When the carriage finally drew to a halt, Mr. Warrington was standing in the main drive, hands clasped before him. As she exited the vehicle, he offered his hand to assist her down. A sober expression replaced the much more congenial one he usually boasted, and once her feet were on the ground, he spoke low. “I hope it was all right to write to you.”
“Of course. I was grateful to receive your message.”
“His name is William Longham. He approached me at the Green Ox last night. He was Robert Clark’s solicitor,” Mr. Warrington explained in a hushed tone as they walked toward the house. “He found out you were here looking for information. He asked questions about you, and I was not comfortable having the discussion without you present. I hope I did not overstep my bounds by inviting him here. Forgive my assumption, but I thought it best that you meet him somewhere familiar.”
Once they reached the wooden door, Mr. Warrington leaned forward to rest his ungloved hand on the door’s brass knob, but he did not open it. Instead, he inched closer to her and lowered his voice. “He’s here, just inside in the great hall.”
Cassandra jerked, and her face flushed hot. “He’s here? Already?”
“He arrived quite early. He’s been here nigh half an hour. He’s quite keen to meet with you, but rest assured, I’ve told him nothing about you or what you’ve shared with me. Are you ready?”
She nodded, and he ushered her directly into the great hall. There stood a large man, finely dressed, with broad shoulders. No one else was about—no servants, none of the family. The guest towered over Mr. Warrington. His white hair was thinning and was combed over the top of his head, and his bushy eyebrows and side-whiskers were decidedly gray.
A grin cracked his leathered face when he saw her, and he bowed. “Miss Hale, I’d know you anywhere.”
Her eyes narrowed as recognition blazed. Emboldened by the fact that she was perfectly safe within Briarton’s walls, she could not be silent. “I saw you! Earlier this week. You were watching me when I was walking with the vicar and his housekeeper. Why?”
Mr. Longham chuckled. “I was just making sure it was really you and I’d not been misinformed. It wasn’t the right time to approach you. I did try to find you to speak with you afterward but was unsuccessful.”
“Hmm.” She removed her straw poke bonnet and placed it on the table. “Well, you have my full attention now, sir. I have to admit I am curious to hear what business you have with me.”
Mr. Longham rested against his walking stick. “You would not remember, of course, but you and I have met before.”
“No, I don’t think so.” She eyed him suspiciously, noting the deep creases around sagging jowls. “I’m sure I would have remembered.”
“Oh no.” He shook his head emphatically. “You were far too young. You were just a babe then. My name is William Longham, as Mr. Warrington might have told you. For nearly forty years I was Robert Clark’s personal solicitor. I have been searching for you for these last two years. Ever since your father died.”
Cassandra seized at the word.
Father?
Surely the air had left her lungs.
She’d suspected it, of course. But to hear it so plainly, so bluntly, caught her off guard. Her confidence in this situation crumbled, and she felt as if she might be ill. She grappled for words. “My . . . my father?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Robert Clark.” A shadow fell over his face. “You did know, did you not?”
She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. She could barely force her voice above a whisper. “No.”
The older man’s good-natured expression faded. “She really never told you?”
Stunned, Cassandra could only shake her head. She needed answers quickly, or else she might dissolve into a puddle. “Who told me what? Mr. Longham, I’m afraid I’m not following your meaning at all.”
Mr. Warrington stepped in, his tone calm. Soothing. “You’ve startled Miss Hale, Mr. Longham. I think you’d better explain yourself, sir.”
Mr. Longham tilted his head. “This is where the matter is confidential. The young lady and I should speak privately, for everyone’s sake. I assure you, Mr. Warrington, no harm will come to her. Believe it or not, I’ve actually spent these many years protecting her.”
The sleeve of Mr. Warrington’s coat brushed her arm as he drew near, his voice barely audible as he whispered close to her ear. “Do you want to speak with him alone? I can stay with you if you’d like.”
Cassandra liked the thought of Mr. Warrington being near her and the confidence he afforded. But she had never needed anyone for a difficult conversation before. She had her dagger in her boot, not that she would need it. “No, that is not necessary. I’ll speak with him.”
“Very well.” He motioned to the corridor. “You may use my study if you wish. But know I’ll be right outside the door.”
* * *
Cassandra drew a deep, steadying breath as she waited to be ushered into Mr. Warrington’s study. Her stomach quaked.
Mr. Longham had just confirmed her father’s identity. Suddenly. Without ceremony.
After twenty-four years of wondering, she now knew the truth.
She glimpsed Mr. Warrington’s supportive nod as he held the door for her and Mr. Longham, then closed it behind them.
She had to focus and keep her wits about her, in spite of what she’d just learned. She needed to absorb everything this solicitor could tell her. Feeling warm and slightly dizzy, she removed her pelisse and gloves, placing the pelisse on the back of a chair. Not trusting her legs or her balance, she quickly sat in one of the chairs by the desk and folded her trembling hands in her lap.
The older man ambled in behind her. A satchel was slung over his hunched shoulder, and he relied heavily on his cane with each step.
“Perhaps we should begin anew.” With frustratingly lackadaisical movements he placed his greatcoat and hat atop the desk. He sat in the chair opposite her, seemingly oblivious to the anxiety this situation was producing in her. “As Mr. Clark’s man of business, I am responsible for seeing that his estate is settled. A task that has been very difficult.”
She could not help but blurt out her question. “You’re certain, then, that Mr. Clark was my father?”
“Oh, very certain.” Mr. Longham leaned back in the chair, and a frown crossed his wrinkled brow. “But I can see that I’ve shocked you. I am sorry for it. I had assumed you knew.”
Fresh tears burned as she employed every ounce of discipline to remain calm. “Why would you think that? How would I have known?”
“I assumed Mrs. Denton would have told you at some point.” He studied her for several seconds before he retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and extended it to her.
Cassandra eyed the handkerchief and then accepted it warily. How did he know of Mrs. Denton? She wiped her nose. “Well, she did not.”
Several moments passed in awkward silence before Mr. Longham spoke again. “I know he wanted to tell you himself. He told me he had written to you. That was a few months before he died.”
At the mention of the letter, she hastily retrieved it from her reticule. “This letter?”