Chapter Fifteen
Agatha woke up to the sound of voices downstairs.
She had a headache. She had drunk rather a lot of champagne last night, but it had been fun, and it had felt as if she and Donal truly were engaged.
She had been happy, genuinely happy, the feeling bubbling about inside her like the champagne bubbles in her glass.
It was a long time since she had been that happy. Or felt that anything was possible, and the world was suddenly a much brighter place.
Climbing out of bed, she rang for the maid, who informed her that the Countess of Strathmore was here to see her, so she quickly washed and dressed and had her hair brushed and pinned up.
When Agatha arrived in the drawing room, she found the countess seated on the ugly, tapestry-covered sofa with a cup of tea and a macaroon.
“My dear,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I had to come when Donal told me about your engagement. Your father assures me it was agreed to by both parties, and he obviously believes it to be genuine, but I must admit I am a little concerned.”
Agatha sighed inwardly. She knew what was coming. “There is no need to be concerned,” she said as she sat down beside the older woman.
The countess carried on as if she hadn’t heard her.
“Donal’s parents have entrusted him into my care.
They were rightfully dubious after what happened with Callum and Rory, but I insisted I would not allow their youngest boy to come to any harm.
Can I assure them that is still the case?
I am not at all sure. Is he still hoping to win back Mary Davidson?
Last night he was celebrating his engagement to you as if it were real.
And as for you, your plan to have Sir Richard return to your side seems to have been tossed aside for this new scheme of a pretend engagement.
An engagement that your father believes is real.
I am sure you can see why I am anxious for my nephew, Miss Kilsyth. ”
Reminded of what had happened with Donal’s two older brothers, Agatha felt a wave of sympathy for the countess. Had the duke or duchess blamed her? She rather thought the MacKenzie sons were too headstrong to listen to good advice, even from their Aunt Jennie.
“I am sorry if you are anxious, Countess. My father is happy with my engagement with Donal because he wants it to be real. I haven’t told him the truth. I will though. I promise I will.”
“The truth being?”
“That this is just a continuation of what Donal and I were doing before,” she continued earnestly. “I truly believe that if Mary is convinced Donal will be lost to her forever, she will finally come to her senses.”
“But not Richard? Donal said Richard offered for you, and you refused him.”
“Yes. He did offer for me, but I know he does not love me. Not in the way I want, and I can’t imagine marrying someone who does not love me.
I was heartbroken when he came to London, but I have grown to accept that he prefers Miss Elliot.
We will never be husband and wife. So, no, I will never marry Richard, but I can still help Donal. ”
Jennie considered her words and then sighed.
“To be frank, I always found Mary a very silly girl. Pretty, in fact one could call her beautiful, but for her head to be so easily turned . . . Even if she returned with Donal, he would need to watch her like a hawk in case she ran off again. I can’t help but think that would be a horrible burden for a husband. ”
Agatha agreed. “And yet he loves her,” she said a little dolefully, “and if I can help him to win her back, then I should.”
“And what if she doesn’t want Donal?” Jennie said. “Will you carry on with your engagement to my nephew? That seems to be your father’s wish. Will you marry Donal?”
Agatha blinked. She had not allowed herself to think about what would happen if their engagement turned into marriage.
There was a reason for that. She suspected she wanted the engagement between her and Donal to be real.
She wanted it with all of her heart. But how could she say that aloud to Donal’s aunt when she was convinced Donal was going to return in triumph to Bonnyrigg with his Mary?
But perhaps the countess suspected Agatha was hiding her true feelings. “Well,” she said reaching out to pat Agatha’s hand, “I suppose we must cross that bridge when we come to it. And it may turn out as you say.”
Agatha did not answer because of the lump in her throat.
The countess became brisk. “Your father tells me that he will be seeing to the necessary paperwork to seal your forthcoming marriage to Donal. He wants everything locked up tight.” Jennie gave her a meaningful look.
“If you and Donal really don’t want to be married, then you need to tell your father the truth before it is too late. ”
Agatha had not realized that was happening. She knew her father had been very happy about her engagement, and she hadn’t wanted to spoil it for him. She had thought that, with time, she could reveal the truth to him, if she had thought about it at all.
“You should talk to your father,” the countess said again. “I think there is more to his joy over your engagement than he has admitted. You need to ask him some hard questions, Agatha.”
Agatha did not know what to say to that, but she was remembering a couple of instances when her father had seemed to act oddly.
Now her visitor was rising to her feet and moving to the door, and Agatha hurried after her.
“What do you mean? He worries about me, that is all. He was sorry when Richard left us, and now—”
But she stopped when the countess took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Talk to him, my dear,” she said quietly.
Agatha stood in the hall after she had gone, wondering what she meant and worried it was something awful. Then she went searching for her father and found him in the library, reading his newspaper and smoking one of his horrid cigars.
He looked up at her with an easy smile. “Agatha! Did the countess wish you well?” he said, but there was something in his eyes that made her think the smile was a facade.
Why had she not realized before that he was keeping secrets from her?
They had always been close, but lately, with everything that had happened with Richard and Donal, Agatha had let her grasp on matters slip.
“She did wish me well. Father, she said you were having papers drawn up in preparation for our wedding. Is that true? I tried to tell you that our engagement was going to be a long one and there was no hurry for the wedding.” She sat down then, because the look on his face was distressing.
“What else did she tell you?” he asked quietly. “I thought I had hidden it well, but Jennie has a way of ferreting out the truth.”
“She didn’t tell me anything, Father. She just said I should talk to you.”
He nodded and folded his paper clumsily and set it down. He left his cigar in the ashtray and watched as the bright spark went out.
“You would tell me if there was something wrong?” Agatha went on, struggling with the fear that what her father was not telling her was that he was ill. She had lost her mother. Surely she wasn’t about to lose her father too?
His face cleared, and he reached out to pat her hand. “No, no, my dear, it is nothing like that. I assure you I am hale and hearty. Unlike your poor mother before she left us.”
Agatha was so relieved she almost burst into tears. She gathered herself and sought something to say that was less fraught. “Mrs. Robinson seems agreeable.”
“She is,” her father agreed. “I’m glad you like her. We are both lonely, and it is nice to have someone with whom to share the happy moments.”
There was a silence, and Agatha was about to ask him again what was wrong when suddenly her father launched into speech.
“I spent a great deal of money when your mother was ill,” he said.
“There were the doctors and the men who called themselves doctors, all with their hands out. There was the trip to Geneva to the private villa where I had been told the mountain air worked miracles. It didn’t seem to matter at the time how much money I spent, because keeping her was all that was important to me.
But now I can see I was not thinking clearly. I was not thinking of the future.”
Agatha remembered those days, their firm belief that there must be something they could do to save her mother, if only they could discover what it was.
It had been a way of pushing back the fear of losing her, and Agatha had readily agreed with every decision her father had made, never thinking of what it might mean for their lives after her mother was gone.
“It is a money matter that is worrying you then?” she said quietly.
He seemed to slump and nodded wearily. “I have scrimped and saved as much as I can, but there have been expenses. The animals in the sanctuary eat up money faster than I can count it. I took out loans on the house and property, and now with leasing this house here in London, with everything that entails. I wanted you to win Richard back just as much as you did. But you have needed new dresses . . .” He looked up sharply.
“Not that I would stop you buying them! You deserve to enjoy yourself, and I had hoped that Richard would see sense. I knew he would look after you in a way I fear I no longer can. When I get home, Agatha, I think the bailiffs will be knocking on our door. After the promises I made to your mother . . . I feel sick with worry.”
“Oh Father!” she cried. “You should have told me. I could have . . .” But what she could have done was beyond her.
Although she had run their house and dealt with the sanctuary, her father had always paid the bills and provided money at her request. She had never delved into their financial situation—it had not occurred to her that she needed to.
He had kept the truth from her too well.
“This is why I am so happy you are engaged to Lord Donal,” her father went on, smiling at her in a pained way. “He is rich, he is a duke’s son, and he will look after you far better than I can.”
“No, Father, that’s not true.”
But he shook his head. “It is true. I want you to be happy, and I believe Donal will make you happy. You should see your faces when you are together, my dear. No one could doubt how much you both care. And last night, it was obvious to me that you were in love.”
Agatha tried to find something to say that would not destroy his hopes but there was nothing.
Her father was pinning everything on her engagement to Donal, and if she told him it was all a game she did not know what he would do.
He had only recently come out of the melancholy he had fallen into when her mother died.
What if he sank back into it? What if this time it was worse?
“Remember there is a ball tonight,” he continued on, still forcing that smile. “I hope the announcement of your engagement will clear the air, but I fear there will still be wagging tongues. Don’t worry, Miriam and I will be there to lend our support.”
“Thank you, Father. And please, don’t worry about the bailiffs. We will think of something.” She thought of her mother’s beloved donkeys and the sanctuary she had built to keep them safe. Agatha refused to give that up, whatever she had to do to save it.
Her father’s expression was kind, as if he knew himself to be far wiser than she in the ways of the world. “At least you will be safe,” was all he said.
Agatha could not think of anything more to say, and she left him to his newspaper. The weight of her father’s admissions was heavy indeed. Should she tell Donal?
It wasn’t as if their engagement was real, so she was not lying to him to gain the advantage of a marriage to a wealthy man. And she reminded herself that after tonight the engagement might be off anyway, and Donal and Mary could be a couple.
Agatha tried not to feel depressed, but it was difficult to smile when one wanted to weep.