9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

That night, Cassandra slept in fits and starts, not because the bed was uncomfortable, but because her mind would not be still. She could not stop thinking of her husband, who lay on the other side of the door.

What manner of man had she wed? She had convinced herself marriage to Jethro was God’s answer to her problems, but it had not started well. He seemed as displeased with her as she was with him. She hoped they would not both come to rue the promises they’d made.

Cassandra was relieved when morning came and with it, new hope. She would try harder to be the wife that Jethro wanted. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

She realised she’d forgotten to ask him what time he ate breakfast. She supposed Jethro was so used to eating alone he had not thought to tell her.

For a moment, she considered knocking on the adjoining door and asking, but her courage failed her. She would dress and go downstairs, and hope breakfast would be served soon.

Cassandra could have dressed by herself, as all her current gowns fastened at the front, but she dared not risk offending Jethro by refusing the maid he had provided, and rang for Sally to help her .

It took rather longer for the girl to answer her summons than Cassandra had hoped. No doubt Sally needed time to adapt to her new role, just as her mistress needed time to adapt to hers.

When Cassandra finally made it downstairs, she discovered Jethro had breakfasted without her and already departed for the warehouse. She quashed her disappointment and prepared to spend a day of leisure. Obedient to her husband’s wishes, she did not venture into the kitchen again, but spent the hours reading and working on her embroidery.

She would have been glad of company, but she could not face the prospect of leaving the house and risk facing the shocked reaction of others to her marriage. If she could delay her first outing as a married woman until Sunday, at least she would not have to deal with such reactions alone.

Jethro didn’t return home until shortly before five. She did not need to remind him to change his dress. It was as well, for she was not sure she would have dared, as she had no wish to provoke another fiery outburst.

Over dinner, Jethro enquired after her day, and she described how she had employed her time, but when she asked the same question of him, she received the briefest of answers in reply, as if it was none of her business.

He didn’t join her in the drawing room for coffee, and when she retired for the night, she felt even less satisfied with her marriage than she had been the day before.

The rest of the week passed in the same manner. If she hadn’t seen Jethro over the dining table each evening, Cassandra would have supposed she was his lodger, not his wife.

On Sunday morning, she rang for Sally as usual. She’d quickly become re-accustomed to the luxury of having a maid.

At length the girl arrived, a little red in the face, carrying a ewer of warm water, which she sloshed over the rim in her haste. Late again. Cassandra could not let it pass unnoticed. Sally needed to know she was accountable to her mistress for her actions.

“Please make sure you answer my bell more promptly in the future. Then you will not find the need to rush and soak my carpet in your hurry.”

Sally bobbed a curtsey. “Sorry, madam. The kitchen girl was awfully slow—”

“Don’t blame someone else for your tardiness. Be ready for my call next time.”

“Yes, madam. What gown shall I prepare? ”

Cassandra sighed. Her wardrobe was limited at present, leaving her little choice. Nearly everything she owned that wasn’t falling apart was black, as she’d dyed the best of her garments after Papa had died.

It was rather early to go into half-mourning, but it didn’t seem right to make her first public appearance as a bride in black. As if she mourned her marriage, as well as the loss of her father.

The white gown she had worn for her wedding would have to do until she ordered some more gowns.

Once she had fastened her mistress’s dress, Sally brushed out Cassandra’s hair and pinned it up.

“There. What do you think, madam?”

Cassandra viewed her reflection in the mirror above the dressing table, tilting her head one way and then the other. A loose curl hung on either side of her face. She would never be a beauty, but the style was more flattering than any she had achieved herself.

“Thank you, Sally. I like it very well indeed.” The maid might be a tad sloppy in her timing, but she certainly had some skill in styling hair.

As Cassandra went downstairs, hoping to join her husband for breakfast for the first time since their wedding day, a horrible thought occurred to her. Jethro was a religious man. He wouldn’t expect her to fast on a Sunday morning, would he? She hoped not. If he did, he would have to endure her stomach growling throughout the service.

To her relief, she found him in the dining room. They greeted each other, but then sat in silence as they munched on slices of toast and marmalade. When she drank the last of her tea, Jethro rose, as if he had been waiting for her to finish.

“I like to arrive at church early, so I can spend some time in private worship before the service begins. Would it suit you to accompany me, or would you rather join me later?”

Alarm flowed through Cassandra. Of course she would accompany him. The thought of turning up at church alone but married was disturbing. The speed at which they had wed was bound to cause a few murmurs, and she had no wish to fuel the rumour mill even further.

“Let me fetch my bonnet and pelisse, and I’ll be ready to go with you.”

They left the house a short while later and Cassandra thought how strange it all seemed. She was walking along familiar streets, with the familiar sight of the sea, toward the church she knew, on the arm of the stranger she was married to.

The door was open when they arrived at St Mary’s Church, but the pews were mostly empty. Few turned up half an hour before the service for private devotions. She’d never thought of doing so. Whilst her father had been active as minister, she had ensured his sermon notes were at hand and that his robes were ready. Back then, Sunday had never been much of a day of rest.

All that had changed with her father’s sickness. At first, she had spent her energies getting him to service, but in the last few months, she had attended alone. Without her father, and without Julia, who had taken advantage of her stepfather’s bedridden status to attend church as seldom as possible.

Today was different. She took her seat in an unfamiliar pew beside the man she had married, wishing she felt as if she belonged there.

As the minutes ticked by, the pews filled, and then the reassuring figure of Mr Barnes assumed his position at the lectern, and led the congregation through the opening liturgy. Throughout the service, she was conscious of eyes turning toward her, some covertly, some openly, staring to see her sitting beside Jethro Hunt.

Cassandra was not prepared to cope with the questions of people who had known her all her life. Not yet, when she herself felt so uncertain about the wisdom of the choice she had made.

The service over, she longed to escape to the safety of her home and hoped Jethro would not expect her to face them all today.

As Eugenia Frampton approached, Cassandra’s body tensed, and she tightened her hold on Jethro’s arm.

The woman who had jilted her brother was the last person on earth she wished to talk to.