Page 33 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)

AUbrEY

‘Imogen has made a wonderful job of the tree, don’t you think, Mr Wyndham?’

Aubrey nodded. ‘A very fine job indeed,’ he said, glancing at the Christmas tree in the corner of their drawing room, which Immi had spent all afternoon decorating for them.

Brodie had put the fairy lights in place first, then left her to it, and Immi had carefully placed the baubles where Agnes and Florrie told her to.

‘It’s really brightened up the room,’ Agnes said, nodding approvingly. ‘I’m starting to feel very festive now, aren’t you?’

Aubrey made some non-committal reply and turned back to the television. Immi had kindly put The Crown on for them to watch before she left, but it had to be said that he’d barely taken in a word of the last couple of episodes, despite finding Claire Foy utterly charming.

He was distracted, much as he’d been ever since he’d got back from the village early on Thursday evening after his little chat with Silas.

Rushing back to Harling Hall, his intention had been to find Agnes and clear up the mystery of why she hadn’t told him about her conversation with the vicar and ask her why – knowing Silas’s true feelings – she hadn’t changed her mind about them leaving Harling Hall.

Upon seeing her, though, he’d decided against confronting her.

She’d seemed upset about something, and although he’d pressed her to tell him what had happened, she would only say that it was nothing more than the realisation that they couldn’t partake of so many of the festive celebrations, and that he should think no more of it as she was merely being a foolish woman.

Aubrey hadn’t been convinced, and there was a part of him still fretting that his ungentlemanly behaviour towards her had affected her even more deeply than he’d imagined.

Fearing that he’d already damaged their relationship in some way, he hardly liked to jeopardise it even further, with the result that he’d spent the entire weekend puzzling over the situation with increasing confusion and despondency.

That she’d kept such a secret from him was bad enough, but it was her motivation for doing so that worried him. Yet he feared, more than anything, that their warm and affectionate relationship would become cold and distant if he pressed the matter.

If his ‘marriage’ to Agnes became a replica of the one between him and Elspeth, he didn’t think he could bear it.

He tensed as Agnes came to sit beside him on the sofa.

‘You’re not yourself today, Mr Wyndham,’ she said nervously. ‘In fact, you haven’t been yourself for some days now. Is – is there any reason for your melancholy?’

He didn’t want to lie to her, but equally, how could he possibly tell her the truth? If he revealed where he’d been early on Thursday evening, it could bring their entire house of cards tumbling down. He couldn’t risk it.

‘Nothing for you to worry about, my dear,’ he said eventually, not looking at her.

She hesitated, then said, ‘So there is something?’

Aubrey heaved an inward sigh. Must she persist? He made himself face her and forced a smile.

‘Are you not interested in The Crown ? Perhaps I could find Callie or Lawrie and ask them to search for something more to your taste this evening.’

Agnes swallowed and he noticed her fingers twisting the ribbons of her bed jacket. Had he brought her to this? He knew she was highly sensitive, and the thought that his morose behaviour had upset her to such a degree was a distressing one.

Difficult or not, he must tell her the truth. They had to clear the air. Maybe there was a perfectly logical explanation and once explored they could put the whole thing behind them and work on restoring the previous goodwill between them.

‘Agnes, I must talk to you.’

‘Mr Wyndham, I must talk to you!’

As they each realised what the other had said, they both laughed nervously.

‘You first, my dear,’ he said politely.

She shook her head. ‘Not here. Would you care to take a turn around the garden?’

He looked at her in surprise. In the dark?

‘Florence,’ she murmured. ‘She is asleep in the next room, but I wouldn’t want to wake her.’

‘Why would we wake her?’ he asked, confused.

‘Please, Mr Wyndham. Outside.’

Nodding his assent, he followed her out of their suite and downstairs, through the hallway and kitchen and out into the family garden. There was little moonlight, and in the darkness, it was hard for him to see her.

He reached for her hand, and they made their way to the picnic table where Immi and Callie often had their lunch on summer days, with Florence sitting beside them joining in their chatter.

As Agnes settled herself on the bench, Aubrey said, ‘Are you sure about this? I can barely see your face and it’s hardly conducive to a conversation. Shouldn’t we go inside?’

Agnes shook her head. ‘I would prefer to stay out here,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I would prefer that you didn’t see my face clearly, nor I yours.’

Aubrey felt a twist of fear. Why would Agnes not want them to see each other’s faces?

It came to him in a sickening rush that perhaps she was about to tell him that she no longer wished to be considered his wife, and that he should move out of their family suite.

He had kissed her! He had kissed her on the mouth and held her and… Oh, lord. He had frightened her away. How could he have been so stupid? He didn’t deserve her affections. He was nothing but a cad and a bounder.

‘Mr Wyndham,’ she said brokenly, ‘I have done you a grave disservice, and I cannot tell you how sorry I am.’

That was not what he’d expected to hear, and he frowned, not understanding what she could possibly have done to be sorry for.

‘Agnes, I am quite sure?—’

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Let me finish.’

He stared at her. She was gazing down at the ground and seemed rather hunched and smaller somehow. Whatever she was about to say, it was obviously huge. Afterlife-changing, in fact.

He would have to ask Callie if he could move into another room.

There were lots of empty ones, after all.

But maybe that would still be too close?

Perhaps he should do the decent thing and offer to find alternative accommodation.

There were plenty of other buildings in Rowan Vale.

There must be a vacancy for a ghost somewhere.

If the worst came to the worst, there was always The Monastery.

He shuddered, imagining having to live in the desolate old building near the boundaries of the estate, where the ghosts who wanted nothing to do with the villagers dwelt.

Could he really bear to live among them? Would they even allow him to?

And what of Florence? She would come from a broken home. He understood that was quite common these days, but he didn’t want that for his daughter!

‘Mr Wyndham,’ Agnes said urgently. ‘Are you listening?’

He’d been lost in his thoughts, staring into the darkness towards the home he might soon have to leave, his fevered imagination running away with him. He turned back to her, full of contrition.

‘I’m so sorry. But Agnes, whatever this is, we can fix it, can’t we? Surely, if we’re just honest with each other and admit our mistakes, we can forgive and forget? After all this time?—’

‘Mr Wyndham,’ she said, her voice shaky, ‘I have done something that you may not find so easy to forgive. I have kept a secret from you. I have lied to you. I have behaved in a deplorable manner, and I will fully understand if you want nothing more to do with me. But I must tell you the truth now, because Callie has made me see that I have done you a terrible injustice, and you have never deserved to be treated in such a fashion. I am truly, truly sorry.’

Aubrey, full of compassion for her, reached out and took hold of her hand.

‘Whatever it is, I accept your apology,’ he said kindly. ‘You needn’t be afraid to tell me. I think I know what you’ve done anyway, and I’ll confess I’m a little bewildered as to why you did it, but I am not angry with you, my dear. Far from it.’

She lifted her face to his. He couldn’t quite make out her expression, but he saw her rear back a little.

‘You know?’

‘I have a confession of my own to make,’ he said. He braced himself. Time to tell the truth and shame the devil. ‘I went to see Silas Alexander the other day.’

Agnes pulled her hand from his. ‘You did what?’

‘I wanted to put things right for us, you see,’ he explained nervously.

‘Missing out on the Christmas market and the switching on of the festive illuminations was the final straw. Why should we hide away here in Harling Hall? So I went to see him to tell him once and for all that we had done nothing to be ashamed of, and that he needed to stop this vendetta against us.’

‘And – and what did he say?’ she managed, in strangled tones.

‘Well,’ Aubrey said slowly, ‘I expect you can guess what he said. He told me that you had already explained the situation to him some years ago, and that he was fully aware that there was no impropriety between us.’

He was glad she couldn’t see the flicker of shame he was certain was in his eyes. It had to be said, if she hadn’t spurned his disgraceful advances the situation might well have changed. It was lucky that Agnes was a woman of such high principle, because he had been decidedly weak.

‘I see,’ she murmured.

‘I’ll admit, I’m baffled as to why you didn’t tell me.

And more than that, why you still insist that we should remain within the grounds of the Hall.

All this time I assumed it was because of Silas, but it hardly seems as if you are afraid of him after all, and I’m at a loss to understand what your motivation is for keeping us here all this time. ’

For a long moment, she was silent. Then she said, ‘You didn’t assume, Mr Wyndham.

You were told. You were told by me repeatedly, and each time I blamed Silas for the situation, I was lying.

There is another reason I wanted you to stay away from the village, and that’s what I must confess to you now. ’