“And I believe you will.”
Chapter 28
Cassandra could not sleep.
Nestled in her small little chamber, she found her thoughts drifting from the anxious uncertainty to the confusing sentiments that had ruled her thoughts since quitting Mr. Warrington’s study. It wasn’t the topic of conversation that had unnerved her so. Instead, it was the vulnerability that the conversation conjured.
Perhaps this entire situation was all carefully orchestrated by someone with ulterior motives, as Peter Clark had suggested. Perhaps not. There would be no way to tell for sure until the truth finally emerged.
Her letter—her one truly personal tie to her father—had been destroyed, and yet she kept coming back to Mrs. Hutton’s statement.“I can confirm this is his writing.”Moreover, Cassandra had seen the same exact signature on the paperwork Mr. Longham possessed.
Yes, she believed Peter Clark was her half brother.
Yes, she believed Mr. Longham, in spite of the lingering questions.
But her sense of rationality longed for concrete evidence of truth.
Her mind raced, reliving every occurrence since her arrival in Anston and at Briarton Park. Her thoughts returned repeatedly to Mr. Warrington. His direct expression and the delivery of his tonehad affected her. His strong physical presence and his gentle kindness attracted her. She recognized the undeniable draw that was developing between them. She had felt it with Frederick. But she had to check herself. Mr. Warrington was her employer.
Her employer.
It would be more appropriate for her to linger on thoughts of Mr. North. He’d given her plenty of advice, but unlike Mr. Warrington, he’d never inquired how she was doing or feeling.
It would be a slippery slope if she allowed her mind to think of Mr. Warrington as anything other than the man who paid her wages. But in the daunting loneliness of night, she craved that feeling of having someone care about her. How would it feel to have his arms around her? To trust him with the secrets of her heart and to know that he thought of her as more than just a governess? She desired honesty. Sincerity. Vulnerability. Their conversations had opened the door to those thoughts. And now that it had been opened, that door would be very difficult to close.
***
The next day, Cassandra awakened before dawn. Indeed, she’d never fallen asleep. She heard the maids creep in for their early morning stoke of the fire to make sure all was warm when everyone arose, so she rose from bed, dressed in a heavy wool gown, donned her cape, and would go out for a walk to watch the sun rise over the garden walls.
She encountered several maids on her way out, and as she passed Mr. Warrington’s study, flickering firelight poured from it, suggesting he was already awake as well. She glanced at her pocket watch. Forty-five minutes remained before she would wake the girls for the day, ensuring enough time for some fresh air.
Outdoors, the air was cold and exhilarating, the freshness ofwhich helped to clear her mind from the thoughts that had festered overnight. She traversed the courtyard to the manicured lawns, where even in winter the paths were trimmed neatly and the plants maintained their order. The hoarfrost was crisp and fresh beneath her boots. It crunched with each step, and her breath plumed before her in invigorating brightness.
She continued along the wall until she reached the edge of the garden, where a copse of ash and elm trees separated the gardens from the muted moors that stretched beyond. She looked back to Briarton Park, doing its best to appear gloomy in the morning shadows. But nothing could look sad in the pink morning light that reached from the east. So she decided to walk farther.
Then, as she turned the corner at the edge of the boxwoods, something caught her eye. Something black on the grass protruded from the corner, just where the fence met the trees. She walked down the road a bit farther to the edge of the fence and frowned.
A boot jutted out from behind the uneven stone wall.
Alarm pricked her skin at the sight. Every word of warning that Mr. Warrington had shared rushed her.
Cassandra held her breath and took another step. The black fabric of trousers became visible. As she took another step, her mind prepared her heart for what she was about to see.
A body lay there. Unmoving and awkwardly positioned.
But not just any body.
She recognized the white hair, the emerald coat from the previous day.
Mr. Longham.
The beauty she had enjoyed just moments ago dissolved around her into horror.
Disbelief slowed her limbs, making them feel thick. Heavy. Her throat felt too dry to speak, yet she managed to call out his name.
But she knew he would not answer.
She dropped to her knees by his side and touched his shoulder.
