The Visitor (9 page)

Pembroke

“This home is beautiful,” Cassandra told Harriet the moment she arrived midmorning, Tuesday.

“Thank you, Cassandra. It’s been in the Thorpe family for years.”

Cassandra would have loved a tour but knew that now was not the time. Indeed, there might never be a time. She had to be careful not to get too personally involved in this situation. That was the safest way to proceed. She had arrived with low expectations, so she wouldn’t be disappointed. She didn’t expect a tour now, nor would she ever.

“Tate,” Harriet called from the entrance of the library, just as she had before. “You have a visitor.”

“Hello, Mr Tate,” Cassandra said as soon as her hostess walked away and she was fully in the room.

“Hello, Cassandra. Thank you for coming.”

“You’re very welcome. Do you have a particular book in mind for today?”

“I do, yes.” He handed her the Italian volume. “If you’ll go on in this.”

“Certainly.”

Taking the sofa that was nearest Tate’s chair, Cassandra carried on with ease, reading in her usual style, with a certain amount of inflection, but not trying to imitate anyone’s voice in dialog.

She read for more than an hour, her listener seeming to be as relaxed as a cat in the sunshine. Glancing ahead to the end of the chapter, she thought she might get in the next chapter as well before she had to go.

At any moment she expected to find Mr Tate sleeping or interrupting, but neither happened. Cassandra’s voice began to tire before he showed any signs of doing so, and it was she who shut the book and called an end to the day’s session.

“If it’s all right with you, Mr Tate, I’ll be finished for today.”

“That’s fine. Thank you for coming.”

Cassandra came to her feet but hesitated just a moment longer.

“May I ask you something, Mr Tate?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t think your visitor could read French or Italian, did you?”

Tate’s smile was huge as he admitted, “Guilty. I thought my aunt might be nearby and wanted her to know I was on to her scheme.”

Tate listened to her laughter, liking the sound.

“Are you returning tomorrow?” he asked when he heard her feet on the carpet.

Cassandra stopped. “If I can come in the afternoon.”

“That would be fine.”

“Very well. I’ll see you then.”

Tate didn’t answer, and Cassandra wondered at her choice of words. It was so natural to tell someone you would see him later, but of course Tate would not have returned that farewell.

Hastings saw her out—Harriet was nowhere around—and all the way home Cassandra asked herself if she’d been utterly insensitive to Mr Tate’s plight.

Newcomb Park

“Henry?” Cassandra sought him out in his study. “I’m having some lunch. Would you care to join me?”

Henry looked up from the account book he was studying but didn’t answer.

“Are you not hungry?”

Now that she had mentioned it, Henry thought he might be quite hungry, but his mind was still on the business in front of him.

“Shall I have something delivered to you?”

“Please,” Henry answered automatically, regretting it when Cassandra looked a bit disappointed. He sat back in his chair, thinking through a different reply, but a moment later the door closed and his sister was gone. Henry sat and debated what to do, but he soon found he’d waited too long again. When Mrs Jasper delivered a lunch tray to his office, he asked after Cassandra and was told by the housekeeper that Miss Cassandra had decided to go riding.

Brown Manor

“Did you actually speak with Judith or just receive word?”

“Only word, but I assume it was a nasty illness to keep Judith from going out.”

“I think you must be right.”

Anne took a sip of her tea and asked more questions of Lizzy. She felt very cut off and craved news of the church family.

“What is Cassie doing today?”

“She went this morning and read to Mr Tate.”

“Did she? How did that come about?”

Lizzy explained the story, which Anne found quite interesting.

“Is Tate improving?”

“The doctor wants the patches to remain in place at all times, so it’s rather hard to say.”

“Well, I keep praying for him. That’s been a great advantage to being in this bed,” Anne explained. “One has so much more time to pray, and in the midst of that, I’ve thought about how special it is to be able to pray for Mrs Thorpe and her nephew, even though I’ve never met him. It’s wonderful having a God like ours, isn’t it, Lizzy?”

“It is indeed, Anne.”

“But now I also must tell you, before we keep talking about Collingbourne and the church family, that I’ve been asking God to bring you a husband.”

Lizzy couldn’t stop her laugh.

“Is that so? Have you had an answer?”

“Of sorts, yes.”

Lizzy laughed again. “I can hardly wait to hear this.”

“Well, it occurred to me,” Anne continued, clearly enjoying herself, “that a woman as lovely as you must be catching someone’s eye, but you must not be interested back. Then it occurred to me that you’re interested in someone who must have overlooked you. How close am I?”

“I think you’ve been spending much too much time on your own,” Lizzy teased her in an effort to avoid the facts.

“That’s probably true,” Anne agreed with a sigh and a small laugh of her own, her eyes looking to the ceiling. “You’re going to think me fanciful, but I’ve always thought you should marry Thomas Morland.”

Tears sprang so swiftly to Lizzy’s eyes that she couldn’t camouflage them. Anne would have been blind to miss them.

“Oh, Lizzy.” Anne’s voice filled with compassion. “What did I say?”

“It’s all right, Anne. We won’t speak of it. You need your rest.”

Anne knew her friend was right. Just the pain she felt at seeing those tears told her it would be very easy to become emotionally involved. Weston was counting on her to rest, as was her baby. She knew she could not follow her heart right now.

“Know this, Elizabeth Steele”—Anne had to whisper just this much—“I’ll still be praying. Know that I will.”

Lizzy took the outstretched hand that Anne offered her and with her free hand attempted to dry her face.

When the conversation finally picked back up, neither woman mentioned marriage or Thomas Morland.

Collingbourne

Cassandra could have pinched herself. Back in Collingbourne so soon, and all because she couldn’t concentrate. She had been so preoccupied by Harriet Thorpe’s favor the week before that she completely forgot to shop for Henry. Now she was back at Benwick’s hoping something would appeal to her as an appropriate gift for her sedate brother.

When Lizzy had arrived home from Anne’s the day before, she had mentioned that Weston was a lover of clocks. They were all over Brown Manor, small and large alike, some made locally, but many from all over the world.

Cassandra now stood in front of a shelf that held a rococo bronze clock. The small tag indicated that it was English-made, and she wondered if such a thing could possibly interest her brother.

Benwick was suddenly beside her. “May I help you find something today, Miss Steele?”

“I don’t know, Benwick. Henry’s birthday is near, and he’s difficult to shop for.”

“Were you looking at the clock?”

“Yes, but I don’t think he has any interest.”

“If I recall, his tastes run to sailing charts and maps.”

“That’s correct.” Cassandra looked at him beseechingly. “Have you anything that might interest him?”

“Well, to be honest, Miss Steele, he’s seen everything I have. But I did get something in on Monday. It’s unusual and secondhand.”

Feeling desperate, Cassandra asked, “May I see it?”

Benwick wasted no time in telling his son he would be in the back room before taking Cassandra that way. What he produced was a volume of maps—a large book—exquisite in detail and color.

“Oh, my,” was all Cassandra could say as she paged through it. “Where did you get this?”

“A local family had a death, and some things were sold. You don’t often see a book of maps like this, and I thought it might go for something.”

Cassandra studied the cover.

“I’ve heard of Frederick de Witt. He’s Dutch, isn’t he?”

“Yes. I have to quote rather a stiff price, I’m afraid.”

Cassandra inquired and discovered that Benwick had not been joking. He wanted more than she usually spent, but knowing how much Henry would enjoy it, she asked him to hold it for her.

“I’ll give you some of the money now and be back for it, probably at the end of the week.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, Miss Steele. You take the maps now, and bring the rest of the money when you’re next in town.”

“Thank you, Benwick. If Henry comes in, you’ll not say you’ve seen me, all right?”

“Seen who, Miss Steele?”

Cassandra smiled at him in a way that melted his heart a little before he took the volume to wrap it for safe travel.

Cassandra was on her way out of Collingbourne a short time later, the book stored in the rear of the carriage. Henry never got overly excited about anything, but she thought this birthday present might be just the thing to bring a smile to his face.