Epilogue
In a fit of giggles, Charlie and Missy exited the shop to walk back to Bootham, where they had been staying with Agnes.
They were her latest pair of apprentices from Columba of Sens’ Children’s Home to be trained in the basics of herbalism.
Charlie, always full of new ideas, had begun testing out her teas on Harry, who graciously exaggerated their taste.
He chuckled as he watched them run down the street. “To think they believed you were a witch when they first came here.” Agnes gave him a curious look, and he cocked his head. “You’re not . . . are you?”
“No, Harry, I’m not quite a witch. I think nature has a magic all its own. I never felt the need to practice the craft.”
Harry laughed again, but then stopped and studied her face.
It was so fun to tease him. “Is something wrong? You don’t believe in witches?” Agnes asked.
“Should I?”
Agnes shrugged and walked away.
She picked up a box of dark green tins embossed with a gold outline of a large emerald moth, the signature of Emerald Teas, and began to fill the spaces in the shelves. A steady stream of patrons had nearly cleared her stock this past week even though she was still preparing for the grand opening.
Each morning when Agnes unlocked the door to let herself into the tea shop, a crowd of people were waiting outside, hoping to purchase York’s most fashionable tea.
Nora had stocked the teas in her shop for a limited time to drive interest, and it worked better than either one of them had expected.
Hardly a woman in the city hosted a social event without displaying a purple box of chocolates and a green tea tin.
The tea shop had been Agnes’s idea, coming to her in the middle of the night so suddenly that she wondered if it was actually her own idea after all.
Teas did not catch the attention of the Pharmaceutical or Apothecary societies, and although her teas were delicious enough to serve at gatherings, many of her blends had medicinal benefits as well.
The profits from the sales were enough to cover the additional costs of the tinctures, poultices, sachets, and other remedies she kept in the back room, out of view.
Some orders went out with her trusted runner boy, and others were collected by her patrons, who left the shop with an inconspicuous brown paper bundle tied with green string.
Agnes leaned back against the wall and admired her shop.
It felt right. At first, she had worried over profiting from her talents, but now she was able to help more people, and she was doing it on her own, rather than forever living off of Richard’s generosity.
Of course, Harry had promised to provide for her and the family they hoped to grow, but she was happy to know she could take care of herself too.
Harry was back in his corner, hanging the last of his framed specimens on the wall.
He didn’t really need to keep his collection here, as there would be plenty of room in the Bootham house when he moved in.
But she didn’t want to be apart from him all day.
He already spent long hours at the office, splitting his time between York and London.
She envisioned this shop becoming another sanctuary, but that wouldn’t happen if he was not here.
Besides, his moths added to the decor of the shop.
When she turned around, Harry was watching her, his eyes glued to every tiny movement.
“Yes, Mr. Evans? Can I help you with something? Over here, we have some lovely teas for a romantic evening you might be interested in.” She picked up the tin containing the blend of bergamot, licorice root, and rose—the flower of Aphrodite—and wiggled it in the air. Nora said it had flown off her shelves.
He just continued to stare at her. Why must she make all the fun? She saw herself reflected in his eyes. They were wide in awe, as if he were a man witnessing one of Earth’s greatest wonders. Her knees wobbled, and she felt molten at her core.
“Harry, come on now. Are you all right?”
“More than all right.” He walked over and reached out to take her hands into his. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Oh . . . Wednesday? Thursday?” She had been so busy preparing for their grand opening that she had lost track. Each day was marked by the number of days until the important event. “We open in four days.”
He smiled, and she felt herself smiling in return. He was humoring her, and she wasn’t sure why. To chase away her confusion, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck. His kisses always brought her clarity.
“It’s been one year since Richard, rest his soul, left you.” At the mention of his name, her heart ached for her friend.
“I still miss him.”
“I know you do, and I miss him too. But look around you, Agnes. He would have been so proud of you, so elated that you have all of this.”
“He would have liked that I have you too, Harry. I know he would be happy for me, and I think he is.”
“I spoke to him, you know, on the night you had the dream.”
“What?” Harry had never told her this before.
“I told him that I would marry you. That I would provide for you and take care of you.”
“And what happened?”
“Well . . . he assaulted me with a paperweight. I will assume that was him giving his blessing.” She was surprised, but her laughter broke through before she could ask any questions.
“And now,” he said, tightening his grip on her hands, “I want to make that true. I do love you in black . . .” He eyed her up and down in a way that made the heat bloom all over.
“But I’m looking forward to the next phase of your life.
With me. I know you gave me your answer many months ago, but now that the time has actually come, I want you to be certain.
Agnes Brus, Dowager Baroness of Skelton, will you marry me? ”
The tears came immediately and she cried out loud. Harry looked just as startled as she felt, but she reassured him with a kiss.
“Are you saying yes?” She nodded in response, deepening the kiss.
He pulled back and asked, “Can I just hear it from your lips? One more time.”
“Yes, Harry. I will marry you. Our lives are already tied together, now and always.”
When she returned home that night, Kitty prepared her for bed.
Tomorrow, she and Harry had plans to go to London together to meet his family.
His brother Benjamin and his wife had just had a baby girl.
Harry said he needed to visit as quickly as possible to solidify his status as favorite uncle.
But he was also very eager to introduce Agnes to his family as his betrothed even though she suspected they already knew all about her.
Agnes sat looking out the window, just for amusement.
She no longer felt as if she needed to block out the world around her.
She wanted to embrace it and all its beautiful noise.
The sounds of pleasure. The sounds of the compliments Harry loved to whisper into her ear.
The sounds of their quiet companionship as they both were absorbed in their work.
In the upcoming years, there would be new sounds.
Sounds of children, she hoped. Sounds of new adventures.
Awareness of the door that led to Richard’s bedroom crept over her.
She hadn’t felt any spirits in the house since the night of the dream, but it didn’t stop her from thinking about Richard constantly.
She and Oscar had spent several afternoons reminiscing about him over tea.
He had been with Richard since they were young men, so he had many stories to share.
She entered Richard’s bedchamber for the first time in months. In the darkness, she found her way to the padded bench in front of the bed and sat down.
She spoke into the still air. “Richard, I hope you’re at peace now.
I didn’t thank you for staying behind and making sure I was secure.
It makes sense that you would, as you cared for me fiercely.
I don’t think I’ll ever have a friend as special as you.
Oh, and I saw Oscar yesterday. He is happy, although I think he misses you most.”
She sat there, half expecting to hear the paperweight drop to the floor or feel the tickle of a breeze. But there was nothing, just calm.