Chapter Nine
“Surely you know the difference between blue and lavender.” Mrs. Warrick’s slow, patronizing tone grated as much as ever.
Agatha had been subjected to it again and again over the days since the house party ended.
What little consideration Mrs. Warrick had displayed during those three weeks had disappeared the moment the final guest had left.
The older lady had seemed so pleased when Father had suggested Agatha remain behind as her lady’s companion.
As it turned out, her pleasure did not translate into kind treatment.
Only self-directed humor had saved Agatha from tearing her hair out. “Lavender is a color?” She blinked as if utterly shocked. “I thought it was a material, like wool or straw.”
“Why would I send you to fetch a straw shawl?” Mrs. Warrick’s patience was always a bit thin.
“You didn’t,” Agatha said innocently. “You sent me for a lavender shawl.”
“Then why”—she held up the shawl Agatha had just brought to her—“am I holding this? This is blue.”
In Agatha’s defense, the blue shawl had a strong hint of purple. “If you will tell me where the shawl you want is, I will happily fetch it.”
Mrs. Warrick took a slow breath, then settled her features into a look of patience. “I do not know where it is. I have far more important things to concern myself with. Ask Mrs. Hill or Fanny.”
Agatha offered a vague smile and slid from the room.
Somehow, it was easier letting her new mistress think she was slow-witted.
Perhaps it was a matter of pride. Mrs. Warrick could belittle her all she wanted, but secretly, quietly, Agatha would know she hadn’t been bested, not entirely.
It was likely wrong of her, but she couldn’t help it. Doing so was a matter of survival.
Though Agatha perused nearly the entirety of the second floor, she found neither the housekeeper nor Mrs. Warrick’s lady’s maid.
Truth be told, she was not putting much effort into the search.
Taking her time meant avoiding the inevitable haranguing she would receive if she were in Mrs. Warrick’s company.
She meandered along the corridors and down the stairs, taking as much time as she could reasonably manage.
A few doors shy of returning to Mrs. Warrick’s side, Agatha spotted, gazing out the windows of the north sitting room, the one person at the Warrick estate whose company she actually enjoyed.
Henrietta Sumner was a quiet sort, but underneath her air of reserve beat a heart as good as gold and as stalwart as any Agatha had known.
She suspected she knew why Henrietta kept so close to the windows overlooking the front drive. “Is your Tom due to arrive today?”
Henrietta looked back at her for only a moment. “At any moment, actually. I am likely rather pathetic for this, but I have missed him terribly these days he’s been away.”
Not pathetic in the least. In fact, Agatha felt much the same way about Tom’s brother.
“Soon, you will need not be parted,” Agatha reminded her new friend. “That must lighten your heart.”
“It does, indeed.” Henrietta turned and leaned her back against the window frame. “Tom’s family is coming with him.”
Agatha tried to smile casually, but she could feel the effort fall short.
Henrietta’s expression could not have been more empathetic. “I wish we were able to do something for you and Edward, but the Warricks have tied the inheritance up so tightly.”
Agatha nodded. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness. And I cannot blame the Warricks for that. They had good reason to make your inheritance all but impossible to draw against.”
Henrietta’s shoulders drooped. “That reason being my father.”
It was the truth, though Agatha was far too diplomatic to acknowledge it.
Mr. Sumner had taken his own profitable estate and more than comfortable inheritance and had squandered every last penny.
Keeping his daughter’s miraculous good fortune out of his hands was crucial, even if it did prevent Tom and Henrietta from helping the remaining members of their families.
“Have you happened to have seen the housekeeper or Mrs. Warrick’s lady’s maid?” Agatha asked. “I am charged with fetching the mistress’s lavender shawl and it seems they are the only ones likely to know where it is.”
Henrietta offered a commiserating smile. “They are avoiding her as much as I am certain you wish you could. I do not know how you will endure her every single day.”
“Daily endurance will fall to your fate as well,” Agatha reminded her.
“The Warricks leave for London a mere two days after the wedding and do not mean to return here. We will be free of them.”
Yes, but I won’t. Not for years to come.
Years.
***
Agatha listened in horrified silence as the sound of new arrivals drifted into the drawing room.
Mr. and Mrs. Warrick stood in all their pomp to welcome the Downy family.
Agatha kept to her designated corner of the room, wishing she could simply disappear.
Not only had her circumstances grown even more desperate, but she was also seeing him again for the first time since realizing beyond a doubt that they could have no future together.
She didn’t think she could ever have fully prepared herself for that.
Her one source of joy came from watching Henrietta’s eager anticipation. The bride-to-be kept herself properly still, but her eyes danced with delight. This would be a joyous reunion for her.
The butler stepped inside. “Mr. and Mrs. Downy, Mr. Edward Downy, and Mr. Thomas Downy.”
Edward’s parents came inside first. Agatha made a quick study of them and came to the conclusion that the Downy brothers took after their mother’s side of the family, though Edward had his father’s smile. She had time to make only that cursory observation before Edward, himself, came into the room.
Oh, how she’d missed him. Seeing him again made her even more aware of the empty space he’d left in her heart.
From the first moments of their acquaintance, he had recognized her odd sense of humor, had taken note of her struggles when most of the world would find her too insignificant to bother with, and had cherished their time together as much as she had.
Their meeting had been nothing short of fate, though fate had, in the end, proven cruel.
All of the appropriate greetings and curtsies and bows were exchanged between the Downys, Sumners, and Warricks.
Agatha was now little better than a servant and didn’t warrant any notice.
She was grateful for the obscurity. Having her own corner all to herself granted her a moment to regain her composure.
Mrs. Warrick motioned Mrs. Downy to the empty seat beside hers, and the older ladies dived directly into a conversation apart from the others.
“You must forgive my haphazard appearance,” Mrs. Warrick said. “My lavender shawl is a much better match for this dress, but I am afraid my lady’s companion is not yet very reliable. I’ve not had time to properly train her.”
Mrs. Downy didn’t appear to know quite what to say.
Mrs. Warrick patted her hand. “I don’t suppose you have ever enjoyed the luxury of a lady’s companion.”
“I can’t say that I have.” Mrs. Downy’s surprise was obvious, but her manners were impeccable.
“Should you ever find yourself with one, make certain she has learned her colors.” Mrs. Warrick shot Agatha a quick look of smug satisfaction.
Agatha answered with as vague a smile as she could produce.
Mrs. Downy’s expression was far less arrogant, with more than a hint of curiosity. “She is young to be a companion. I hope she will be given time for socializing with her own age group.”
“She has a job to perform,” Mrs. Warrick argued. “I do not pay her to socialize.”
That was certainly true. Mrs. Warrick, in fact, hardly paid her at all.
Mrs. Downy’s chin raised a notch. “While we are all here, your companion should have ample time to interact with Miss Sumner. I cannot imagine the companionship of Mrs. Sumner and me should prove insufficient for you.”
Was Mrs. Downy offering her, whom she must have considered a stranger, a respite from her employer? It seemed Edward favored his mother in more than just appearance.
“I have only just been showered with the attentions of dozens of houseguests,” Mrs. Warrick said. “The presence of merely two—”
“—will be a welcome respite.” Mrs. Downy did not permit her hostess to finish what was no doubt the beginning of an insult. “Allow me to invite your companion to join us, so she can keep company with the young people.”
“I do not think she will accept your offer,” Mrs. Warrick said, “considering their history.”
“History?”
Mrs. Warrick sat ever straighter, a haughty rigidness to her shoulders. “Your younger son, then, did not tell you?”
Tom heard himself being discussed and switched conversations. “What did I not tell my mother?”
“That my companion was, mere days ago, a guest in this house, competing for the same inheritance you and Miss Sumner eventually won.”
With that, all eyes turned in Agatha’s direction. For the first time since arriving, Edward saw her there. His mouth dropped a bit open. His eyes pulled wide.
“Miss Holmwood,” Tom sputtered out her name. “I had no idea you were— I— I have not had the opportunity to thank you yet. Mr. Warrick told us what you did, what you said.”
Agatha shook her head vehemently even as she stood. “I do not require a thank you. I assure you I only did what was right.”
Tom did not heed her objection, but crossed directly to her, shaking her hand. “You deserve to be thanked, though I know I could never manage to do it sufficiently.”
“Thank her, by all means,” Mrs. Warrick said. “It might make her feel less of a fool for throwing away her entire future. We might have actually considered her, if not for her pleading your cause. Instead of heiress to a fortune, she has sunk to the level of a companion.”
Was there no end to the humiliation the lady meant to heap upon her?
For the briefest of moments, Edward’s gaze caught and held hers. Agatha tried to smile, tried to summon her sense of the absurd and diverting. But his expression turned almost pitying, and all attempts at humor died instantly.
She was an object of pity. In that moment, despite knowing Mrs. Warrick would thoroughly scold her for it, Agatha could not remain.
Life was simply asking too much.