5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The following morning, Cassandra waited at the rectory for as long as she dared, but to her disappointment, her sister did not come. Julia was rarely on time, and today her lateness meant Cassandra would have to leave without her—or risk missing her own wedding.

Apart from a bandbox containing a few personal items, all her belongings had been removed to Mr Hunt’s house in Devonshire Buildings. There was nothing left for her here.

After fastening her grey mantle over the gorgeous white gown Bridget had made for her, Cassandra shut the door on her father’s house for the last time. She paused for a moment, stifling a sigh as she stared at her old home.

This was it. Her life here was over, and a new season was about to begin. She prayed it would be a good one as she walked toward the church alone.

She was halfway to St Mary’s Church when she heard Julia calling her name. Cassandra sighed with relief as she turned in response. Her stepsister had come at last.

“A momentous day,” Julia said, falling into step beside her.

Cassandra caught her breath, overcome by sudden nervousness. Did her sister know what she was about to do? Would she question her choice?

Her mouth went dry. “Yes. ”

“I assume you have found a position and will not be homeless tonight, or are you intending to throw yourself on the new rector’s mercy? Is the man married? Perhaps you should try to catch his eye.”

Cassandra winced at her sister’s crudeness. Too many years of being pampered and put forward had taken their toll, and produced the overly confident and somewhat thoughtless young woman Julia had become.

If only her father had taken a firmer hand, or Cassandra had been allowed to take her stepsister under her influence earlier, perhaps the outcome would have been different.

“Well? I’m waiting. Are you going to tell me or not?”

“I have accepted a position of sorts. I am to be married.”

“Married? That’s a good joke, Cassy. Who would want to marry you, a dowerless grump with more principles than prettiness?”

The heat rushed into Cassandra’s cheeks at her sister’s words. It was painful to acknowledge there was some truth in them, but she thought family was supposed to support you, not rub your shortcomings in your face.

“It will, then, no doubt surprise you I am not joking. And if we don’t hurry, I’ll be late for my own wedding.”

Julia grabbed her arm and held it in a vice-like grip. “You can’t be serious. Who is he?”

“Mr Hunt.”

“What? A merchant! And a dour one at that, who sits in church every Sunday looking as if he would turn the milk sour.”

“I will have you know he is a most respectable man, and a good deal more principled than you. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes. Are you coming to my wedding, or not?”

Julia released her grip, but continued to stare at her. “What, now? Consider what you’re doing, Cassy. Marriage is for life. All you need is some employment to keep you going for a few months before Xander returns home. He’ll take care of us.”

“Why do you assume he will come back soon? It’s been two years, Julia, and the war is keeping the Navy busy. We have to face the fact that he might never return home.”

“I refuse to believe it. Don’t marry Mr Hunt. Wait a while longer. I’m sure Mr Barnes would put you up—”

“Are you lost to all sense of propriety? I could not stay with a single man, even if I wanted to. It would be unseemly.”

“Then what about Eugenia? Wasn’t she supposed to look after us? ”

“I would rather starve than ask her for help after what she’s done. You don’t blame me for not wanting to rely on her mercy, do you?”

Julia sneered. “No. I do not blame you at all. But surely you can get a position as a companion? I understood that is what you advertised for?”

This was proving as hard as Cassandra had feared. “I did, but I received no responses.”

“Oh. I thought you’d have found something, even if it meant leaving Weymouth.”

“You know I would have hated that.”

“Huh! I wish someone would take me away from this place.”

“Then why did you agree to teach at Miss Seymour’s School?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said with a shrug. “But it’s not a permanent position. I’m not tied to it for life, but if you marry—”

“He’s a wealthy man, Julia. He can look after you, too. You would not have to work—”

“That sounds awfully mercenary of you. What of love? Nothing but the deepest pull on my heartstrings will induce me to marry.”

Cassandra’s chest tightened. Was her sister right? Was she making a tremendous mistake—one that would haunt her for the rest of her life?

Something flickered inside her heart. Was it a hope—a dream that marrying for love was an option?

She squashed it. Such thoughts were not helpful. Her situation was too dire to allow romantic wishes to affect her judgement. If she changed her mind now, she would have nowhere to go. She would belong to no one. Besides, she had given her word.

“I’ve made my decision. Mr Hunt is a God-fearing man. He’ll look after me.”

“But why you? What kind of man offers marriage to a destitute gentlewoman of no particular merit?”

Cassandra brushed off her sister’s cruel words, but failed to prevent heat from surging into her cheeks. It was humiliating Julia thought so poorly of her, and it buoyed her spirits that Mr Hunt had asked her to marry him, even if it was for purposes of his own.

“It is immaterial. The point is, he’s chosen me, and I need to go now. Are you coming to my wedding or not?”

Julia sniffed. “I suppose.”

They walked in silence down St Mary Street. For everyone else, it was just another day. Women bustled about as they went to buy food. Well-dressed men strode past on the way to their offices. A gaggle of children sat playing games in front of a nearby house .

Outside the church, a man wearing a shabby green coat leaned against the wall of the graveyard, doing nothing at all. As she passed him, the stranger caught her gaze and bowed his head.

Oh dear. Was he looking for charity? He certainly looked as if he could do with a good meal. Had he been laid off? It was the quarter day, after all.

He wouldn’t be the first to seek her aid. As the rector’s daughter, it had been a regular occurrence. But she had no time to stop today. He would do better to go down to the Quay to search for work rather than loitering near the church for the possibility of a few coins.

With a deep breath, Cassandra dismissed the man from her mind and entered the church building, ready to grasp her future.

Her sister followed behind, disapproval oozing from her lagging steps.

Cassandra walked slowly down the aisle, allowing the familiarity of her surroundings to calm her agitated spirits. As church buildings went, it was not very large. Dark, too, as the sunlight struggled to find a way in through clusters of small, high windows.

It was always full to bursting on a Sunday, as the size of the congregation had long since outstripped its capacity, but today it stood starkly empty, apart from the three men waiting for her at the front of the church—the curate, Mr Hunt, and a man she recognised as one of his employees.

Mr Barnes was talking in hushed accents, as befitted the sanctity of the place, and the ceremony he was about to perform.

Cassandra paused, staring up at the pulpit, where her father had stood on so many occasions, a final desperate prayer on her lips—a plea for confirmation she was doing the right thing.

A ray of sunshine broke through, illuminating the pews and monuments that spoke of two centuries of worship. It might have been coincidence, but she took it as a sign from God. Peace settled in her heart, and with renewed confidence, she walked down the aisle to join the man who would shortly become her husband.

She might not love Mr Hunt in the way she had dreamed of, but she vowed she would love him, to the utmost of her ability. And she was grateful to him for rescuing her.

Was gratitude a good starting point for their relationship? She hoped so, because it was the best she could do.