He stopped to face her. His resolute jaw twitched. “I hate to tell you this, for it reeks of idle gossip, and you know I detest such happenings. But you must know what people are saying. They are figuring it out, Miss Hale. Why you are here. They are saying there’s an inheritance involved. A sizable one. If you are to inherit, what would it look like to serve as a governess—”
She raised her hand in hasty interruption. “I’m in no position to care what people think, inheritance or not.”
“It’s not just that. Mr. Peter Clark and Mr. Warrington are not exactly friends. Or even allies. It . . . it sends a certain message.”
She recoiled. A message?
His voice softened and his face relaxed. He glanced around, ensuring privacy. “I only urge you to keep your options open. I do not mean to upset you, and I fancy you a friend. You—your presence here—fits a hole that was in my life. I’ve probably said too much, but it’s important you know someone cares very much what happens and sincerely desires the best for you.”
“A friend,” she repeated. He seemed earnest, but the sincerity displayed slammed against Betsy’s warnings. “Then as a friend I must ask: Does a title, such as a governess, mean so very much to you? Would you consider me less worthy to be a friend if I obtained such a role?”
“Of course I would not consider you less worthy. You misunderstand me. I only caution you to consider every scenario. After all, what do you know of the Warringtons? I barely know them, and we have lived in close proximity for quite some time.”
“What does any governess know of any family who employs her?” Her tone sounded more churlish than she’d intended. “I do thank you for wanting the very best for me, but I assure you, I’ve lived my entire life without expectation. I can manage this situation quite fastidiously.”
They continued on to bid their farewells to their host and hostess, but while their discourse drew to an end, the words exchanged continued to trouble Cassandra. They could be perceived as encouragement—like a friend encouraging another—but quite the opposite seemed to be true. Everything she thought she knew had shifted, which reinforced one fact: she needed to be very careful whom she trusted.
* * *
Sunlight streamed through the tall panes, illuminating the steam rising from the coffee before him as James sat in his study.
After the previous night’s events at Kent House, he’d not slept at all. He’d not expected to encounter Miss Hale there. It was supposed to be a humdrum gathering with mundane conversation and perhaps one or two worthwhile business discussions.
But that had not been the case. And he’d done it. He’d offered her the position of governess.
Now she’d be in his home. Caring for his children.
Rachel would be thrilled, of course. The girls would, too, no doubt. But his mother-in-law was another story.
He leaned back in his chair, contemplating his tactics—and how he would tell Mrs. Towler he’d engaged a governess.
She’d be angry, of course. No doubt Mrs. Towler would think that a governess would diminish her own importance in the household. But it was clear the task of caring for the girls was beyond her. They had been allowed far too much freedom, and Maria’s injury stood as testament to that.
So where did that leave them? Was Mrs. Towler destined to live under his roof until the children were grown?
Out of respect for Elizabeth, he could not—would not—alter the situation. Elizabeth’s mother was welcome in his home for as long as she had need. But time was passing, and grief had evolved from a stabbing pain to an aching loneliness. He yearned to see beyond the anguish of loss to a new, different future for himself with someone else. But Mrs. Towler’s constant presence, the continual reminders, were painful. Confusing. Heavy.
Mrs. Towler always took her breakfast alone in a small room off the parlor. Practicing what he would say, he ascended the stairs to her small breakfast room and rapped against the door with his knuckles. “Might I have a word?”
She looked up from her breakfast, expressionless, a piece of toast in her hand. “Of course.”
He stepped into the chamber and sat in the chair opposite her. “I owe you an apology.”
She lifted her pointed chin, as if she suspected him of foul play. “Oh?”
“Yes, regarding Maria.” He rested his elbows on the table. “I should not have blamed you for her fall. I now know she disobeyed you. I’m sorry I jumped to a conclusion.”
His apology caught her off guard, he could tell. She pierced him with her glare. “All is forgiven, James. I’m only glad she wasn’t more seriously injured.”
He cleared his throat, girding himself for the second part of his delivery. “There is one other thing I wanted to discuss with you. The matter of the governess.”
She returned her toast to the plate. “We’ve been through this, or so I thought.”
“The girls need more structure. More routine. We cannot continue as we are, surely you must agree. They’re floundering. Their behavior is declining, they are sad, they—”
She scoffed and shook her head. “How do you know what children need? La, men. You think because you understand the running of a mill that you are fit to rear a child. It is hardly the same, and it is work best left to women.”
James stiffened. True, he knew very little about children in general. But he did have instinct. “My decision is made. I’ve engaged Miss Hale to oversee the girls’ education.”
Mrs. Towler started, then released a sharp, bitter laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“But she’s . . . she’s . . .” Mrs. Towler’s words trailed off, and then she straightened her frail shoulders with a renewed sense of vigor. “This woman shows up from only God knows where, and you think she is capable of raising your daughters?”
“She is an experienced teacher. She has references.”
Mrs. Towler threw her hands up. “References. Bah. A meaningless piece of paper with contrived words. Have you personal references? I daresay you don’t. If you’re insistent, I can engage a temporary one until—”
“No. I’ve made my decision.”
She pinned him with a sharp gaze. “Then you are a fool.”
“Miss Hale is sensible and clever, and she is available.”
“Available? High praise. And a very rational reason to select her to raise your daughters.” Her face darkened. “I forbid it.”
“Forbid it all you want, but my child fell from a tree. She could have been killed. And I may be completely ignorant of the ways of children, as you put it, but I am almost certain climbing trees is not an approved activity for young ladies.”
At this she leapt from her chair and strode toward him, her ebony skirt swishing about her. “I know what this is about. Miss Hale. She’s attractive, I will grant her that. But are you so blind, so selfish and fixed on your own desires, that you’d invite her into our home? It’s sickening.”
The accusation threatened to enrage him.
Mrs. Towler jabbed her forefinger at him. “Elizabeth would be ill at this.”
He stiffened. How the very sound of his wife’s name stopped him short. Would it always? But Mrs. Towler knew this. She was using Elizabeth’s name as a weapon. It was his weakness—a knife to an open wound.