Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Four days had passed and Agnes had made no progress.
Suspicious men stood daily on the doorstep making veiled threats to Ward.
They camped out on the street as she looked out her drawing room window, returning her gaze from each corner.
Charles was trying to unsettle her, prepare her to flee her home.
Dread closed in around her, and she felt her sanctuary crumble away to the point of no repair.
The only bright spot in the gloom that had taken hold of her life was Harry. The passion he riled was exciting, but he also inspired a calmness deeper than she had ever experienced. His presence reassured her when facing an uncertain future.
She imagined waking up next to him, morning conversations over breakfast, sitting together while she pursued her apothecary work and he observed his moths.
Yet for the first time in her life, Agnes didn’t just want the mundane.
She didn’t want each day to look like the last. With Harry, she wanted adventures, and hopefully, children, one of the biggest adventures of all.
She had no idea where life would take them right now, but in her mind, every possibility included him. It kept her afloat.
“Ward!” She usually summoned him with the bellpull, but she was made impatient by a sudden idea. If she could catch the next train to London, she’d be at Harry’s office before he left for the afternoon.
The train journey took roughly five hours and Agnes slept for most of it.
Sleep was still evading her at the Bootham townhouse as she stayed up late each night in her attempts to reconnect with the spirit.
Some nights she would find herself asleep on the bench at the foot of Richard’s bed.
The nights where she made it back to her own bedchamber, she would toss and turn.
Every time she drifted deeper into sleep, the sound of the door opening or Bram’s bell would stir her. But it always just her imagination.
Eventually the train pulled into King’s Cross, and she wiped the sleep from her eyes.
Her legs felt heavy as she stepped onto the platform, but being so close to Harry energized her.
She found a waiting hack and gave the driver the direction to Harry’s office.
While he readied the horses, Agnes heard the driver of another cart tell an older woman that he had no space.
“Excuse me,” she addressed her driver. “Can you see if that woman there would like to join me? She mustn’t wait. I can share.”
The woman was helped into the hack, and Agnes slid over to give her room on the bench.
“Hello, dear,” the woman greeted her with a noticeable Scottish brogue. She gave the driver her own address. Agnes recognized it instantly. “Columba of Sens’ Children’s Home,” Agnes said, finishing the woman’s directions to the driver.
As the driver set off, the old woman turned to Agnes and studied her face. “You’re that lass Edith took in, aren’t you? Well, you’re no bairn now. You’re fully grown.”
The mention of Edith’s name, by someone who had known her, made Agnes realize how much she missed her old friend and mentor. The sudden stab of pain caused Agnes to bring her hand to her chest to try to dull the ache.
“Yes. I am.”
“Oh, goodness.” The woman took both of Agnes’s hands and brought them to her lap.
“How are you? I was so sad to hear of Edith’s passing, but I was visiting my ma in the Highlands and couldn’t make it down for her funeral on such short notice.
Please tell me you are well. I know that’s all Edith would want. ”
Without hesitation, Agnes said, “Yes. I’m quite well.
” The words, and the ease in which they fell from her mouth surprised her.
She had been living in fear of losing her home, her work, her funds.
Richard had passed away no more than two months ago.
But the promise of her courtship with Harry made her feel . . . fine.
More than fine, actually. Content. Optimistic.
A part of her still wished for a magical solution that would help her keep the Bootham house and her apothecary just as it was, with the addition of Harry there beside her.
But now, she realized, even if she had to rebuild her life, Harry being part of it would be enough for her.
At some point, she had fallen in love with him.
The woman squeezed her hand and jumped into complaints about London.
As far as she was concerned, it didn’t hold a candle to Edinburgh, her husband’s birthplace and where they had made a life together.
“I had never imagined living anywhere but the Highlands, but love took me other places. I hated leaving Edinburgh when John died. It’s hard to give up on a life you built, even if it might not have been exactly what you imagined for yourself. ”
They reached the orphanage first, and the woman bussed Agnes’s cheek before allowing the driver to help her down.
“Next time I speak with Edith—she’s a frequent visitor to my dreams—I will let her know you are doing well.
But I’m sure she is already aware.” The woman must have been a closer friend of Edith than Agnes had realized.
“Stay wicked, lassie,” the old woman said, giving her a wink before turning and walking to the gate.
She had not given Agnes her name despite having conversed the entire journey.
As the hack continued down the street, Agnes looked out the back window to find the statue of the woman with the she-bear.
The saint had marked the beginning of her new life.
It had only been four days since Harry last saw Agnes, and each passing hour felt like five.
Every report, every meeting kept him from where he really wanted to be.
Her face formed in the darkness every time he closed his eyes.
While his sensations were ablaze, he felt more settled than he had in a long time. A future with her was within reach.
They were no closer to proving the will had been forged. There had been no new evidence suggesting that another had existed. Oscar’s copy of the will was irretrievable, and Agnes refused to ask Oscar to go up against Skelton and risk exposing the nature of his relationship with Richard.
It was maddening to see injustice reign with no way to stop it. It was a mess he couldn’t ignore, especially since his own heart was wrapped up in it.
Instead of running back to York, he needed to focus on his work and earn the funds for Agnes to rebuild the life that Skelton would take from her.
It wasn’t a purpose, but it was a start.
And it was the only helpful thing he could do at the moment.
In the next ten months, he would build a business for himself—for both of them.
There was no more room for cold feet or indecision.
She needed help, and he needed to be worthy of her hand.
He was about to call Parker to discuss relocating to York when Lord Skelton barreled into his office. Parker trailed behind him, out of breath. Harry would have expected the baron to be angry after their last meeting, but he seemed calm, eerily so.
“Harry. Just the man I’m looking for.”
The muscles behind Harry’s eyes twitched, but he stopped them from rolling. Why this man was surprised to find Harry in his own office was beyond his comprehension.
“Lord Skelton. Please sit down.” Skelton remained standing, stepping up to Harry’s desk.
“I came to visit last week, but you were out of office. Your secretary mentioned you were in the country?”
“Yes, I’ve been in the country,” Harry said slowly, trying to buy time to figure out what to say to Skelton. He couldn’t tell the man to go to hell, just yet. He might never be able to if Skelton held all the cards.
“Which part of the country, Mr. Evans?” Skelton’s eyes narrowed. He towered over Harry’s desk, administering a silent threat.
Harry contemplated his options. He couldn’t stay quiet forever.
He could respond with a threat of his own, but Harry didn’t think he knew how to do that.
Confronting Skelton about the changes to the will would be sure to upset him.
He might bury the evidence before Agnes and Harry were able to find it.
But right now, looking at this man’s face, knowing that he was trying to take away the life that had been promised to Agnes, made him angry.
In fact, he was livid. Just one more provocation and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from throttling the man.
But ending up in gaol or on the gallows would take him from Agnes. And she still needed his help.
It wasn’t his cleverest moment, but he confronted Lord Skelton with the truth.
“Skelton. I was visiting the Skelton estate. I had business to attend to.”
The man went red in the face. “Business?” His voice rose as he shook his finger in Harry’s face. “You mean my business? Why are you on my estate without my knowledge? You better remember who you work for.”
Harry exhaled. He couldn’t give up the advantage he and Agnes had gained when they had learned the truth about Skelton’s blackmail.
He kept his gaze steady, proud for not trembling in fear or breaking into a nervous sweat.
“I have to inventory the estate property, Lord Skelton, if you want to be assured you have received it all.”
At this, Skelton cooled, relief softening his face. He was a daft man to believe he was getting away undetected with whatever con he was working. He truly thought Harry was still under his thumb, and Harry could play that to his advantage. Skelton stepped back and sat himself in the chair.
“I have a business proposition for you, Mr. Evans.”
Although the baron spoke with polite confidence, there was a string of manipulation threaded between the words.
“I’m listening. Parker, please bring the tea tray.” His secretary had been standing in the doorway, ready to assist. Harry needed to give him a raise for his loyalty, or perhaps a promotion.