“Yes, Shepard was out to the mill to tell us and to suggest vigilance. I’m surprised you’ve heard of it, though, considering it’s a milling matter. News must travel fast.”
“Ah, ’tis a part of the profession. People tell me things, ask my thoughts on matters. Doesn’t change the fact that it was a nasty business. I feel for Miss Hale. What an awful experience. I don’t suppose you know if they’ve found anything out regarding the documents that were lost. She was so counting on it.”
He should not be surprised that the vicar knew so many details, but the familiarity with which North spoke irked him. Even so, he was not so distracted that he failed to notice the subtle challenge in North’s tone.
Perhaps he saw James as a rival too.
“Miss Hale seemed quite upset this afternoon,” North continued matter-of-factly. “She has confided in me a great deal on the matter, and I feel quite conflicted as to how to proceed.”
James exchanged glances with Milton before biting on the leading statement. “Oh? And why’s that?”
“She’s my parishioner now that she resides at Briarton Park, of course, but more importantly she’s my friend. My good friend. I’m sure you don’t see her in that light, given that she is the governess of your children. But still, I worry for her.”
Irritated, James adjusted his hat. “Miss Hale is the governess in my household, yes. I’m not in the habit of discussing those under my roof, but I will say this. She’s under scrutiny, details are emerging about the inheritance, and rumors are flying about Mr. Longham’s death. I’m sure you know all about it. She obviously trusts you, and I’d hate to think that someone in your position would abuse that trust to advance a personal agenda.”
“A personal agenda?” Mr. North scoffed as if thoroughly amused. “Are you saying that my interest in Miss Hale has more to do with her inheritance than the lady herself?”
James shrugged. “She’s endured much, and it’s understandable that she’d confide in a man in your position.”
“You seem to be paying very close attention to matters.” North raised a dark brow. “One might question it.”
“Question all you would like. I’ll not permit anyone to be taken advantage of.”
“Careful how you speak.” North’s gaze narrowed. “Such a statement borders on the offensive.”
“Interpret it how you will.”
North chuckled, but his wry expression held anything but humor. “Are you this particular about all the servants in your employ, or is it just the pretty governess? Very well, Warrington. I consider Miss Hale capable of making up her own mind. I wonder what she would think of you making decisions for her regarding with whom she can and cannot speak. Perhaps I will discuss it with her tomorrow when she comes to assist with the baskets.”
The familiarity. The possessiveness in his voice. It all swirled together, antagonizing and provoking his sense of duty. James lowered his voice, leaned as close to North as his position at the table would allow. “Let me be absolutely clear. Yes, I do question your intentions with Miss Hale. She is quite capable of handling whatever comes her way, I’ll give you that, but I’ll be watching and will not hesitate to intervene if necessary.”
James thought the vicar might challenge him further, but instead, the tension in North’s face eased, and he forced the simpering grin once more. “Well then. I think our conversation here is done, Warrington. I do believe my party is waiting for me.”
North stood, straightened his ridiculously ornate scarlet toilinet waistcoat, and pushed past them. Not able to wait another second to be free of the inn, James jumped to his feet and exited into the cold, damp night. The rush of chilly air felt calming against his face, and he did not stop walking until he arrived where his horse was secured on the far edge of the courtyard.
“That’s one way t’ talk wit’ the vicar.” Milton caught up with him. “What was that ’bout?”
When James did not respond, Milton chuckled. “I see.”
“You see what?” James shot back.
Milton shrugged, amusement creasing his face. “I know you don’t care for North, but he might have a point.”
James huffed as he adjusted the horse’s saddle. “Doubtful.”
“Are you sure?” Milton prodded. “’Tis no shame, no shame at all, in admittin’ ye are attracted to someone. Happens to most people, sooner or later. You included.”
“I’m not discussing this with you.” James turned his back to Milton and mounted his horse. “We’ll stick to the topic of wool and mills.”
Milton quipped, “Whatever you say.”
As they rode toward the bridge leading to Briarton, the conversation weighed heavily on James’s mind, mostly because he was annoyed at himself for allowing his emotions to control him. But beyond that, he’d been honest when he said he didn’t trust the man. His manner was too familiar. His nature too complimentary in general. Something seemed amiss, and James was determined to find out what it was.
Chapter 36
As Cassandra and Rachel gathered with other village women just inside the church after distributing baskets, Cassandra’s tensions eased, and her heart felt light. She was content with her role at Briarton Park, but she had missed the companionship of the other people she’d met, especially Mrs. Pearson and Betsy.
Mrs. Pearson was helping Rachel organize donated cloth, and Cassandra stood with Betsy returning undistributed apples to a barrel. They’d not spoken all week, and yet news had traveled far and wide. With the exception of Cassandra’s mother’s identity, Betsy seemed to know almost as many details about the entire murder and inheritance as Cassandra knew herself.
As they stood folding linens and preparing to finish up their tasks, Betsy wiped her hands together. “I just can’t believe how quickly all of this happened. You must have been so frightened to find a body like that. I’d have been terrified.”
“I was more sad than frightened.” Cassandra placed more apples into the barrel. “Mr. Longham was very kind to me. So helpful.”
“But to see his body in such a state,” continued Betsy. “It must have been horrific.”
“It was.”
“Did he have family? Do you know?”
“I don’t think so. From what I understood he was a bachelor.”
Betsy’s tawny brows drew together in question. “And no one knows for sure who might be responsible?”
“Mr. Shepard and a couple of constables have visited Briarton Park this week, and he spoke to me once, but most of his interactions have been with Mr. Warrington. Honestly, I hear so little where I am. Almost my entire time is spent with the girls. I did hear, however, that one man was arrested, but I can’t seem to get a clear answer of what the evidence was.”
Betsy pivoted and propped her hand on her hip. “Oh, that is suspicious.”
“It is, and it isn’t.” Cassandra removed the linen from a basket and began to fold it. “Mr. Warrington had said numerous times that there are men who are retaliating against the mill owners and their property, so that is a possible motive as well.”