Scarecrow of 1889
Chapter 17: Entry in the rain

Chapter 17: Entry in the rain

Agnes strolled through Corby’s streets at noon, umbrella in hand, as dark clouds threatened to rain. Despite her initial smile at the architecture and water fountains of the town, a sudden gust of wind wiped it away, leaving her scrambling to protect her hair from the ruffling breeze.

"The wind here sure is strong," Agnes murmured, briefly considering returning to her room.

Intrigued by the prospect of adventure, Agnes decided to explore Rockingham Castle, a place she had never been before. Upon arrival, among fellow tourists eager to admire the historical beauty, she found herself in awe of the wooden interiors and the moody maroonish brown hue of the walls. As she admired a painting, a nearby man commented, capturing her attention.

"Beautiful, isn’t it? They say the painter was beheaded for painting the count’s wife. The count was possessive and didn’t want the painter to show his wife’s portraits to anyone else."

This caught Agnes’s attention, and she turned to look at the man standing a step next to her. She replied, "That’s quite a barbaric thing to do."

"I must agree with you. It is terrible," the man laughed before adding, "Imagine if he were of current time, where the camera would capture and make copies of his wife’s pictures."

Agnes observed the man, uncertain if he stood as tall as her or perhaps an inch shorter. Being taller than most women, she often found it challenging to gauge the other person’s heights accurately. He possessed blue eyes, blond hair, and a bright smile, making him stand out amidst the crowd.

"I am Sebastian Daniel," he said, offering his hand to her.

"Agnes Holloway," Agnes responded. When she stretched her gloved hand to him, he dropped a kiss on the back of her hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Holloway," Sebastian smiled at her. "Is this your first time in Corby?" he inquired.

Agnes nodded and said, "Yes. This is my very first."

"Oh, then I should tour you around. There’s the cathedral, which might catch your fancy if you have liked this castle. Of course, that is if you are up for it," Sebastian quickly added, as if getting excited to show her around.

Agnes had always dreamt of going on adventures like this. To get lost in the city with a stranger and do things. But she also knew of its consequences, and a look of gloom fell on her face.

"It is okay if you don’t want to," Sebastian said to her.

"No, it isn’t that I don’t want to," Agnes muttered while looking away from him. But she deserved freedom.

"It will be just one place, and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to," the man persuaded, noticing her reluctance before she finally gave in with a nod.

Agnes joined Sebastian on a visit to one of the promised cathedrals, finding the experience utterly captivating. She marvelled at the soaring ceilings and the vibrant stained-glass windows that captured her gaze. And then there was Sebastian, the man at her side, speaking with fervour about the artworks within.

"You certainly seem to have a knack for art," Agnes remarked, her voice echoing in the cathedral’s hallowed space. Sebastian’s grin widened at her observation.

"It’s a family affair, really. We own an art gallery, and art has been a passion passed down through the generations," Sebastian explained as they ascended the steps to the altar. "I’ve developed quite an appreciation for it myself. And what about you, Miss Holloway? What occupies your time?"

Agnes offered a warm smile, keeping certain aspects of her life concealed. "I’m here working as an assistant at the opera house," she replied, choosing not to divulge her other, less conventional occupation. She knew it wasn’t a profession that would be well received by everyone, especially men from the upper echelons of society.

"Ah, the opera house," Sebastian mused. "That must be quite fascinating."

Agnes smiled politely, her thoughts silently echoing, ’Not really.’

Later that evening, Agnes retired to her room and settled onto her bed, only to be startled awake by Marcello.

"Agnes!"

"What is it?"

"Can I go out? Please, pretty please!" Marcello pleaded. "I promise to behave."

Agnes sighed, considering his request. "I’m not sure it’s the right time, Marcello."

"But I’ll be fine! I’ll come back right away," Marcello insisted, eager to explore the city like the others.

"Mm," Agnes murmured, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling her back to sleep.

Marcello, interpreting Agnes’ silence as approval, surged with newfound energy. Hastily freshening up, changing his attire, and tidying his hair, he exited his room with a beaming grin. It had been long since he last ventured out like this, and the idea of treating himself to a popsicle seemed irresistible.

However, in his eagerness, Marcello drew curious gazes from passersby as he skipped down the street. Their mixture of stunned looks didn’t deter him. Spotting an ice cream shop across the road, Marcello’s heart leaped with anticipation. Yet, he hesitated to cross, the memory of his scolding from the carriage men lingering in his mind, causing his lips to purse.

Summoning his courage, Marcello glanced around and noticed a woman preparing to cross the street. "Excuse me, madam," he called out, capturing her attention. Initially met with raised eyebrows, the woman’s expression softened into a smile as her eyes landed on Marcello.

"Could you assist me in crossing the street?" Marcello asked innocently, extending his hand with a polite request. The woman hesitated, but before she could respond, Marcello seized her hand and exclaimed, "Oh, look! It’s clear now!" With a firm grip, he led her across the street.

"Wait!" the woman called out, but Marcello was already on the other side, releasing her hand with a grateful smile.

"Thank you for your help," Marcello expressed his gratitude, though the woman continued to regard him with a perplexed expression. Before he could depart, she inquired,

"Are you afraid of crossing streets?"

Marcello’s pout revealed his vulnerability as he confessed, "I am. Agnes tells me I shouldn’t be afraid, but I can’t help feeling worried."

"Agnes?"

"My sister. Actually, she took me as her brother. She’s the only one who pays attention to me," Marcello said, his smile fading. "Maybe when I am ten, I will be better, no? I am going to eat ice cream. Would you like to eat?"

Marcello noticed how the woman looked at him as if he were a freak, and she took a step away from him.

"I—uh, I have somewhere to be," the woman said quickly, before taking another step away from him and leaving.

"She doesn’t like me either," Marcello said, looking dejected.

This was always the case. Every time he spoke to children of his age, the parents would take them away from him as if he wasn’t fit to talk to them. Every time he tried to strike up a conversation with an adult, they would shun him. It made him sad. But seeing the ice cream shop, he skipped to it and bought one with the money in his pocket.

The next afternoon, after wrapping up work at the opera house, Sylvester boarded the train bound for Riddleford. Alongside him, the performers from Frontier Hall and their families also embarked, waiting in line to have their tickets checked.

Though Sylvester hadn’t explored the town like the others, he felt fatigued from the demands of overseeing the opera. Upon arriving at his apartment, he dropped his trunk and prepared to shower before taking a nap to avoid soiling his bedsheets.

As Sylvester slept, a loud banging from an open window jolted him awake. Sitting up, he felt moisture underfoot—a sign that rain had seeped in. Closing the window, he fetched a nearby candle stand to examine the floor. His heart raced as he noticed clear footprints leading from the window to the living room.

S—someone was in his apartment!

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