Just Miss Agatha

Chapter 1

Agatha

How could Agatha forget it? Her memories were as clear as day, as so was her suffering colder than snow. Hours drowning in thirst and days passing with no glimpse of food, her time in the basement was worse than that of a servant.

"All you do is gamble and cost us more money!" She would hear the shrill voice of her Mama from above. "I did not marry you for I to end in the streets again! You must know this, George, I have shared this with you countless times!"

"I promised you a good life, look around you, have I not provided such?" Her Papa would yell back in frustration.

It was a cacophony Agatha wished to hide from. Even the distance and imprisonment of the basement could not shield her from the pain of hearing her parents bicker. She was just 10, how was she to understand the strife that came with marriage?

"I do not know what this marriage has brought to me that is of benefit. It gave me a child that marvels at dressing like a boy, eats like a pig, and cusses like a sailor. Then there is this husband who drinks all day and loves to gamble," Mama would say in disgust.

"Do not speak like that of our child," Papa would beg.

"What else can I say? She still does not know to conduct herself gracefully, I am embarrassed to take her anywhere. That is why I send her away to the country whenever I can!"

"If you put your efforts into raising our child and not relying on others to do it for you, then she would not be in bad company and become the bad fruit you despise."

"She is just like you. That is why you stand for her, the apple will not fall far from the tree. I have no such ugly traits she possesses. It can only be from you."

"Yes, yes, she is like me!" Her Papa would close the argument. He always gave in first, fed up with the quarreling and disagreements that aged him.

Agatha sighed and set up in her bed. It was 11 years ago, when her Papa was still alive, that such matters weighing on her soul took place.

Every night, the two people she loved most would argue. She would sometimes close her ears and cry herself to sleep. She prayed they would stop and God would take away the noise.

Well, be careful of what you pray for because he did. Her Papa passed away in his sleep, drunk, he had vomitted and choked to death. The noise she could not stand was replaced by the eerie quietness that caused the pin to make noise if it dropped.

Her relationship with Mama worsened, leaving them with nothing to say to each other. On most days, the chatter would come from the domestic help because except for good morning and good evening, what had them converse was plans Mama had for her for the day.

Agatha was back in London as her first Season was at hand. This created more communication between Agatha and her Mama than she would like. Dress fittings, training—sewing, drawing, piano—French education and how to run a household forced her to bear the presence of her mother all day.

Do not get her wrong, she wanted to love her mother. She really did, however, one had to spend a week with her to understand how that was quite impossible.

"A smart girl has to use her head and not her heart, Agatha. You shall not consider any man below the rank of a Viscount."

Agatha reached under her pillow and spread out the letter she received that afternoon. Due to her fear of Mama seeing the letter, she hurriedly read through it earlier. Now, in the deepness of the night when everyone had retired to sleep could she enjoy the words that were sweeter than honey.

My Dearest Agatha

No hour passes without you crossing my mind. I cannot wait for the time we can finally be reunited after my release.

How do you fare?

My heartache due to the distance between us makes it difficult for me to rise from the bed sometimes. However, when I remember your beautiful smile, your radiant eyes that are like the sun, and your caresses softer than silk, I am filled with complete incitement to do my best.

I am pleased to share with you how I pleased my superiors in our recent battle. My efforts were noticed and I have become wishful and slightly hopeful that I may be bestowed with the rank of Knight at the end of my tenure. Shall that not please your Mama and set your mind at ease?

Nevertheless, if I fail at this I am sure my rewards will be hefty and I will be able to offer you a comfortable life. It will be enough for I to purchase the rank of Baron. I have committed with myself that you shall not be anything else than a Lady in this life.

My dearest Agatha, how I miss you.

How have you been faring being with your Mama? Do you miss the country as much as I do? May your heart not despair. I will soon come for you and whisk you away to the country, where you can dress the way you desire and run to the ends of the world till you tire.

The time for our reunion is fast approaching. Before the end of your first Season, I surely shall be released and make my way to you. Let your heart not be troubled for me, I know you worry a lot but I have done well in the past three years and these few months left will not be a bother.

What book have you been reading, recently? Did you finish the book I sent to you, and was reading it a feast you appreciated?

My beautiful Agatha, I dare not want to end the letter. How I wish I was next to you to bathe in your presence and carefree laughter.

My love for you forever,

Simon

Agatha became aware of the smile that was making her cheeks hurt. Oh, Simon, the love of her life. He was selfless, humble, caring, and entirely devoted to her. He wanted nothing but the best for her.

She already told him countless times that she cared not for titles, being with him was all that mattered. Yet, he was in a frenzy to please her Mama and make things easier. If only he knew how it was utterly impossible to please her Mama. When you were about to reach a bar she set, she loved to extend it even further.

Had she not lost weight, stopped cussing, and become ladylike? Had that been enough? Of course not!

He wanted her to be Baroness Agatha. Her mother would vomit at that name. "Nothing less than the Viscount rank," she liked to say, and Baron was way down the ladder, a title that could be bought and was not mainly inherited and earned, what a thing to scoff at for her. Forgetting that she, Mama, was a Baroness as well. A title that her father had purchased. At times Mama forgot that she, herself, married a farm boy.

Or maybe she failed to, and that is why she needed things to make her feel like she was born in the class that she now strutted in.

"Lady Agatha," Agatha chuckled. Simon was indeed silly. Just Miss Agatha was good enough.

SV