The Visitor (24 page)

Pembroke

“Another perfect day,” Cassandra said the moment she stepped onto the veranda and found Mr Tate waiting for her.

“I think you must be right. The sun feels very good.”

“Do your eye patches allow any light through at all?”

“No, and even if they did, I’m to keep my lids shut at all times.”

“Do you wear the patches when sleeping?”

“Yes, even then. Should I sleep rather soundly, I might wake and forget to keep my eyes closed.”

“I can see how that might happen.”

“Your sister’s voice is higher-pitched than yours.”

“We’ve been told that before,” Cassandra said with a smile. “Charlotte’s is right in the middle.”

“I had a good time at your party.”

“As did I. I still can’t believe the book you and Mrs Thorpe brought. It was lovely.”

“What did your other sister end up sending you?”

Before Cassandra could respond, she heard piano music coming from the house. She listened for a moment.

“Is that your aunt playing the piano?”

“Yes.”

“Why have I never heard her?”

“She hasn’t wanted to disturb your reading.”

Cassandra listened for a moment. The melody was beautiful, and the playing accomplished.

“Cassandra, do you play or sing?”

“I play a little, but I don’t sing.”

“Maybe we should go in so you can play.”

“I fear you will prefer your aunt’s hand at the keys. My skill is nothing to hers.”

Tate wasn’t certain he believed this but didn’t comment. Instead, he suggested, “We could just sit and listen to her for a time.”

“I would like that.”

Cassandra realized as she settled back that they had never enjoyed music or quiet together. Each time she came, she had to speak almost nonstop. Finding this change so relaxing, she wondered that he had her come at all.

“That was a moving piece,” Tate said when the music ended.

He was met with silence.

“Are you there, Cassandra?”

Still no answer.

Tate was almost certain she had not left. He moved to the edge of his chair and reached across to where he thought she might be sitting. He found the arm of her chair and then her hand.

“Cassandra,” he said softly, now recognizing she was asleep. He almost called her name again, but stopped, his mind growing distracted with how soft her hand felt in his. He’d held her hand one other time and taken her arm the night of her party. Was her skin always this soft?

Suddenly realizing he was not allowed such liberties, he took his hand away, sat back in his seat, and waited. His aunt began another song some five minutes later, and he heard Cassandra stir.

Cassandra, not certain what had happened, sat up and worked to orient herself. She looked across at her companion. Had he known she was asleep? And why in the world did she suddenly feel so dull and tired?

She swallowed past a thick throat and wished she had a glass of water.

“Do you know the name of this piece?” Tate asked her.

“I think it’s Mozart’s Concerto in B-flat Major.”

“Of course. I can’t think how I could have forgotten.”

Cassandra wondered if he’d tried to speak to her a moment ago.

“Mr Tate?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’ll leave a little early today.”

“Are you unwell, Cassandra?”

“I don’t think so—just a small headache starting.”

“Let me ring for Hastings so he can see you to your carriage.”

Cassandra allowed this small courtesy, glad for his assistance when her head began to throb in earnest. She barely remembered leaving Pembroke and recalled even less when she arrived home. By afternoon she was in bed, very ill indeed.

“Her skin is so warm,” Lizzy told Henry quietly. She had just stepped out of her sister’s room and met him in the hall.

“Jasper has sent for Dr Tilney. He’ll be here soon.”

Lizzy nodded. She had left Cassandra sleeping, and her breathing was normal, but Lizzy was still worried. That worry lifted a slight amount when the doctor came and checked on her, telling Cassandra’s family to keep her comfortable and quiet.

“A fever like Cassandra’s is not dangerous,” the doctor explained. “It just makes her feel dreadful. As long as she can communicate and is lucid while she’s awake, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“So she should sleep as much as she likes?”

“As long as she’s coherent when awake, I shouldn’t worry.”

“Thank you, Dr Tilney.”

“I’ll check again tomorrow.”

The conversation had gone on outside Cassandra’s bedroom door, neither participant aware that Cassandra was wrapped inside a cocoon of feverish dreams—almost all of them involving Mr Tate.

“So handsome,” Cassandra told the empty room in an illogical mumble. “And kindly. The kindest boy I’ve ever met.”

Lizzy caught part of this remark as she slipped back into the room, but Cassandra did not answer when Lizzy questioned her. More words came forth, some including Tate’s name, but Cassandra didn’t awaken or speak clearly to her sister for almost an hour.

“Are you there, Cassie?”

“Yes,” she answered with her eyes closed. It was too much effort to lift her lids. “I know I must be ill, Lizzy. You sound just like Charlotte.”

“It is Charlotte, dear. I’ve come to see you.”

“Oh, Charlotte,” Cassandra cried weakly, forcing her eyes open. “You mustn’t be here when I’m ill. I so want to enjoy your visit.”

“Don’t worry, dear. We’ll be here after you’re back on your feet.”

“How is Barrington?” Cassandra asked, barely able to manage the words.

“He’s very well,” Charlotte said, but she could see that Cassandra was sleeping again. Tall like Lizzy but blonde with light blue eyes, the oldest Steele sister sat for only a few moments before leaving Kitty on hand to see to Cassandra and heading to find Lizzy.

“Who is Tate?” she wasted no time in asking.

Lizzy smiled. “Did she actually speak of him to you?”

“She mumbled his name just before she woke.”

Lizzy smiled.

“Is my baby sister in love?” Charlotte demanded.

“I would say yes.”

“When did this happen?” Charlotte’s voice was a bit too incredulous.

“Charlotte.” Lizzy’s voice was calm but direct, and her eyes were a bit stern. “You’ve been gone for ages.”

Charlotte worried her lip. “Everywhere we visited, they pressed us to stay on forever, Lizzy. It was much more difficult for us than it sounds.”

“I understand, Charlotte; honestly, I do. And we’re all very glad for your long honeymoon, but I’ve come to see Cassie in a new light. I try not to treat her like a younger sister anymore, and I felt myself coming to her defense when you did.”

Charlotte took a minute to comprehend this. Not until that very moment in time did she realize she’d come back expecting all would be as it had ever been. She told herself what a foolish notion that had been and asked, “Do you know this man?”

“Yes, we’ve met him. We are acquainted with his aunt as well. Harriet Thorpe, his widowed aunt, and Mr Tate came to Cassie’s birthday dinner. Did Cassie not write to you that she’s daily reading to a man?”

“Yes, she did—a blind man.”

Lizzy only stared at her.

“Oh, her
Mr Tate
is blind?” Charlotte said, finally connecting the details.

“At the moment. He fell from his horse some months ago. He’s in Collingbourne to recuperate.”

“And our Cassie loves him?”

“It looks that way.”

“And what are his thoughts of her?”

“It appears as though he cares for her as well.”

Barrington and Henry chose that moment to return from their ride. Barrington went immediately to his wife. Henry asked about Cassandra.

“She’s sleeping,” Charlotte filled in, still amazed at the change in him.

“I’m going up,” Henry said, and exited without waiting for further word.

Charlotte, having come in rather late the night before, now held her sister captive. She wanted any and all news, from Edward in Africa to the change she saw in Henry. With occasional checks on Cassandra, Lizzy brought Charlotte up to date on family and town news over the next several hours. Both women ended up completely drained, and when Lizzy finished, Charlotte determined never to be so out of touch again.

“That was wonderful,” Cassandra said weakly, returning the teacup to Barrington. She had managed to drink half of it. “How did you get elected to sit with me?”

“I volunteered.”

Cassandra smiled at him. She had liked Barrington from the first moment they’d met. It was an added bonus to know he was very much in love with her sister.

“Tell me the most wonderful thing you did on your trip.”

“Besides falling a little more in love with your sister?”

Cassandra smiled. “If I could find a husband half as dear as you, Barrington, I think I would marry on the spot.”

“I understand you have someone in your sights right now.”

Cassandra smiled, her head back against the pillow.

“There is someone I care for, Barrington, but he can’t see me, and I worry about that.”

“I can see how you would,” he teased. “You’ve always been so pitied for your horrible looks and disagreeable personality. I don’t know how your family stands it.”

“Stop, Barrington.” Cassandra laughed a little. “You’ll have me giggling, and that always makes me weak.”

Barrington leaned close and kissed her brow.

“We choose to worry about such foolish things, don’t we, Cassie?”

Cassandra looked into his warm, brown eyes and saw caring and wisdom.

“That we do, Barrington,” she was forced to agree, even as she felt herself worry a bit more. “That we certainly do.”