Cassandra whirled. “For me?”
“Yes, for you,” Mrs. Martin snipped as she fussed with her lacy fichu. “Who else?”
Cassandra stood quickly. Her first fanciful thought was that Mr. Warrington would check on her. Or perhaps it was Mr. Longham with some sort of news.
As if reading her thoughts, Mrs. Martin interjected, “You’re fortunate it’s Mr. North. I would have sent any other gentleman on his way. You’d best tend to your hair. You can’t meet someone like him in such a disheveled state.”
Cassandra tightened her grip on her hairbrush. Of course it was Mr. North. He was the most logical person.
Yet why did her heart fall a little at the mention?
She ignored the woman’s insult of her hair and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Martin. I will be out presently.”
Cassandra remained still as Mrs. Martin bustled back in the direction from whence she came, and then Cassandra quickly returned to her chamber and pinned her long locks against the base of her neck. She smoothed her hand down her milky-white cotton gown, printed with dainty primrose flowers, and pinched her cheeks for color.
Betsy’s words about Mr. North’s interest in her echoed in the back of her mind. She was not ignorant. Mr. North’s attentiveness went beyond a vicar’s concern for a parishioner. At the end of the day, marriage would be the ideal solution to her problem.
Eager not to keep him waiting, Cassandra made her way through the kitchen and to the sitting room, where she found Mr. North.
He stood as she entered the room. How attractive he appeared in his smartly cut double-breasted tailcoat of smoke-gray broadcloth, crisp white cravat, and sapphire waistcoat. His nearly black hair was smoothed tidily across his brow, and despite their darkness, his eyes were bright as the early afternoon light that reflected off them. What was more, he appeared genuinely pleased to see her.
He bowed. She curtsied.
“I hope I’ve not interrupted you, Miss Hale.” He adjusted his black felt round hat in his hands, his affable expression eager. “I know I shouldn’t call without notice, but I had to speak with you.”
“You are interrupting nothing, Mr. North. I’m not used to being at my leisure like this. I’m not entirely sure what to do with it.”
“Then what say you to a walk? Mrs. Pearson and I have business in the village and would like your company, not to mention your assistance.” Then he lowered his voice and leaned toward her. “And I have news for you that is probably best discussed away from any listening ears.”
Despite the shock afforded by the information she received the previous evening, news interested her, and the idea of fresh air appealed to her. She quickly retrieved her pelisse, bonnet, and gloves, and together they stepped outside.
“It is good to be out,” Cassandra said once they left the boardinghouse. The cold breeze and pewter clouds had returned, and she lifted her face to the sky. “I’m not used to being idle.”
“Do you not sew or engage in needlework? I was under the assumption that that is how many young ladies pass the time.”
“I’m afraid I’ve never been fond of it, nor do I possess the talent.” She let out a laugh. “I find it tedious.”
“Well, there is never a shortage of volunteer work to do, should you have any interest. Mostly delivering donations and supplies and the like.”
“I should very much like to help.”
“Good. I shall let Mrs. Pearson know. She coordinates all of those who are kind enough to extend charity.”
They continued to walk down the middle of the high street toward the hill where she’d participated in the picnic the previous day. The cobbles were still wet from a brief morning rain shower, and several tradesmen had set up carts along the side of the road. They paused as a group of geese passed the road, and she laughed as a young boy chased after a dog. She was growing much more comfortable in Anston and more familiar with her surroundings.
With the events of the previous day still heavy on her, she decided to take advantage of her time with Mr. North. “I do have a question for you, if you don’t mind my asking you for yet another favor.”
“I’ll help however I can, Miss Hale. I hope you know that.”
“With the closing of my recent school, I’m in need of a position.”
“A position?” He stopped and looked at her, his brow creasing into a slight frown. “You can’t mean that.”
His shock at the suggestion took her aback. “Of course. Sooner or later I will have to work again.”
When he did not respond, her defenses rose. She stopped abruptly. “Teaching is an excellent profession. It is—”
“I do apologize, Miss Hale. I meant no offense. You’re correct, of course. Teaching is the most commendable of endeavors. It’s only that I assumed you would set your sights on something more permanent.”
“Permanent?”
He chuckled and averted his gaze. “Work isn’t the only future available to a young woman.”
She understood his meaning. Matrimony. Nervousness surged through her. She wasn’t ready to talk of marriage. Not with him. Not yet. “Work is the only option for me. At least until . . .”
She started walking again, more quickly this time. She’d almost forgotten he’d not been apprised of what Mr. Longham had told her.
“Until what?” he prompted, his eyebrows still drawn in confusion as he fell into step once more.
She swept her gaze over the street, ensuring none of the other villagers about were in earshot. “I learned some information last night, and I’m not sure what to make of it. But it’s rather a sensitive topic. I was advised to be discreet.”
“Miss Hale, I’m a vicar. Discretion is at the cornerstone of my profession. I can assure you anything you tell me will remain private, between us.”
She drew a sharp breath. She had no reason not to trust him, and she really did need advice. “Very well. I had a visit yesterday from a man by the name of Mr. Longham. Do you know him?”
Mr. North shrugged. “I do not.”
“He was—is—Robert Clark’s solicitor, and he confirmed that Mr. Clark was my father.”
“How extraordinary.” His face brightened. “Surely that must make you happy?”
She stilled the ribbons of her bonnet as a breeze brushed past them. “I’m not entirely sure how it makes me feel.”
“But this is an answer, is it not? If you are certain this Mr. Longham can be trusted, of course.”
She recalled Mr. Longham’s kind expression. “He was very knowledgeable about my situation. Besides, he had all the appropriate paperwork. He said he’s actually been searching for me. Apparently my father included me in his will.”
“A will. My dear Miss Hale, that is tremendous! Perhaps you will not have need of a position after all.”
“You’re more optimistic than I. My father may have included me, but Mr. Longham says that when he brings my claim forward, it will most certainly be challenged by Mr. Clark’s son—the very one you contacted. He cautioned that it could take a long time, if it ever comes to fruition. So you see, regardless, I must give a care to my personal finances. But now, let’s talk no more about that. You said you had something to tell me.”