Cassandra's Deception

by Gayle Buck

  Sir Marcus gave a graveled chuckle. “Aye, I imagine that your eyes nearly popped from your head as you craned your neck to see everything. You are unused to being amongst such giddy entertainments. I trust that you behaved yourself as a proper lady.”

  “I couldn’t have been more proper, sir,” assured Cassandra with an understanding smile.

  “I shall consult with Miss Bidwell to be completely reassured on that head,” said Sir Marcus, chuckling again. “But come, tell me all about it. I trust that Philip made an adequate escort. He should have, after spending these years past in Wellington’s army. I have heard that the officers are a polished lot when doing the pretty in company.”

  “Philip was quite attentive, Grandfather,” said Cassandra. She added candidly, remembering, “In fact, I do not know that I would have fared half so well without his support.”

  Sir Marcus looked at her from under his brows, mild surprise in his expression. “I am glad to hear it. I wish you and Philip to come to like each other very well, Belle.”

  “I know you do, Grandfather. However, you must know that your hopes of a betrothal between us are slim, at best,” said Cassandra, bracing herself mentally for her grandfather’s displeasure. “If there was nothing else standing against it, there is still the small matter of his marriage.”

  Open astonishment crossed Sir Marcus’s face, before his expression turned bland. He plucked absently at a loose thread in his coverlet. “Told you about that, did he? I wonder why.”

  “Perhaps because he wished everything to be perfectly open and aboveboard between us,” suggested Cassandra.

  Sir Marcus snorted and left off fussing with the coverlet. His jaws worked with his irritation. “It was a foolish thing to do. How are you to fall in love with the man knowing that he is wed, I should like to know? What was Philip thinking?”

  “I imagine that he was thinking it was an impossible situation,” said Cassandra dryly.

  “Nonsense! He’ll be free soon enough, I’ll warrant. I have friends in strategic places. I wrote them on his behalf. Philip shall not have to languish forever,” said Sir Marcus staunchly.

  Cassandra shook her head. “My dear sir, can you not see that it does not matter? I have not changed my mind, nor shall I. Indeed, I have come across something that gives me hope that I shall be able to realize at least one of my dreams.”

  “What is that? What are you talking about, girl? I can’t make heads or tails of it,” said Sir Marcus with impatience.

  “Just this, sir.” Cassandra withdrew the letter from her pocket and unfolded it. She did not give the creased sheet to her grandfather, but held it up where he could see it. “I came across this in your desk when I was searching for your snuff canister. It is a letter from my uncle, in which he civilly requests that my sister and I be allowed to meet with each other. He hints that he would like to foot a London Season for-”

  “Enough! Enough, I say! I’ll not hear another word,” exclaimed Sir Marcus, throwing up an authoritative blue-veined hand. “I have told you already what my position is concerning this matter, Belle. I’ll not have it brought up again.”

  “I am sorry for it, sir. Truly I am. But you must see that I cannot let it rest. You told me that you knew no one to sponsor me. That is not true, Grandfather. My uncle and aunt will be glad to step in, I know it. And this is what I wish for more than anything else,” said Cassandra.

  “Your wishes in this matter are unimportant, Belle,” said Sir Marcus angrily. “It is what I wish that will be done.”

  “No, sir, that is not the case.” Cassandra folded the letter back up and slipped it into her pocket. She stood up. “If you will not consent, I shall myself petition my uncle and aunt to take me on. Also, I shall tell Philip at once that I reject any offer that he may ever make to me. And that will not suit you at all, will it?”

  “I shall not have you defy me in this fashion, Belle!” thundered Sir Marcus. His face had reddened, and he was breathing rather quickly. His long, skinny fingers clenched and unclenched on the brocaded coverlet.

  Cassandra’s heart melted. “I am sorry, Grandfather, I truly am. I hope that you do not make yourself ill over this again.”

  His wintry eyes blazing, Sir Marcus hurled back her concern. “Be damned to you!”

  “There is nothing more to be said,” said Cassandra quietly. She tried not to feel hurt by her grandfather’s rejection, but it was extremely difficult to keep her perspective. She was doing this for her sister. Cassandra started to leave the bedroom, then turned back to look straight into her grandfather’s angered red face. “By the by, Uncle Phineas and Aunt Margaret and my sister are amongst Sir Thomas’s guests. I saw them all last night, and they were very well disposed toward me. They shall receive me, Grandfather, I know it.”

  “Belle! Don’t dare to leave this house! Damn that interfering physician! Belle!”

  Ignoring her grandfather’s tantrum, Cassandra let herself out of the room. When she passed the valet, Weems threw her a reproachful glance as he scurried into the bedroom in answer to his master’s agitated shouts.

  Cassandra went directly downstairs to the drawing room, where she was certain she would find Mr. Raven. She was shaking. Tears had spilled over onto her face, and she wiped them hastily away before pushing open the door. She entered hurriedly. “Philip.”

  Mr. Raven rose upon her entrance, at once thrusting aside the newspapers when he saw her face. “Belle! What is wrong? What has happened?” He strode over to her, his expression one of deep concern.

  As he reached her, Cassandra gave her hands to him. “My very dear friend, I know that we are to ride together this morning, but will you excuse me? I have had a most unpleasant interview with my grandfather and I should like to be alone for a while.”

  “But of course.” Though Mr. Raven gave his consent readily, he retained hold of her hands. “Can you tell me what has passed between you and Sir Marcus? Perhaps I can do something to help.”

  Cassandra shook her head and smiled tremulously. “There is nothing that you can do. It was an old argument, and I very much fear that it has turned out little better than before. However, I do thank you for your solicitude. Now I must go.”

  “Belle.” Mr. Raven tightened his fingers about her hands. He said with quiet intensity, “You must know that I would do anything for you.”

  Cassandra looked up quickly, startled. What she saw in his expression sent heat surging into her face.

  Mr. Raven took her other hand and so held her, looking down at her with a close-held mouth. His gray eyes were fixed on her face. “If I were free ... If I could speak, then—” he compressed his lips, as though biting back the words.

  Cassandra thought she knew what he would say if he could, and her heart soared. “Philip. Dear Philip.”

  Slowly, his gaze still fastened on her face, Mr. Raven raised first one hand to his lips and then the other. The warmth of his kisses pressed against her skin sent her pulses racing, and Cassandra trembled. She stared up into his face, enmeshed by the blaze of passion that flared in his gray eyes.

  A blinding revelation struck her with such force that she audibly gasped. “I ... I must go!” She tugged free and hurried from the room.

  As she ran upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, Cassandra could think of nothing else but that incredible and unexpected ardency in Mr. Raven’s eyes. She pressed her palms against her hot cheeks. “Oh, what have I done? What have I done?”

  All without knowing, she had fallen in love with Philip Raven. If she had truly seen what she thought she had in his gray eyes, then he was in a fair way to being in love with her, as well.

  “Not with me! With Belle!” cried Cassandra despairingly.

  She thought she could not stand it a moment longer. She was to meet Belle that very hour. She would change places with her sister at once.

  Cassandra ripped off her day gown and attired herself hurriedly in her riding habit and boots. She left the bedroom and ran d
own the backstairs, emerging from the manor without anyone being the wiser.

  She strode quickly across the yard out to the stables. When the groom came up to her, she said, “Young John, I shan’t require your escort this morning. Just bring me Rolly.”

  “The master ordered that I accompany ye, miss,” said the groom. He peered at her. “Howsomever, it may be that ye are wishful of meeting Miss Belle?”

  Cassandra stared at the old groom, standing very still. “How ... what are you talking about?” she said sharply.

  “I’ve known almost from the beginning, miss. Rolly told me,” said Young John simply.

  Cassandra sighed in surrender. “I was afraid of that. Rolly doesn’t love me as he does her. Yes, Young John, I am supposed to meet my sister at the old crofter’s cottage.”

  “Miss, is she all right?” asked Young John hesitantly.

  “She is perfectly well. She is pretending to be me at Sir Thomas’s house party,” said Cassandra.

  The groom nodded, satisfied. “I’ll be bringing Rolly out to ye, miss.”

  Within minutes, Cassandra was cantering alone away from the manor. A fine drizzle began to blow in gusts across the dead fields. Cassandra was made uncomfortable by it as her clothing became damp, but she did not turn back.

  When she topped the rise overlooking the shadow valley, she saw a chestnut horse being led into the dark stable. She breathed a sigh of relief. Belle had already arrived.

  Cassandra spurred her mount forward and rode down to the stable. “Belle!”

  Her sister appeared at the entrance. “Be quick”, Cassandra! You will be soaked before you know it.”

  Cassandra slid off of the gelding. She landed in a muddy puddle with a small splash that splattered her skirt. “Yes, I know. We shall both be the worse for this outing, I daresay.”

  “Not I! I am never ill,” declared Belle, reaching out to take the gelding’s reins from her. “Oh, Rolly, I have missed you so.” The gelding whickered and nudged against her with his soft nose. Belle laughed and reached into her pocket. “Yes, I have brought you a carrot. Here you are, sir!”

  Cassandra tried to shake the folds out of her heavy damp skirts. Her jacket felt clammy against her skin, and through it she could feel the chill in the air. But none of her physical discomforts were as important as the agitation that exercised her mind. “Belle, we must change places at once.”

  Belle, holding the carrot for the gelding, looked over at her in surprise. “What ... now?”

  “Yes,” said Cassandra firmly.

  “But, Cassandra, you can’t have considered. We can’t simply trade clothing and ride away, not now. Why, you haven’t the least notion what friendships I have formed or whom I have discussed any number of things with,” said Belle reasonably. She brushed her hands together. “It would be better to wait until the house party is over. Indeed, that is quite what I had in mind to tell you last night, but I did not have the opportunity.”

  Cassandra’s heart sank, and along with it her spirits. Belle was expressing precisely what she had begun to realize at the soiree. As she had watched her sister moving amongst Sir Thomas’s other guests, Cassandra had seen how familiar Belle’s standing was with most of them. It would not be an easy task to fit into the house party again; in fact, she knew that it would be impossible to do so. Belle had been a guest for too long for there not to be some comment if Miss Weatherstone were to suddenly become forgetful of names and conversations.

  Yet Cassandra felt pressed to convince her sister that it had to be done. “Belle, there are reasons. I cannot remain at the Hall. Pray believe me when I say that I cannot do it any longer.”

  “Why, what is this? Cassandra, you are shaking like a leaf. What is wrong?” asked Belle in quick concern, having taken her sister’s hands in her own.

  Cassandra swallowed. “Belle, I ... I’ve had a terrible fight with Grandfather again. I found a letter from Uncle Phineas asking him to allow us to be together. Grandfather refused his request, and in the process rejected the possibility of Uncle Phineas and Aunt Margaret bringing you out for a Season along with me.”

  Her sister’s fingers tightened painfully around Cassandra’s hands, then eased. “I see. It is little more than one could expect from Grandfather, however,” said Belle in a harder voice than usual.

  “I am sorry, Belle. I have tried,” said Cassandra, blinking back tears.

  Belle was searching Cassandra’s face. “But that is not what has truly overset you, is it? Tell me the truth, Cassandra.”

  Cassandra shook her head, almost unable to keep her countenance. “Oh, don’t ask me. Pray don’t ask me.”

  Finally, as Belle continued to press her, Cassandra admitted in a low, despairing voice, “I’ve fallen in love with Philip!”

  * * *

  Chapter 25

  Belle stared at her incredulously. “You’ve fallen in love with Philip?”

  Cassandra gave a small hiccoughing laugh. “Is it so incomprehensible?”

  “Oh, no! Of course not,” said Belle hastily. “It is just that—

  “I know! You and Philip would not suit. But that doesn’t mean that he and I would not,” said Cassandra, a trifle crossly.

  “Quite true. Indeed, now that I reflect upon it, you and Philip are obviously made for each other,” said Belle with a quick smile. “I couldn’t be more delighted, Cassandra. You must be ecstatically happy.”

  Cassandra groaned and shook her head. She tightened her hold on her sister’s hands. “Oh, Belle. You don’t understand at all!”

  Puzzlement crossed Belle’s face. “But this is marvelous news, Cassandra! I don’t understand why—

  Cassandra tore free her hands. “But don’t you see? I’ve been you all of these several weeks! How am I to tell him about what we’ve done? What can I say that will not sound totally reprehensible?”

  “Oh.” Belle studied her sister. “You haven’t said so, but you think that Philip cares for you, too.”

  Cassandra wiped her eyes, angry at herself for crying. “Yes. At least, I suspect that he does. He has never said anything. But it’s the way that he looks at me sometimes. Some of the things he says have made me think that— “She stopped, biting her lip. “Belle, if Philip is in love, he thinks it is with you.”

  Belle stepped back a pace, shaking her head. “Not with me, I assure you.”

  “Well, no,” admitted Cassandra. “But he thinks that I’m you, so it comes down to the same thing.”

  “Oh, my. It is rather a coil,” said Belle, frowning.

  Cassandra laughed a little hysterically. “Do you think so?”

  Her sister looked at her reproachfully. “Cassandra, you really must get hold of yourself. One could believe you to be the center of a Cheltenham tragedy.”

  Cassandra started to retort, before honesty compelled her to take a long, close look at herself. She sighed, brushing her gloved fingers across her forehead. She had the beginnings of a headache again. “I am sorry, Belle. It is just that I don’t know what is to be done.”

  “And so you wish to run away.” Belle nodded. “Perfectly understandable. But that is just what you must not do. You shall have to tell Philip, of course. Perhaps I should pen a note to him, too. I can have one of the grooms run it over to you at the Hall, perhaps in the guise of an invitation to visit me—you!—in Bath.” She rolled her eyes. “I tell you frankly, Cassandra, I never expected this masquerade to be so complicated. There are times that I don’t know who I really am.”

  “I completely understand,” said Cassandra with heartfelt agreement. She sneezed violently.

  “Bless you,” said Belle absently. “Now, how to word it? I hope that Philip will understand why we felt that we had to do this. I trust that he will not be offended at your deceiving him.”

  “My deceiving him! What about you, I should like to know? I haven’t been in this all by myself,” said Cassandra with some heat.

  “Well, of course you haven’t. However, it is you who are i
n love with Philip, and he with you. I suspect that my part in this will be far less important to him than your own,” said Belle.

  Cassandra was deflated. “You are right, of course. Oh, Belle! What if he is angry with me—with us? What if it gives him a complete disgust of me? What will I do then?”

  “Let’s not think about those things unless they happen,” begged Belle. “What we must concentrate upon is bringing Philip up to scratch so that he will make you an offer.”

  “An offer?” Cassandra stared at her sister. Suddenly, the full weight of her situation came over her. She felt the blood drain from her face. “Belle—” She swallowed. “Belle, Philip is already married!”

  Belle stared at her in momentary incomprehension. Then she demanded, “What! What do you mean that Philip is married?”

  “Just that,” said Cassandra simply.

  “I don’t believe it,” exclaimed Belle.

  “But it is true. It happened in the war.” Cassandra sighed, brushing the back of her hand across her forehead. “I suppose that I must tell you everything.”

  “I should say so,” said Belle, putting her hands on her hips.

  Cassandra started in a stumbling fashion to relate what Philip Raven had told her.

  When Belle had heard Cassandra out, she could only shake her head in disgust. “What a ninny. What an absolute ninny Stubby has been.”

  “You mustn’t call him that. He instantly picked up on your old nickname for him at the soiree,” said Cassandra quickly. “I thought he might tumble to the truth about us at any second.”

  “Well, perhaps it would have been for the best,” said Belle flatly.

  “You can’t have thought it out, Belle. Imagine the talk! The scandal—poor Uncle Phineas and Aunt Margaret,” said Cassandra.

  Her sister waved her hand and made a frustrated noise. “Oh, I know that we would have created a scandal if anyone had realized we were masquerading as each other yesterday evening. However, it would certainly have gotten us over the one hurdle.”