The Visitor (14 page)

“I’m sorry, Mrs Thorpe. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have come today.”

Tate could feel anger rising inside himself and worked to control it. It didn’t take much to understand that Harriet had not believed him and in some silent way was making Cassandra feel at fault. He tried to calm himself before he spoke, but Harriet beat him to it.

“Has something happened, Cassandra?”

“Not exactly. It’s all rather complicated.”

“And you felt a need to speak to Tate about it.”

“Aunt Harriet,” Tate jumped in, finally calm enough to do so. “I think you and I need to continue our conversation privately.

“Cassandra, will you please come here?”

Cassandra did as he asked, going to his chair and standing.

“Where is your hand?” he asked, reaching for it. Cassandra offered it, and Tate spoke again when he held it lightly in his.

“My aunt has misunderstood, and I need to explain the situation to her.”

“That’s fine, but I am sorry.”

Tate squeezed her hand a little.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I asked and you shared. I never wish you to do anything else. What kind of unfeeling fool would I be to expect you to cast your cares at the door and come in pretending all is well?”

Cassandra didn’t answer.

“Tell me you’ll come tomorrow. Please, Cassandra.”

“I’ll come, but do send word if you change your mind.”

“I will, and you do the same, but understand that I want you to come back.”

“All right. I’ll go now.”

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Mr Tate. Goodbye, Mrs Thorpe.”

The two family members bid her goodbye, but Tate waited only until he’d heard the front door close before addressing his aunt.

“Something went wrong today, Harriet.”

“I can see that, Tate. I told Cassandra that you were to have no stress or strain. She told me she understood.”

Tate sat for a moment, trying to find the words to put his aunt back on the right path.

“Tell me if this is right: You told Cassandra to come only if she was in a good mood?”

“Not in so many words, but you have enough to think about with your vision. You don’t need more problems to dwell on.”

“So Cassandra should have sent word that she wasn’t up to reading?”

“Yes.”

“And how long does she do this? If things aren’t settled for her, should she just stay away indefinitely?”

“I don’t know.” Harriet began to sound uncertain.

“Cassandra has become a part of my daily life. Were you going to find someone else to read to me?”

“I don’t know, Tate. I just thought she was putting too much on you. And I know you tried to explain, but you have been through so much. Maybe you’re not thinking clearly.”

“Harriet.” Tate’s voice had remained calm the entire time. “Cassandra Steele is not some servant girl who’s being paid for a service. She’s a gentleman’s daughter and a sister to us in Christ.”

“That’s very true,” Harriet uttered quietly, her voice truly humble. “I think I made her feel bad. I was so surprised that I spoke out of turn.”

Tate was quiet.

“What did happen?” his aunt asked.

“I don’t know the details, but something was bothering her. I could hear it in her voice and asked her to tell me. Indeed, I insisted.”

“Oh, no, and I gave her such an unkind look! What have I done?”

“Harriet, listen to me. Try to believe me when I tell you that I’m not going to overdo. Try not to worry so much.”

“I will, Tate, but what’s to be done about the way I treated Cassandra?”

“Well, she’ll be here tomorrow; you can speak to her then.”

“What if she doesn’t come?”

“Then you can go to her.”

“Yes, yes, that’s good,” the older woman replied as she used her hankie to mop her suddenly warm face. “I’ll do that. I’ll talk to her tomorrow as soon as she comes.”

Tate smiled in her direction.

“I’m sorry, Tate.”

“Thank you, Aunt Harriet,” he said, his voice forgiving. “And thank you for caring so much.”

Harriet went to hug him, her heart aching over the events of the last few minutes. She debated sending word to Cassandra on the spot, telling her she was sorry to have intruded and that she was welcome whenever she liked, but face-to-face repentance was best. She might not sleep well tonight, but that was a small price to pay for making things right with Cassandra Steele.

Newcomb Park

“I did something today.”

It was late. Cassandra had sought Lizzy out in her room. Both women were ready for bed. Lizzy was brushing her hair. Cassandra climbed onto the bed behind her, took the brush, and worked with long methodical strokes.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Lizzy prompted when Cassandra didn’t immediately speak.

“I went to see Mr Walker. I went to ask him if he and Henry ever talk about spiritual things.”

“What did he say?”

“He said they didn’t, but that he plans to speak with Henry.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I’m not exactly certain.”

Lizzy shifted to see her in the lamplight.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“I said that Henry confuses me with the way he goes to church but puts things ahead of people. I added that he’s self-centered.”

“Was Mr Walker surprised?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem to be. Henry is so relaxed with him, ready to speak on many subjects, but Mr Walker can’t be missing the fact that Henry is utterly silent when we go to church.”

A part of Lizzy wanted to wail and ask Cassandra why she would do such a thing, but in that she saw her own cowardice. She’d known for years that Henry’s walk of life was not as it should be. Cassandra was right. He was much too happy with possessions, not people, surrounding him.

Lizzy turned back away, and Cassandra went on with the hairbrush.

“Are you vexed with me, Lizzy?”

“No, I’m vexed with myself and my own timid heart.”

“Do you think Henry will learn what I’ve done and change toward me?”

Lizzy gave a sad little laugh. “He doesn’t talk to us now, Cassie. What could really change?”

On this note the women fell silent. Cassandra brushed Lizzy’s thick mahogany-colored hair until it was perfectly smooth and then moved to sit beside her. The moment she did, Lizzy took her hand and began to pray.

The days were warming swiftly. Flowers were in riotous bloom on nearly every hillside, a sight Cassandra enjoyed as she trailed Henry on his morning ride. They raced along the ridge, Henry’s horse beating hers easily, but Cassandra didn’t care. The feel of Iris running hard beneath her was thrill enough.

“I’m going to breakfast with Lizzy,” Cassandra said when they arrived back. “Are you joining us, Henry?”

“I’ll be along.”

Cassandra went ahead of him and found her sister at the table.

“How was your ride?”

“It was lovely. You really must come sometime.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Any mail for me?”

“Yes, and we’ve heard from Edward.”

Cassandra stopped herself from mentioning Morland. She could read the letter herself and not pour salt on the wound by asking. Although when she thought about it, Lizzy seemed rather lighthearted lately. Maybe she was mending some.

“You have mail, Henry,” Lizzy said to him the moment he showed up.

He thanked her and took his seat, starting on breakfast even as he read. Cassandra, amid her own meal, read Edward’s letter, a small smile appearing on her face.

I certainly miss all of you, but this trip is amazing. The air is hot and dry. I’ve never felt anything like it. I can actually draw hot air into my lungs, and doing so reminds me most starkly that I am a long way from home.

We moved a few days ago. We’ve set up housekeeping with friends of Morland’s aunt. From here we’ll be going into the wilds with a chance to observe the animals at close range. I thought I would feel more afraid at the prospect than I do. My lack of fear is more of a concern than anything else. If I don’t write again, you’ll know I’ve been mauled and should have been more frightened.

What do you hear from the new Mrs Barrington? She hasn’t written me much at all. You’ve put her to shame, Lizzy. Did you enjoy the beetle, Henry? I thought him a fine fellow and hope he arrived in good shape. Do ask Cassie if she wants a live one. I might be able to manage that.

Cassandra shuddered at the thought, even as she suppressed a laugh. He was such a pest, but she missed him terribly. She planned to write to him that very day and ask if he was ever coming home.

Upon this thought, Cassandra remembered she was headed back to Pembroke today. She hadn’t dwelt on yesterday’s incident, but it had come to mind several times. Mrs Thorpe had been very unhappy with her. Would she still be today?

It doesn’t matter, Cassie. You still have to go. If after today she doesn’t wish you to return, you must do as she asks.

Cassandra refused to let her heart dwell on why the thought of never returning caused her so much pain.

Pembroke

I can feel my temptation to beg You, Father, and I must not do that. You know what is right,
Tate prayed before rising, enjoying the quiet of the house at this early hour.
Thank You for this time of darkness, Lord. Thank You for all I’ve learned. Help me to keep trusting You for the future—my future.

Help Aunt Harriet to trust You greatly. Help her to see that she can’t take care of me as You can. Help her repentance before Cassandra today to be humble and genuine, and help Cassandra to accept it, holding nothing of herself back.

Thank You for the lessons in Jonah,
Tate continued, talking out all of his heart to Jesus Christ until Hastings came to check on him. He didn’t need him for more than shaving and putting the finishing touches on his appearance, but always the faithful servant, Hastings checked on him often.

“Good morning, sir,” Hastings greeted as soon as he knew Tate was awake.