“Certainly. I would be delighted,” she answered, gaze cast down demurely.
“Excellent. I will be back shortly.”
I strolled off to the Abbey and joined a throng of tourists. I spent as long as I could admiring the Lady Chapel, then went below to tour the crypt. Consulting my pocket watch, I made my way back outside to tear Robert away from Helena.
I hadn’t the heart to separate the two. Robert insisted on escorting Helena to the library, fearing for her safety on such a hazardous mission, so I went about my shopping on my own. I returned home a few hours later to find Robert, the girls, and the hounds playing in the square across the street. I waved at them as I went in to dress for dinner.
In honor of my aunt and uncle, I wore a daring new Worth evening dress. It was made up of layer upon layer of gauzy dark green and cream chiffon, soft and flowing, with billowing sleeves. Although the bodice was boned, I was forced to wear a different corset from the Rational undergarment I normally don. When I looked at my reflection in my bedroom mirror, I almost gasped with pleasure. An embarrassing amount of flesh showed, but the gown floated about me in a most flattering manner.
“You look lovely, miss. Like a fairy princess.”
“A very substantial fairy princess,” I hugged Annie. “But thank you for the compliment. I feel…presentable.” I looked at the reflection again. “Are you sure there is not too much of my bosom showing?”
“Oh no, miss, that’s the fashion. You look lovely.”
I went downstairs to sit in the library with Robert while we waited for Mabel.
“You look lovely, Cassandra.”
“Thank you. It’s the result of several hours of dedicated work by my maid. You look very handsome as well, although a trifle sad, I think.”
He sighed. “I was thinking of Miss St. John.”
“Ah.” I watched him carefully, sure of what was to come.
“She…I…I have nothing, Cassandra, nothing which I could offer her. I spent all those years working for William on his coffee farm for nothing. He wouldn’t even give me the parcel of land we agreed upon in exchange for my apprenticeship.”
“Your brother has always been…well, we won’t go into that now. Couldn’t you raise the money to purchase a farm through some other means?”
He sighed again. “No. I did manage to raise a sum of money and purchase a small, inferior farm, but I lost it.”
The poignant note in his voice made a lump come to my throat.
“How did you lose it?” I asked.
“William bought up the note.” He stared gloomily into the fire. “When the first crop yield failed my expectations, I couldn’t meet my obligations, and he foreclosed.”
“There must be something we can do. I would be happy to loan you whatever sum you need.”
He smiled and kissed my hand. “Dearest Cassandra, what a good heart you have. Thank you, but no. I will find a way by myself.”
“But, surely a loan would solve all of our problems. I would be part owner, and you could marry someday, and take your bride to live on the coffee farm.”
“What a fine husband I would make,” he laughed bitterly, “borrowing money to be married then dragging my poor wife out to live in the wilds of Africa. No my dear, I will find my way without your generous offer of help, don’t worry.”
Joshua came in at that point and I said no more on the subject, although I resolved to have a chat with him later about Robert’s situation.
As we rode over to my aunt’s house, I listened alternately to Mabel making disparaging comments about the evils that befell women who went out in public dressed in an unseemly manner, and Joshua as he described the various merits of the motorcars he had tried out earlier. My thoughts were elsewhere, mostly concerned with the attacks on Griffin and myself.
Caroline’s house was lit up when we arrived, bright electric lights shining from many of the windows. Although I approved of electric light for its qualities of brilliancy and efficiency, I missed the soft, romantic glow of gaslight for an evening party.
Robert handed me down and tucked my hand into his arm as we went in. As I gave my coat to Hargreaves, I asked him in a whisper how many people were expected.
“There are twelve for dinner, Miss Cassandra.” That was a good sign, it meant my aunt had limited her guests to a manageable number. I have never been a fan of large parties where it is impossible to have a conversation with the majority of guests.
Hargreaves threw open the doors to the drawing room for Mabel and Joshua. I nudged Robert, who still wore a glum face. He held out his arm. I took it, and as we entered the room I tickled him under his chin.
“Cheer up,” I whispered in his ear. “Try to enjoy yourself.”
He smiled down at me.
I turned my head to greet my aunt and instead saw Griffin and Helena standing next to Mabel. I stopped, unable to go on, frozen with disbelief. Griffin’s eyes were positively icy as they glared at me. My cheeks burn hot in response. Robert tugged me further into the room, looking at me with concern until a movement sent his attention to Helena. He dropped my hand and went to join her. Uncle Henry moved between Griffin and me, severing the mesmerizing gaze that trapped me. He greeted me, made complimentary comments about my dress, and turned toward Griffin.
“And here is a young man who will no doubt also appreciate the beauty of your gown. Mr. St. John, I think I can safely say that with the exception of the ladies present, there is no lovelier example of English womanhood. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Griffin
moved forward, the muscles in his jaw working. “I can’t argue with you, Sir Henry. Miss Whitney is the epitome of beauty.”
His voice was thick, but his eyes held only anger as a dull red flush crept over his face and neck.
Once released from his hypnotic stare, my spirits rose in response to his unspoken challenge. Because of
his
stupidity and obstinacy, I was to be cast into the role of a woman who had trifled with his affections. Unless I did something, he would go away and lick his wounds, a confirmed woman-hater.
“I would like to speak with you a moment, Mr. St. John,” I said firmly, grabbing his hand and literally dragging him towards a secluded corner.
He followed stiffly, a frown on his face. My aunt and sister telegraphed disapproval by the means of eyebrow semaphore, but I ignored it.
“What do you mean by refusing to see Robert yesterday?” I demanded in a quiet, if terse, whisper.
Griffin
stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t care to see the gentleman. I believe I have that right.”
“No, you don’t, not he when went with the express purpose of speaking with you. He wanted to explain about the other evening.”
He held up a hand. “I have told you, Miss Whitney, there is no need for explanations. Save your breath for one of your protest marches.”
I glanced over at my aunt, who was greeting two guests. “Why are you being so obstinate?” I hissed between my teeth.
“I am trying to make myself clear. You have made your choice, and I am endeavoring,” the vein in his temple throbbed as he struggled to keep his voice down, “to respect it.”
I opened my mouth to inform him of the individual of my choice, when the door opened again and Lord and Lady Sherringham walked in.
I closed my eyes, unwilling to believe what I had seen. I opened them, but the Sherringhams were still there. I turned to Griffin, but he had walked over to stand beside Helena, glaring belligerently at Robert. I stood marooned on a small Persian rug and awaited my doom.
Uncle Henry introduced the Sherringhams to the guests who were unknown to them, and piloted Lord Sherringham my way. I stood still, hoping that if I didn’t move I would escape notice.
“Of course, you know my niece Cassandra Whitney. You saw her the other night at the opera,” Henry said in an even tone.
I lifted my head and met the outraged stare of Lord Sherringham.
“Good Gad, Benson! What is that woman doing here? I will have none of this! If she is dining with you, we will leave immediately. This…this
person
has been the cause of much family distress. She is unbalanced and dangerous. I tell you, if this woman stays I will leave!”
Everyone stared at me with varying degrees of abject horror on their faces. Griffin was the exception. He wasn’t looking at me; he scowled at Robert, his hands clenched into fists.
Swallowing humiliation, I turned to my uncle, and said quietly, “I don’t wish to be the cause of distress for one of your guests. If you will excuse me, I believe I will retire for the evening.”
Stiffening my back, I walked across the room, opened the door, and shut it softly behind me. Too stunned to think clearly, I stood hesitantly in the hall. On the right, Hargreaves greeted new arrivals at the front door, while directly ahead two footmen advanced with trays of beverages. Unable to face anyone, I turned left and ran up the stairs to my aunt’s boudoir, where I threw myself down upon her Black Watch chaise lounge, and sobbed in an embarrassingly uncontrolled manner into a Royal Stuart plaid silk pillow until I heard the front door slam below. I sat up clutching the pillow, then ran to the window to look out. Griffin had Robert in a firm grip as they looked up and down the street. “What the devil…oh, Griffin, you idiot,” I muttered.
I stepped back quickly from the window and paced the room as I thought. “I need to leave the house. I can’t take any more of Lord Sherringham, or of Mabel’s distraught face, or of Griffin’s cold eyes.” The last couple words were spoken on a sob.
I felt like driven prey, forced from a safe haven out to where I could be attacked by anyone. Flight was the only answer. There were the back stairs, but the servants were sure to be there, great huge swarms of them. In my present mood, I could not face even them. As I paced towards the side window, I glanced out briefly, then stopped.
My uncle’s house was a mellow golden-red brick, with ivy covering the front and sides. Uncle Henry claimed it reminded him of Boston, where he had lived for several years. Below, two floors down, there was a small side yard surrounded by a black railing. It was the tradesmen’s entrance, and I knew the gate was not kept locked. If I could climb down the ivy, I could make my escape by the alley behind the house and no one would be the wiser.
“Oh, I am not sacrificing this lovely gown,” I said, touching its delicate folds. “There has to be another way.”
I crept quietly out of the boudoir to see if the front hall was clear. It wasn’t. Henry was speaking to Hargreaves, and as I watched, Griffin and Robert had joined them.
“Just like men to be in the way.” I made my way back to the boudoir, and with one last reluctant glance at my beautiful, delicate gown, opened the side window as quietly as I could.
The window squeaked in protest as it raised, but the masculine rumble of voices outside the door stirred me. I used to be very good climbing the ivy outside my bedroom window as a child, and I felt sure the technique was not one that I would forget. Taking a firm grip on the ivy, I swung my legs over, digging into the foliage with the toes of my delicate evening slippers.
I was about halfway down when I heard a noise above me. Henry leaned out of the window, looking down at me with disbelief. “Cassandra! What are you doing?”
His head disappeared suddenly, and Griffin’s appeared. He roared something at me, causing me to lose my grip momentarily. I slid down the ivy some six feet before I could regain my hold and continue the climb down. I felt the ivy tremble, and looked back up. Griffin had swung himself over the windowsill and was starting down the wall.
“Oh, the fool!” I murmured to myself, and looked down.
It was about five feet to the ground, but a glance upward decided me. I hit the paving stones hard, but rose to my feet with only a few whispered oaths. Other than ripping my bodice, I was unhurt, and watched with interest as Griffin descended a few feet. Calculating the point at which the ivy would give way under his weight, I moved backwards. I didn’t have to wait long—with a great ripping sound, the ivy separated from the wall, and both it and Griffin fell directly in front of me with a loud thump.