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Chapter Two
Agatha heard talkingand opened the door to the hallway in time to hear the beggar thank Bentley, and her butler wish the man a good evening before the front door closed behind him.
“Shameful that they come to your door to ask for funds. I wonder why it took Bentley so long to dispose of him,” she complained out loud. Why was hethankingBentley? He had turned him away. Curious, she pulled the cord.
At the sound of her voice, the cat opted for a warmer perch and left its spot on the floor for her lap. “Pretty, keep me company,” she crooned as she scratched the cat behind the ears, eliciting soft purrs from the animal. As she continued to cuddle the cat, she felt a slight movement in its stomach and sat back in alarm.“How odd,”she mumbled, gently probing the area. Feeling movement again, she held the kitty up to her neck and rocked her. “You wonderful dear! You are going to be a mama cat and we shall have kittens!” Agatha’s voice took on a joyous tone. “It was a good thing that we happened upon you, my sweet kitty.”
Agatha had never had a child.It was one of the many things that was his fault,she lamented to herself. Her departed husband, Ambrose, had blamed her for their inability to produce a child, ignoring the fact that his first wife had died childless. She had hoped that at least once, she would know motherhood. Her parents had forced the unhappy union, and as far as she was concerned, they were to blame. Her brother had chosen his own wife, something she had always resented—and for no other reason, she detested her sister-in-law. Despite her brother being dead, she felt justified in her resentment and waved her hand dismissively in the air. “My brother should have insisted Father not cast me off to Ambrose. The man was alreadyold,” she sniffed. Agatha had been relegated to loneliness until she found Pretty, and the thought that there would be kittens thrilled her.
A small tap on the door preceded Bentley’s entrance. “My lady.” The man stopped short when he saw her examining the cat. “Is there something wrong with Pretty, my lady?” he coughed.
“Our Pretty-girl is about to become a mother cat!” she said excitedly. For the first time in forever, Agatha felt needed. “Oh. I heard that beggar-man in the hallway. I hope that he did not give you a hard time. I do not intend to put my own coffers at risk for the benefit of filling his, and I hope he took his leave for good this time,” she huffed, petting her cat.
“Yes, my lady. I believe that he understands your position. I do not believe Mr. Hanson will return,” he replied in earnest.
“Bentley, could you call Doctor Bells for me?” she said, smiling.
“Are you unwell, my lady?”
“Of course not!” she blustered. “I need him to check on Pretty, here.”
“My lady, I sent word for the doctor to attend Mrs. Winters. She went into labor earlier today, and I am told she is not faring very well. The midwife sent word that the doctor should come,” he returned, his voice guarded.
“This is important. I do not want Pretty to lose one of her kittens,” she responded pettishly, and then stopped. She studied the floor a moment before looking up at Charles. “I apologize. That was wrong of me.Of course, Mrs. Winters needs the doctor. Please forgive my pique.” Agatha scrutinized her cat, still concerned. She recalled a young man that had saved one of her calves in a breach birth. “Yes, yes,” she acknowledged out loud. “He will do nicely. Please send for Mr. Pennington. He has helped here before.”
“Certainly, my lady. I agree. He has decent skills with animals.” Charles said, visibly relieved. “I will send a footman for him at once.”
“Thank you. Have him visit in the morning,” she said, distractedly. “Pretty seems fatigued. I think I too will retire for the evening. Have Cook send my meal up, with a bowl of warm milk for Pretty. She needs to keep up her strength.”
Agatha moved to stand, when she became overset with a bout of dizziness, causing her to sway. “Suddenly, I feel quite odd.”
Bentley caught her. “Are you feeling right, my lady?”
Startled by the ripples of heat that coursed up the arm where he touched her, Agatha could only nod. When he moved his arm around her to steady her, similar waves of heat surged across her back from his contact. Agatha felt unsure what to make of the sensation.
“I think I may need assistance up the stairs. I…perhaps it is a megrim,” she stammered.
“Upon my word! Let me assist you upstairs, my lady.” Charles moved her towards the stairs and they began their ascent. “This is not the first time this has happened, my lady. I feel certain that the doctor should check on you.”
“Unfortunately, you are correct. Perhaps it is the weather.” Moments passed as they slowly climbed the stairs in silence.
“I will have Mrs. Stone give you a restorative while I send for Doctor Bells. Surely he will have delivered the child by now.”
“Please have a footman bring Pretty up,” she said with a strained voice. “I had intended to carry her; however, should I drop her, it could harm the babies.” She briefly wondered how many there would be.Oh Hell! This feels like the same headache I nurse at this time every year.She pressed both hands to her forehead.
Twenty minutes later, she had settled beneath the covers. Mrs. Stone, the new housekeeper, had given her a restorative to settle her nerves while they waited for the doctor’s visit. Her eyes felt tired.Bentley had been most insistent that the doctor see me. How unusual.Perhaps the doctor can peek at Pretty while he is here.Bentley’s attentiveness had caught her notice over the years, but she had not given it much thought, crediting it to his thorough nature.I am sure that is what it was, she thought as her eyes grew heavy.
As she closed her eyes, the sound of bells ringing started softly and grew louder. There was a sense of familiarity, but she could not recall when precisely she had heard them. The scent of cherries and tobacco intruded. Where had she smelled that? Struggling, she tried to open her eyes, but found she could not. She began to accept her limitations. Soon a white mist shrouded her shuttered sight, and a black form rose out of it. Unable to open her eyes, she was drawn to the blurry, dark figure rising slowly from the gray, soupy mist.
This has to be a dream. However, I feel awake. How can that be?Agatha felt the urge to bolt but found herself transfixed. The figure became less blurry, and she startled to see a likeness of her dead brother, Thomas, Lord Romney. An icy feeling of foreboding cloaked her. She had not called on his family when he had died. Was he coming back to chastise her? Had she not sent a missive with her condolences when he died? Her brother’s inaction when Father forced a betrothal to Ambrose still pained her, she reasoned. What was he doing here in her dream?
“Agatha…” his voice intoned as he motioned for her to follow.
“Whatnow, Thomas? You are always asking favors of me. Yet you do nothing to help me,” she snapped.
“Still carrying around that yoke of anger, sister?” he asked, his tone serious. “I would have thought age and wisdom would have befriended you. Ambrose left you a wealthy widow. You have more money than most, yet you are more selfish than most.”
“Nonsense!” she bristled. “I have to watch every farthing. You inherited Father’s wealth, and you had your family to help you. I have…” Her voice trailed off.
