Page 51

When she finally left the gallery, her thoughts still swirling with unanswered questions, she heard voices echoing from the front hall. Driven by a mix of curiosity and a need to distract herself, Agnes made her way towards the sounds. There, she found agroup of women, about five in total, gathered and whispering among themselves.

CHAPTER 24

“Oh, there she is, there she is,” the women murmured amongst themselves the moment they spied Agnes approaching.

“Your ladyship. We’re from the village nearby,” they said as they dipped into curtsies, introducing themselves as the tenants’ wives. They had come to welcome her as the new Marchioness of Gillingham.

Agnes was taken aback by their courtesy and welcoming spirits, having not anticipated such a reception.

“Why, how thoughtful of you all,” she responded warmly.

“It is teatime already. And I would love it if you all would join me?” she added, her invitation met with visible excitement and nods of agreement among the women.

She turned to Quentin then, instructing him to have tea served for them in the drawing room. Hosting the women seemed like the perfect way to spend her otherwise idle afternoon and perhaps, to start building connections within her new community.

“Oh, it’s been so long. And we cannot be more grateful for another Marchioness at last,” one of the women, who’d introduced herself as Mrs. Linton, expressed earnestly. Beside her, a little girl was perched quietly, watching the proceedings with wide eyes as she clung to her mother’s skirts. Agnes deduced that she must be Mrs. Linton’s daughter. A small smile tugged at her lips as she observed the child’s cautious demeanor.

The little girl seemed quite wary, reminding Agnes of Harry, who possessed a similar disposition. Observing the girl, Agnes felt a pang of affection and a renewed sense of responsibility towards her new role in this community.

“We were all devastated when the former Marchioness passed on,” another of the women said, her voice heavy with sorrow.

“Most tragic indeed. We lost a charming and loving soul,” the rest of the group agreed, nodding solemnly.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Agnes replied, her voice soft and sincere. The weight of their words settled over her, bringing with it a somber realization. She suddenly felt the immense expectations placed upon her shoulders. The former Marchioness had clearly been much beloved, and Agnes couldn’t help but wonder if she could ever measure up.

She had great shoes to fill, it seemed. Doubt crept in, questioning her capabilities. After all, she was still navigating the complexities of her marriage, let alone embracing the role of a perfect patroness to their tenants and the village at large.

She swallowed uncomfortably, the weight of her thoughts almost too much to bear.

Thankfully, the arrival of their tea provided a much-needed distraction. As the servants set the table with the fine China and poured the steaming tea, Agnes’s attention momentarily shifted away from her internal struggles.

Out of the corner of her eye, Agnes noticed the little girl, Loralei, eyeing the biscuit platter with a mixture of curiosity and longing.

“May I know your name?” Agnes asked the little girl, hoping to engage her.

“Loralei,” she responded timidly, her small voice barely above a whisper.

“Would you like to sit with me, Loralei?” Agnes offered, patting her lap invitingly. The girl hesitated, not responding immediately.

“Well then I guess I’ll have to eat all these biscuits by myself,” Agnes sighed theatrically, reaching for a biscuit from the platter and taking a playful bite.

Loralei looked between Agnes and the platter of biscuits before she slowly began to move away from her mother’s side. With a gentle encouragement, she finally perched on Agnes’s lap, eliciting laughter from the gathered women.

“Oh, your ladyship’s got quite the talent in predicting children,” they laughed, clearly amused by the little girl’s decision.

“I grew up with three little boys,” Agnes explained as she poured tea for the women, sharing a bit of her own background to put the child at ease.

She handed Loralei a biscuit filled with strawberry jam, and as the girl began to munch, she seemed to relax more in Agnes's company.

“Do you like strawberries, My Lady?” Loralei asked suddenly, her eyes curious and bright.

“Why I love them,” Agnes replied with a warm smile, happy to find common ground with the young girl.

“We can go pick strawberries then!” Loralei’s eyes lit up with excitement. “At Farmer Grovel’s farm,” she added enthusiastically.

“Mr. Grovel is our neighbor. He grows strawberries and other crops, and his farm is most beautiful in the summer,” Loralei’s mother, Mrs. Linton, explained, contributing to the conversation and supporting her daughter’s proposal.

“Mama and Mrs. Grovel make jam too,” Loralei supplied eagerly, as she licked the strawberry jam off her biscuit, clearly proud of the connection.