Maggie's mouth fell open in amazement.
"Relinquishing control over the lands? Why?"
Nicholas' smile morphed into an awkward one as he grappled with words of explanation.
"I didn't mean to take the noble title from you, my dear. I just thought that maybe you would need some more time to mourn your father. Unfortunately, the lands still need to be tended. They wait for no one."
"I am my father's sole heir," Maggie shook her head in rejection. "I already upset him enough. I will not disappoint him further by failing to take care of what he leaves behind."
Maggie started walking away, and Nicholas quickly fell into her footsteps.
"Maggie, I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't," Maggie interjected. "I am sorry. I don't want to talk about this matter right now. It's… It's too early."
"Naturally, naturally," Nicholas readily agreed. "Let's just walk around one more time, alright? And then I will not disturb you anymore."
Maggie nodded, and they continued walking around the garden in silence.
That day, Maggie bravely stated that she would take care of the estates and plantations on her own, but it soon turned out to be a burden she was not ready to handle on her own.
At eighteen years old, she had only been studying the compulsory courses that all noble ladies had to complete during their stay in Cavendish Academy – mostly basic etiquette, embroideries, dancing, painting, music lessons, and several foreign languages. These were all the skills that accomplished young ladies used as their strongest weapons to shine in the marriage market.
Everything else was slated for later, because each noble family was at liberty to mold its heirs to a shape according to its preferences. Maggie was supposed to study under her father's direct tutelage.
Right now, she had no one to guide her into the art of managing the lands and plantations. Additionally, she also needed to go back to Cavendish Academy to complete her studies.
After careful deliberation, Maggie was forced to rely on Nicholas and Lloyd's kindness and support to take care of issues surrounding the fiefs. To maintain control, she instituted regular reports from tenants, farmers, and merchants, with the intention of educating herself on ways to manage her newfound responsibilities.
Exhaustion gnawed at Maggie with each passing day during her final month at Cavendish. Days were consumed by mastering the obligatory womanly arts, while nights were a relentless pursuit of knowledge. By the oil lamp's glow, she devoured reports and delved into thick books she borrowed from the Great Library, yearning to broaden her worldview.
Her solace came only in the form of the sweet letters she exchanged with Nicholas, her dearest love. His words, filled with unwavering encouragement, were the sole anchor keeping her afloat in a sea of uncertainty. Whenever discouragement threatened to engulf her, his voice, penned across the pages, reminded her of the future they were building together.
"Be strong, my brave Maggie," so Nicholas had written in his last letter. "Once you return to Huntington Hall, we shall make plans for our engagement."
Their engagement.
Upon her return to Huntington Hall, she was going to marry Nicholas Cunningham and become his wife!
The thought was enough to conjure smiles across Maggie's lips for days to come.
Tonight, too, she had to study on her own.
Close to midnight, Maggie realized that she had forgotten to borrow one more book from the Great Library. It was located within walking distance from the Cavendish Academy, but it was way past curfew.
Maggie contemplated resting for the night, but it wouldn't do.
The graduation was but several weeks away. By the time she moved back to Huntington Hall, she had better mastered every subject about agriculture, economics and trade, tax structures, and last but not least, land and estate management.
No, Maggie decided.
She must get the book in her hands by tonight, consequences be damned.
If she left now, she would be back within thirty minutes. Just take a book and return to the dormitory, how difficult could it be?
Fueled by determination, the newly appointed Countess of Huntington grabbed her cloak and donned it above her long-flowing dress. She then pulled her long, fiery hair into a bun and hid it beneath the hood. With purposeful strides, she then marched out of her dormitory room.
A hush had fallen over the grounds as the Countess hurried between the dormitory and the library. The only sounds that dared to pierce the stillness were the mournful hoots of an owl, echoing from unseen branches, and the whisper of wind rustling through the leaves.
It was said that those who craved knowledge wouldn't stoop to theft, and thieves, in turn, held a reverence for the written word. This trust eliminated the need for watchful guards at the Great Library. Those who wished to enrich their mind were instructed to log their names, the borrowing dates, and the returning dates in the archive register.
This simple tradition was upheld for decades without a single breach, thus enabling people to visit and spend time at the Great Library without time limitation.
Though, as Maggie noted to herself grimly, she might be the only person who made the trip to the Great Library to borrow a book in such an urgent fashion.
The young lady lit an oil lamp and took it with her as she traversed one shelf after another, looking for the book she had had an eye on, but forgot to take with her.
Just then, a cold male voice sliced through the silence, startling a gasp from the Countess.
"What, do you think, are you doing here so late at night?"