In the beginning, his manner was breezy and light, and he suggested the documents for your signature were inconsequential. But the more I questioned and resisted, the more impatient he became. When I asked that I might read the paperwork for myself, he flashed a thick portfolio of official-looking documents, literally pages and pages of text, and then quickly snapped it shut.
Ultimately, my refusals sent him away. He was angry and sputtering, bemoaning the ride to Yorkshire he would now be forced to make. I can only guess he means to approach your family for these “proxy signatures.” This leads me to fear for your mother’s wherewithal and stamina against him. At the risk of alarming you, I can recount that he came very close to grabbing me up and shaking me, Cassin, just to make me see. (Never fear; Mr. Fisk hovered just outside of view. I was in no real danger.)
As soon as he’d gone, I dashed off a note to your family and sent it to Yorkshire by private courier. Hopefully this warning will reach them, and they will stand firm against him.
Regardless, I worry for whatever scheme he may have concocted. I worry for paperwork signed “by proxy” that may bind you or Caldera to God knows what. I worry for your dear mother. I know you are committed to the island and whatever windfall the mining may bring, but if you can be spared, even for a week, I believe that nothing short of your physical presence in England may waylay your uncle and whatever he has planned.
By the time you read this, it may be too late, but I could not, in good conscience,notreport it to you. I will await word from your mother and, if necessary, travel to Yorkshire myself to endeavor to help in any way I can.
I await your direction in the meantime.
And I miss you.
Yours,
Willow
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
By the third week in April, with no reply from Cassin, Willow made the decision to travel to Yorkshire and look in on Cassin’s mother and siblings herself.
It had been nine weeks since she’d mailed her urgent letter to Barbadoes and, in theory, some response could arrive any day. But intermittent letters from Cassin’s mother, Louisa, Lady Cassin, painted a miserable picture of Archibald’s return visit to Caldera, his departure in a huff, and now a third visit, this time with wagonloads of materials and equipment.
And then last week came the most alarming news of all from Caldera. Cassin’s younger brother, Felix, had been injured—how badly, it was difficult to say—by a herd of grazing cattle. Felix’s dog had darted ahead on a country walk, startling a bull. The herd was spooked into stampeding, and Felix was badly hurt trying to save the animal.
Now, according to Lady Cassin’s latest letter, Felix convalesced in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness, while his wife nursed him, and she and Cassin’s sisters managed the uncle on their own.
It was unconscionable that Archibald repeatedly forced himself on Caldera, but now Felix’s accident? Willow saw little choice but to go.
“But Willow,” said Tessa, watching as Perry tucked Willow’s warmest gowns and heaviest boots into a trunk, “word from Cassin may arrive any day. What if he does not wish you to go?”
“Likely, he doesnotwish me to go,” said Willow, examining a fur-lined bonnet. “But I cannot ignore the distress I read in his mother’s letters.”
“A distress you can discern despite never having met this woman?” ventured Tessa, shifting in her chair to be more comfortable. Her petite body was now large and cumbersome with pregnancy.
“I’ve not met her in person, perhaps,” said Willow, “but I have four months of her genuinely lovely letters, not to mention the loyalty borne of marrying her son.”
“Oh, but you married her son for convenience, not loyalty,” said Tessa.
“Listen to yourself, Tessa. You could be Sabine for all your skepticism.”
“Perish the thought. My point is not to dissuade you, Willow; it is to demonstrate that yours wasnota marriage of convenience after all.”
Despite the deterioration of Tessa’s own relationship with her husband, Joseph, her passion for matchmaking had not waned.
“My decision to go is unrelated to the nature of the marriage,” sighed Willow. She retrieved a stack of glove boxes from a drawer and spilled them onto the bed. “It is the decent thing to do. Cassin’s responsibility to his family is chief in his mind and heart; this I know. He is not here, but I am, and I am his wife, convenience or not. As such, I shall go in his stead. Perhaps I will be of little help, but I can lend support, if nothing else. Cassin’s mother and sisters know very little of the work he’s doing to save the castle. Doubtless, they come across as adrift or unprotected. ButIshall not come across as adrift or unprotected. And no one may take advantage of me.”
“Oh no, they will not,” cheered Perry, kneeling before an open trunk.
“Thank you, Perry,” said Willow. “I can always count on you, and it gratifies me more than you shall ever know. But let us pack everything we can today. Mr. Fisk wishes to leave tomorrow morning at first light.”
“And you’re certain you will feel safe, Willow? Traveling alone?” Tessa asked.
Perry interjected, “Oh no, ’tis very dangerous!” in the same moment Willow said, “Yes, of course.”
Willow made a face. “We shall keep to well-traveled roads during daylight hours. I cannot tell you the sheerexhilarationI feel at being able to simply set out. To embark on a cross-country journey alone, without worrying about a chaperone or the suitability of it, or whether my reputation will be ruined because I’m a female alone on the road. And here we see another benefit of marriage. I relish coming and going as I please.”
“You do see the irony,” said a voice from the door, and they turned to see Sabine leaning against the jamb, “of riding merrily away because you are married.”
