Despite the coldness Mrs. Helock had shown her, Cassandra’s heart went out to her. After all, she knew what it was like to be at the bedside of a loved one, not knowing what the outcome would be. She wanted to be a comfort. “You two seem as if you are very close.”
Mrs. Helock nodded. “I’ve been with her since I was a girl myself. I was a chambermaid when she was not much older than you, and I eventually became her housekeeper when she married Mr. Towler.”
“This has to be quite difficult for you then.” She motioned for the woman to draw closer. “Why don’t you sit down? Surely you could use a rest.”
Mrs. Helock hesitated and then sat tentatively on the other side of the bed. She took Mrs. Towler’s other hand in hers and sniffed. “She’s scared. She might not admit it, but I know it to be true. That’s why she’s been so opposed to you being here.”
“Why is she scared?”
Mrs. Helock smoothed the ruffle on Mrs. Towler’s sleeve and sighed. “She was scared that you’d come in and change everything. Take her place. Take her Elizabeth’s place. She didn’t say so exactly, but I know her so well. Fear takes on many faces, you know.”
Cassandra looked down again to the ill woman. It made sense, in a way. Did she not know what it was to fear the unknown? “I have no desire to take anyone’s place. I only want to find a bit of security, if that’s even possible. I’m quite fond of this family. I would not hurt it or try to push anyone away for the world.”
They sat in silence before Mrs. Helock cleared her throat. “I think I owe you an apology.”
Cassandra recoiled. “Me?”
“In my defense of Mrs. Towler, I’m afraid I’ve acted unkindly. You’ve been good to the girls, and very good to sit up with Mrs. Towler. I was wrong.”
There was more motion at the door, and Cassandra looked up to see Rachel standing in the threshold. She was still clad in her linen nightdress and wrapped with a heavy wool shawl. Her unruly curls were bound in a single thick plait, and she was pale. Very pale.
Cassandra stood from her spot on the bed and moved toward the young woman.
“Is she doing any better?” Rachel whispered so as not to be overheard by Mrs. Helock.
“I’m afraid there’s no difference.”
Tears filled Rachel’s eyes. “Do you think she’s going to die?”
“I don’t know, Rachel.” Cassandra put her arm around the girl’s shoulders.
Rachel impatiently wiped a tear. “I’ve been so awful to her. All we do is argue. What if it is too late to apologize? It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”
Cassandra forced optimism to her voice. “I am sure she’ll improve. We must pray that she does.”
“If she gets better, I will be nicer to her.” Rachel gave a decided nod.
Cassandra squeezed the girl’s shoulders affectionately. “Sometimes it takes a tragedy to appreciate the things you have.”
“But we’ve already had a tragedy. Isn’t one enough?”
It was true. The entire Warrington family had experienced a tragedy in Elizabeth’s loss. “I wish I had better answers for you, other than to say that everything you experience will make you stronger. More resilient.”
As Cassandra left Mrs. Towler in the capable hands of Mrs. Helock, she returned to start her day with the girls. All through the morning the events of the past two days stayed with her. She had thought Mrs. Towler was harsh, but now Cassandra realized the woman might just be frightened of the future. She’d believed that Mrs. Helock did not like her, but it turned out her coolness came out of loyalty to another.
* * *
That night, James found Miss Hale in the parlor, alone.
He’d been looking for her ever since he returned from the mill. He needed to speak with her. He had tried to suppress his feelings until he was certain, but if the previous day’s events had reminded him of anything, it was that time was not promised.
Was he ready to open himself up like this again? To imagine a life with another woman? And yet, everything he had seen from her embodied the sort of ally he wanted in life. The role model he wanted for his daughters. The partner he wanted for himself.
Yes, he was ready. Renewed enthusiasm rushed through him as he entered the room. She looked up and started to stand from her position on the sofa, but he motioned for her to remain seated.
“Are the girls asleep?” he asked as he walked in farther.
“Yes, they are.”
And then he saw the paper in her hand—the record of her baptism.
Without another word he sat next to her on the sofa and took the document from her hand.
She did not move away from him. If anything, she seemed drawn to him.
He could feel her warmth, her nearness. He could also sense the frustration and sadness emanating from her. “I’ve been thinking about this. About you. With your permission I am going to ride out to Shepard and share this with him tomorrow. Someone wanted your identity concealed, even before Longham arrived. Shepard needs to know. I don’t believe Longham’s death was connected in any way with the mill violence. A random laborer would not have the forethought or access to make this page disappear from the registry or to steal Longham’s documents. This assault cannot be lumped into the attacks on mill owners, and that’s what Shepard was doing with the recent arrest he made. Someone knew exactly what they were doing when Longham was killed and had a specific motive.”
For some reason he’d expected her to share his enthusiasm, to share in the urgency that this was the correct step. But she did not respond right away. She pushed herself off the sofa, stood, and paced the narrow space.
“If this is indeed connected to Mr. Longham’s murder, then yes, Mr. Shepard needs to know. But as far as my identity is concerned, I’m not sure it even matters at this point. Everyone knows now. My father’s dead. I’m to be a stranger to my mother. I’m illegitimate. And you know how people talk.”
He set the paper on the sofa and stood. He wanted to erase her uncertainty on this matter. But how? It would be easy, simple, to take her in his arms and hold her until her doubts subsided, but he had no idea if she would be receptive of his touch. Instead, he asked, “Do you think it matters to me?”
He stepped even closer, until she was just inches from him.
He could feel her uncertainty. Her questions.
Her gaze did not leave his as she whispered, “Does it?”
In a moment of impassioned determination, he reached out to grip her soft, trembling hand in his. At the touch, fire ignited. He felt it with every fiber of his being. She had to feel it too. “It would probably make a lot of things easier if it did, but the truth is, I care very much about you, regardless of where you are from or who your parents are.”
She looked down at their joined hands and remained silent.
He’d already said too much to turn back. Eagerness surged, and he drew nearer. “I tell you this with no expectation, but I can’t deny my feelings grow stronger each time I see you. I know you have other things pressing on your mind, but I—”
“Yes, there are other things on my mind,” she interrupted, flicking her gaze up to him.
He steeled himself, waiting.
Then her expression softened. Her shoulders eased. “But you are in my thoughts too. Of course you are. How could you not be?”