11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Cassandra still smarted from Jethro’s desertion three days later. Even then, she couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong. One moment, they’d been in harmony with each other, standing together against Eugenia Frampton. The next, she was alone again.

If only she knew her husband better, perhaps she would understand what had caused him to withdraw, and she could ensure she didn’t repeat the mistake.

Every time Cassandra was tempted to moan at her lot, she reminded herself the situation was of her own making. No one had forced her to marry Jethro. But she had vowed to love him, and love him she would—or she would die trying.

But how was she supposed to love her husband when she didn’t know the man? And how could she get to know him when they had so few hours together? Since Sunday, she’d only seen him at dinner each day. All his remaining time was spent at the warehouse or in his study.

It was this thought that propelled her to rise early enough to join Jethro for breakfast before he left the house.

She wondered why she had made the effort, as he spoke no more than ten words to her during the meal. As soon as she had drained her teacup and returned it to its saucer, her husband rose from the table and bid her a curt goodbye .

Cassandra tried to ignore the ache in her heart caused by his coldness, but it wouldn’t go away.

Was it wrong of her to want more? To long for some physical demonstration of the love Jethro had sworn to give her? Something that would set her apart from his servants, and show that his wife meant more to him than Mrs Timms or one of the maids?

A kiss on the cheek. A hug. Even a handshake would be better than nothing.

But no. He treated her more like an employee than the woman he had married. Was she only there to be called upon when it suited him?

It had not occurred to Cassandra she could be as isolated as a married lady as when she had been shut away in the rectory, caring for her father during his last illness. She felt so alone, she could have screamed.

In desperation, she sent a note to Miss Seymour’s School, asking her stepsister to call whenever she next had time off from her teaching responsibilities.

It was something of a surprise to find Julia at her door less than half an hour later.

“I happen to have the morning off and thought I may as well come at once. Now, are you going to show me around your fine house, or is your husband lurking in a corner somewhere?”

Cassandra blushed at her sister’s bluntness, but hastened to assure her of Jethro’s absence.

“Good. I wouldn’t like him to overhear our conversation. You might not be free to tell me what you really think.”

Her words echoed loudly in Cassandra’s mind, filling it with concern. Had inviting Julia been a mistake? No. It would be wrong not to keep up with her sister, despite her immaturity. She hoped there would come a day when Julia grew up and became a more comfortable companion.

If she withdrew contact now, perhaps her sister would never find the faith in God that Cassandra had. A faith that sustained her through every difficulty—including the trials of being married to an absentee husband.

After having a tour of the house, Julia expressed herself disappointed. “I thought the rooms would be more fashionably furnished. Anyone would think your husband had no money. I’ve never seen such a dowdy drawing room. You’d better do something about that as soon as possible.”

“I have it in mind,” Cassandra assured her sister, “but I can’t change everything overnight. What is of more import at the moment is refreshing my wardrobe. Apart from the dress I wore for my wedding, I’ve nothing to wear that’s not black. Would you like to come with me to Mrs Fisher’s and help me choose some gowns? You always had a better eye for fashion than me.”

Julia looped her arm through Cassandra’s. “Now, spending money is something at which I am an expert. Miss Seymour subscribes to La Belle Assemblée , The Lady’s Magazine and Ackermann’s Repository , so I know all the latest trends. Don’t you worry. By the time we’re done, your husband will barely recognise you.”

When they arrived at the dressmaker’s shop, Cassandra let Julia discuss designs with Mrs Fisher on her behalf. Fashion was not of great interest to her, and it gave her sister such pleasure. She trusted Bridget to curb Julia’s more extravagant suggestions.

The two sisters were more in accord with each other than they’d been in a long time as they traipsed from shop to shop, buying half-boots and slippers, and stockings and embroidery silks.

“I confess, your pin money astounds me. I thought your husband would have been more tight-fisted than that.”

“He is all that is generous.”

“Then why aren’t you happy?”

Cassandra wrinkled her brow. Did her frustrations show on her face, or was Julia seeing something that wasn’t there?

“Is he a demanding husband?”

Cassandra’s cheeks burned, and she did not know where to look. She refused to admit to her sister that in some areas, Jethro was far from demanding. But perhaps Julia hadn’t meant that. Perhaps she was merely asking whether he was difficult to please.

That was not a question she was willing to answer either, so she tried to turn the subject. “He doesn’t like me being in the kitchen. He wants me to be a lady of leisure.”

“I wouldn’t complain about being forced to be lazy,” Julia said with a laugh. “Maybe I should have wed him instead of you! A life of pleasure would have suited me. Oh, don’t look so serious. I’m only teasing. I wouldn’t have married your stuffy husband for the world. But you know that’s not what I was asking. Is he—”

“Have you heard from Xander?” Cassandra asked, cutting off her sister before she could embarrass her further.

Julia scowled. “I see you won’t confide in me.”

Cassandra felt a moment’s temptation. It would be a relief to unburden herself, to tell her sister just how hard it was, and how she wished she had a marriage like Julia dreamed of—with deep-rooted affection at the core.

But she dismissed the idea in a trice. She knew from bitter experience the relief would be short-lived. It would be dangerous to confide in Julia, because she was a poor keeper of secrets.

Besides, she had no wish to reveal the details of her marriage to her sister or anyone else.

“You can admit it to me. Do you wish you hadn’t married him?”

Cassandra replied on instinct. “No.”

And it was true. Despite her misgivings, she didn’t regret marrying Jethro—yet.

Even if she was already lamenting her marriage, she wouldn’t have admitted it to Julia. She would not be disloyal to her husband, however she felt.

Jethro was an upright man, and he had promised to love her, and she would do the same. She was foolish to think it would be easy. It took work. Two into one did not go willingly.

It was too early to despair of their bond growing deeper than their legal union as husband and wife.

“Huh! Have it your way,” snapped Julia, their short-lived truce at an end, “but you can be sure I won’t confide my secrets to you when you won’t share yours. I suppose I shall see you about town, sometime or other. Don’t expect me to call. I’m not a lady of leisure and must return to school. At least I know it’s not for life.”

Her words stung, but Cassandra did not stop her. Julia had spent too many years being pampered to cope well with her will being crossed.

As she watched her sister go, her eyes were drawn to a man standing nearby, who seemed to be waiting for someone, rather than passing down the street on his business.

From all appearances, he was not a gentleman. Far from it. His green coat was shabby, his hair unkempt, and his hat pulled low over his forehead.

It took a moment for her to realise he was the same man who had been loitering outside the church on her wedding day. Oh dear. Was the poor fellow still out of work and in need of charity?

She expected him to approach her and ask for money. Instead, he strode off down the road after Julia. Cassandra predicted the man’s plea would fall on deaf ears.

Sure enough, after what looked like a heated altercation, the man doffed his hat and walked off .

To her surprise, Julia did not continue on her way but stomped back up the street toward her, looking, if possible, even more irritated than when they had parted. She stopped in front of her, hands on her hips, and glared at her.

“You can tell that stuffy husband of yours if he wants to know my opinion of his marriage to my sister, he should find the courage to ask me himself, instead of sending someone else to wheedle the information out of me. I’m quite prepared to tell him to his face, but if he thinks I’m going to reveal anything to that creepy man, then he can think again.”

With that, Julia turned and resumed her walk down the street.

Questions buzzed around inside Cassandra’s head as she stared after her sister.

Why had the man in the green jacket plied Julia with questions? Had he been listening to their conversation as well? Could the man really be in Jethro’s employ?

Her husband wouldn’t hire someone to spy on her—would he?

The thought did not sit well with her. Wasn’t it enough for him to dictate what she could and could not do in the house? Was he trying to control her behaviour outside the home too?

Cassandra restrained herself from stamping her feet in annoyance as she continued on her way. If Jethro cared so much about how she behaved, perhaps he should spend more time with her himself.

It was a relief she hadn’t said anything that could be construed as disloyal. If the man was reporting back to her husband, he would have nothing ill to say of her. The picture of her sister would not be flattering, but Julia’s surliness toward Jethro at the wedding had been so obvious that her attitude would not surprise him.

Before she reached home, all the fight had leaked out of her, and she was left with a hollow feeling inside. How could her marriage feel so empty? Because it was not a proper marriage.

If this was the basis on which many of her class wed, no wonder people with fewer principles than her and Jethro struggled to remain faithful to their wedding vows.

There was little she could do if this was how her husband wanted to conduct their relationship, but Cassandra could not stand the thought of spending the rest of the day on her own, starved of company, waiting for him to come home.

She needed to make a bigger effort to occupy herself. With sudden decision, she altered her path and walked toward the seafront. She would subscribe to Harvey’s Library and borrow some books. Though not much of a reader, it would help the hours of waiting pass more quickly.

If her husband chose to spy on her or curtail her activities, she would respect his choices, even if she didn’t agree with them. It was of the utmost importance she gave him no reason to question her loyalty.

Maybe when he learned to trust her, they could build a more solid basis for their relationship that went beyond the mutual convenience on which their marriage was founded.