As Kathleen passed the door to the study, she saw her husband’s tall, athletic form crouching over a pile of sparkling glass on the floor. “Did something fall?” she asked.
Devon glanced at her and smiled slightly, his eyes glinting in the way that never failed to spur her heartbeat to a faster pace. “Not exactly.”
She drew closer and saw the object had been deliberately smashed onto a canvas tarp, which would allow the glass to be picked up and carried away easily. “What is that?” she asked with a bemused laugh.
After pulling something from the tarp, Devon shook away the last few shards of glass and held it before her eyes.
“Oh, that.” A smile curved her lips as she saw the trio of little taxidermied birds poised on a branch. “So you finally decided it was time.”
“I did,” Devon said with satisfaction. He set the display, now divested of its glass dome, back on the shelf. Carefully he drew her away from the heap of glass. One of his arms drew around her, while his free hand slid protectively over her stomach. His powerful chest lifted and fell with a deep, contented sigh.
“How far you’ve brought us,” Kathleen murmured, resting against him, “in such a short time. You’ve turned us all into a family.”
“Don’t give me credit for that, love,” Devon said, ducking his head to press a crooked grin against the side of her face. “We all did it together.”
Kathleen turned in his arms to regard the trio of goldfinches. “I wonder what they’ll do,” she mused aloud, “now that they’re out in the world, in the open air?”
He snuggled her back against him, and nuzzled her cheek. “Whatever they want.”
Epilogue
Six months later
“B … A … S … I … L,” Cassandra said, while the boy laboriously copied the letters in a little blank book.
“Are you certain that’s the right way?” he asked.
“Yes, very.”
She and Basil sat together on a bench at the docks, beneath the soft blue sky of Amiens. Nearby, spoonbills and raucous oystercatchers waded through the waters of the Somme Bay in search of a last few mollusks before the tide rolled in.
“But why does the S make the same sound as a Z? I wish each letter had only one sound.”
“It’s rather annoying, isn’t it? The English language has borrowed many words from other languages, and those languages have different spelling rules.” She looked up with a smile as she saw Tom walking toward them, relaxed and handsome. The sunny fortnight they’d spent in Calais had tanned his skin, and made his blue and green eyes startlingly bright by contrast. He had brought them here for a day trip that would include a mysterious surprise.
“The surprise is almost ready,” he said. “Let’s collect our things.”
“Papa, does this look right to yer?” Basil asked, showing him the blank book.
Tom scrutinized the page. “It looks perfect. Now let’s put it into Mama’s tapestry bag, and—Good God, Cassandra, why did you bring that?” He was staring into the contents of the bag as if aghast.
“What?” she asked, bemused. “My extra gloves, a handkerchief, a set of binoculars, a packet of biscuits—”
“That book.”
“Tom Sawyer’s one of your favorites,” she protested. “You said so. Now I’m reading it to Basil.”
“I don’t dispute that it’s one of the best novels ever written, with an excellent lesson for younger readers. However—”
“What would that lesson be?” Cassandra asked suspiciously.
“Papa already told me,” Basil volunteered. “ ‘Never do yer own work if you can make someone else do it for yer.’”
“That’s not the lesson,” Cassandra said, frowning.
“We’ll discuss it later,” Tom said hastily. “For now, put it at the bottom of the bag, and do not let it be seen for the next two hours. Don’t mention it, and don’t even think about it.”
“Why?” Cassandra asked, increasingly curious.
“Because we’re going to be in the company of someone who, to put it mildly, is not especially fond of Mark Twain. Now, come with me, you two.”
“I’m hungry,” Basil said sadly.
Tom grinned and ruffled his hair. “You’re always hungry. Fortunately, we’re about to have a nice, long afternoon tea with all the pastries you want.”
“That’s the surprise?” Basil asked. “But we have tea every day.”
“Not on a yacht. And not with this person.” Tom picked up Cassandra’s tapestry bag, latched it firmly closed, and offered his arm to her.
“Who is it?” she asked, amused by the lively excitement in his eyes.
“Come find out.”
They proceeded down one of the docks, to a modest but well-kept yacht. A fine old gentleman with a nicely trimmed beard and a shock of silvery hair awaited them.
“No,” Cassandra said with a wondering laugh, recognizing the face from photographs and engravings. “Is that really …”
“Monsieur Verne,” Tom said easily, “here are my wife and son. Lady Cassandra and Basil.”
“Enchanté,” Jules Verne murmured, his eyes twinkling as he bowed over Cassandra’s hand.
“I told Monsieur Verne,” Tom said, enjoying Cassandra’s dazed expression, “that you gave me the first novel I ever read, Around the World in Eighty Days, and for personal reasons, it remains my favorite.”
“But what about—” Basil began, and Tom gently placed his hand over the boy’s mouth.
“Madame,” Jules Verne said in French, “how delighted I am to host you for tea on the Saint Michel! I hope you have a sweet tooth, as I do?”
“I certainly do,” she answered in kind, “and so does my son.”
“Ah, wonderful, come with me, then. If you have questions about my novels, I would be most pleased to answer them.”
“I’ve always longed to find out how you came up with the idea for Around the World in Eighty Days.”
“Well, you see, I was reading an American travel brochure …”
Just before they boarded the yacht, Cassandra glanced at Tom and reached up to a delicate necklace she’d worn constantly since the day he’d given it to her. She touched the little charm, made in the shape of Euler’s infinity symbol, that hung at the hollow of her throat.
And as always, the private signal made him smile.
Author’s Note
Dear Friends,
I learned some interesting facts while researching Chasing Cassandra, but none that surprised me more than finding out Mark Twain’s novel The Adventures of Tom Sawyer was first released in Great Britain in June 1876, several months before it was published in the United States! Mr. Twain wanted to secure a British copyright, and was reportedly more highly esteemed in Great Britain. The British first edition featured a red cover, with the title reading simply as Tom Sawyer. When it was published in America in December, the cover was brilliant deep blue, with the full gilded title emblazoned across the front.
Also, Mark Twain apparently harbored lifelong hostility against Jules Verne starting in 1868, when Twain was trying to finish writing a balloon story, and Verne beat him to the punch by publishing a story titled Five Weeks in a Balloon. (Alas, we writers can be sensitive at times.)
The first mention of the traditional wedding rhyme of “something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue,” in its entirety was in October 1876 in a Staffordshire newspaper.
I found a thorough description of the concept of “photographic memory” in an article titled “Natural Daguerreotyping” from Chambers’s Edinburgh Journal dating from 1843.
Although the oldest versions of Cinderella didn’t include the pumpkin, Charles Perrault added it in his rewrite in 1697. Apparently, the pumpkin was brought to France from the New World during the Tudor period between 1485 and 1603. Naturally the French knew just what to do with the “pompion,” as they called it. Reportedly the first printed recipe for pumpkin pie dates back to 1675.
The B
ritish stone equals 14 pounds in weight.
King George V had the first railway train bathtub installed on the Royal Train in 1910. However, I felt certain the innovative and fastidious Tom Severin, as a man ahead of his time, would definitely install one on his private railway carriage. In deference to reality, however, we’ll let King George V keep the credit for being the first.
I hope you had fun reading Chasing Cassandra, my friends—it’s a privilege and a delight to be able to create stories I love and share them with you!
Love always,
Lisa
Lady Cassandra’s Afternoon
Tea Scones
I FOUND THE RECIPE FOR these soft and perfect little scones in several Victorian era cookbooks, and tweaked it just enough to make it work for us. The Victorians often added corn starch or potato starch to baked goods like this, and it makes the scones incredibly light and fluffy. Unfortunately, Greg and the kids and I can’t make afternoon tea a daily ritual like the Ravenels do, but when we get a chance, we always include scones. These are easy and delicious!
Ingredients
1¾ cup flour
¼ cup corn starch
½ tsp. salt
3 tsp. baking powder
1 stick butter, cold and chopped into dice sized pieces
¾ cup whole milk
A little half and half or cream for brushing over the scones
Directions
Preheat oven to 425.
Mix the dry ingredients with a whisk or fork. Cut in the butter with a pastry blender or a fork, mashing and mixing until it’s all crumbs. Pour in the milk and gently mix until it’s a big ball.
Sprinkle the dough with flour, sprinkle a rolling pin and cutting board/mat with more flour, and roll to ½ inch thickness. (Tip: The less you touch, mash and fool with the dough, the more tender the scones will be.) Use a small biscuit cutter (mine’s about 2 inches) to cut little circles, and put them on a nonstick cookie sheet or pan (I like to cover mine with parchment)
Use a pastry brush to brush half and half over the top of each scone.
Bake for 12 minutes. (This is where you have to use your judgement—if they’re not nicely golden brown, keep them in another couple of minutes)
Serve with butter, jam, honey, clotted cream, whatever you want to put on a perfect little scone!
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