Chapter 18 #2
Agnes had thought that the steward was being polite by giving her space, suspecting that Richard had told him of her history.
Sometimes she noticed lingering looks passed between them, as if they had developed their own form of silent communication over the years.
She had assumed that was common among men.
But now with these declarations of love in her hand, Agnes realized she had missed the most obvious.
Richard had always told her he loved her, but he often apologized for not loving her as a husband should love his wife.
She had placed the blame on herself, or on the nature of their arrangement, but now the meaning behind his apologies became clear.
She lifted herself from the floor and wandered toward the printing equipment.
This must have been what had filled Richard’s time as the hours slipped by in her attic.
Each piece of equipment looked so specialized, so intimidating.
She lifted the lid of a flat metal tray.
It was filled with a gel-like substance.
This wasn’t mere amusement for him. There was a purpose to this. She imagined him working each day to perfect his printing craft. Agnes’s gaze returned to the bed in the corner, wondering if Oscar had sat with him while he worked. Richard had a whole life here, and she had never even suspected it.
On the work table, she saw the note. “To my sweet Agnes” was written across the front in the same handwriting. She unfolded it. Her hands trembled and her teeth pulled at the skin of her bottom lip.
Dear Agnes,
You were always a curious woman, and I write that as a compliment despite what society might believe.
I am not surprised you have found this hidden place.
Or, perhaps, Oscar has finally brought you here.
I told him to take the time he needed to grieve my departure, but that when he was ready, he should explain everything. In case he hasn’t, I will.
Oscar is the love of my life and has been since long before I met you. We made a life together within these four walls. It pained us both that we could not share that life beyond this room without consequence, but even so, we were happy.
But I do not regret bringing you into my life. I could never have dreamed for a better wife to share my home with. Where Oscar makes my heart soar, you make my soul at peace. You are a brilliant woman, and your inner serenity brought immense joy to my final years.
I am, however, deeply remorseful over the fact that I occupied significant years of your life in my selfish need for not just a companion, but protection.
I needed a partner that could join me in the public eye, and in return, allow me to keep the ones I love safe.
Perhaps it was for the best that I was an old man while you were in your youth. Because now you are free, Agnes.
This home will always be yours, as you’re the one who made it. My latest will bequeaths all of this to you. The witnesses, Oscar and Charles, have original documents, and I have given mine to be kept by Mr. Evans.
Seeing the life you created in York fills my dying heart with intense pride. You will use your apothecary and the funds I have left to make this city a better place, improving the lives of all that you encounter. I am certain.
But more than anything, I hope that you will be able to create a new life, Agnes. Not just an echo of the one we had together. One with more adventure, more blissful moments, and more love.
It’s time to discover who you are.
Your eternal friend,
Richard
Tears fell down Agnes’s cheeks. A drop soaked onto the letter, making the ink crawl through the parchment as she dried her face with the back of her hand.
She cried because Richard had kept a secret so paramount from her.
Did he not trust her? He should have known that she would have loved him regardless.
His friendship had meant—still meant—almost everything to her.
Agnes knew love was love, even if it had to be hidden from society.
Richard should have expected more from her.
But she also cried because she felt like a fool to not have realized it herself. She had known of men who loved men. Edith had spoken openly of such relationships and had several lovers until her death, both men and women.
How had Agnes never realized Richard had similar affections?
Besides the long looks and late visits into the night, she should have noticed the way that Oscar brightened when Richard greeted him in the parlor.
She remembered the way Richard would hold Oscar’s shoulder as his fingers trailed down to his forearms. How daft she had been to not recognize it for what it was.
And she cried for herself. Richard had intended for her to be safe and protected, yet he had failed.
He was fanciful if he assumed that Charles would protect her, a widow, when he could have the property and funds for himself.
It had been irresponsible for Richard to leave her promised inheritance in the hands of another man.
That had never been part of their agreement.
She reread the letter, trying to make sense of the words. My latest will bequeaths all of this to you. I have given mine to be kept by Mr. Evans. This letter was proof that the will Richard had written gave her the townhouse and accounts she had been promised. Betrayal choked her.
And the betrayal lay in the hands of Harry. Charles would lie, Oscar had gone missing since Richard’s death, but Harry . . . what had he done? Was he the man that Ida had warned her not to trust?
She didn’t want to believe it, but she held the evidence in her hand. Richard had been her husband for six years. Harry was just the man she had kissed mere weeks after really meeting him.
Always hesitant to allow others into her life, Agnes should have been more careful. All it took was a few conversations over tea and chocolates to leave herself defenseless. It was logical that Harry’s allegiances would be to his current employer, not the lonely widow who had nothing to offer.
Memories flashed of Harry’s silence while she sought comfort in him.
Of his face in the corner of her apothecary while he watched patrons pick up their remedies.
Of the way his arm was steady under hers as they walked the countryside.
It had been her first moment of lightness under the deep shroud of grief.
And the whole time, he had been keeping a secret. Why? What did he gain from this?
There was not enough lemon balm in the world to calm her nerves right now. The loneliness encircled her, a misery brought on by no longer knowing who to trust or what she wished for.
She crumpled in the middle of the room, bringing her knees to her chest, and cried. Bram sat next to her, curling his body around her hip.
She was alone. She had lost everything. The companionship, the peace, the protection. All gone with a secret hidden in the walls.