Miss Hale lowered her hood. “Like she said, your sister required assistance. I happened to overhear.”
His jaw twitched in irritation. Why would no one give a direct explanation? “Nothing will be solved standing here. Let’s go.”
“This is where I leave you then.” Miss Hale turned toward Rachel. “Perhaps tomorrow we—”
“No, no!” Rachel clutched Miss Hale’s arm with both of her hands. “You must come. You must help me explain.”
Not giving Miss Hale an opportunity to respond, James straightened. Whatever had transpired, this woman had something to do with it, and she could not be dismissed so easily. “No, I agree with Rachel. I think you had better come with us.”
* * *
Cassandra stood by the fire, fixing her eyes on the flames to avoid eye contact with Mr. Warrington or Mrs. Towler. Discreetly, she tugged at the sleeve of her heavy wool gown. She donned this gown in her chamber when she was desperate for warmth. Now, as she stood in this family’s house, its stifling heaviness only added to her discomfort.
She shouldn’t be here observing this intimate family conversation. She’d only intended to help Rachel Warrington return home safely. But now she found herself at Briarton Park—again.
This time, she was not standing in the great hall, as she had earlier that morning. Instead, she was in a more private sitting room one floor above. The ceilings were not as high on this level, and the walls were papered with images of bluebirds and emerald-green leaves. The surroundings were much more comfortable than the sterile stone floors, white plaster walls, and austere, carved wooden furniture. A cheery fire blazed in the grate, bathing the space in a golden glow.
But despite the chamber’s coziness, the conversation within its walls was anything but pleasant. Cassandra remained still and silent as she inched closer to the bank of windows lining the east wall, feeling more like an intruder than a guest.
Rachel was seated in a highback chair next to the fire. Mr. Warrington stood in front of her, arms folded across his broad chest, and Mrs. Towler, to whom she’d just been introduced upon her arrival, stood just behind him. With her gown of ebony crepe with black velvet trim and a chemisette of inky lace that covered her throat, the older woman appeared to be in mourning, which only compounded Cassandra’s mounting questions.
Cassandra returned her focus to Briarton Park’s master. Gone was the general easiness Mr. Warrington displayed when she had met him earlier that morning. Instead he appeared poised, ready for a battle. His disheveled sandy hair and askew cravat bore evidence to the turmoil churning within him. He fixed his stormy charcoal eyes on his sister, his attention unwavering. “Let me make certain I completely understand. You had agreed to meet Standish to run away and elope. He was to meet you at the inn, and then you were going to flee to Gretna Green. But you changed your mind, and the two of you argued. Miss Hale happened to overhear the argument and intervened.”
Tears trailed down Rachel’s cheeks, yet despite the display of sadness, a hint of youthful brazenness glinted. “Yes, that is exactly what happened. I told him I would not see him again. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“It’s not just what I wanted, Rachel.” His response was impressively calm amid the emotional state of the chamber. “It is what needed to happen to protect your future. I wish you could see that.”
“Well, it’s done!” she flung back, a flush of crimson rushing to her round face. “It’s done, and every chance of happiness I had is gone with it.”
At the outburst, Mrs. Towler left her perch to the left of the fire. “Let’s hope he decides to keep the details of this incident to himself. One slip of his irresponsible tongue and your reputation, not to mention the entire family’s, will be ruined.”
“Oh, I am so sick of hearing about reputations!” Rachel jumped from her chair, her hair in disarray and her muslin gown rumpled. “We are so far removed from Plymouth or any society whatsoever. What does it even matter? And who in Yorkshire could possibly care what I have to say or think or do?”
“Watch what you say, child.” Mrs. Towler’s gaze tightened. “You will want to marry well one day. Actions like this can follow you.”
“Enough,” Mr. Warrington interjected, holding his hand palm out toward his mother-in-law. “Rachel, you should go to bed. The hour’s late. Everyone’s tired. We can discuss this further in the morning.”
Rachel pursed her lips and clenched her fists at her sides. She squared her shoulders and jutted her pointed, trembling chin upward. In a vibrant display of excluding her family members, she whirled to face Cassandra and articulated, “Good night, Miss Hale.” Without waiting for Cassandra’s response, she fled from the room.
Initially no one moved or spoke, as if Rachel had taken the room’s energy with her. And then Mrs. Towler threw her hands in the air. “This is messy business.”
“Give her time to calm down.” Mr. Warrington shoved his fingers through his hair before pinning his gaze on his mother-in-law. “Give us all time to calm down.”
Then he turned to her. “Miss Hale, I apologize that you were brought into this.”
Cassandra’s discomfort grew by the second. What could she possibly say that would be useful in this family disagreement? “I—I only wish I could help in some way. I hate to see anyone that upset.”
“She brought it on herself,” snipped Mrs. Towler. “We’ve been warning her as such for months.”
In an attempt to lighten the room’s heavy atmosphere, Cassandra shrugged. “Who among us has not made ill-advised decisions in our youth?”
Both turned toward her at the statement.
Mrs. Towler folded her hands in front of her. “Rachel is hardly a youth, Miss Hale. She is a young woman of sixteen. Far too old to allow romanticism to cloud her judgment. You cannot be so ignorant. You know as well as I that if anyone learns of this her reputation will be in tatters.”
The harshness in the woman’s tone irked Cassandra. It was clear that Rachel had made a poor decision, but regardless, Rachel needed understanding, not censure.
Cassandra was not exactly sure what came over her. She was extremely hot, after just being extremely cold, and she was tired. Annoyed. And the words rushed out of her mouth before she checked them. “I would think that at a time like this, Miss Warrington’s well-being would be more of a concern than what others say about her.”
Mrs. Towler jerked her head up. “My goodness. You’ve an awfully strong opinion on something—and someone—about whom you know very little. It borders on the offensive.”
The frigid response echoed in the silence and made it clear that she had, indeed, overstepped her bounds. Cassandra looked down at the Persian rug beneath her feet before she raised her chin. “My apologies, then, if I have offended.”
At this Mr. Warrington intervened. “We are in debt to you, Miss Hale. By Rachel’s own admission you were instrumental in helping her successfully navigate the situation.”
Mrs. Towler followed his words. “I hope we can trust you for discretion.”
Cassandra raised her eyebrows in incredulity. For whom would she even tell? “Discretion? My only concern was her safety, Mrs. Towler. I certainly would never intrude if I didn’t think it necessary, and I’d never reveal anything that would cast a young woman’s integrity into question.”