The Visitor (43 page)

“When will this weariness go away?”

“What type of weariness?”

It was the following Wednesday, and Henry was meeting again with his friend back at Blackburn Manor.

“Forcing myself to converse is so tiring. Will it ever get easier?”

“I think it’s safe to say that it will, but it might take some time.”

Henry looked exhausted just thinking about it.

“Do you know Galatians 6:9?” Walker asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“ ‘And let us not be weary in well doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.’ ”

“Now it’s familiar.”

“Well, most folks forget to memorize the verse ahead of it. Verse 8 says, ‘For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.’

“Don’t forget what you’re working toward, Henry. We have to keep fighting the flesh—in your case, fighting the urge to keep quiet when there are important words to be said—so that we reap of the Spirit. And by the way, one time I looked up the word ‘reap.’ I thought I knew it to mean glean or harvest, but it also means to obtain or win.”

“That’s excellent. Thank you for telling me.”

“We certainly enjoyed visiting with your family on Sunday.”

“We enjoyed it as well.”

“When do you leave for Africa?” Walker asked with a smile, more in jest than anything else.

“Between you and me?” Henry asked.

“Yes.”

“Right after my sisters get married.”

Walker’s head went back when he laughed. It was the last response he’d expected, but as he’d admitted on Sunday, Henry Steele could be something of a surprise.

Newcomb Park

“Oh, look at this bouquet, Mrs Jasper.” Cassandra frowned at the dead flowers on the corner table of the dining room. “It must be the heat.”

“I think you must be right, Miss Cassandra. I’ll get this out straightaway.”

“All right. I’m going to go to the garden to pick some blooms.”

“It’s warm out, Miss Cassandra.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“Very well. I’ll take care of this vase while you’re out.”

Cassandra put a bonnet on her head, found her basket, and left by the front door. There were very few flowers in the front yard, but it was worth a peek. Seeing nothing of interest, she headed around the house to the gardens. Not really in the mood to pick flowers, she felt a bit restless this day. She was hoping the activity would calm her.

It was not a short walk. She was almost to the garden when she realized that while tying her bonnet, she’d left her clippers inside the front door on a table. Still wondering if it was worth the effort, she started back.

Her mind very much on her task, she rounded the corner and ran smack into someone. Head coming up, she looked into Alexander Tate’s face for the first time in many days.

“Tate!” Cassandra felt as if she’d been running. “How are you?”

Tate took her hand.

“I am the most contrite of men.”

Cassandra began to shake her head to deny him, but he stopped her.

“Do not be easy on me, Cassie. I do not deserve it. I am so dreadfully sorry. I acted without regard for you or the future we might have.”

“Please don’t pain yourself any longer, Tate, I’m fine. Truly I am. But tell me, you must have found Pierrepont, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“On the contrary, he has not been located, but I told Ellenborough he could contact me in Collingbourne and returned.” Tate stopped and looked into her lovely eyes. “I told him this was a matter of some importance.”

Cassandra was out of breath all over again.

Tate reached up, his hands gentle, and untied her bonnet. He smiled once he slipped it from her head.

“I wanted to see your hair.”

“I only wore the bonnet so I wouldn’t freckle more.”

“You may freckle all you wish, but I don’t want you to burn. Shall we find some shade?”

Cassandra managed only a nod.

Barely able to keep their eyes from each other, they walked to the back of the house, to the shade-covered seats to the east. They sat down and for a little time just watched each other.

“You received my letter?”

Cassandra laughed a little.

“As a matter of fact, I did not. I wrote Henry to tell him that it hadn’t come, but he missed that letter.”

Tate reached into his breast pocket and handed her the letter she’d written to Henry.

“I’ll let you deliver this if there’s still a need.”

“Thank you.”

“So I need to tell you what the letter said, don’t I?”

“Henry told me,” she said, blushing for a reason she couldn’t name. “Was the city very warm?” she asked to change the subject.

“Yes. Warm as it is here, it’s significantly cooler than London.”

“Are you in Collingbourne for a time?”

“Well, until my business is complete.”

Cassandra felt her heart sink, thinking his reason might be more personal.

“Business of a rather personal nature.”

Cassandra’s eyes came to his. What she saw there nearly barricaded her breath completely, but she managed to squeak a few words out.

“Business with me?”

“No one else, Cassie.”

Cassandra couldn’t look at him for a moment. It was too wonderful to be true.

“I had lunch with your Aunt Harriet on Sunday. We were at Blackburn.”

“That’s very nice,” Tate said, just fighting laughter over how often she’d changed the subject. “What did you eat?”

As her mind searched for the information, Cassandra’s face was almost too much for him. Her brow lowered and her eyes scanned the sky as though looking for the menu up there. Tate had all he could do not to kiss her.

“I can’t recall.”

Cassandra saw it then, the twinkle in his eyes, and knew she was being teased.

“Fair enough,” she replied. “What did you have for lunch last Sunday?”

“Beef.”

Cassandra frowned at him. “You weren’t supposed to remember.”

“My chef in London always fixes beef for Sunday.”

“Not fair! Tell me at least two side dishes.”

Tate couldn’t do it, and Cassandra began to relax.

“Why were you outside?” Tate asked next.

“I was going to pick a few flowers.”

“It’s rather warm for that, isn’t it?”

Cassandra shrugged. “I find myself needing things to do.”

“I can understand that. If I hadn’t been centered on finding a certain business manager, I would have paced the floor for thoughts of you.”

“I thought of you too,” Cassandra admitted, and this time she did not look away or change the subject. “I was hurt, Tate—you need to know that—but not angry. I so wished I could speak to you; a thousand times I wished it.”

“And I so desired to change my reaction to the news. You would have thought that I had been in charge all along.”

“It’s so easy to delude ourselves in that way,” Cassandra agreed. “But, Tate, I would make one request of you. If you must leave again, can you take more time to speak with me about it? I wouldn’t detain you, and I understand when urgency is needed, but I felt as if you were upset with me to the point that it was over between us. It was very hard to be left in such question.”

“I have no plans to ever repeat my actions from that day, Cassie. I’m glad you told me how awful it was for you. It helps my resolve never to fail you in that manner again.”

“Thank you, Tate.”

“Now, why don’t you invite me to dinner, and I’ll head to Pembroke and tell my aunt I’m back.”

“You haven’t see her?”

“No.” Tate brushed at his sleeve. “Can you not see the dust?”

“I didn’t notice.”

The idea of going to his aunt’s was lost to him for the better part of a minute. Cassandra was watching him, her eyes not seeing anything but his, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave.

“I must go,” he said at last, his voice quiet. “I think for now it would be the best thing.”

Cassandra, whose heart had begun to pound, swiftly nodded. She walked him to his carriage and stood while he climbed in.

It was a quiet couple that said their goodbyes, their eyes still watchful, but neither one was discontented. Tate would return in a few hours, and Cassandra considered sitting around and thinking about him until he arrived.

That evening, Lizzy watched Morland, whose eyes had barely left her since he arrived. Tate was not with them yet, and although she’d asked Morland if something was amiss, he’d only shaken his head no, not answering further.

At present Edward had his attention, but the moment the two men stopped speaking, his eyes went back on her. Morland kept his seat, but Edward wandered over to where Lizzy was looking for a book she’d been telling Henry about.

“You do know that Morland loves you, do you not, Lizzy?”

Lizzy gawked at him and whispered. “Edward, what a question! Was there really some doubt in your mind? Do you think I wish the man to hang about so I can dash his hopes to bits?”

Her outrage amused him. He smiled, not sure why he asked, but also not sure why Morland hadn’t asked the question. He somehow thought Lizzy was holding him off.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing,” Edward answered, trying to look innocent.

Lizzy rolled her eyes and went over to where Morland was sitting.

“I can’t locate that book.”

“Which book was it, Lizzy?”

She told him.

“You loaned it to me. I still have it.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten. Would you be so kind as to give it to Henry when you’re finished?”

“Certainly. You look lovely tonight, by the way.”

“Is that why you’re staring?”

“That, among other things.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t think I can wait any longer, Lizzy. I miss you when we’re not together. I ache to talk to you after only one day apart.”

Lizzy looked into his eyes, feeling the very love he described. She would have gone on looking all night, but Jasper announced that Mr Tate had arrived. The group in the library stood to receive and welcome him. Cassandra and Henry joined them moments later, and all went in to dinner.