Cassandra's Deception

by Gayle Buck

  “Good evening,” said Cassandra formally, inclining her head.

  Mr. Weatherstone gave a bare nod. However, Mrs. Weatherstone recovered sufficiently from the shock that she was able to give a weak smile. She held out a limp hand in greeting. “My dear. It ... it has been such a long time since we last met.”

  Cassandra shook her aunt’s hand. Her eyes went to her uncle’s watchful face. He was unchanged. He appeared well and as always he was attired impeccably. It made her heart glad to see him, to see them both. She replied in a neutral tone that concealed her own strong emotions. “Yes, it was the day that my sister and I were separated. We were quite small at the time.”

  A tremor passed through Mrs. Weatherstone. She turned, seeking her husband’s support. Mr. Weatherstone took his wife’s arm before addressing Cassandra. “You must forgive us if our greeting has been somewhat ... distant, Belle. It was such a profound shock to see you. Sir Thomas did not warn—prepare us. Is my father with you this evening?” Once more he scanned the ballroom, a frowning expression in his brown eyes.

  “Sir Marcus has been very unwell of late and is just now beginning to recover,” said Cassandra. She saw that Miss Bidwell and Mr. Raven were coming up, and she felt immense relief. It was such an unexpectedly awkward and difficult moment. She was glad to be able to fall back on the familiar civilities. “I am accompanied this evening by my companion, Miss Bidwell, and Sir Marcus’s godson, Mr. Philip Raven.”

  Sir Thomas made the introductions. He seemed impervious to any undercurrents. Mr. Weatherstone shook Mr. Raven’s hand, studying him. “I seem to recall your name, sir.”

  “Do you? I don’t think that we have ever met,” said Mr. Raven.

  “No; perhaps it is only that you are my father’s godson,” said Mr. Weatherstone.

  “No doubt,” agreed Mr. Raven.

  Mrs. Weatherstone and Miss Bidwell had begun with a stilted conversation, but they quickly discovered common ground and began chatting more comfortably together. Mrs. Weatherstone turned to her husband. “Phineas, Miss Bidwell tells me that she once resided in Bath.”

  “Indeed. You have family there, Miss Bidwell?” asked Mr. Weatherstone politely.

  “I did once, sir. They are all gone now,” said Miss Bidwell. “I have always hoped to return, however, for I enjoyed the town very much. Often I have considered taking Belle with me. She would like the shops and such.”

  “Quite,” said Mr. Weatherstone. He turned again to Cassandra and his eyes considered her. “I am surprised on more than one head, Belle. I would have assumed that my father would not have allowed you to come tonight when he knew that we should meet.”

  Cassandra glanced at Sir Thomas, before remarking to her uncle, “I do not believe that Sir Marcus was informed that you would be among Sir Thomas’s guests, sir.”

  “I’ll warrant that he did not,” agreed Mr. Weatherstone. A faintly amused expression crossed his face as he glanced at their host. “You have managed to surprise us all, Sir Thomas.”

  “I had hoped to,” said Sir Thomas with a smile. “It seemed such a pity not to bring the two young ladies together when they chanced to be in the same neighborhood. I trust that you will eventually forgive me for my meddling, Phineas.”

  “No doubt I shall,” said Mr. Weatherstone, his expression relaxing even further as he chuckled.

  “My dear Belle. What a positive start you gave me,” said Mrs. Weatherstone in a friendly tone, taking hold of both of Cassandra’s hands. “You can have no notion how very like Cassandra you look.”

  “Oh, but I can, ma’am,” said Cassandra with a small laugh. The exquisite irony of the situation appealed strongly to her sense of humor.

  Mr. Raven had been listening, and now he interposed a question. “Forgive me, Mrs. Weatherstone, for interrupting. Are you perhaps speaking of Miss Weatherstone’s sister?”

  “Why, yes. You haven’t met Cassandra yet, have you?” said Mrs. Weatherstone, looking curiously at him.

  “I have not had that pleasure, no,” said Mr. Raven, bowing. He glanced in Cassandra’s direction as he straightened.

  “Where is Cassandra?” asked Mr. Weatherstone, looking around. “She was here but a moment ago.”

  “Are you looking for me, Uncle?”

  Cassandra turned around, as did everyone else. There stood her sister, Belle. From beside her, she heard an audible gasp from Miss Bidwell. Cassandra smiled impishly, her eyes on her sister’s face. “Hullo, Cassandra.”

  “My goodness. It is you!” exclaimed Belle, her eyes rounding with astonishment. “I couldn’t be certain, for I never expected— But it is you!”

  “Yes, Sir Thomas orchestrated a surprise meeting of the family,” said Cassandra, sending a quick smile at the portly gentleman. “Was it not brave of him?”

  “What a charming idea,” exclaimed Belle, throwing her arms about Cassandra for a quick hug. As she drew back, her hazel eyes turned brimful of mischief. There was a wealth of meaning in her voice. “I am so very happy to see you. I have such things to tell you.”

  “And I, you,” said Cassandra, holding tight her sister’s hands. She pressed Belle’s fingers to let her know that she needed to talk to her.

  “Well! They don’t seem to be such strangers after all,” said Sir Thomas with a pleased chuckle. “I say, I don’t believe I have ever seen such a stunning pair of young ladies.”

  “No, indeed,” said Miss Bidwell, somewhat faintly. She kept staring at the two young women as though she had difficulty believing her eyes.

  “It is extraordinary,” said Mr. Raven, looking from one to the other. There was a considering expression on his lean face.

  Belle glanced at him. She seemed about to say something directly to him, then stopped. She addressed no one in particular. “I fear that the gentleman is unknown to me.”

  “This is Mr. Philip Raven, Sir Marcus’s godson. Mr. Raven, my niece, Miss Cassandra Weatherstone,” said Mr. Weatherstone.

  Belle gave her hand to Mr. Raven. She looked up into his face with a glinting smile. “Sir Marcus’s godson? I feel that I know you already, Mr. Raven.”

  He bowed, but his gaze never left her laughing countenance. He said slowly, “It is a rare pleasure, Miss Weatherstone.”

  “And this is Miss Bidwell, Belle’s companion,” said Mrs. Weatherstone, supplying the last introduction.

  Belle turned to Miss Bidwell. She hugged that lady, which obviously astonished Miss Bidwell very much. Belle shook her head, laughing at herself ruefully. “How very happy I am to see you, Miss Bidwell! You cannot imagine. My sister’s letters mentioned you quite frequently. You must forgive my familiar behavior on that head.”

  “I am glad that I am at last able to make your acquaintance, Miss Cassandra,” said Miss Bidwell with a pleased smile. “I must say that you are very much like your friendly letters.”

  “Am I?” Belle slid a mischievous glance in Cassandra’s direction. “It is a pretty compliment.”

  “But quite true. Your letters are utterly fascinating. Biddy and I positively hang upon every word,” said Cassandra, tongue in cheek. She was rewarded when her sister went into a peal of uninhibited laughter.

  Mr. Weatherstone shook his head, an unreadable expression on his face. “You are in rare form tonight, Cassandra.”

  “But I am positively agog with excitement, Uncle Phineas! I have long wished to talk with my sister,” said Belle with a flashing smile.

  “Then why don’t you two run along, my dear?” said Mrs. Weatherstone, smiling. “You must have much to catch up on.”

  “Oh, indeed,” said Belle.

  Mrs. Weatherstone nodded civilly at Cassandra. “It is good to see you again, my dear.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” said Cassandra quietly. She ached to say more, to tell about everything she had experienced to the woman who had virtually been a mother to her. However, she knew quite well now that she could not do so. Instead, she submitted to Belle’s insistent pressure on her arm and went off with
her sister.

  * * *

  Chapter 22

  Belle drew Cassandra aside to a window alcove where they could have a private conversation even though they were still in full view of the ballroom. Many sets of eyes followed the pair of young ladies, so incredibly alike in face and form, with only differences in hairstyle and gown to set them apart.

  A loud buzz of astonished conversation arose, and several people approached Sir Thomas and the Weatherstones. The two young ladies paid no heed to the attention that they were generating. All of their focus was concentrated upon each other.

  “I am so sorry not to have met you when I said that I would. The storm—” Belle shuddered.

  “Yes, I know. It would have been marvelous indeed if even a duck was out in that,” said Cassandra.

  “Oh, Cassandra! I was so very astonished, but amazingly glad, too, to see you here tonight,” whispered Belle. “However did you manage it?”

  “It was not I, but Sir Thomas. He hatched a little plot all his own. He asked our grandfather to allow me— you!—to attend the soiree this evening. Naturally, Grandfather knew nothing about Uncle Phineas and Aunt Margaret being amongst the guests,” said Cassandra, also speaking in low tones. She glanced about them to be certain that there was no one within hearing.

  “Of course he didn’t,” agreed Belle. “He would never have allowed me—you!—to come if he had.” Belle paused, a contemplative expression on her face. “However, Cassandra, there have been various comments from neighbors about how much I resemble Belle Weatherstone. One of them at least surely remarked on the resemblance to the servants. I am all but persuaded that Grandfather must have heard something through the grapevine.”

  “Then why did he not say anything to me? Why did he allow me to come tonight?” asked Cassandra.

  “I don’t know. That is what is so odd,” said Belle, frowning. “He has never socialized to any great degree and has not been keen on my doing so, either. I don’t understand.”

  “Perhaps I do, however. Grandfather was receptive because he wants you to spend time with Philip Raven. What better way than to send you off to a soiree in his escort?” said Cassandra. She gave a small smile. “Even if it meant allowing you to come face-to-face with Uncle Phineas and Aunt Margaret and me.”

  “I own, I was astonished to see Philip. I almost said something to him, but caught myself in the nick of time. I don’t think that I have ever seen Biddy turned out half so well. And that gown—surely it is one of mine?” said Belle, inspecting her sister’s attire with interest.

  “Yes, Miss Bidwell had it refurbished so that I could make a presentable appearance in the exalted company tonight,” said Cassandra. She touched the string of pearls about her neck. “And Grandfather presented these to me today. He wished you to wear them this evening. I felt so guilty about taking them, Belle!”

  “My word! What is happening up at the Hall? Grandfather has never been so considerate or generous to me before. Is Grandfather in his right mind?” asked Belle, half seriously.

  “Yes, I think so. At least, he must be if you do not find it strange that he is determined to promote a match between you and Philip Raven,” said Cassandra.

  “Is that what you meant when you said that Grandfather wanted me to spend time with Philip?” Belle’s hazel eyes suddenly kindled. “Has he never let go of that nonsensical notion? Wait until I see him. I shall comb his hair for this, I swear.”

  “I am glad that you feel that way, Belle,” said Cassandra, relieved to find that her instincts concerning her sister’s preferences had been correct. “I have had a falling out with Grandfather over his matchmaking. I did not think that you wished to wed Philip Raven.”

  “Certainly not! Oh, if you have put an end to that nonsense, I shall be eternally grateful to you,” exclaimed Belle. “But wait, didn’t you just say that Grandfather wanted me—you!—to spend time with Philip?”

  “Yes,” sighed Cassandra. “You cannot imagine how awkward it all is. Grandfather is very stubborn, isn’t he?”

  “He is an obstinate old stick,” said Belle roundly. “What did he say?”

  “Let us say Grandfather struck a bargain with me— or you, actually.”

  “What sort of bargain?” asked Belle, eyeing her sister somewhat suspiciously.

  “He asked that you spend time with his godson so that you can get to know each other better. I agreed to it, and so did Philip,” said Cassandra.

  “Philip? You call him ‘Philip’?” asked Belle with surprise.

  Cassandra felt heat steal into her face. “I couldn’t very well hold him to a formal footing since we are supposed to have spent part of our childhood together, could I?”

  “No, I suppose not,” agreed Belle. “I am surprised, really, that Philip consented. He was never one to simply go along. He just refused to do whatever he didn’t want to do in that quiet way of his and then there was no moving him.”

  “Perhaps that is what he did with Sir Marcus. Perhaps that is why our grandfather came up with this arrangement,” said Cassandra thoughtfully. Of course it was a bit more complicated than that, in light of Mr. Raven’s unusual matrimonial entanglement, but that was not a topic for discussion for the present.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Philip refused to fall in with Grandfather’s wishes and offer for you,” said Cassandra baldly. “I think now Grandfather hopes to soften Philip’s position with his policy of having us live in one another’s pocket.”

  “Well, it shan’t matter how much time I spend with Philip, I would never change my mind,” declared Belle.

  “Why? Have you a dislike of him?” asked Cassandra curiously.

  “Oh, no, of course not! Philip and I were the best of friends. It is just that I know we wouldn’t suit. We are simply too different. We would drive each other mad within a year,” said Belle cheerfully. “Besides, I haven’t seen anything of the world or been courted or ... or anything!”

  “Why, what have you been doing all of this time in my shoes?” asked Cassandra teasingly. “It doesn’t sound at all as though you have put the time to good use!”

  Belle laughed. “Oh! I know what you are thinking. I have had such fun, and Uncle Phineas and Aunt Margaret are such dears, though they can be a bit too hovering, can they not? But a single house party is not at all like a London Season. And I do so long to have one!”

  “I suggested to Grandfather that Uncle Phineas and Aunt Margaret could bring you out,” said Cassandra. At her sister’s surprised and hopeful expression, she shook her head. “No, he has not consented. In fact, that is why we had such an awful falling out. He made himself ill, too. He is quite all right now, though! I felt so guilty, however.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t let Grandfather’s crotchets bother you,” said Belle, waving her hand. She smiled tremulously, a sudden sheen of moisture in her eyes. “Cassandra, it was so brave and ... and unselfish of you to suggest such a wonderful thing!”

  “I just thought what fun it would be to take London by storm together,” said Cassandra with a laugh.

  “Yes, wouldn’t it just!” exclaimed Belle, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “No one could hold a candle to us, could they? Only consider the stares that we are getting tonight!”

  “Oh, here comes Philip Raven. And there is another gentleman bearing down on us as well,” said Cassandra, somewhat dismayed.

  She had not even begun to pour out all of her thoughts and concerns to her sister. There was their uncle’s letter to Sir Marcus and their grandfather’s reception to it. They needed to put their heads together, too, about what to do about bringing the masquerade to a close.

  It had become abundantly clear to Cassandra that it would be more and more difficult to change places the longer it went on. Her aunt and uncle had not known her at once, and certainly she could not simply step into her own shoes at the house party at this late date and expect to know everyone in the house or what had gone on since her absence.

  “I mus
t say, I am favorably impressed by Philip. He has become quite a handsome fellow,” said Belle, watching the gentleman’s approach. “How odd! I would never have thought he would turn out half so well. He was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, always talking about books or history.”

  “He still does. That is, talk about books and such,” said Cassandra, diverted at once from her concerns.

  “Does he really? How utterly boring. Didn’t I say just a moment past that we would never suit?” said Belle, shaking her head.

  With Mr. Raven’s approach, Cassandra knew that their hurried tête-à-tête was over, and she feared that she might not have another chance that evening to say anything of importance. “Belle! I’ve got to talk to you again. About us,” she said urgently.

  “Yes.” Belle looked round hastily. Seeing that both gentlemen were coming into earshot, she whispered, “Then meet me at the crofter’s cottage tomorrow! At the same time!”

  Cassandra nodded, before turning with a welcoming smile to Mr. Raven. “Philip, here is my sister. Wasn’t I saying but a day or two ago that I wished that I had the opportunity to be with her? And here we are!”

  “Indeed, it must be a very exciting reunion for both,” said Mr. Raven, returning her smile. He regarded her keenly for a long moment, in such a way that made Cassandra instantly wonder what thoughts were going through his mind.

  Mr. Raven did not enlighten her. He turned and greeted Belle politely. She inclined her head, shooting up a mischievous glance at him from under her lashes.

  “I am quite glad to have made your acquaintance, Mr. Raven. I hope that I may claim close enough acquaintance to dispense with formalities?”

  “Of course, Miss Weatherstone,” said Mr. Raven with a smile and bow.

  “Pray call me Cassandra. And of course I must call you ‘Stubby,’ mustn’t I?” said Belle with a gurgling laugh and upswept glance.

  Mr. Raven appeared stunned. Cassandra’s eyes flew to his face, and she felt her heart thump. Belle had used the old childhood nickname that she had had for him, the very one that she had not known about until he had revealed it to her.