The Visitor (37 page)

From the upstairs hallway, they went to Harriet’s bedroom. She had a balcony that overlooked the gardens at the rear of the house, and for a long time Cassandra stood frozen in place.

“I don’t know if I would ever leave this spot,” she decided. “I would have all my meals served here, receive all my guests in this place, and simply sit here all day.”

Harriet laughed with pleasure and turned to show her something else, but Tate bent and whispered in her ear, “I think I can arrange that.”

Cassandra blushed at his warm tone as well as his words and hurried after Harriet as she began to point out the finer details of a painting back out in the hallway. If Harriet noticed Cassandra’s crimson face, she ignored it and continued the tour.

When Cassandra had seen everything, she was so overwhelmed that at the start of the meal she was rather quiet. In truth she lived in a lovely home and had done so her entire life, but Pembroke was special. Not as large and grand as Brown Manor, one of the grandest homes in the area, Pembroke was nevertheless so architecturally lovely and perfectly placed that she thought she’d never seen the like.

She was still thinking on it at the end of the meal when they retired to the music room, and Harriet began to play. Tate and Cassandra had claimed opposite ends of the long sofa as they watched Harriet at the piano. She played for the better part of an hour before taking a break, and as soon as she did, Tate invited Cassandra to play.

“I was serious when I told you that I can’t compare to your aunt.”

“But it would still be nice to hear you,” Tate argued.

Cassandra’s look was long-suffering. Harriet caught it.

“Do you enjoy playing, Cassandra?”

“Not overly.”

The other two occupants of the room were so surprised by this honest admission that it took a moment for them to respond. When they did, it was with laughter.

Cassandra felt herself blushing again and wishing she didn’t have such fair skin.

“We won’t press you any longer, Cassandra,” Harriet vowed. “Will we, Tate?”

But that gentleman didn’t agree.

“How can I go along with that when it causes her to blush so nicely?”

“Oh, Tate, leave the poor girl alone,” Harriet admonished him good-naturedly as she went to ring for tea.

“You were quiet during dinner,” Tate said, his eyes watchful.

“A little overwhelmed, I think.”

“With me or the house?”

“Maybe a little of both.” Cassandra looked at him. “I wonder how long it will take for me to become accustomed to your being able to see.”

“I’m still in wonder,” Tate admitted, casting his eyes around the room. “I couldn’t wait to see my Bible, the outdoors, the sun, and the stars again.” Tate looked back at his guest. “And that was all before I wanted to see you.”

“That was a nice thing to say.”

“I have nice thoughts about you.”

“That’s funny,” Cassandra teased. “I find I have rather lovely thoughts about you.”

“Until I want you to play the piano.”

“Why is that so important?” she demanded, her face displaying chagrin all over again.

“Anything you do is special. I thought you were just being modest.”

Cassandra’s look was skeptical. “I think you will find,” she admitted, “that I am very much who I appear to be. There’s nothing terribly hidden about me.”

“That’s reassuring, but what you’ve just told me is that I can plan to see you blush every day, that you’re going to run if something scares you, and that large, beautiful homes and tall, sighted men overwhelm you a bit.”

Cassandra just kept from laughing.

“I think that sums me up quite well.”

“In that case, I’ll tell you about me. I love to see you blush; I’ll come after you every time; and I hope someday that you’ll very much love large, lovely homes, and tall, sighted men. Or at least one tall, sighted man.”

Cassandra looked into his blue eyes, such a lucid color that she wanted to stare for hours. Tate looked right back, knowing he would never in his life meet another woman who would so thoroughly capture his heart. She was beyond lovely to him and so sweet that she melted his heart with nearly every glance.

There was so much he wanted to say, but Harriet was coming back. It didn’t occur to him until just then that she could have requested tea from the music room. Tate knew he would have to thank her for giving them a few minutes alone.

The Manse

“Frederick, why are you here?”

“Because Jane ran and fetched me. Are you all right?”

Judith took a moment to think and then realized she was lying on the living room floor.

“I bent over too swiftly,” she said rather dazedly. It was coming back now. “I don’t think I actually fainted. I just felt dizzy and then lay down.”

“But your eyes were shut,” Jane said, her white face peeking over her father’s shoulder.

Judith smiled at her. “It was the first time I’d stopped moving all day, Jane. I think my body thought it was time to sleep.”

Frederick helped his wife to her feet and then into a chair. Her color was good, and she was very steady, something he told his heart to emulate.

“You look shaken, Frederick.”

“I am. I had the most horrible thoughts, all flashing through my mind in a matter of seconds.”

Judith put a hand to his cheek, and he spoke again. “You’re worried about me, and I thought you might be dead.”

“No, I’m made of sterner stuff than that, Frederick.”

“Nevertheless, you shall retire to bed, and I will find help until Phoebe has returned.”

Judith had no argument. A rest in bed sounded lovely, and with someone coming, she knew the children would be well looked after.

Her husband close behind her, Judith took the stairs slowly. When she was settled under a light coverlet, Frederick sat beside her.

“Dizzy?”

“No.”

“Not even with love for me?”

Judith laughed, and he bent to kiss her.

“Is it selfish to want it all, Judith?”

“What’s that?”

“You and the baby?”

“I was asking the same thing. I was asking God to let me be here for you and the children and still meet this little one.”

Frederick took her hand in his and held it tightly.

“We’ll choose to trust, Judith. Even if we feel as though we’re in the belly of the fish, we’ll choose to trust.”

Not willing to be parted from her, Frederick stayed close, holding her hand as they talked. He sat on the edge of the bed until she fell asleep. From there he stood next to the bed, looked down on the wife he loved, and asked God for the desire of his heart.

Newcomb Park

Cassandra was in the garden again. The mid-June flowers were a riot of color, and she was as tempted as a child in a confectioner’s shop. She was working along, not expecting to see Tate for another two hours, when she noticed he was rounding the house and coming her way at a fierce pace. She smiled until he neared, giving her a clear view of his face.

“Tate, what is it?”

“I must away to London. I don’t have time to give you details, but Pierrepont has cheated me.” Tate’s face grew red as he burst forth, “My man Banks in London has just alerted me! I must be off.”

“Tate,” Cassandra called to him as he was turning away. “Is there nothing I can do?”

“No.” He nearly ground his teeth, his agitation clearly evident. “How could this happen?” he asked under his breath. “I trusted him, and now behind my back—” Tate cut off, barely glancing at Cassandra. “I must go,” he growled.

“Tate.” Cassandra’s voice stopped him. “I’m so sorry. I hope everything is all right with us.”

Tate’s face darkened a bit more. “Nothing is all right,” he said curtly, this time moving on his way, his long legs covering the distance in little time.

Cassandra did not call to him again, nor did he look her way. She had never seen him in such a state. Even after his vision returned, she had known only his kindness and attentiveness. Cassandra was stunned. Unable to move from the spot where he had left her, she was still standing with her basket 20 minutes later when Henry found her.

“Cassie, did I see Tate?” he asked, looking about.

“Yes, but he’s gone.”

“I thought he was staying for dinner.”

“He’s gone to the city.”

Henry finally looked at his sister’s face.

“I wish to speak to you, Cassandra. Let us go into my study.”

It wasn’t the most inviting room in the house, but only wanting privacy, that never occurred to Henry. Cassandra might have preferred the parlor or a sitting room, but right now she didn’t notice. She looked across the desk at her brother, having taken a wooden chair, and spoke softly.

“Tate’s business manager has cheated him. He’s only just received the news.”

“And he’s left for London?”

“Yes.”

Cassandra gave a full rundown of what had occurred in the yard, and ended with, “I’m so confused, Henry,” she admitted, looking a little lost. “Just last night he intimated again that he wished to make me his wife. He followed me all the way to Bath.”

Cassandra paused. “It might have been selfish of me, Henry. He so surprised me; maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned us, but today he was a man I’ve never seen before.”

As Henry’s mind raced, one thought came rushing to the fore.
Tate was so trusting of God concerning his eyesight, but now that money is the issue, he’s forgotten God is still in charge.
Before he could give voice to his thought, Cassandra went on.

“He was so trusting about his eyes, but now he’s fallen apart over the loss of some money. I can understand his concern, but he was so distraught that it seemed as though we could no longer have a future.”

Henry was on the verge of asking whether she had voiced this to Tate but stopped. He had left others in charge in the past and did not plan to repeat that action.

“Cassandra,” Henry began, taking charge. “I want you to give me Mr Tate’s address. I wish to write him a letter.”

Cassandra bit her lip. The old Henry would never have done this. Suddenly this new Henry was a little scary to her.

“Go on now,” he said gently. “Get word to Mrs Thorpe or whatever you need to do, and get that address.”

Still not certain how she felt about that matter, Cassandra did as she was told. Harriet had given her a note one time that had been on Tate’s stationery, his London address printed at the top. The note was in her room. She found it for her brother and then at his request waited in the study while he wrote.

“Read this,” he said after some time, coming out of his chair and inviting Cassandra to be seated. She sat in the overly large leather chair and read the following:

Mr Tate,

Cassandra has told me of your dilemma. I am sorry. I’m equally sorry that I am forced to write this letter to you. It has not passed my notice that though you trusted God for your eyesight, you have had an entirely different view concerning your finances.

Cassandra Steele does not live in this world unloved and unprotected. I can’t allow you to see my sister or have any contact with her without first applying to me. It is unacceptable that such a situation would cause you to act in such disregard for her feelings. She was very shaken by having your attentions on Tuesday evening in your aunt’s home and then receiving your harsh disregard of her feelings some 24 hours later.