Betsy continued, almost as if she enjoyed implicating the man for his disregard. “Actually, ’tis odd that you have never noticed us here before.”
Mr. North, in true form, beamed a practiced, genial smile, projecting an unruffled disposition, and bowed. “Then you must forgive my oversight.”
Betsy glared toward Cassandra. “Please forgive me, Mr. North. I am expected elsewhere.”
Before he could respond, she bobbed a curtsy and departed, leaving Cassandra and Mr. North alone.
He glanced down to the quilt and baskets scattered on the ground. “Are you enjoying your picnic?”
Cassandra laced her fingers before her, trying to ignore the stares she sensed from the others in the party. “Very much.”
“Today will probably be one of the final mild days of the year, so I am glad you can take advantage of the fine weather.” He took a step closer, and his demeanor sobered. “But I confess, I am surprised to see you here, in this company.”
Cassandra winced at his bluntness. “Oh? Why?”
Mr. North chuckled good-naturedly and rubbed his hand over his chin before speaking. “Mrs. Martin is a fine Christian woman. One of the most dedicated women I know. But she cannot control the actions of her boarders. When I suggested you stay at the boardinghouse, I did not necessarily mean that you needed to associate with the residents on a social level.”
No, she did not know these people well, but Betsy had been kind and welcoming. She was not about to judge an entire group so abruptly. “I appreciate the concern, but we’re having a lovely time. It’s a fine day, and it is much better to be out here in the fresh air than to sit alone in my chamber. Besides, I’ve been enjoying their company.”
He straightened. “I understand such interactions might be a diversion for now, but some of these people—not all—might not be the sort of people you are accustomed to associating with. ’Tis only a friendly observation, of course, with your best interests in mind.”
Cassandra looked down to hide her dismay. If spoken by any other person, she might not be surprised, but to hear such words from a vicar about members of his own parish was disconcerting.
When she did not respond, Mr. North continued. “I saw that you were speaking with Miss Warrington after the service. I could nothelp but wonder if they had any more information regarding your search.”
“No, sir. They did not.”
“Well, it is fortuitous that I found you here, for I have news.” His lighthearted congeniality returned as he produced a letter from inside his coat. “I wrote to Mr. Clark last night, as promised, and had one of the boys run it over to him after we returned from our visits yesterday. After the service a boy brought around this note from Mr. Peter Clark to the vicarage.”
His seemingly arrogant offense momentarily forgotten, she forced herself to stay calm.
“It may not be exactly what you want to hear, but Clark departs for London tomorrow and will be gone for at least a week. But he did say he will meet with you upon his return, so that is something to anticipate.”
A week? Cassandra’s nerves intensified. How long could she afford to pay for such lodgings without a position?
Mr. North tucked the letter away. “And, of course, if it is agreeable to you, I thought I’d join you. Perhaps then you can put voice to some of your inquiries.”
She battled the disappointment and tried to focus on the positive. “That is wonderful, truly. I cannot thank you enough.”
Expecting their conversation had come to an end, Cassandra prepared to bid him farewell, but he stopped suddenly. “There is one other thing I had hoped to talk with you about.”
Cassandra brushed her hair from her face. “Oh?”
“Last night I took the liberty of checking the birth and death records for the year you were born, 1787, as we discussed.”
Cassandra’s chest tightened as she studied his face for any clues. “And?”
“Unfortunately, I did not find anything in our parish records that would support your search. With your permission I willcontact my colleagues in the neighboring parishes and see what I can uncover.”
She shook her head to mask her further disappointment. It seemed every door was being closed before her. But she had to remain cheerful—she did not want Mr. North to feel as if he had failed her. “This is all very helpful. Really.”
He hesitated and looked toward the young women gathered before he fixed his gaze on her. “I did not mean to take you away from your picnic, but I thought I would be forgiven by sharing that bit of information with you. You must have guessed by now that I feel a personal interest in your situation. I’m so very sorry for what you are going through, but if I am being quite selfish, I am happy that it has brought you to Anston.”
After a bow, he retreated back in the direction of the vicarage, and a strange sense wound through her. Initially, perhaps naively, she had thought he was helping her out of the goodness of his heart. But after hearing Betsy’s remarks and after encountering the hidden meanings behind his actions, she sobered.
If she did not want to be hurt again, she had to be smart and guard herself... and her heart.
Chapter 15
