Clark huffed a sarcastic sneer. “You’ve bought the mill. And the house. But this—this is taking it too far. What is it you hope to gain?”
James needed to defuse this situation and keep calm. “Whatever is troubling you, I am sure we can come to some sort of—”
“You’ve retained a new governess,” he stated. “One that claims to be my father’s illegitimate child.”
“I’ve employed a governess, yes. But I fail to see how who I take on to care for my children is any of your concern.”
“Oh, it is very much my concern. That daft woman is spreading nefarious lies about my family.”
James lowered his tone. “I required a governess, Clark. Nothing more. I’ve no interest in her personal life. Or yours.”
“Oh, don’t you? So the fact that she is set to inherit the land on which my very mill sits is of no concern to you?”
James winced. He knew nothing about Miss Hale inheriting land.
“Don’t pretend you’re unaware. If you are involved in something underhanded to get your hands on my property—”
“You’re mistaken.”
“You just happen to employ her? Her? Ha!” scoffed Clark. “What are you trying to do? Woo her and wed her so her land will become yours?”
James adjusted his stance. “Careful, Clark. You’re crossing a line.”
Clark’s harsh stare narrowed. “These are precarious times. Dangerous. As mill owners and neighbors, we can either work together or we can work against each other. But I, for one, will not work with someone I cannot trust to have our mutual best interests at hand.”
Clark stomped out of the door, then slammed it shut on his way out, rattling the windows in their panes.
James expelled his air in a puff and rubbed the side of his jaw. This issue surrounding Miss Hale was becoming a bigger and much more complex problem than he had anticipated. He did not wish to make an enemy of Clark, but Miss Hale had saved his sister. He owed her something. Furthermore, he believed her.
He returned to his desk, sank into the chair behind it, and stared into the fire. He had to get a handle on this, and quickly. There was just too much at stake.
* * *
Cassandra stood outside Mr. Warrington’s study, staring at the brass doorknob, garnering courage.
She shouldn’t be surprised that the father of the children in her charge wanted to speak with her. But the hour was late. Murky darkness had fallen outside of Briarton Park’s walls, and the girls were already asleep.
Fearing something was amiss, she smoothed her hair and shook out the folds of her gown, stalling for time as she mustered fortitude.
When she could delay no longer, she lifted her hand and rapped twice on the door.
“Enter.” His response was deep. Calm.
She pressed the wooden door open with her fingertips and looked inside. Mr. Warrington was seated behind the desk. Papers and maps were strewn about him. Candles were scattered around the chamber, their yellow glow adding warmth to the deep-green walls and worn furniture.
He straightened as she drew inside. He wore no coat, and his wrinkled cravat hung loose about his neck. His sandy hair was disheveled, and his linen sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. She liked his appearance—comfortable and approachable. He gave a quick smile and then motioned toward a chair.
“You wanted to speak with me?” she asked as she traversed the faded blue rug.
“Yes.” He waited for her to get settled in her chair. “How are you getting on with Maria and Rose?”
Her shoulders eased at the topic. “They are lovely girls. So spirited, so vibrant, so clever and bright. And I think your Maria might have talent with a paintbrush. Have you ever noticed?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“You should see her painting of a goldcrest. There seems to be a nest in the boxwoods at the orchard’s edge, and we took the easels down so she could paint it. I’ll have her set it aside for you to see tomorrow. Quite impressive.”
“Good. I’m glad it’s going well. Do you have everything you need? Books? Paints?”
“I have given Mrs. Helock a list of a few more items I think we will need, but we’re doing fine.”
He did not respond to this last statement, and his expression shifted slightly.
At this a thread of alarm tightened within her. Was he upset? Disappointed?
He cleared his throat. “I asked you to come here not only to inquire after the girls but to let you know that I had a visit from Clark earlier today.”
Heart thumping, she held his gaze, contemplating how best to respond.
Of course he knew about the visit. He’d given her permission to be absent from her duties. She wanted to be positive, but the visit with her half brother had been dismal and she prepared for the worst. “I see. What did he say?”
“He was livid.” Mr. Warrington stood from behind the desk and came around to the front of it. “I do hate to pry, Miss Hale, but you are employed by me and live in my home. Peter Clark is both my ally and my competition. Given my tenuous business relationship with the man, I cannot afford ill will. If this situation is to continue, we must come to an understanding.”
Cassandra’s heart sank, and panic rose to take its place. The last thing she needed was for Mr. Warrington to be drawn into this predicament even further. “Yes, sir.”
“Your personal life is your own, but I don’t like to be caught off guard where business is concerned. I was aware there was a will, but he said that you are to inherit the land the mill is on. Is this indeed the case?”
She met his gaze as bravely as she could. “Yes. My understanding is that I am to inherit the land called Linderdale, I believe, and Peter has inherited the business.”
He studied her, as if judging her veracity. “And you just now learned of it?”
“I learned some of the details upon my first meeting with Mr. Longham, but more details were shared today.”
“Such as?”
“If I do not take ownership of the land within three years of my father’s death, the land will pass to the estate of a man named Stricklin. And then, after a period of an additional three years, if the Stricklin estate does not claim it, the land will default back to the Clark estate, which means Peter would inherit it. That is why my presence is such a problem to him.”
“I see. Clark also said he did not believe you were actually the Cassandra Hale referenced in the will.”
She tensed. Her neck grew hot. This ever-present need to prove her identity was wearing on her. “I may not know much about my family history, but I do know one thing with certainty. My name is Cassandra Hale. You saw the letter that I received. Mr. Longham says we will likely need to prove my identity to the court, and he has the power to issue an official statement and the paperwork to do that.”
They sat there in silence, awkward in the uncertainty.
“And where is Mr. Longham now?” Mr. Warrington inquired.
“He’s staying at the Green Ox Inn tonight and will depart for London in the morning.” Cassandra watched his face for any sign of a reaction. Annoyance. Displeasure. But Mr. Warrington’s countenance was calm, his expression relaxed. He leaned back against the desk.
“Peter Clark has always been an intense fellow,” he conceded at length. “In my experience people become quite aggressive when their livelihood or reputation is threatened.”