Agnes Or The Art 0f Friendship

by Catherine Bowness

  “Dear me! Is this the fortunate gentleman for whom you have conceived tender feelings? Do I know him?”

  “I should think he is the one person you do not know. His name is Mr Armitage and I have taken him to his mother’s house.”

  “Mr Armitage? Is he the younger brother of Sir John?”

  “Indeed he is. Are you acquainted with him?”

  “Not with Mr Armitage, no; he must be very young. But I know Sir John – as he now is; everyone who has ever frequented a gaming club must know him but I have not seen him for some time.”

  Agnes was alone in the saloon with a book when she heard a vehicle draw up outside. She went to the window to see a young man alighting from Louisa’s curricle. By the time she opened the door, the vehicle had turned and set off in the other direction, leaving the young man with his fist raised to knock upon the door.

  Mr Armitage almost hit her in the face before lowering his hand and saying, “Forgive me. You must be my mother’s companion. I am Charles Armitage. Miss Newbolt told me of my brother’s return and kindly brought me here in her curricle.”

  “Yes; I saw her dashing back up the road,” Agnes replied, smiling. “Please come in! I am Agnes Helman and delighted to meet you.”

  She held out her hand and, when he took it, stepped aside to allow him to enter the tiny house.

  Mr Armitage more closely resembled his mother than his brother. He was several years younger than the invalid and presented a very different appearance. Their only likeness lay in their height – she presumed from the length of his limbs that the elder was tall although she had never in point of fact seen him upon his feet. This man was broader and possessed a fine pair of shoulders and a face which might have been accounted handsome were his elder brother not so astoundingly good-looking that he was bound to suffer by comparison. He had thick dark brown hair, conservatively cut and styled, a face that was as yet not entirely formed but looked likely to finish more square than any other shape, a chin that was still settling into lines of determination and a pair of fine hazel eyes.

  Everything about him spoke of respectability where everything about the other – although she acknowledged that she had not seen him in the most favourable circumstances – hinted at decadence and temptation – his own and others’; the one upstairs had the look of a fallen angel, an appearance which twisted the heart because of what one could not help thinking he might have been if he had only been able to resist the lures of the devil; this one had the look of a young man barely grown to maturity but well on the way to becoming the sort of man on whom one might be able to rely in the future – but not perhaps quite yet.

  Leading him into the tiny saloon, Agnes explained, “Lady Armitage is upstairs with your brother,” giving the impression, she was well aware, of a devoted mother sticking to the side of her injured son.

  “I’ll go up,” he said, moving at once towards the door again. “I don’t suppose it will be difficult to find the right room,” he added, giving her a tentative smile.

  “No; it is the one on the right at the top of the stairs. Would you like me to tell them you are here first? Also, I wonder if perhaps I should explain a little before you go up … Did you receive your mother’s letter before you left London?”

  “No, but Miss Newbolt has told me something of the story. I understand that my brother was wounded in Africa and has been repatriated. Is he very bad – is that what you wished to warn me of?”

  “Miss Newbolt has not seen him – although I understand she was acquainted with him in the past. I have never met him before but, to my mind, he looks unwell. He is very thin and his colour is not good.”

  “Good God! It must have taken at least a month for him to get home – do you suppose it was the journey which wore him down or was he already in a poor condition when they put him on the ship?”

  “I do not know,” Agnes admitted. “The doctor, who has called several times, assured us that, with good food and fresh air, he would improve – in time.”

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Only that your brother does not know that the people at the big house are the Newbolts. I understand that Sir John made Miss Newbolt an offer some years ago as a consequence of which she wishes to remain anonymous. Otherwise, I am sure he will tell you everything himself; it was only that I wished to prepare you a little before you went up.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mr Armitage did then leave the room and she heard his footsteps as he went up the stairs.

  Chapter 15

  It was some ten minutes later that Lady Armitage came down.

  “Thank goodness Charles is here,” she said as she came into the room. “It is such a comfort to have a man in the house again.”

  Indeed, Agnes thought, her ladyship did look less careworn although, to her mind, there was a good deal to disagree with in this observation. It had, after all, been the arrival of a man which had cast the poor widow into renewed paroxysms of anxiety and despair just when they were beginning to feel more at ease in the cottage.

  “Yes, you must be pleased to see him again,” she said mildly. “Shall I send for some tea, my lady?”

  “Oh yes, that is an excellent notion. I’ve no doubt we’ll feel quite cosy again in no time. I have left Charles up there because John is adamant that he must be shaved at once. I hope it will not be too fatiguing for him – for John.”

  “Well, he will not have to do anything much but hold still,” Agnes pointed out.

  “No, although I should not imagine that Charles has ever shaved anybody else before; I hope his hand will remain steady.”

  “I am sure it will,” Agnes said soothingly. “He struck me as a most capable young man.”

  “Oh, you saw him, did you?”

  “Yes; I opened the door to him. Louisa brought him.”

  “That girl is worth her weight in gold,” Lady Armitage said, sighing.

  Furnished with tea and cake, it was not long before Lady Armitage began to look more lively. She even took up her work and Agnes, seeing her so relaxed, took up her pencil.

  This peaceful situation did not, however, continue for long before there was another knock upon the door.

  Agnes rose but Lady Armitage said, “Leave Jess to answer, my dear; you cannot be bobbing up and down to answer the door all day.”

  This time it was Louisa who was ushered into the saloon.

  Lady Armitage began on a long-winded speech of gratitude, extolling the thoughtfulness of a young woman who, in the midst of a party, brought one of her guests down to a humble cottage in order to give succour to an anxious mother but Louisa, waving aside the thanks, said that she had come to collect Mr Armitage and take him back to the party.

  “I said I would return in an hour but I am afraid I have been delayed. Is he ready to come, ma’am?”

  “Oh, dear, I don’t know. He was shaving poor John but he must have completed that by now, must he not?” She looked interrogatively at Agnes as she spoke.

  “I do not know, my lady,” Agnes replied. “But I will go up and see, shall I?”

  She rose, waving Louisa to a chair as she passed, and ran up the stairs. As she went, she found herself wondering, having been forced to listen to a succession of footsteps going up and down the stairs that day, what hers sounded like to the pair in the saloon.

  At the top of the stairs, she heard a low murmur of masculine voices and knocked upon the half-open door, putting her head round at the same time. She saw the man lying in the bed had half his face clean-shaven while the other half was still obscured by the beard.

  “Forgive me for disturbing you, sir,” she said from the doorway. “I am here to inform you that my friend is downstairs, waiting to carry Mr Armitage back to the big house.”

  “Oh, lord, I’d forgotten about that,” Charles Armitage exclaimed, waving the razor about above his brother’s face in such a way that the half-shaved man shrank back against his pillows.

  “Here, have
a care, Charles, or you’ll cut my throat,” he warned.

  “Sorry – don’t want to do that,” Charles agreed, laughing and putting the razor down.

  “What shall I tell her?”

  “I do not think I can leave John like this – you had better thank her and tell her I will make my own way back later. I daresay you can give me the direction, can you not?”

  “Yes, indeed; I will even show you the short way across the fields.”

  Louisa received the news that her passenger was not ready to be collected with a shrug.

  “Shall I come back in another hour?” she asked.

  “No, of course you must not. I will show him the way across the fields for then he will be able to come and go much more easily without your having to fetch and carry him as though he were a child. You are not his servant,” she added tartly.

  “No; I can see you disapprove. Perhaps,” Louisa suggested with a sly look, “I should come back in two or three hours’ time when I could take you too; you could join us for dinner. I suppose I cannot prevail upon you to come too, my lady?”

  “No; I had best stay here with John but it would be good for Agnes to have an evening off and meet some other young people,” Lady Armitage said, showing so much approval for the suggestion that Agnes wondered whether she wished to be rid of her.

  “Agnes?”

  “Yes, if Lady Armitage can spare me, I would be delighted.”

  “Good; that’s settled then; I will return in a larger vehicle – and I hope you will put on a pretty dress, Agnes. This is your chance to have an effect upon a number of impressionable gentlemen; there will be plenty there to choose between.”

  “I don’t doubt it but I am ashamed to admit that my wardrobe does not contain even one pretty dress suitable for an evening party,” Agnes replied, smiling.

  When she had gone, Lady Armitage took up the subject of gowns.

  “You must have something suitable,” she said persuasively as though Agnes had only to look through her possessions to find a dress she had previously overlooked.

  “I do not believe so,” she replied. “I have never been ‘out’, you see, and have never even attended an assembly room or a private dance so I cannot imagine what I can wear.”

  “But you must have something suitable for an evening party – something made of muslin or silk – anything but wool,” Lady Armitage suggested.

  “I have one or two cotton gowns,” Agnes said. “Indeed, the one I am wearing now is cotton.”

  As she spoke, she glanced down at the simple black gown she wore. It had a round neck, short sleeves and a waist which was only slightly higher than her natural one.

  “Pray do not jest about something so serious,” Lady Armitage chided, almost irritated. “You cannot wear that – it is a perfectly acceptable gown for daytime but will not do to eat dinner at the big house.”

  “I know. I have a black silk – which I bought especially for evening parties immediately after Papa died – and a lilac muslin, which I wore earlier this summer when the weather was excessively hot.”

  “In the daytime?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that will not do then, unless you were overdressed at the time. It will have to be the black silk, which is a dreadfully sombre colour and will make you look like a governess.”

  “I do not think it does as a matter of fact,” Agnes said. “It is quite becoming and, because it is fairly low in the neck, would not be at all suitable for a governess; at least I should think it would be disapproved of by an employer.”

  “But black?” Lady Armitage asked.

  “Yes; I could enliven it with the addition of a scarf; I have a yellow silk one that would go quite well, I think.”

  “Very well. What is the time now? Perhaps you should try it on and we will put our heads together as to the best way to brighten it up.”

  But Agnes did not care for this idea. She said, “It is the only evening dress I have so, whether it is suitable or not, I have no choice but to wear it unless I am to turn up in cotton – which you say will be wrong. If you do not like the yellow scarf with it, I can leave that behind. It is a warm evening and I do not intend to stay late.”

  It was another half hour before Mr Armitage came downstairs.

  “Well, John is all shaved now and looks a vast deal more presentable. I have trimmed parts of his hair too so that I think he is almost recognisable. Before, I could not help wondering if the wild man in the bed was an impostor.”

  “Oh, I must go at once to look at him!” Lady Armitage exclaimed, jumping up with something approaching enthusiasm.

  While she was upstairs, Agnes, having summoned more tea and cake, explained the arrangements for returning to the big house and dinner.

  “But I shall not be correctly dressed for the evening,” he pointed out, clearly anxious not to appear unused to the exigencies Society imposed upon gentlemen. “It will not take me long to change but all my clothes are at the big house so that, unless I am to get there a bit earlier, I will keep everyone waiting for their dinner. I think it would be best if I make my own way back at once.”

  “If you are determined to do that,” Agnes said, “I had better make good on my promise to show you the short way.”

  “I cannot have you leading me across fields if you have to turn round and go back by yourself,” Mr Armitage argued, now displaying concern about another possible faux pas.

  “Oh, really, sir, there is no need to stand on ceremony with me. I am perfectly able to return by myself.”

  “Very well; thank you then. You will not need to go the whole way: just set me in the right direction and I daresay I shall arrive safely. Shall we go now?”

  “Certainly; I will fetch my walking boots while you tell your mother.”

  “My brother has described you as an angel,” Mr Armitage began as they set off across the fields.

  “His mind may be a trifle unbalanced on account of his illness,” Agnes explained self-deprecatingly.

  “By no means – if what he told me of your actions bears any relation to the truth.”

  “Do your brother’s remarks generally differ markedly from that ideal?” she asked, eager to abandon the subject of her ‘angelic’ conduct, which made her uncomfortable.

  “Not that I know of. He is some years older than I and has always – for as long as I can remember in any event – been the ‘bad’ son while I have – merely in contrast – been the ‘good’ one. I suspect that it is his adherence to the truth which has landed him in such hot water with our parents. If he had prevaricated a little more they might have judged him unfortunate rather than immoral.”

  “But his badness consists of incurring gaming debts, does it not?”

  “Not entirely but, since he has such a high opinion of you, I will not add to the list of his iniquities for fear of turning you against him.”

  “I can see that you are attached to him,” she said after a pause during which she wrestled with her conscience and eventually conceded defeat. She wanted to know more of the invalid’s wrongdoing but felt that uncovering it by means of interrogating his brother would be improper.

  “Yes; I have always admired him; first because he could do things I could not – initially as simple as walking – and later because, in spite of Mama’s increasing disapproval and anger towards him, he has always remained devoted to her. He got on better with our father, who was once a gambler but gave it up when he married.”

  “I suppose,” she said slowly, “that your mama must have been disappointed in how he turned out.”

  “Very likely. John is like our father in appearance as well as in his habits. Papa was an exceptionally handsome man – even latterly. I am, as you have no doubt observed, more like my mother.”

  “Yes.” Agnes did not know how to continue this conversation for she considered it wrong to speak about either Sir John or his mother when neither was present to mount a defence. The fact that she had, in her own heart, criticised
Lady Armitage for her harshness towards her elder son made it difficult to resist trying to discover more of what had driven her to take this line, apart of course from the obvious fact that she blamed him for the loss of her home.

  “I understand that you work for the Government,” she said, changing the subject abruptly.

  “Yes; I have been fortunate enough to find a job in the War Office. The work is surprisingly interesting, even now when we seem to be in a state of relative peace.” He laughed and added, “Perhaps that’s why we are maintaining some sort of peace!”

  “Yes, indeed. We must all be grateful to people like you who work in offices.”

  “I am only a very small cog.”

  “So far – but you have not been there long, have you?”

  “No. The thing is, you see, that I always expected to earn my living whereas John has been brought up to expect one from the Armitage estate – although, of course, that does not by any means imply that he would not have had to work hard to manage it. My point is that he had never thought he would find himself turned out of his property and forced to find income from another source. He has come home, exceedingly unwell, only to discover that, while he was away fighting, our mother has let his house without consulting him. He is, I think understandably, feeling a trifle ill-used.”

  “Yes,” Agnes said. She wondered if Lady Armitage had consulted her younger son on the wisdom of vacating the house; she suspected not because Mr Armitage, for all his youth, seemed to be a man whose head was reliably attached to his body. From what he had said, he clearly thought his parent’s move injudicious. “Surely though, that does not mean that he has lost the income from the property? I assume there is a farm and tenants in smaller houses – like the one your mother and I inhabit on this estate – which will bring in a certain amount of rent?”

  “Yes; but how is he to manage the farms – or the tenants – if he is obliged to live elsewhere? It will not be at all easy.”

  “No, I do not suppose it will. Your father died while he was away, did he not?”