Chapter Seventeen
Cassandra slept through most of the next morning, awakening only when a trio of maids came inside her bedchamber. In their arms, they carried lavish crystal vases overflowing with white and red roses.
“From the Lord of the Manor, my lady. Wanted to brighten up the room, he did.” An older woman with grey hair tied in a severe chignon tutted about her. “My name is Mrs. Groves, I’m the housekeeper. If you’ll be needing anything at all ring the bell and we’ll see to it straightaway.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Ah.” Mrs. Groves smiled. “That must be the breakfast tray.”
She opened the door with a hand on her hip.
Outside stood a brown-haired young boy with black boots reflecting a brilliant shine, holding in his hand a bouquet of daisies.
No. Feverfew. Bouquet being a generous description, she noted with a half smile.
The handful of white blooms were mostly stems and leaves, freshly rooted from soil, and bound with what suspiciously looked like her hair ribbon.
With a look of distaste, Mrs. Groves tried to shoo him away.
“My master said to give these to the Miss directly.” The boy stood unmoving at the threshold and peaked his head through the door, undeterred by the four feminine gazes eying him with mixed stares of interest and admonishment.
“Not in a lady’s bedchamber, you’re not.” Mrs. Groves moved to shut the door. The boy put his boot in the doorway to stop it from closing.
“I will not be swayed from my mission, Margaret!” He puffed out his chest.
Using the back of her hand, Mrs. Groves gave the boy a solid smack on the side of his head, then blushed as she remembered Cassandra in the room. “Apologies for his impertinence, my lady. He’s normally well behaved, but he’s recently fallen in with a bad influence.”
“Apologize for your own impertinence,” the boy grumbled, rubbing his head.
Mrs. Groves raised her hand again. “Out! Or I’ll box your ears!”
“It’s all right.” Cassandra laughed. Surprised, the housekeeper paused. Cassandra sat up and extended her hand. “He can bring them to me.”
With a haughty expression that Cassandra was sure would land him extra duties, the boy bowed, flower petals falling to the floor with the movement. Marching into the room with his head high, he placed the bouquet in her hands. With a flourish, he brought forth a simple card from his coat pocket.
A skipping sensation came over her as she read the words.
‘Wishing you good health.’
Taking the boy by the shoulders, Mrs. Groves hurled him from the room.
“There will be no more of that.” She huffed. “Pass along that message to your ‘master.’”
With the boy gone, Mrs. Groves closed the door.
Cassandra asked, “Will you put these in a vase?”
The housekeeper gave her a kind smile.
“Of course, ma’am,” she said. “We’ll put them in water, but don’t expect them to last.”
Throughout the day, swathes of women came in and out of her bedchamber to express their concern and ask after her wellbeing.
Matthew stood watch at the door, herding guests out of the room when he felt they had overstayed, until Aunt Valentine scolded him to let her spend time with her friends.
After lunch, Jasmine brought with her Lady Samantha, Lady Honora, and Miss Georgiana.
Willing to jump at the newest bite of gossip, they took one look at the roses and each lady donned a shark-like smile.
“Do you think that Lord Bolderwood has an interest in you?” Lady Samantha asked, twirling a red rose in her hands.
Cassandra vehemently shook her head. “No, I doubt that.”
“Everyone said he’s been fussing over you,” Lady Samantha teased.
“Who is everyone?” Jasmine asked with a raised brow.
Samantha pointed the rose at her friend. “Tell her, Georgie,”
“He’s been asking about you,” Miss Georgiana crooned. “He seems to be particularly concerned.”
“I’m sure he’s no more concerned than he would be to any guest in my situation,” Cassandra said primly.
In a twinkling tone, Miss Georgiana said, “Lord Bolderwood is asking about you in that way.”
“In which way?” Jasmine asked, irritated at being ignored.
“Asking what type of woman you are, your interests, if you have any plans for marriage,” Lady Samantha supplied. Then she whispered, “Your family’s finances.”
Affronted, Cassandra looked at Jasmine as the three girls giggled. Sensing her discomfort, Jasmine steered the conversation away.
“Lady Honora didn’t tell you about her plans for marriage.” Jasmine winked. “Your Mama told my Mama all about it last night.”
A collection of shrill squeals escaped Lady Samantha and Miss Georgiana, hurting Cassandra’s ears.
“To Lord Worthing? Why didn’t you say anything?” Lady Samantha gushed. “When?”
Going pale, Lady Honora looked down at her knees.
“When we get back to London, Lord Worthing will be acquiring a special license,” she said in a quiet voice. “He wishes to wed immediately.”
Jasmine smirked.
It looked like Matthew had lost a bet.
Once the other three ladies had left, Jasmine toyed with the white and yellow flowers on her bedside table, eyes lighting up with playful knowing.
“He’s romantic, isn’t he?” She gave Cassandra a pointed look. “For a ruffian.”
Burying her head in her pillow to hide her blush, muffled, Cassandra asked, “How did you know?”
Jasmine laughed. “Cassandra, I know you.” She plopped onto the bed on her stomach, feet swaying in the air, wearing a wide smile. “Tell me everything.”
And so she did. Cassandra told her about the diary page, the tree, their deal, the near-kiss in the library, the scorching kiss following the chase, and Seth’s gentle embrace the previous night in the glasshouse.
“Lucky!” Jasmine rolled onto her back. “What was it like?”
“Wonderful.” Cassandra smiled, then sobered, glancing at the flowers he sent. The housekeeper’s words echoed in her ears. “I think I might be in love with him.”
“I knew it!” Jasmine giggled. “All right. So what are you going to do about it?”
“What can I do?” Cassandra let out a long sigh. “Nothing. I can’t be with him, Jasmine.”
Jasmine sat up.
“Why not?”
“He isn’t a gentleman. We’re already on the fringes of society.
I have to set a good example. If I marry a commoner it’ll cause such a scandal that it’ll shadow any influence that Matthew might gain, and Caroline will have no marriage prospects.
I may as well fling the family off a cliff for all the damage it will do. ”
“Isn’t your happiness important?” Jasmine asked. “Would you rather be like Lady Honora? Married to some old man counting the days until you’re a widow? Mama can help you circumvent any scandal, you know how powerful she is. What other excuses do you have?”
“Excuses? These are valid concerns!” Cassandra frowned. “I have to take care of my family. We’re struggling, Jasmine. Truly struggling! And Seth—Mr. Reeves—is in worse straits than we are. And Matthew… with the money he spent on this contest… if they lose—”
“What if they win, Cassandra?” Jasmine asked earnestly.
“Have you considered it, even for a moment? They are neck-and-neck with Colonel Bishop and Mr. Nott. And even if they don’t win, didn’t it occur to you that their level of craftsmanship might be sought after by someone else?
Colonel Bishop’s and Mr. Nott’s rifles are one of a kind.
How many rifles can your brother and your beloved develop in a month with the proper facilities? ”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Are you truly not paying attention? We’re at war.” Jasmine spoke slowly. “The rifle your brother crafted isn’t meant for hunting at all, it’s meant to supply the military.”
Thoughts whirled in her head with sickening speed as the pieces fell into place.
But no! Matthew wouldn’t get involved with the military.
After watching their parents die, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he caused the death of another person.
But the rifle they created… high accuracy with a telescope that can see into the distance… to kill another human being.
Cassandra’s throat went dry.
“When you make a deal with the devil….”
“Their rifle has the same performance as Colonel Bishop’s at a tenth of the price,” Jasmine continued.
“That has value! With that telescope, even inexperienced soldiers can accurately shoot a target from a great distance. With Mr. Reeves’ mind, Matthew’s influence, and an interested investor—and already some gentlemen are interested—my goodness, Cassandra.
They’ll be so outlandishly wealthy that it won’t matter if they win or lose. ”
“Even if that’s the case, Matthew would never allow it—”
Jasmine held Cassandra’s hand in hers. Her chocolate eyes were as gentle as her voice when she spoke. “Do you hear yourself? Matthew would be thrilled to have Mr. Reeves as a brother-in-law. They’re sewn together at the hip! Do you truly think he would disapprove?”
Cassandra worried her bottom lip.
“It can’t be that simple.”
“Yes, it can.” Jasmine smiled and squeezed her hand. “If you stop making it complicated.”
By late afternoon, Cassandra convinced Matthew that bed rest did not mean staying in bed the entire time.
The salves and baths had worked wonders on her, to the point she didn’t feel any pain.
At her pleading, Matthew allowed her to move to the yellow sitting room, which really wasn’t that bad once her eyes adjusted to the hue.
At any rate, it was an improvement from the black canopy she spent the day staring at.
Outside, the sky darkened, and the wind picked up gradually until droplets of water struck the windows with plinks. Curled up on a sofa near the window with a throw blanket and a book, Cassandra tried to read, but the words blurred on the page.
Could it really be as easy as Jasmine said?