Cassandra’s name was listed next to a date about a month after her birthday. “Why, this is me! But Mr. North said he did not find my records.”
“Well, I guess he did not find you because he, or someone else, did not want you to be found.”
“But he started searching for these before I even spoke with Peter Clark. It makes no sense.”
Betsy smirked. “Do you still want to return this paper to the vestry?”
With a roll of her eyes, Cassandra took the paper and tucked it in her pocket.
Betsy covered the basket again. “I thought you might feel that way.”
Chapter 37
When Cassandra and Rachel returned to Briarton, the sun was just starting its descent over the trees. The temperature was dropping, and the wind pressed hard against the side of the carriage. It would rain soon, and Cassandra would be grateful to be back in the warmth and privacy of her chamber to peruse the paper Betsy had provided.
But for now, she tried to relax and enjoy this time with Rachel. They rarely had time to themselves without the younger girls. Rachel’s company was effervescent, and it was good to see her blossoming.
“I had no idea that Mrs. Pearson could be so kind!” Rachel’s face glowed bright as she recounted the day’s activity. “And amusing. Did you know there were so many young ladies my age in the area? I thought I must surely be the only one. I am confident Mrs. Towler will not approve of them, but I truly don’t care.”
Cassandra could only smile as the young woman chatted on gleefully about the afternoon. She’d suspected that it would only take a few introductions and time out from under Mrs. Towler’s watchful eye for Rachel to feel more settled.
After the carriage crossed the bridge and turned onto the road leading to the main house, Cassandra frowned. An unfamiliar carriagestood in the drive. It was not unusual for Mr. Warrington to have visitors, but most of them, especially those with mill business, would pull into the courtyard in the back.
Rachel leaned forward. “Who is that, I wonder?”
They drove past the carriage toward the courtyard, where they alighted the carriage.
Initially all seemed quiet, but then two maids scurried across the dirt ground, and one of the stable boys ran past. As they approached the house, Cassandra stopped one of the kitchen girls as she crossed the yard. “Whose carriage is that? What is going on?”
The young girl tightened her grip on a bundle of linens. “That carriage belongs to the surgeon. Mrs. Towler collapsed.”
Cassandra winced and exchanged glances with Rachel. “Collapsed? How? When?”
But the girl did not respond. She scurried back inside.
Cassandra gripped Rachel’s hand and together they ran in, not even pausing to shed their cloaks. They darted through the empty kitchen and the narrow, paneled corridors until they finally encountered Mrs. Helock pacing at the foot of the great staircase.
“Is Mrs. Towler all right?” Cassandra gasped, reaching out to take Mrs. Helock’s hand in her own. “What has happened?”
The housekeeper stopped and fixed her gaze on Cassandra. The sadness in her red-rimmed eyes shifted to haughtiness, and she tipped her chin and jerked her hand free. “Clearly the recent happenings in this house have been too much for Mrs. Towler to bear. The surgeon suspects her heart.”
Cassandra ignored the thinly veiled insinuation that her presence contributed to the episode. She could not focus on that now. Mrs. Helock turned to leave, and Cassandra called, “And the children? Where are they?”
Mrs. Helock paused dramatically and turned to face her once again. “As the governess, should you not know that?”
Annoyed, Cassandra dropped her shoulders. “Will you just tell me where they are so I may go to them?”
“Miss Maria and Miss Rose are in the nursery.”
Cassandra hurried up to the nursery to assess the situation. She’d left the girls in Mrs. Towler’s care, but now they were with one of the maids. After instructing Rachel to sit with her nieces, Cassandra discarded her cloak and made her way to the family’s sleeping chambers.
The door to Mrs. Towler’s bedchamber was ajar. Cassandra peered inside.
Mr. Warrington was sitting in a chair near the fire. His side was to her. His elbows were on his knees, and his head was in his hands. He wore a striped waistcoat over his linen shirt but no coat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His boots still had mud on them, suggesting he had been caught by surprise by Mrs. Towler’s condition when he returned home as well.
She angled her head to look in farther.
Sure enough, Mrs. Towler was in the bed. She appeared to be sleeping, but Cassandra knew it was more than that. The man she assumed to be the surgeon was seated at the side of the bed.
