“If he were to ask you to dance it would be inappropriate for you to accept.”
“He won’t ask me,” she said, the momentarily warm thoughts returning to cool reality. “He knows it would not be welcome.”
“He knows it would not be welcome by you or by us?”
Cassie looked at her mother. “He will not ask me to dance, Mama. Surely you have noted the wide berth we give one another. He will not change his habits, and I will not encourage him.”
Mama looked at her as though searching for confirmation.
Cassie thought back to when Evan had said he would never see her again. Though they were sometimes in one another’s company, he had made good on his promise and never sought her out. “I promised Papa I would have no connection to Mr. Glenside. Is your fear of me going back on my word your only concern?”
Mama turned back to the laundry. “I am also concerned about how Lenora will feel if you go into society before she has made an arrangement.”
Cassie had written her sister twice in the four weeks since Lenora had gone to Bath, but Lenora had not responded. Cassie was trying to forget Evan, and hoped in time she would truly be able to do so, but Lenora would always be her sister and she never wanted to hurt her again. As it was, she feared their relationship would never be repaired.
“If it will hurt Lenora, I would rather not attend,” she said.
“I appreciate that sentiment, which is why your father and I wonder, with Lenora being in Bath, if some things ought to change. We can’t afford to have you turned out properly now, and at this time of year it would be a silly investment, but we have been impressed with your behavior these last weeks and feel that if you can maintain the expectations we have set for you, that perhaps you could begin attending some of the social functions.”
Cassie pulled the sheet in her hands and held it to her chest. “Do you mean it, Mama?” she asked quietly. Her mother’s words from months ago rang back to her: “It is the meek and the mild who will inherit.”
“Yes.” Mama smiled more fully on her youngest daughter than she had in a very long time. She took a step toward her and put a hand against Cassie’s cheek. “I have seen the sacrifices you have made to put aside your own interests and help the Glensides. It is a hard thing to do what is better for someone else than what feels best for yourself.” She lowered her hand.
Cassie had to look away. “Do not make me sound heroic.”
“Do you know how to tell when you are forgiven for a wrong you have done?”
Cassie shook her head, but she ached to know it, to feel it, to own that mercy.
“When you can look at what you’ve done and know you are better for it. Only then can you truly understand God’s grace, which was put in place so that we might learn to be like Him.”
Tears rose in Cassie’s eyes. “I want that relief, but I do not feel it yet.”
Mama’s eyes filled as well. “Take some time today to sit, quiet and still, though I know it does not come easily to you.”
Cassie smiled.
Mama continued. “Think over what you have done. Look for the ways in which you turned straw to gold and be glad for the grace of our Lord, who saves us from ourselves.”
“I’ll do that, Mama,” Cassie said, eager for such reflection.
“And I shall tell Mrs. Allen that there will be three Wiltons at her ball, and we have no objection to having the Glensides invited, too.”
Mama took the basket of folded sheets into the house while Cassie wound up the line and stored the pins. She felt warm and soft as a result of her mother’s words, and eager to take the advice. To sit and ponder on grace, forgiveness, and what she’d learned through this experience was inviting. But there was still a hollow place within her she did not believe would be filled, a longing for Evan that remained acute. Did it make her sinful to still want him? Did it mean she was not truly repentant? Or was that wanting part of the penance she would continue to pay?
A gambler could not regain his fortune simply because he repented of his folly any more than a man convicted for stealing could forgo incarceration. A girl who had deceived her family and the man she loved could not expect society—or her family, or him—to change its expectations because she changed her ways. Perhaps that hollow place would remain. But if the rest of her heart were right with God, perhaps that would ease the ache.
Cassie stood before her mother’s full-length looking glass and wondered if she’d have felt like this if she’d been allowed to go to the Dyers’ ball three months ago. Back then she’d have been giddy and arrogant. Today, she was excited and . . . humble? Had she changed so much in the last few months? No, more like the last few weeks. Six weeks to be exact. Was she better for what had happened since then?
She’d followed Mama’s advice to evaluate the situation and find the ways in which she had grown. She certainly had a better understanding of consequences and a greater empathy for people who behaved badly but wanted to improve themselves. She felt she had grown closer to God and had a better perspective on the process of repentance. Mercy could not rob justice, and yet mercy was such a sweet balm even when justice got its due. Only she wished she did not still feel so incomplete.
Mama had said all sorrow could be swallowed up in Christ, but Cassie felt as though there were pieces missing for her. She did not feel whole, even if she did feel wiser. Perhaps that incompleteness meant she was not yet forgiven, but she did not feel that God was angry with her. Rather, she felt that He understood and He was hoping for her . . . what? Success? And if so, successful . . . what? The answer seemed out of reach, yet she believed He had something in mind for her. When she was quiet and still and mindful of Him, she believed there was beauty ahead. She could not see what it was, but she could feel it waiting for her. Sometimes it was exciting; sometimes it made her nervous. If she thought about it too much, she simply felt confused and frustrated by her inability to understand.
Instead of allowing her thoughts to overwhelm her, she busied herself with household tasks. What had been meant as a punishment had become her solace. She had even returned to her art and sketched the view of the church from her bedroom window.
Cassie had visited with Mrs. Glenside and her daughters a few times and took comfort in their improved welcome in the village. They were over the moon with excitement about tonight’s ball; they had never been to one before. Cassie had said she would look for them and answer any questions. She’d become a sort of tutor, filling in the gaps of their social education. She found them delightful.
Evan.
He was never far from her thoughts, but tonight she was increasingly aware that would be at the ball. He would not ask her to dance nor engage her in conversation, but he would be there. He would see her. How she wished she could talk to him. She would like to tell him all she’d learned from what had happened and how sorry she was for what she’d done. She wished she could tell him that her feelings for him weren’t a passing fancy. Sometimes she would imagine just such a conversation. Sometimes he would forgive her and tell her he loved her too, but sometimes he turned and walked away.
She shook her head. “Enough,” she said to her reflection. She looked over the lemon-colored dress from Rose’s season. Mama had added a lace edge to the sweetheart neckline and changed the sleeve from three-quarters to a puffed cap. The sash had been white, but Cassie had found a wide ribbon the color of a robin’s egg that contrasted the yellow. She’d used the same ribbon to make a fabric flower for her hair. Silver shoes completed the ensemble. Mama did not like such unconventional style, but she did not refuse Cassie the chance to make the dress her own.
Young had done Cassie’s hair in a series of braids that looped and wove around one another at the back of her head, a few soft tendrils brushing her shoulders and framing her face. Her eyes looked bright green against the colors, and the rose of her cheeks complemented the picture. If it
would not be considered the height of vanity, she would consider painting a self-portrait. The thought made her smile, and she gathered it close, like the first flowers of spring. She closed her eyes and imagined herself inhaling the scent of such happiness, of carefree joy and ease. If she could fill her lungs and her head and her heart with such sweetness, surely she could keep it with her all night.
“Cassie,” Mama called from the hall. “The carriage is ready.”
“Coming, Mama.” Cassie took one last look at herself in the glass before she spun away and hurried to the foyer, grabbing her silver shawl on the way.
Evan stood on the outside of a chattering circle of women that included his mother and sisters and told himself he wasn’t watching for Cassie to arrive.
The reason he kept glancing toward the door, he assured himself, was because he knew so few people and every familiar face that arrived brought increased security. But when Cassie did arrive in the doorway, he finally admitted the truth to himself.
There were any number of well-dressed women in every color and with every imaginable adornment. Yet despite the array, Cassie stood out. She wore a yellow dress with a blue sash, and her shoes sparkled. Her hair was off her shoulders and shone under the lights as though it had been polished for the occasion. She was an absolute picture as she greeted the hosts and then whispered with her mother while her father engaged in conversation with another man. Her eyes were casual as they scanned the room, stopping now and then and lighting up with her smile when she nodded at a familiar face from across the room.
And then her eyes met his. Evan braced himself, ready to see her smile fall or her glance dart away. Instead, she held his eyes, and the pink of her cheeks got a little bit pinker. She was here, in the same room with him, but completely inaccessible. He no longer held her character in question despite what she’d done; instead, he felt as though he had come to understand it. Everything she’d done had been exactly as she’d explained it—she wanted to help Lenora make a match and had instead fallen in love with Evan herself.
She loves me, he said in his mind, and from the look on her face and the longing in her eyes, he could believe she loved him still.
The lump that rose in his throat took him off guard, and only then did he notice that it was not Cassie’s eyes alone that watched him. Mrs. Wilton watched him too, her mouth tight and her eyes keen as though reading his very thoughts, which were not keeping to the promise he’d made to Mr. Wilton in the church a month and a half ago. He forced his gaze to the floor and turned away. Surely there was a card game somewhere he could join. The price of peace of mind was worth losing a few pounds. He hadn’t spent a farthing since the drinks with Bunderson some weeks ago.
There were cards. And wine. And soon enough Evan’s thoughts were easier to keep away from Miss Cassandra Wilton. He resisted returning to the ballroom until he feared he would lose more money than he could afford. Dancing, at least, did not involve a wager, and he felt the energy of the music calling to him. He finally rose from the table and made his way to the ballroom.
His mother was seated beside Mrs. Quiggins, an older widow who had taken a shine to the newcomers. He asked his mother how she was enjoying the evening, and she nodded, though she seemed overwhelmed.
“Would you like me to call for the carriage?” Evan asked when Mrs. Quiggins turned to discuss something with another matron on her other side.
“Goodness, no,” Mama said, fanning herself with a painted fan Evan had bought her for Christmas. She’d exclaimed at how beautiful it was, then said she couldn’t imagine ever attending an event so fine as to need such an item. How things had changed for all of them. “Your sisters are having a delightful time, and I am making so many new acquaintances.”
Evan leaned close and spoke softly. “Your smile seems forced.”
“Well, we shall hope only you think so.” She closed her fan and patted his hand with it as though she’d done it a hundred times. “I am glad to be here, Evan, and determined to see it through.”
While Evan wouldn’t have minded an excuse to leave, he liked seeing her determination. He had hoped the new life they had in Leagrave would awaken the woman she was before Father had passed. So far, it seemed as though she was making progress.
Evan scanned the dance floor in search of his sisters, whom he quickly found partnered for a cotillion. He could see they were not as polished as the other dancers, but what they lacked in experience they made up for in other ways. Natalie was grinning from ear to ear, bobbing up and down like a rabbit. Camilla had a determined set to her brow and seemed to be carefully counting out every beat, but she would look up now and again at the gangly young man who was her partner and smile, her blue eyes dancing. It did Evan’s heart good to see them in the thick of the entertainment, enjoying things they would never have otherwise.
A flash of yellow caught his eye, and Evan’s gaze snapped to Cassie on the crowded floor. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and if not for the fact that another man was on the receiving end of her charms, Evan would have been perfectly satisfied to watch her. But there was another man, and his envy reared up, making the vision of seeing her so full of life entirely bittersweet.
He rehearsed everything he had already convinced himself of about Cassie and had nearly talked himself out of watching any longer when he caught sight of her partner.
Bunderson.
The formation brought the dancers face to face again, and for the space of a breath, Evan could think of nothing except the fact that Bunderson would have returned from his pleasure trip to London just a day or so earlier. Bunderson reached out his hand to Cassie as part of the dance, and Evan ground his teeth. How many women had Bunderson touched before tonight? Bits of fun. Perhaps the seedier type he was so intrigued by. Yet Bunderson was an acceptable match for Cassie and Evan was not.
Evan popped up from his chair so quickly that his mother startled beside him. “Evan?” she asked. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine,” he said, but his hands were clenched at his sides. “I-I need some air is all.”
He turned on his heel and walked away from the dance floor. There had to be a back door somewhere. It took every bit of willpower he possessed to keep from looking over his shoulder. Bunderson had made it clear that he wanted to get Lenora out of the way so Cassie could be presented to society. Was her being here tonight a sign that she was out? That she was now able to be courted despite her family’s tradition?
Evan found his way to the balcony and put his hands on the cool stone. Evening was past and night was settling in. He took a deep breath. Two. As his thoughts calmed, he found himself remembering the advice Bunderson had given him regarding the letters with Lenora and what sort of obligation that put on Evan. Bunderson hadn’t said anything different from what Uncle and Mama had said, but was his motivation different? Had he purposely steered Evan toward Lenora so Cassie might become available for him? Available for when he was not busy with light skirts, that is.
Evan’s hands clenched at the railing, and he had to consciously relax them. It was none of his business if Bunderson had serious designs on Cassie or if she enjoyed his attention. He should wish her happiness, and though he was not overly impressed by Bunderson’s character, there were surely worse men Cassie could find herself shackled to for the rest of her life.
If only that knowledge made him feel better.
“Thank you for the help, Cassie.” Rose sat back in her chair, her hand on her rounded belly. “I do not know how I would have gotten on without your help these last weeks.”
Cassie smiled and continued folding the sheets she’d taken from the line. Rose was finishing her seventh month but seemed ready to have this baby at any time. Or, rather, babies. The midwife could not be certain, but she suspected Rose’s first delivery would make her a mother of two, assuming all went well with the labor. Cassie had been helping with househol
d tasks on Tuesdays, but was now coming three days a week. Mama was coming another two. Rose needed to rest so her body would carry the babies as long as possible. Her ankles were swelling, and she struggled to catch her breath when she walked any distance.
Cassie acknowledged Rose’s gratitude and handed her one end of the sheet. She could help that much, and it made the folding easier. “I really am happy to help,” Cassie said, bringing the corners together. “And excited for another niece or nephew, or both, or two of either.”
Rose mirrored Cassie’s actions so they could fold the sheet correctly. “I am trying hard not to be terrified.”
“You will be fine.” Cassie made the first fold once the width was correct. She began to fold end over end until there was a tidy square of fabric. “With so many people hovering about you, the work of bringing these babies into the world might be done by everyone else.”
Rose laughed while Cassie turned to the next sheet on the line.
“Have you heard from Lenora?” Rose asked.
“No,” Cassie said, surprised. Rose and Lenora had always been close, and Cassie assumed that Rose would be the first to know if Lenora were ready to talk to Cassie again. “I have written her a few times, but she has not responded.”
Rose smiled sadly but said nothing. Together, they folded another sheet.
“H-have you heard from Lenora?” Cassie asked.
Rose frowned apologetically. “She writes me every week.”
Cassie began the end-over-end folding, keeping the edges crisp. “Then she’s certainly told you she’s not writing me.” As soon as she said it, Cassie winced. Her family did not know the sisters were at odds with one another. Or at least, they weren’t supposed to.
“It’s strange to me that she hasn’t said anything about you one way or another,” Rose said, watching Cassie closely. “Even when I’ve asked her directly if things are all right between the two of you.”
The Vicar's Daughter Page 23
