Page 54 of Charity

Agatha pushed away and fumbled with the handkerchief in her hands. She had to regain some control; there were so many things to be done. She couldn’t sit about wailing when her grandfather was gone. She wiped her eyes and dragged in a deep breath, trying to steady herself to face the future.

When she raised her face, she was startled to see Lady Carrington kneeling at her feet. She rushed to help her stand.

“Please, Lady Carrington, you will wrinkle your gown.”

“Estella, please.” She returned a weak smile and sank into her chair. “The gown hardly matters at this hour, child. Do not concern yourself with me.”

George, standing patiently at the door, cleared his throat. “Forgive me for intruding, miss, but on behalf of all the staff, we wanted to extend our condolences. He was a fine man, a fine employer, and shall be very much missed.”

George’s words made her eyes fill with more tears, but she couldn’t let them fall now. Later, when her duties were complete, she would grieve again. For now, she had to make her grandfather’s parting a tribute.

Agatha turned for the large bed and the empty shell of her grandfather. With George’s help, she straightened his limbs, neatened the bedding, and, with a final glance at his immobile face, she laid her hand across his eyes to close the lids. George was prepared with coins already and slipped them onto his eyes.

“Thank you, George.”

There was nothing else to do now but keep vigil. “Can you bring another chair please, and then you can retire for the night.”

“Of course,” George murmured, but he tended to the fire first, a task Agatha hadn’t thought of, before positioning another chair beside Estella, then ushering the servants hovering outside away from the door and back to their beds.

Agatha settled into the chair and pressed her head to the back of it. Nothing to be done. Those words bounced around her head once more, taunting her with the uncertainty of the future. She had nothing. Soon no home. And no one to care when that happened. Would Oscar still want to marry her, now that she was in mourning?

Tears pricked her eyes again and she clutched the chair arm to keep the growing dread at bay. She had to be strong and prepare herself for this uncertain future. Tears had never helped her in the past. They would be next to useless in the future.

Estella’s warm fingers wrapped around her tense hand and squeezed. Not so alone tonight. For now, she had the consolation of Estella’s company as she kept vigil. Agatha wondered how long the older woman would remain.

She turned her head and found the other woman’s eyes filled with concern.

“I know this is an unfortunate time. You may think me heartless to bring up such a delicate subject, but you need not fear, not at a moment so close to his parting. Thomas has made arrangements for you. Let your mind be easy on that score,” Estella whispered.

Peace lasted only a moment though. “What arrangements?”

“I do not know them all precisely, but Thomas spoke to your cousin recently and obtained his agreement that you shan’t be cast out from this house upon his death. I have the papers in my possession, should it become necessary to remind your cousin of the agreement. It seems your grandfather had more than a slight inkling that his time was coming fast upon him.”

Agatha began to shake, distraught that she’s missed the signs that he was unwell. “Did you know he was ailing?”

Estella raised Agatha’s trembling hand and kissed the back of it. “No, child. He never spoke of his health to me. I thought him merely weary of his business dealings. They were a great burden upon him.”

At least she wasn’t the only one caught unawares. Lulled by the soft stroking of Estella’s fingertips across the back of her hand, Agatha relaxed. Neither of them was to blame, but both of them would miss him.

A loud pounding on the front door dragged Agatha from a brief sleep. She rubbed her tired eyes and for a moment wondered what she was doing in her grandfather’s chamber. The dark room was silent but for her own breathing. Estella was no longer sitting at her side.

Quiet conversation drifted up from the hall. A man’s deep voice rumbled through the house. Puzzled by whom it could be, she climbed wearily to her feet. Although unsteady, she cast a glance at her grandfather’s still form then stepped out onto the landing. Below stairs, Estella was whispering to Mr. Manning, the rector of St. George’s. The viscountess must have sent him word while Agatha had been asleep. She must remember to thank her for that later.

Slowly, Agatha descended the stairs.

Manning hurried to escort her down. “My child, how great this tragedy. Please accept my condolences. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Agatha managed a weak smile as he stared at her. His pale eyes were etched with genuine concern and she knew she could depend on him to see her grandfather buried with respect. She gestured toward her grandfather’s study. “Thank you for coming.”

When they were all settled before her grandfather’s desk, she fought to get her emotions under control. The scent of cigar was strong in the room and remembrances made her eyes sting with tears again. “I am uncertain how to proceed with the arrangements, sir. My grandfather never mentioned any concerns with his health or his wishes for burial.”

The vicar cleared his throat and gave her a brief description of her choices. His choice was for a tasteful burial without the pomp and ceremony Estella kept suggesting.

When the tension between them grew unbearable, Agatha raised both hands to silence them. “Please. I do not wish to listen to arguments today.”

Manning had the grace to look chagrined. “Forgive us, Miss Birkenstock. We have an old dispute between us that, of course, should be dealt with another time.”

That was surprising. Agatha had thought Manning and Estella were on the best of terms. “It is of no matter, sir. I expect we are both raw from grieving someone we cared for very much.”