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“Please don’t, William,” Caroline implored, her tone desperate. “She is in enough pain. Questioning Gillingham is only going to cause her more grief. Give her time. I’m sure she will tell us what happened,” her mother added, her voice a gentle counter to her husband’s sterner intentions.

Agnes sat frozen, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, the voices of her parents a distant echo as she struggled with the turmoil inside her.

No sooner had her parents’ voices retreated completely than the library door opened a second time. Emma and Frances walked into the room. The mere sight of her friends and the identical concern they bore on their faces nearly sent her to tears.

They quietly sat on either side of her on the sofa by the fireplace before pulling her into a joint embrace. Agnes struggled tocontain her emotion, the warmth of her friends’ presence a stark contrast to the chill of the library.

The tears which stung at her eyes now burned, threatening to fall. She blinked, refusing to give them way, her hands gripping the edges of her gown in a futile attempt to anchor herself.

“How did you know I was home?” She forced down the rising lump in her throat as well.

“The Duchess sent for us,” her friends replied, their voices soft and soothing, as if they could mend her broken heart with words alone.

“How are you doing, Agnes?” They asked gently, their eyes searching hers for the truth they knew she needed to share. Agnes couldn’t bring herself to lie. This one query became her undoing. And she felt those tears betray her as they finally poured forth.

“I am not all right,” she heard herself admit, the words raw and pained, echoing in the quiet room.

They pulled her into the hug once again and encouraged her to let it all out while they cooed, their arms tight around her.

“What happened?” Emma finally asked when she’d collected herself somewhat, her voice gentle yet insistent, needing to understand, to help.

“I love him. And I don’t know what to do...” Agnes sniffed, her voice muffled against their shoulders.

“You mean Gillingham?” Emma asked, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity as she leaned forward slightly.

“Of course it’s Gillingham, Emma. Who else?” Frances gave their friend a look before Agnes could respond, her tone lightly chiding.

“Then I don’t understand the tears. Isn’t love a good thing?” Emma asked, genuinely perplexed. And Frances gave her another look in ostensible admonishment, signaling that the matter was not so simple.

“Theodore doesn’t love me. He told me so himself. That he cannot...” Agnes confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush, heavy with sorrow.

“He said that to you?” Frances appeared thoughtful, her brow furrowing as she considered Agnes’s words.

Agnes nodded, the confirmation heavy in the air between them.

“I think that is a lie,” her friend surprised her by this observation. “He sounds to me like he’s running away from his true feelings,” she added, a note of conviction in her voice.

“You don’t know that, Frannie,” Agnes said, her voice low and weary. Hope was a dangerous thing. And she did not want herfriend giving her that, not when her own heart was so fraught with doubt.

“Did you not hear what she just said, Frannie?” Emma asked, her voice tinged with concern. “It sounds to me like love is punishing them,” she added, her expression grave.

“Oh, do not be melodramatic, Emma,” Frances dismissed with a wave of her hand before turning back to Agnes and saying, “Do not lose hope, Aggie. I think there must be a reason behind his words.”

“I hope you’re not giving her false hope, Frannie,” Emma warned, her gaze shifting between Agnes and Frances, her worry palpable.

“Don’t be a pessimist, you,” Frances admonished again, her voice firm yet affectionate.

“Whatever the case, we will always be here for you, Agnes,” Emma squeezed her hand now, her grip firm and supportive.

Her friends consoled her for a while longer before Frances said, “We should go out. The walls of this library feel more akin to a prison than a refuge.”

“We could go shopping,” Emma suggested, her eyes lighting up with the idea as if it could be a cure for all ills.

“Lord knows you deserve a change of scenery, Aggie,” Frannie agreed, her tone earnest. She leaned forward, placing her hand over Agnes’s as a sign of solidarity.

Agnes was in no mood, her heart still heavy and her thoughts elsewhere, but she decided to agree, nevertheless. Perhaps they could be right. It wouldn’t hurt to have a change, to step outside the confines of her current sorrows and perhaps find a moment’s distraction in the bustling streets and shop windows of the town.

“Perhaps some fresh air could indeed lift my spirits,” Agnes conceded with a weak smile, allowing a slight spark of anticipation to flicker despite her reservations.