Chapter Ten
Edward required all of half a second to piece together Agatha’s past few days.
She hadn’t been selected as heir. Her father had followed through on his threat not to “continue sacrificing for her,” and she’d been handed over to the Warricks as a no doubt underpaid and most certainly ill-treated lady’s companion.
He required only a half second more to decide to follow her out into the corridor.
“Agatha?” She hadn’t gone far. “Please, wait.”
She stopped at the end of the corridor and slowly turned back toward him. “I was executing a dramatic exit, Edward Downy. You’ve ruined it.”
Behind her humor was unmistakable wariness. She was using it as a shield again, the way she had with her father the night Edward met her. And, just as he had the night they met, he sensed that joining in the jest was the best means of setting her mind at ease.
“I was enacting a heroic pursuit, and you have ruined that.”
She smiled a bit. “Oh, was I expected to flitter about down the corridor, disappearing around the corner at the last possible moment?”
He nodded solemnly. “Precisely.”
“Next time,” she said.
He closed the gap between them and reached out for her hands. Holding them tenderly, he asked, “What happened, Agatha? How is it you came to be Mrs. Warrick’s lady’s companion?” He felt certain he knew the answer, but sensed she needed a confidante.
“My father,” she said on a sigh. “He did threaten to stop ‘sacrificing’ for me, you will recall.”
He’d guessed correctly, then. “He blamed you for not being selected as heir.”
“He had reason to,” she answered quietly.
Edward slipped her arm through his and continued down the corridor with her at his side.
“The Warricks’ last requirement, that each guest explain to them why he or she was more deserving of the inheritance than any of the others, did not go well, at least in my father’s eyes.
” She wrapped her arm more closely around his.
There was such comfort in her nearness. He had nearly forgotten the soothing influence of her company.
“I couldn’t bring myself to insist I deserved or needed the inheritance more than anyone else. It simply wasn’t true.”
Hers, then, hadn’t been an objection simply to the task, but also to being required to, in her view, lie. It was little wonder he’d so quickly come to admire and cherish her. She was a good person to the very depths of her heart.
“You told the Warricks that Tom and Henrietta were more deserving?” That was the impression he’d received listening to the stilted conversation in the drawing room a moment earlier.
“I don’t know that anyone at the house party was undeserving,” she said.
“But what hope, really, did those two have of a future together, of happiness? He is a younger son, which is difficult even in well-heeled families. She is the daughter of a spendthrift who would squander any influx of income the family might have. The Warricks’ offered inheritance was a chance neither of them were likely to ever see again. ”
Edward slipped his arm from hers and wrapped it around her middle. “But missing out on that chance yourself placed you in your current predicament.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder as they stepped out onto the back terrace. “Choices are difficult to make when neither outcome is a desirable one. This was a consequence I felt myself better equipped to live with. Doing wrong by Tom and Henrietta for my own gain would have haunted me.”
He turned his head enough to press a kiss to the top of her head. “You are a wonderful person, Agatha.”
“My father says I’m an ungrateful daughter.”
“It seems to me any father who would turn away his child for being an extraordinary person is rather ungrateful himself.”
She turned her gaze up to him. Such sadness touched their depths. “It was something of a blow, yes. I had, until the moment he left, held out some hope that he would see enough value in me to . . . keep me.”
Edward stopped their forward progress, despite having only taken a single step inside the garden. He looked more closely at her, worried at the increasing despondency he heard in her voice. “He was wrong, my dear. What he did was wrong. Please do not allow it to consume you.”
“My father’s unkindness is not what is weighing on me at the moment.”
“Then what is?” He brushed his hand along her cheek. He hated seeing her so burdened.
“The terms of Tom’s inheritance prevent him from giving any part of it to his family.”
She, compassionate soul that she was, worried for him. “I know about the terms,” he assured her. “Tom told me.”
“But you needed the income. You— We—”
He held her face gently in his hands and pressed a light, lingering kiss to her forehead. “We will be happy for Tom and Henrietta. And we will enjoy the time we have together here. And we will hope that something miraculous occurs.”
She set her hands on his chest and leaned into his embrace. He held her, breathing in her warmth, the flowery scent in her hair, the joy of her near to him.
He hadn’t been exaggerating; they needed a miracle. They needed one desperately. And he hadn’t the slightest idea where to look for one.
***
Edward’s endurance lasted until the next morning.
After yet another complaint from Mrs. Warrick about her servants and countless self-congratulatory speeches from Mr. Warrick detailing his tremendous generosity, Edward knew he’d best beat a hasty retreat before he said something he regretted.
The Warricks deserved a dressing down, but Tom and Henrietta deserved to not be miserable in the days leading up to their wedding.
The estate was blessedly large, granting Edward ample space to move about uninterrupted. He would have enjoyed Agatha’s company, but, alas, her employer demanded her presence at nearly every moment.
Edward’s escape took him past the estate’s dower house, a modest Tudor-style structure, tucked a bit out of view beyond a bower of birch and ash.
The approach to the home was lined on either side with empty flowerbeds.
Shrubs sat beneath the front windows, vibrantly green but in dire need of trimming.
He stepped up to the dingy windows and glanced inside. He could only just make out the covered furnishings. The house had clearly been vacant for quite some time, but the exterior, other than the greenery, seemed well cared for. Even the gravel in the drive appeared to have been recently raked.
Should the Downy estate continue to struggle and Edward find himself unable to care for Mother after Father’s passing, Tom might be in a position to do so. That brought some comfort.
Edward continued down the lane leading away from the dower house and out toward the vast parkland surrounding the main house. He’d spent enough years evaluating the Downy estate and studying efficient land use and proper planning, to make a detailed assessment of what he saw.
A low-lying section of the east lawn appeared to be draining poorly. Based on the lay of the land beyond, it was likely a problem throughout the eastern portion of the estate. He could make out fields beyond the enclosed lawn. If the land wasn’t draining, the crop yield would be relatively poor.
He followed the edge of the lawns, eyeing more outlying fields.
He was at too great a distance to make a detailed evaluation, but he spotted a great many things that might be done differently, better.
The estate manager didn’t appear to be one well versed in more recent agricultural advancements.
That came from not being in desperate need of every penny the land could produce.
Desperate need had forced Edward to learn all he could about managing land. He’d felt no particular connection to the Warrick estate during the house party and hadn’t paid much heed to the state of it. But this was his brother’s land now. He wanted the best for Tom.
As he walked along the winding footpath leading to the back garden, he mentally made a list of the improvements he meant to suggest to his brother.
The estate was clearly profitable, but making it efficient would decrease the chances of future generations finding themselves in Edward’s unenviable position.
He turned the corner at the far edge of the garden and came upon Tom, ambling about the garden path. Their eyes met, and they both chuckled.
“Couldn’t bear it any longer?” Edward guessed.
“Thank the heavens the Warricks will be living year-round in London,” Tom said. He lowered his voice and gave Edward an emphasizing look. “We have it in writing.”
Edward couldn’t help a grin. “Thus, you need only endure them until the wedding.”
Tom pushed out a breath. “They are sorely trying my patience.” That was something Edward seldom heard from his affable younger brother.
“I’ve been exploring your estate,” Edward said.
“And what are your impressions?” They began a slow circuit of the garden.
“Firstly, you need to think of a name for this place. It is, after all, no longer ‘the Warrick estate.’”
Tom nodded. “Henrietta and I discussed that, but we haven’t thought of anything yet that we both love.”
“You have time. It would, I am certain, be best to delay the rechristening until after the Warricks have moved to Town.”
“Indeed.” Tom tucked his hands into the pockets of his outer coat. “What else?”
Edward launched into a detailed explanation of what he’d observed, what he inferred based on those observations, and what he would recommend be done.
“A great deal has changed in land management in recent years. If I were a betting man, I’d wager the current estate manager has been at his job a very long time and hasn’t kept abreast of developments. ”
“He’s ancient,” Tom said. “And, quite honestly, looks exhausted. I am surprised he hasn’t yet been pensioned off.”
An idea formed in Edward’s mind, but one riddled with holes and empty spaces. “You need a new estate manager.” The statement was something of a question.
“That I do.”
“Would you—” Edward hadn’t thought this through entirely. The words emerged as broken and half-formed as the idea behind them. “I know a great deal about estate management.”
Tom nodded. “Younger sons aren’t educated about these things. I feel like I have a lifetime’s worth of information to learn overnight.”
“What if you had an older son nearby? One who knew these things and who cared what happened to you and your family and, therefore, could be counted on to make his best effort?”
Tom stopped walking and turned to look directly at Edward. “What are you proposing?”
It was a fortunate thing Edward had long ago learned to endure humbling moments and circumstances.
Asking of a younger brother what he was about to ask would be daunting for most eldest sons in Society.
“Would you consider hiring me on as your estate manager? Having a house and income of my own will take a small financial burden off the Downy coffers. Keeping your estate profitable will remove the risk of future Downys facing our current circumstances. And”—his heart thudded against his ribs—“securing employment might allow me to have a future with Agatha. A humble, lowly future, but a future. Assuming, of course, she is willing to accept it.”
“I don’t imagine she will object to a small income—she has lived that reality, after all—but I’ve seen the estate manager’s cottage, Edward.
It is little better than a hovel. Humble does not begin to describe it.
Even if you were to make improvements, it would be tiny and cramped and a tremendous step down, even from the circumstances in which she had been living. ”
Could he, in good conscience, ask Agatha to give up one humiliation, Mrs. Warrick’s belittling treatment of her, for another?
“What if—” He paused a moment, allowing his mind to sort through things a bit more. “What if the current estate manager remained in his home and I took up residence in the dower house? It is not large nor extravagant, but neither would it mortify its occupants.”
A slow smile spread over Tom’s face. “The dower house is empty.”
Excitement began bubbling inside. “And we needn’t broadcast to the world that I am in your employ. That would save our parents the disapproval of the ton and would prevent any of my future children from bearing that stigma as well.”
“We are simply so fond of one another that the idea of living on the same estate was too ideal to pass up,” Tom suggested with a laugh.
“That will satisfy the toplofty who would hold this arrangement against the family.” This would work. He felt certain it would.
“The upkeep of the dower house is the responsibility of the estate,” Tom said. “Your income, therefore, would not need to stretch beyond your household needs. There would be enough left over to invest in the Downy estate. Given enough years, you could turn it around as well.”
“You must intend to be very generous with my salary,” Edward said.
Tom slapped a hand on his shoulder. “I told you when I first decided to win the Warricks’ prize that it would benefit us both. This is the only way I know to make that happen. And I mean to make it happen.”
“Only one thing remains undecided, then,” Edward said.
“What is that?”
“Whether or not I can convince a certain beleaguered lady’s companion to take on the life of an estate manager’s wife.”
Tom pushed him toward the house. “There is but one way to find out.”