Agnes smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “I love you, John. You are my heart.”
They left the shed, walking into air that was warm and moist. They did not notice the winds had picked up and the smell of rain was in the air. As they walked, John gripped Agnes’s hand and made her review their plans again. At the stroke of midnight, when Agnes could be certain everyone was abed, she would meet John at the potter’s shed. He had a horse, which they would ride to York. From York, they would board a train to Scotland and Gretna Green, where they would marry at once. They had agreed that no matter the weather, they would make their escape.
She had only to wait a few hours more.
With a sigh, Agnes removed her gown and returned to her simple green day gown and folded the gown she would wear to her wedding very carefully.
When John had asked for her hand, she’d wanted to go to her father straightaway, but John had cautioned her against it. He’d suspected her father would not approve, and he’d been right.
“John Parker?” her father had boomed when Agnes, egged on by her sister Aurora, had announced one evening that she esteemed him. “You will take your esteem elsewhere, Agnes Whitstone. John Parker is not of a station to marry my daughter.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Agnes had cried, deeply offended that anyone would find John less than perfect.
“He is the son of a carpenter. You are the daughter of a man who owns the county’s largest mercantile,” her father had boomed. “These are two occupations that do not suit in business, in pleasure, and certainly not in marriage.” He’d lifted his newspaper to thwart any argument. “You will set your sights on someone of a proper caliber, or I shall do it for you.”
Her father’s opinion of John had not improved with time, and Agnes had become increasingly agitated. It was John’s suggestion that they elope. Oh, but Agnes longed to tell her sister Esme, who was closest to her in age and demeanor. But it would have been no use—Esme could scarcely think of anything else than the spring ball.
Agnes wrapped her wedding gown and a pair of embroidered slippers in a cloth, bundled it, and slipped it under her bed. When she was satisfied it was well hidden, she glanced out the window at the early spring day. The weather was cool and blustery, but otherwise a perfect day to elope.
She did not notice the gathering of clouds to the west.
Her bundle ready, Agnes sat down to her last task as an unmarried woman. She wrote a letter to her parents that she intended to leave on her bed.
Dearest Mother and Father please do not be cross when you find this letter and understand what I have done. I do not mean to cause you pain, but I love John Parker with all my heart and cannot bear to be without him. We are quite determined we shall not be kept apart. Do not come for me, for by the time you read this, we will have crossed into Scotland and will have pledged our lifelong devotion to one another. We intend to reside in York, where John has arranged the let of a small house on Queen Street. Esme will want my chamber, and I am pleased that she should have it. Your devoted daughter, Agnes.
***
The rain began just after eight that evening. The family was gathered in the drawing room, where Father liked to read from the Scriptures. Agnes’s eyes were trained on the mullioned windows, watching the rivulets of rain on the panes of glass. A gust of wind rattled one window that was not entirely closed; Mrs. Whitstone hurried to latch it shut. “Good heavens, it will be quite a storm,” she said, shivering.
As her father droned on from the Gospel of Mark, Agnes fretted. She reasoned that the storm would surely pass by midnight. But the storm did not pass. The deluge continued with great sheets of rain, long after the family had retired. Agnes prepared nonetheless; she retrieved the letter she’d written to her family and gathered her bundle. She dressed in a sturdy traveling gown and cloak, and boots. When the clock struck midnight, Agnes looked out the window and winced. It was still raining, and the wind was blowing quite strongly. But it seemed that the lightning had moved to the east. Agnes blew out her candle, picked up her bundle, and opened the door.
She made her way carefully along the darkened corridor. As she reached the top of the stairs, she saw something below that looked like the flicker of a candle. Agnes froze. She peered into the dark, straining to see.