“If ye are askin’ if I loved your father, then the answer is no.” She withdrew her hands and folded them in her lap. “He took advantage, and that’s that.”
Mary Smith sniffed, signaling the end of the topic.
So it had not been a relationship of passion or love.
Eager to learn more, Cassandra straightened. “Have you ever met Peter Clark?”
“No, ain’t ever met him, but I saw him once. Looks somewhat akin to his father, he does. Does he know about you? About how you’re related?”
Cassandra nodded. “Mr. Longham and I met with him, but he doesn’t believe either of us. He thinks I am only trying to get the inheritance.”
“I’ve heard about the inheritance. Word travels fast, and of course, Mrs. Hutton knew of it an’ she also told me what had happened to Mr. Longham and his papers and such.”
“The challenge now is proving my identity. But if you and Mrs. Hutton could be persuaded to speak for me, that would be a start. Plus, this was found in the church.” Cassandra retrieved the slip of paper from her pocket and handed it to her mother.
“’Tis the baptism registry,” her mother exclaimed.
“You know it?”
“Yes. My name is there, see? Along with yours. Notice no father was listed, or any other details. Mr. Clark insisted you be baptized but refused to have his name registered. I wasn’t even allowed to witness it. He paid the vicar off to keep it all very quiet. They were chummy, of course.”
Cassandra tilted her head to the side as a thought struck her. “The vicar was his friend?”
“Yes, their families went way back. The vicar was always here for some reason or t’other.”
Cassandra searched her memory. Did Mrs. Kent not say the vicar back then was Mr. North’s uncle? And he had a wife?
Cassandra furrowed her brow in thought. “There’s no signature from the officiant who performed my baptism, but there are various signatures with the other names. Do you remember the officiant who conducted it?”
“I do.”
Cassandra recalled the name of the vicar Mrs. Kent had given her. “Did this vicar have a wife?”
“Yes, he did. A pretty wife. Name of Alice Stricklin, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Stricklin?” The name flew from Cassandra’s mouth as recognition flared. “Edward Stricklin?”
“Yes. I think so.”
Suddenly, Cassandra’s mind raced to map all of the pieces together.
Mr. North’s uncle.
Mr. North’s tie to the will.
Mr. North’s proximity to baptism records.
Mr. North’s ability to manipulate situations.
Perhaps James’s suspicion about his character was right all along.
“Stricklin, or his estate, was named in my father’s will,” Cassandra shared.
“Wouldn’t doubt it. ’Twas said that the vicar had loaned money to Robert Clark.”
“Mrs. Kent said that the living of the vicar had been passed down through the family,” expressed Cassandra, trying to piece the information together. “I wonder if Mr. North would have any tie to the Stricklin estate.”
“Don’t know ’bout all that. But I do have something for ye. My pride shouldn’t stand in the way of you claiming what’s rightfully yours, an’ when I heard the solicitor lost his papers, well, I thought this might help ye. Robert Clark owed you that much at least.” She opened her bag, pulled out a piece of paper, and unfolded it.
