Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
It was a different feeling to hold on to hope. Growing up, Agnes had only felt fear and a drive for survival. With Edith and Richard, she had felt comfort, but Harry offered her something else, the belief that her life could become even more beautiful.
Harry would arrive this afternoon, and they would ride to Skelton together to find Oscar. If they could get the copy of the will that Richard spoke of, then all of her fears could end today.
Agnes stood outside of the mahogany door to Richard’s study and wrestled with her indecision.
The day she found the letter had been the last time she was in the room.
It still felt like Richard’s private space, even more so knowing what was hidden behind the walls.
He hadn’t been willing to share that part of his life with her while he was alive, but maybe his letter meant that he would be willing to share it now.
She pushed the door open and crept across the room to the bookshelf. Remembering the distinctive face on the spine, she pulled out the shelf again and inserted the key that now permanently remained in her pocket.
She approached the work station that held the printing equipment with tentative steps.
Paper was stacked high in several trays and pages that had been printed on were piled on the table.
She recognized some of Richard’s poetry on the pages, poems he had read to her in the drawing room with Oscar by his side.
There were also works by other poets, along with essays, short stories, and illustrations.
Her gaze fell on one of the prints, and she let out a soft gasp as she made sense of what she saw. It was a romantic image depicting the embrace of two mostly nude men. The caption read Hadrian and Antinous.
Rows of identical bound books were arranged on the shelves below the table.
Each had a gray cover with the embossed profile of the man she now recognized from both the illustration and the key.
Unlike the book that unlocked the secret door, these books had titles embossed down their spine.
With a delicate hand, she pulled Journal of the Antinous Society, March 1894 from the shelf and opened the cover.
There was a dedication on the first page.
To our readers,
May the light shine in our community until we can be seen in the light of society.
—R&O
She saw more writings like the ones unbound on the table as she flipped through the pages.
Skimming the words, she discovered most of them were about life, about nature, grief, and family.
And then there were those about love. Love between men—platonic, romantic, and sensual.
They celebrated love, lamented love, and reflected on lost love.
The other journals on the shelf showed dates going back at least fifteen years with a few publications each year. Richard, likely with help from Oscar, had been publishing these journals long before she had married him.
This explained the young men who often came for quick appointments in Richard’s study.
It was a large operation that had to be concealed behind closed doors and within secret rooms. Some of the artistic work was explicit, too dangerous to send through the post. There was also the matter of distribution, which must have required careful planning.
They had put forth such great efforts to make others feel seen when being unseen was paramount to their safety.
Agnes sat down on the floor, in the same place where she had crumbled just a few days ago, but this time with curiosity. A thread of forgiveness wound around her heart. The key to understanding Richard and his decision to keep this all secret from her might be within these journals.
Forgetting about luncheon, Agnes spent hours reading the publications, beginning with the most recent.
She read accounts about lovers who had been persecuted for what they shared, about the codes men used to signal their interest. The most recent editions included more images of men entangled, expressing their love with the deepest passion.
Richard’s skill in lithography and print making had developed over the years.
While her husband had loved her, she now understood the fear that had also occupied his heart, next to his love for Oscar.
Together, she and Richard had sought shelter in the peace they had made in their home.
They fostered a companionship that quieted the constant worry from which they suffered, but that sanctuary had been more precarious than she realized.
Discovery of the Antinous Journals or the true relationship between Oscar and Richard by just one deceptive person could have brought scandal, persecution, and potentially death.
No wonder they protected their secret so adamantly.
And now everything they had made stood to be destroyed by one suspicious will.
Not only would her apothecary be lost, but this room, too, would be sold away.
There would be no way for Agnes to remove all of its contents with Skelton’s men watching her home.
Aching knees and dizziness told her that several hours had passed since she’d begun reading.
Harry would be here any minute. She stood, brushing off the dust that had collected on her skirts and walked out, closing the entryway to the hidden space behind her.
Kitty startled in the foyer when Agnes stepped out of the study.
“Oh, we’ve been looking all over for you, my lady. Is everything all right?”
Agnes nodded, giving her maid an apologetic smile. “Yes, Kitty. Nothing is amiss. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Is there a reason you were looking for me?”
“Mr. Evans has arrived.” Kitty was trying hard—but failing—to hide her smile.
The servants were noticing Harry’s frequent visits, but they were duty-bound to feign ignorance.
Ward, though, did not feign anything. But Agnes trusted them all.
She suspected that they had noticed Richard’s attentions toward Oscar over the years, not to mention the abundance of male callers, but no rumors had escaped.
“Thank you. Where is he?”
“He’s waiting in the apothecary, my lady. He asked to wait there, and I didn’t think you would mind.” She didn’t. The apothecary was where she felt most like herself. To have him there among her work made it seem as if he belonged to her as well.
“Kitty, please bring up a tea tray. Oh, and don’t forget the sweets, please.”
“Don’t worry, my lady. We know all about his sweet tooth in the kitchen. He will be hosted well.”
Her heartbeat grew quicker as she walked up the steps toward the man awaiting her.
Although their meetings had grown too frequent for propriety’s sake, each time brought forth a new promise.
This was the official beginning of their courtship.
A private one, of course, but in a way that seemed more intimate, more honest.
As she approached, Agnes wondered if she should have stopped to tidy her appearance first. The dust still clung to her skin, and her black woolen dress was smudged with a cloud of white.
It was too late now, as he had surely heard her coming up the stairs.
She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and pinched her cheeks to give herself a rosy hue.
Harry waited for Agnes in the apothecary. He had asked Kitty to allow him to wait here, optimistic they would find more privacy.
But he also had wanted to be in a place that was just so . . . Agnes. Her presence was immortalized here. Even if this house was sold, this attic would always hold her ghost.
When she opened the door, he stood. A flurry of feelings sent his mind into disarray. Agnes had always been beautiful to him, but now that she might agree to be his forever, her beauty reached new heights.
His thoughts were almost completely occupied by her now. She was taking over his life bit by bit, and it didn’t scare him. Instead of distracting him, he found that he was more focused than before. She gave him direction. Did he really need to be his own man, when he could be hers?
Agnes blushed. She must feel it too. Now that all the cards had been laid on the table, their intentions spoken aloud, this meeting wasn’t just about the inheritance.
They were testing each other, seeing if they fit together the way he hoped they would.
Still, he smiled. He was meant to be the nervous one.
“Hello, Agnes.” He wanted to run to her and reignite the passion they had cut short yesterday, but he wouldn’t be a brute. Despite his years of yearning, this was a new courtship. He couldn’t push her too quickly, even if she wasn’t a young maiden.
He had met her as someone else’s wife, and his obsession with her had been one of the most impractical aspects of his adult life.
Even though it was absurd to be jealous of a dead man, especially one who had been in love with another, he couldn’t help it.
What if he had met her before she had married the baron?
There was no guarantee that she would have even noticed him, but with Agnes, he would always wish for more time.
The precise words that had been written in the late Lord Skelton’s letter to her evaded him.
He had been so focused on the details about the inheritance, he hadn’t memorized the more personal message written to Agnes.
He did remember that Lord Skelton signed the letter as her friend.
It was none of his business, but he contemplated the exact nature of the relationship she had shared with her late husband.
“Hello, Harry.” Her luscious voice stopped his thoughts dead, yet resurrected every feeling in his body. “Are you ready to go?”
He was slightly disappointed she didn't wish to linger in the privacy of the attic, but her impatience was reasonable. This trip to meet Oscar could change everything for her. He would try his damnedest to ensure her life would become one that made her happy. No, that wasn’t enough.
It had to be a life that she loved. She deserved that. She deserved it all.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
“Then we will go there and find Oscar,” she said, without a second of hesitation.
“I’m all yours.” And he meant it. If they were able to locate the will Richard insisted had been written and signed, she would be able to keep her home, the apothecary, the gardens. He just hoped she would keep him, too, even if she didn’t need him.