’
Ash groaned. ‘There is,’ he said, looking enormously unhappy. ‘I will ride into town. It may make things easier if I meet the priest in person. I will speak to Hamond, too – he owns the tavern. I can ask him to watch for Pepper and direct him here.’
‘Pepper?’ Agnes did not know that name.
‘He is a friend of mine,’ Oliver explained. ‘He knew what I had been hired to do and will be worried if he does not hear from me, especially once word spreads that Ash is alive. Ash has suggested that I invite him here.’
‘I must also inform the steward that you will be staying,’ Ash added, looking at Oliver. ‘After the circumstances you arrived in, I need to make sure everyone is aware you are a guest, not a prisoner.’
‘Will the staff tolerate that?’
‘I … I suppose they must do as I say.’ Ash groaned. ‘I do not relish these conversations. They must think I am mad …’
‘What will you tell them?’
‘I intend to work that out as I go.’ Ash sighed. ‘The truth, as much of the truth as I can tell them. They all knew Lord Cop— They all knew of your father. They will have to tolerate his son – of that much I am sure.’
‘And if they refuse?’
‘Then … then we shall see.’
‘You are the earl of these lands,’ Agnes said.
Ash gave her a look. It was not sharp, or angry. He looked sad. Resigned.
‘Indeed I am,’ he said, voice low. ‘As much good as that does me.’