She opened her eyes and moved to the window that overlooked the front yard. There stood Mr. Warrington, speaking with the magistrate.
About her, no doubt.
Oh, what Mr. Warrington must think of her. How he must regret ever allowing her at Briarton Park. True, she had nothing to do with the death, but Mr. Longham never would have been on the property if not for her plight. She could not help but feel that she, in some way, had brought tragedy here.
To make matters worse, she could sense Mrs. Towler’s presence, heavy and judgmental, from across the hall. Cassandra could barely bear the weight of it. She pivoted away from the window in preparation to return to the nursery, but Mrs. Towler’s snipped words stopped her short.
“I’m sure now you see what you have brought on this family.”
Stunned at the accusation, Cassandra shifted. “I did nothing.”
Mrs. Towler moved in a rustle of charcoal bombazine, blocking the way to the staircase. “You presume to tell me that your presence at Briarton had absolutely nothing to do with that man’s death? La. I took you to be shrewder than that.”
Cassandra swallowed dryly, feeling her tenacity buckle under the scrutiny. She did not feel that she could bear an altercation, and she refused to engage in one. But then the door creaked open behind her and heavy, masculine footsteps echoed.
She turned. Mr. North stood in the threshold.
Relief flooded her at the sight of him. A friendly face—the expression on which suggested he already knew the details, and he was concerned.For her.
Mr. North held his wide-brimmed hat in his ungloved hand. He bore no smile. He entered and bowed toward them both. “Ladies. I understand it has been a most difficult morning.”
Mrs. Towler folded her hands before her and raised her chin. “I’m surprised to find you here, Mr. North. It has been months since your last call to Briarton, has it not?”
If he was affected by the coolness of her tone, he gave no indication. “My sincerest apologies, if that is indeed the case. I was summoned, of course, with the discovery of the body. I would be remiss not to check and see how you are faring and to offer comfort, if possible.”
“I thank you for the effort, but it is wholly unnecessary,” Mrs. Towler said in a clipped tone. “Need I remind you that Miss Hale is a governess, an employee of this house, and is not in the habit of accepting visitors? Especiallygentlemenvisitors.”
He gave a little laugh, as if stunned—or amused—by the woman’s insinuation. “My dear Mrs. Towler, you misunderstand. These are extreme circumstances and Miss Hale’s experience this morning was, no doubt, unprecedented.”
Mrs. Towler turned her attention to Cassandra. “Very well, but the girls require their lessons. I trust you will not be long.”
Once the sound of Mrs. Towler’s footsteps had faded, Cassandra expelled the breath she’d been holding. Finally, she could interact with Mr. North as friends.
He stepped much closer to her, and his scent of sandalwood encircled her. He lowered his voice to an almost intimate level. “How are you, really?”
“This is unbelievable.” She, too, pulled closer to him, grateful for someone she could relax around. “Have you been to the site?”
“Yes, I have. Ghastly. The coroner was there, along with some other men from the village.”
“What are they saying?”
“They suspect he was attacked in some way. Have they given you any information?”
“No one has told me anything.” Cassandra shrugged. “The only thing I know is what Mr. Shepard told me just now, which was not much. Oh, how will they ever know what really happened?”
“Things, as unpleasant as they are, have a way of coming to light.” He adjusted his hat in his hands, left her side, and walked farther into the room before facing her once more. “I have been called to such scenes before, but I must confess, Miss Hale, that this one was most distressing. As soon as I heard you were the person to discover the body, all I could think of was your well-being.”
She gripped her hands before her to calm her nerves. The earnestness in his gaze was unlike any she had seen from him before.
Mr. North sighed. “These are the most precarious of times, especially with the unrest of the weavers. You’ve heard of it, of course.”
She nodded. How many times had Mr. Warrington warned her of such—of staying close to the main house and not letting the children outdoors without supervision?
He continued. “After the Kents’ gathering I feared I had overstepped my bounds in cautioning you against this position. But now, as your friend, I feel even more compelled to ask you to reconsider remaining here.”
She swallowed, surprised at the strong inflection in his voice.
He glanced over his shoulder at the door before he spoke again. “I have shared that they suspect it was an attack. Mr. Warrington is a mill owner. He’s seen as the enemy by many. I can’t help but fear this will happen again.”
