by Lori Wick
“Did you say sisters?”
“Yes.”
“So Barringtons are here?”
“They are,” Harriet answered, watching Tate’s brow crease.
“Why do you look worried?”
“I’m being selfish.”
“How so?”
“If Charlotte and her husband are here, Cassandra probably won’t come for a time.”
Harriet watched Tate sit very still. She couldn’t contradict his thoughts because he was probably right. Little did she know he was praying.
Help me, Lord, to wait on You, but then also help me to find the words. Whenever she comes again, I’ve got to bolster my courage to ask her some questions. Please bring her back. Please give me a chance to see where I stand.
Chapter Twelve
Thomas Morland stood on the deck of the Jefferson James, his eyes wishing for a view of England’s shore. The journey away had been exciting, full of adventure, and with no pressure of time. This journey—the return trip—had taken days longer than he figured, his heart and mind eager to be elsewhere.
Making himself turn away from the endless miles of sea, Morland moved toward a chair, seated himself, and reached for the small Bible in his pocket. He turned to the pages he’d been studying in Revelation.
I’ve always yearned for Your return, Lord, but for the first time I want You to delay. It seems silly to think of anything on earth comparing with heaven, but in truth, I want to see Lizzy so desperately that I hope You tarry.
Morland forced his mind from home and thoughts of Elizabeth Steele. He shifted to get more comfortable and read in chapter 7 for the next hour.
Newcomb Park
“Are you certain you are up to this?” Henry stopped Cassandra at the carriage to ask.
“Yes, Henry,” Cassandra answered him. “Thank you for checking with me.”
Henry looked hesitant, so Cassandra waited.
“What is it, Henry? Have you changed your mind about my reading to Mr Tate?”
Henry shook his head no, even as he looked into her still-pale features. What was it like at Pembroke? Was anyone close by to keep track of how she was doing? Could Tate do that with no vision right now? What if she were to become ill again?
“Henry?” Cassandra tried again.
“I just want you to be well, Cassie. That is all.”
“I shall be careful, and truly, Henry, I feel much better.”
Henry nodded, his eyes still showing concern. He knew he couldn’t worry about this, but the closer he became to his family, the harder it was.
As Cassandra went on her way, Henry made a mental note to discuss that fact with James Walker on Wednesday.
Brown Manor
“Well, now,” Weston said, smiling at his wife’s triumph. “Look at you.”
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned playfully, still standing near the bed.
“Now why is that?”
“Well, from over here, I can still convince myself that I might have grown taller.”
Weston laughed as he joined her, his arms going around her in the standing position for the first time in many months.
“This is nice.”
“I think so too.”
The two shared a kiss before someone knocked. Weston answered the door.
“Mrs Hurst is here to see Mrs Weston.”
“Thank you, Mansfield,” Weston said, just holding a smile. “Tell Mrs Hurst that Mrs Weston will be down directly.”
Weston turned to smile at his wife the minute Mansfield went on his way. Anne grinned back like a mischievous schoolgirl. After making sure Anne was steady on her feet, Weston held his hand out, and Anne claimed it as they started toward the stairs.
Pembroke
Harriet had a great hug for Cassandra the moment she set foot in the house. Cassandra gladly hugged her in return.
“How are you?” the older woman wished to know, now holding her at arm’s length so she could inspect her closely.
“Much better, thank you.”
“We’re so pleased to have you back. Tate missed you.”
“I missed both of you,” she said. “Shall I go ahead to the library, or is he not expecting me?”
“He’s waiting for you.”
Harriet didn’t add that he’d waited every day. Harriet had waited every day as well. Her emotions almost overflowed as she watched Cassandra move across the foyer.
Cassandra was completely unaware of the other woman’s gaze. Pleased to be back, she made a beeline for the library and gave her usual greeting.
“Hello, Mr Tate.”
“Cassandra!” Tate exclaimed with pleasure. “I missed you,” he added, not wasting time at all. “Come, sit near. Are you certain you’re all right?”
“Yes. It was a rather nasty illness, but I am well over it.”
“I’m glad you are well, for your sake as well as my own,” he added wryly.
“How is that?”
“I found the days grew long.”
“Did they?”
“Yes.” Tate’s voice was serious, and Cassandra found herself watching him closely. “My aunt,” he continued, “said the Barringtons are here.”
“Yes.” Cassandra’s voice held a smile. “It’s been wonderful.”
“I hope you didn’t feel as though you had to come, Cassandra.”
“No, Mr Tate, indeed not,” Cassandra said, but she felt tentative. If the days had grown long for him, why did he sound uncertain about having her back?
“Are you positive you wish me to be back, Mr Tate?” Cassandra asked the question in her mind.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I had large amounts of time to think about things.”
When he didn’t say what, Cassandra asked, “Anything in particular?”
“Yes, things I wished I’d asked you before you grew ill.”
“Oh.” This word came out just before Cassandra felt her breath catch. His voice was serious again, and continued to be so.
“Things that I believe I now have the courage to voice, if you’ll allow me.”
“These questions,” Cassandra began swiftly, afraid he would go on. “You said they have been on your mind?”
“Yes, for some time.”
“Have they caused you distress?”
“At times.”
Cassandra licked her lips. Was she ready to hear what he had to say? Even as she asked this of herself, she hated the thought of his being in distress for any reason.
“You may ask me whatever you wish, Mr Tate.”
“Very well.”
“But I must warn you, if I’ve not given the idea much thought, I will have to return with my answer at another time.”
“I believe that to be very fair.”
Cassandra waited, her body tense, her eyes on the man across from her.
“You’re going to think me foolish, but I actually want to ask you if your skin is soft all the time.”
Cassandra laughed a little with relief, even as her cheeks grew pink.
“I don’t know. I guess it is.”
“And are you always so kind and easy to be with?”
“I’m not perfect, Mr Tate—you must realize that—but I do hope I’m kind.”
Tate too licked suddenly dry lips and plunged in, speaking faster than normal.
“Is there any chance, Cassandra, that you could care for a man whose vision was not perfect?”
“Well,” Cassandra said thoughtfully, “I don’t think a person’s looks or situation in life is all that important. Does that answer your question?”
“Somewhat,” Tate hesitated, asking himself how far he should push this. He decided not to live in this particular darkness any longer. “Have you ever considered marriage to someone who wasn’t as complete in frame as yourself?”
“I don’t very often picture myself married, so I’m not certain I can tell you that,” Cassandra answered quite honestly, so certain was she that he would never want her.
“If you did picture yourself married, what type of marriage would make you happy?”
“One that was centered on my belief in Christ.” Cassandra knew that answer right away. “One that was of love, I think.”
“Are there other things of import to you?”
“I don’t know. Let me think.”
Cassandra’s mind raced around a bit, and she even came to her feet and began to pace.
“Are you leaving?”
“No, just trying to think.”
“Have I upset you?”
“No, it’s a very good question, one that I probably should have considered before now. My parents,” she went on, her mind getting settled, “valued one another, yet my father had the final word on things. I can’t lead you to believe that my mother was always pleased about it—sometimes they disagreed—but if my father was firmly against something, it would not occur.”
“Was he firm about many things?”
“No. That was one of the sweetest things about him. He was only firm when he needed to be. He didn’t get into a muddle over things of little consequence, but big things—things involving people and relationships in our family or the church family—were important to him.”
Tate listened to her walk around. He would have smiled at the picture it presented in his mind, but he was afraid she would think him laughing at her.
“Respect!” Cassandra said suddenly, turning to Tate. “That’s the word I was looking for. My parents had great respect for one another. Even if they became upset about something, they tried to remain calm and talk it out as best they could.”
“Belief, love, and respect. Those are very important indeed.”
“And honesty,” Cassandra added. “I think it’s not always easy to be yourself with someone, and that’s a form of lying, but as much as we’re able, we need to be honest.”
“I think you must be very honest,” Tate said to Cassandra, believing it with all his heart.
“I hope I am,” Cassandra said, even as she worried about her looks, wishing he could see her right now. If his rejection of her was complete, she could move away, maybe to Bath, until she was over him or he moved back to London.
Was it lying not to tell him what she looked like? Cassandra pushed the thought away. With no answer, it only made her miserable. Instead, she asked, “Would you like me to read to you now?”
Tate could hear the need for rescue in her voice. Thinking that in all fairness, he’d found out even more than he asked, he was swift to agree. Still not certain if her own heart was becoming involved with him, he knew that subject might need to wait for another day.
So pleased and thankful just to have her near again, Tate settled back and listened to the sound of her voice, not letting himself worry about the future.
Newcomb Park
“You’re back, Cassie,” Charlotte said when she spotted her just before lunch. “How is Mr Tate today?”
“He’s doing well.”
“Are you reading a book to him?”
“No, just the newspaper.”
That Charlotte wanted to ask more was only too clear. Cassandra stood still, waiting for her to continue but not helping out in the least. She even let a small smile peek through, telling Charlotte she was on to her.
Lizzy’s right! She has grown up. Why did I never see it before?
“Do you mind if I ask you about Mr Tate, Cassie?” Charlotte tried speaking to Cassandra as she would Lizzy. “Or do you find me intrusive?”
“I don’t mind at all, Charlotte.”
The women moved to chairs in the small downstairs parlor. They grew comfortable and watched each other, Cassandra waiting again for Charlotte to lead.
“When you read to him, is it uncomfortable with him not being able to see you?”
“Not since the first days. He’s very at ease with his present situation, and that makes it easy for everyone else.”
“Is there a chance he’ll see again?”
“Yes. There’s already been some improvement to his sight. He’s waiting, allowing his body to continue to heal.”
“And he does that patiently—waiting, I mean?”
Cassandra smiled. “I rather admire his trust, Charlotte. He’s chosen to wait on God for this. It’s wonderful to watch him rest in God’s hand.”
“Lizzy has led me to believe that you might admire him for more than just that.”
Cassandra smiled again. “I will confess to you that I find him very special.”
“Do you love him?”
“I think I could love him very easily.”
Charlotte saw a bit of herself right now, Lizzy as well.
“You’re holding back, Cassie. Can you tell me why?”
“The obvious reason: He can’t see me.”
It was on Charlotte’s tongue to chide her sister, tell her that it didn’t matter, but in a flash she asked herself what it would be like if Barrington had never seen her. After a thoughtful moment, she told Cassandra what was on her heart.
“I’ve only just realized that I’ve taken for granted that Barrington and I can see each other. I’m sure I’ll be guilty of that again. But something else has also just occurred to me: Even though I think Barrington the most handsome man in England and he tells me daily that I’m beautiful, I can tell you that if we didn’t treat each other with kindness, if we didn’t love and care for each other, not all the physical beauty in the world would make up for that.”
Cassandra knew her sister spoke the truth. It made perfect sense. She thanked Charlotte, hugged her, and began to pray. She asked God to settle her heart on this issue and to help her to listen.
I am too often guilty of asking for Your help and then not taking it. Please help me, Lord. I don’t know if I can let Tate get close enough to love me, if ever he would. I think I might love him already, but I’m terrified.
Jasper announced at that moment that Pastor Hurst had come to visit. Cassandra was torn between frustration and relief. She knew it was time to talk this out with her heavenly Father but found it was a task she could easily put off.
Heading into the foyer to meet the pastor, Cassandra thought about the fact that her sisters thought her very grown-up of late.
If they knew how much I want to run and hide from Alexander Tate, they would realize that, at least in one sense, I’m still just a child.
Blackburn Manor
“I’m an emotional mess,” Henry said with disgust on Wednesday morning. “The closer I get to my family, the more I want to worry and be overly protective. Lizzy headed into the garden last week, and I stood at the window and watched her as though she were going to be captured by a band of marauders.”
Walker laughed, and Henry chuckled as well.
“We can laugh at this, Walker,” Henry went on, his voice still good-natured, “but in truth, I don’t know if I’m any better off than I was before.”
“How so?”
“Well, at one time it was the sin of keeping myself away from all others; now it’s the sin of worry.” Henry sat back, his head shaking in self-derision.
“I won’t tell you not to fight that sin, Henry, since God is in control and we have no cause for worry, but I’ll still say this: I’m very proud of you. You’re a changed man. It’s not every believer who hears of his sin and determines to do something about it. You could have fought me and told me to mind my own business. It felt as though I was asking the impossible of you, but you trusted God and began to change.
“Likewise, that will happen with this temptation to worry. We all have that tendency with our families. I came to Christ late in life, and two of my children have never believed. Their children don’t believe—my own dear grandchildren. I ache with that knowledge, but I can’t worry. I have to keep praying for them and leaving them in God’s hands.”
Henry suddenly felt very emotional, another facet added to his life as he learned to show love to others. How God would choose to give him a friend like James Walker he didn’t know, bu
t he was eternally grateful.
The men turned to a passage in Hebrews 13, one that reminded them that the God of peace, who raised His own Son from the dead, would help them to do the things that were pleasing in His sight.
After reading the passage over and discussing it, they spent a long time in prayer, Henry giving his family over to God and asking for his trust to be increased, and Walker, for his example before his lost children and grandchildren.
Pembroke
“You’ve been crying,” Tate said after Cassandra had read all of two sentences.
“How did you know that?” she asked, feeling almost betrayed.
“I can hear it in your voice.”
Cassandra said nothing for a moment. She thought his not being able to see her red eyes and puffy lids would disguise how she felt.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“You weren’t supposed to notice,” she told him, her voice wobbling again. “And if you’re going to be so kind, I’ll be in tears all over again.”
Tate thought she sounded adorable and couldn’t quite stop his smile. He didn’t, however, manage to school his face before she noticed.
“You’re laughing at me!”
“I’m not, truly, I’m not.”
Cassandra sniffed, knowing it was rude but unable to locate her handkerchief. She looked up to see Tate holding his out to her.
“I told you not to be nice to me,” she said, tears now coming in earnest.
“Cassandra, what is it?”
“Charlotte and Barrington have left. They’ve been away from home for a very long time, and they’re most eager to get to Bath, but it feels as if they just arrived.”
“Would it have helped to remain home?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. At least if we read something interesting I won’t have to think about them.”
“And I interrupted you.”
“It’s all right.” Cassandra dried her tears, seeing that she’d made him feel bad. It made her want to cry all over again, but she held herself in check.
“Don’t worry about my feelings,” Tate guessed, frustrating his reader to madness.