When James did not immediately respond, the man pointed hispipe at James and continued. “You’re suspicious. I don’t blame you. Never you mind. It is impossible to keep secrets in a village like this. And no one’s business is ever really private, is it?”
Now James’s interest was piqued. A few days ago he’d never even heard the name Cassandra Hale. Now it seemed that her name, not to mention Clark’s, was on everyone’s lips. It was odd—he almost felt defensive for the young woman. Yes, they’d only just met, but she’d helped his family and he felt honor bound to watch out for her. Besides, if he was in any way considering her for a governess, he’d need to know why such a man would be inquiring after her. “What business have you with Miss Hale?”
“Normally I’d say it’s personal and not share a word. But it is urgent I speak with her. I’d hoped you could help.”
Mr. Longham hadn’t answered his question. Not really. James took another swig of his cider as the battled raged within him. He should not get involved.
He shouldnot.
He returned his mug to the table, but before he could speak, Milton returned to the table and stood next to it. “Longham! That you? Ye a ghost?”
Longham guffawed and extended a thick hand toward the man. “Ah, Milton. Good to see you, man. No, not a ghost, but might as well be some days.”
Milton slapped a heavy hand on the much taller man’s slightly stooped shoulder and dropped to the chair next to him. “What brings ye back to these parts then? Ol’ Clark back from the grave bringin’ us trouble?”
Longham chuckled. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But no, no. But it is the Clark estate that brings me here.”
“You should be callin’ on Peter Clark then, eh?” Milton leaned on the table with his pointed elbows. “I shouldn’t think there’s much to do with th’ estate here at ol’ Green Ox.”
“I will need to speak with Peter eventually, but not yet. It is quite another person I am here to see.” Longham pivoted toward James. “I’m told that Miss Cassandra Hale was at your place asking after Mr. Clark.”
James did not like how the man asked after her so boldly. “And how would you know that?”
“The innkeeper here and I go way back. I asked him to keep an ear out for her name since so many come through his doors. He notified me when he saw her name come across the travel ledgers. Glad he did too. Devilishly hard woman to track down.”
A strange sense of satisfaction spread through James. He was right to be cautious about this man. After all, perhaps Miss Hale didn’t want to be found. But then again, wouldn’t she want to know anything associated with the Clark estate given her quest?
Oh, his interest in her was intensifying.
Longham folded his aged, gnarled hands on the table before him. “I have business with her. Rather, Mr. Clark’s estate does. Do you know how to reach her?”
He knew what he needed to do, even though he suspected it would pull him down into the depths of whatever was going on.
“I can get a message to her,” James offered, “but I must know the nature of it before I agree to assist you.”
“There are matters related to his estate that pertain to her, namely his will.”
James exchanged glances with Milton, who shrugged. Milton seemed to have a good rapport with Longham. And had James not told Miss Hale specifically that he would offer any assistance?
“Very well. Come by Briarton Park tomorrow evening at dusk. I will reach out to her, and if she is amenable, you may speak with her there.”
Chapter 17
Cassandra simply could not make sense of it.
Earlier that morning she’d received a letter from Mr. Warrington. She’d assumed it would be regarding the governess position, but it didn’t even mention it. The message had been simple: Mr. Warrington had encountered a solicitor who wanted to speak with her regarding Mr. Clark. He was facilitating an introduction at Briarton Park, and he’d send a carriage to convey her there. Now, as Briarton Park’s carriage rumbled through the main gates, her nerves fluttered within her as she mulled over possible scenarios.
When the carriage finally drew to a halt, Mr. Warrington was standing in the main drive, hands clasped before him. As she exited the vehicle, he offered his hand to assist her down. A sober expression replaced the much more congenial one he usually boasted, and once her feet were on the ground, he spoke low. “I hope it was all right to write to you.”
“Of course. I was grateful to receive your message.”
“His name is William Longham. He approached me at the Green Ox last night. He was Robert Clark’s solicitor,” Mr. Warrington explained in a hushed tone as they walked toward the house. “He found out you were here looking for information. He asked questions about you, and I was not comfortable having the discussion withoutyou present. I hope I did not overstep my bounds by inviting him here. Forgive my assumption, but I thought it best that you meet him somewhere familiar.”
Once they reached the wooden door, Mr. Warrington leaned forward to rest his ungloved hand on the door’s brass knob, but he did not open it. Instead, he inched closer to her and lowered his voice. “He’s here, just inside in the great hall.”
Cassandra jerked, and her face flushed hot. “He’s here? Already?”
“He arrived quite early. He’s been here nigh half an hour. He’s quite keen to meet with you, but rest assured, I’ve told him nothing about you or what you’ve shared with me. Are you ready?”
