But as painful as her words were, this arrangement, this sense of being suspended in time, was killing him. “This has nothing to do with any romantic feelings toward Miss Hale. But I assure you when and if the time comes when I shall feel such feelings again, such inclinations are mine and mine alone. I need no one’s consent.”
“How dare you. How dare you!” Tears pooled in her eyes. “You know full well what Elizabeth would have wanted.”
“She’s not here! How I wish she were, but she’s not.”
“So you are determined, then, to undermine Elizabeth’s wishes?”
“This is not about Elizabeth.”
“It will always be about Elizabeth, as far as her daughters are concerned.” Her tone approached a shout.
James refused to break eye contact with her. “Maria and Rose are my daughters too.”
A silent battle for control raged. He’d always treated Mrs. Towler with the utmost respect. She was, after all, his late wife’s mother and his children’s only living grandparent.
But the lines were blurred—and those lines needed to be redrawn.
The ice in her glare froze him. “I will never cease acting in their best interest.”
“Neither will I. So you have a choice, Mrs. Towler. You are welcome here. You always will be. You are family. But I will not be crossed. Not on this.”
Commotion sounded at the door. Rachel appeared in the threshold. “My goodness!” she exclaimed, a little laugh on her lips and an apple held loosely in her hand. “Why does everyone look so serious? You are not still arguing about me, are you?”
Mrs. Towler whirled to face Rachel. “For heaven’s sake, girl, despite your best efforts, not every conversation in this house is about you.” She threw her napkin down and brushed past Rachel as she exited the room.
Rachel, confused, peered at James for clarification. “What’s upsetting her?”
He straightened in his chair and drew a deep breath. “I’ve come to a decision about the governess for Maria and Rose.”
“I thought that was settled?”
“A change of plans. I’ve spoken with Miss Hale and decided that she will oversee the girls.”
“You’re in earnest? She’ll be living here?”
“Yes, as a governess. I thought she’d be company for you as well.”
“Oh, I adore her!” Rachel clasped her hands together in front of her and then dropped them dramatically as if a great idea had formed. “May I be allowed to prepare her chamber? I think there is one near mine with a window that—”
“She’s not here as a guest, Rachel. You must remember. The room off the nursery will suit her fine.”
“When is she to arrive?”
“Tomorrow.”
She threw her arms around him, kissed his cheek, and was out the door as quickly as she appeared.
He listened as the tapping of her feet faded away. At least Rachel was pleased with his decision. It was good to see her enthusiasm after months of melancholy brooding.
Even so, doubt chided him. The silence that Rachel’s departure left only magnified it, leaving empty spaces for the questions to reverberate.
Mrs. Towler’s words about Elizabeth had stung. It was his biggest fear—to make a decision that would dishonor his wife. She was never far from his thoughts. He doubted she ever would be, regardless of what developments occurred. But Elizabeth had also trusted him. Had she not told him so many times during their marriage?
He departed the small breakfast room. He’d made one member of the household irate and one ecstatic. It was impossible to please everyone. He just had to do what he believed to be right.
Chapter 25
“I can’t believe you’re leaving the boardinghouse.” Betsy sat on the bed in Cassandra’s tiny chamber with a pout. “It feels as if you’ve only just arrived.”
“I’ve actually been here a few weeks now.” Cassandra reached for her cloak and hung it on the hook. “Sometimes it seems like forever, and other times it seems like it has only been a day.”
Betsy looked to the ceiling and frowned. “And I can’t believe you stayed in this room all this time! Poor dear. Had I known it was this unpleasant, I would have shared mine.”
Cassandra glanced around the sad little chamber and folded her nightdress, then put it in her trunk. “Truly, it hasn’t been that bad.”
“Not bad? It is freezing.” Betsy rubbed her arms and shivered. “No wonder you’re eager for a new situation.”
“I’ve no choice but to find a new situation.” Cassandra reached for her pocket watch. “Things can’t go on as they are. If so, my money will be gone. I don’t think Mrs. Martin would let me stay just out of the goodness of her heart.”
Betsy tittered. “I’m not even certain she has a heart. So tell me all about Mr. North last night. Was he doting? Everything a dutiful suitor should be? I saw him from the window as he was leaving. He did look handsome.”
Cassandra considered Mr. North’s behavior the previous night. Yes, he’d been attentive . . . and perhaps a bit too opinionated. His disapproval about the governess position still did not bode well with her. “I don’t think that Mr. North approves of my taking a position at Briarton Park.”
“But why would he object?”
“He said I’m ruining my chances to be taken seriously by society here. I think he wants me to be something different than I am, which is really just a poor teacher. It would be lovely to be a fine lady and be able to follow all of society’s rules, but I must work. And I do think this will be a good position for me.”
“You needn’t convince me.” Betsy lounged back on the bed on her elbows. “I understand completely. If I had your experience and education, I would take that situation in a minute over this overcrowded boardinghouse and the drafty sewing rooms.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” Cassandra stuffed a petticoat and her extra stays next to the nightdress. “It’s a good position, with a good family. I’m grateful. And honestly a little excited.”
“Well, I’m happy for you, but selfishly I’m heartbroken. I thought I was to have a fast friend here, and now you are to leave.”
Cassandra sighed and sat next to Betsy. “I will still see you. Sundays, of course. And my days off. And at charity outings. Mr. Warrington is aware of my desire to continue the search for my family, and he has said he would support it.”
Betsy’s green eyes twinkled. “I’ve always thought Mr. Warrington a handsome man. Maybe even more so than Mr. North.”
“Betsy,” laughed Cassandra, “do you think of nothing else?”
“Not really.”
“Well, such thoughts about my new employer would hardly be a good way to start my time in a new home.”
A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. A maid appeared and extended a missive.
Cassandra jumped up and accepted the letter. “Thank you.”
She opened it and located the signature. William Longham.
“Who’s it from?” The earnest expression on Betsy’s face was sincere.
How Cassandra longed to tell her friend every detail of the journey she was on. But she mustn’t. Not now. Not yet. It almost felt like she was lying. But what could be done? “It’s a letter from a friend.”