“I wish to see MP Holwell,” Soren said.
Cassandra half expected Bevil to tell them, “He is not at home.” Instead, he answered, “The master has asked me to escort you to him. Lady Dewsberry”—he spoke as if the name was distasteful on his tongue—“I have been instructed to inform you that you are not welcome during this meeting.”
“Not welcome? To see my father?” Cassandra didn’t know what to make of that statement. She looked to Soren.
“It is probably for the best. I told you this might be a difficult interview.”
That was true.
“This way.” Bevil did not use Soren’s title. He was rude. He would not have behaved in this manner when she had lived here.
Then again, a York would never have darkened their doorstep.
Soren made no issue of the matter and so Cassandra kept quiet. She watched as Bevil led him down the hall toward her father’s study. After a moment, worry urged her to follow a few steps. She heard her father’s surly greeting when his door was opened, and then it was shut.
Bevil did not return to the front hall.
Left alone in the hall, Cassandra looked around. The house seemed different to her, as if she had not lived in it for years. She realized that it was no longer a part of her, which was puzzling. How could she lose an attachment to the familiar in such a short amount of time? Perhaps because her loyalties had shifted? The marriage bed had bonded her to Soren. Even now, she wished she stood beside him. She needed the comfort of his person and his perspective.
There were no other servants wandering about at this time of the day. The downstairs maids would be in the kitchen helping Cook. The other manservant was the driver, and he only came to the house when required.
Cassandra started up the stairs. She didn’t know how long the discussion over her inheritance would take but she had intended to collect a few things from her room, and so she should. She would also make arrangements with her maid, Abby, for packing some things for the Pulteney and the rest for storage until she and Soren purchased their home in Town.
The upstairs hallway was quiet. “Abby?” There was no answer. Cassandra wasn’t about to search out Helen. At this hour of the day, her stepmother was usually at the shops.
She went to her room and opened the door. Her bedroom was decorated in apricot and periwinkle blue. The colors appeared girlish to her now. Again, she was conscious of having crossed some invisible threshold.
When she first walked into the room, everything seemed fine. Her wardrobe was closed and her bed made. The room was as tidy as ever—except the top of her dressing table was bare. No perfume bottles or ribbons or brushes. No books on the bedside table. Cassandra always had a stack of books there and even a pile on the floor. All was gone.
A bad premonition took hold of her. She moved to the wardrobe and opened the door. It was empty inside. Her beautiful gowns and dresses, her smallclothes, her shawls, and her shoes had vanished.
“My lady?”
Cassandra looked to the door. Abby stood there, her face so pale her freckles stood out in stark contrast. She quickly closed the door behind her as if not wanting anyone to know of Cassandra’s presence. “My lady, I am so happy to see you.” She spoke in a whisper.
“Where are my clothes?”
“The master had me pack them all up to sell. He ordered that everything should be taken.”
“Even my hair ribbons?”
“He was a madman when he returned from the country. He tore everything out of your wardrobe and he was checking all of the drawers. He pulled them all out. Mrs. Holwell was shouting at him about everything being your fault. He kept saying he was ruined. What did he mean, my lady? It was frightening.”
None of this made sense to Cassandra. “Ruined?”
“He wanted to know where your jewels were. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t. He shook me so hard, my neck hurt but I didn’t tell.”
Cassandra went cold inside. “Did he find the sapphires?” She touched the pearls around her neck.
“I don’t know, my lady. He ordered me from the room, and only he and Mrs. Holwell remained. I could hear them breaking things as they searched. That is why your inkstand and little things are missing. They were all broken. The master and mistress didn’t say anything to me when they left your room.”
“But you didn’t check?” Abby knew where the sapphires were kept.
“I’m afraid to do so. I don’t want to know too much, but everything appeared to be left alone.”
Cassandra nodded with understanding. “This must be Helen’s fault,” she said. She loved her father. She trusted him... but she’d always been wary of Helen. Her stepmother had been upset when Mr. Calder had forced her to give the jewelry to Cassandra.
Another memory from the day the solicitor had called came back to Cassandra. He had questioned whether all the pieces were accounted for. He’d asked about emeralds.
