Chapter Seventeen

Why did you not ask him about restoring the music room then and there while you had the chance, you cowardly fool?!

Such were the castigating thoughts consuming Cassandra as she set out on foot the following afternoon to meet with the children. What a grievous disappointment it had been the previous evening, whilst still enraptured by the exhilaration of regaining the ability to sing, with Malcom magnificently accompanying her on the pianoforte. It had indeed been a most unforeseen and delightful occurrence.

Even while she was singing, she had been conscious of softening towards him. Clearly, though he had shared some of the reasons for his odd behavior when he had initially found her in the music room, her husband was enmeshed in some painful aspect of a past she knew nothing about.

She knew it was something to do with his grief for his mother, and it was obviously stopping him from living life to the full. Moreover, she sensed his misery was self-imposed and, therefore, had to be connected to feelings of guilt he had long harbored about something. He was atoning for some imagined crime. How could she not feel sympathy for him?

Last night, she had believed they were at last making a connection through a shared love of music. Hope had blossomed in her breast. But then suddenly, without any warning, Malcom's mood had abruptly changed, and he had ended the session. Why?

The question revolved in her mind as she reached the wood where she was to meet the children. The sound of childish laughter rang out from within, and she could not help smiling. The prospect of forgetting her troubles for an hour or two in their innocent company was appealing. She ducked beneath the branches and made her way to the clearing.

She was greeted with cheerful shouts of her name as the three children rushed to greet her.

"Cassie! We are so happy to see you. We were not sure if you would come," Mary said, smiling brightly at her. Lynn and Lou clutched Cassandra's waist and hugged her. Their obvious pleasure at her appearance warmed her heart and swept aside her other concerns. Here with the children, she could be just plain old Cassie and have carefree fun, forgetting she was the Duchess of Lindenhall altogether.

"I never break an appointment once I have made it. That would be very bad manners, as I'm sure you know," she assured them, returning their smiles. "I am glad to see you here already. How are you all today?" she asked, letting the younger ones pull her further into the clearing.

"We are all well, thank you, Cassie. And we have cleared away all the sticks and stones from the ground to make a proper dance floor. Look." Mary pointed excitedly to a smooth, flat area they had obviously worked hard to make.

"Why, that is perfect," she told them, inspecting their handiwork and giving an approving nod. "I am certain it is just as good as Lady Aston's ballroom floor, which I have danced upon myself and is said to be the finest in England."

Mary laughed and gave her a disbelieving smile, while Lou and Lynn appeared delighted, quite taken in by her playful ruse.

"Did you bring the barley sugar?" Lou asked, looking at her with, big, hopeful eyes.

"Lou, it is very rude to ask!" Mary chided him, but he only giggled mischievously, along with his twin. Mary turned to Cassandra and said, "I am sorry, Cassie. He is only little and sometimes forgets his manners."

"It is quite all right," Cassandra said soothingly, stroking Mary's hair. "As it happens, I do have some treats for us all." From inside her shawl, she extracted a packet continuing some small, striped candy canes and handed one each to the children, keeping one for herself. There came a chorus of thank you before a period of quiet contentment ensued, while all four sat on the ground and enjoyed the delicious treats.

When they had finished and discussed their itinerary for the afternoon, they got up, brushed themselves down, and gathered on the makeshift dance floor.

"Now, I shall partner with Mary to begin with," Cassandra explained, "and then, Lou and Lynn, you can watch and try following our steps. Does that sound all right to you?"

"Yes, that sounds fun!" Mary cried, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The twins hugged each other, giggling and nodding enthusiastically.

"Now, Mary, I shall be the gentleman, and you shall be the lady. Let us get into position." She carefully showed Mary the correct starting position for the waltz.

"But what about music," the young girl asked suddenly, looking concerned. "It would be much better with music."

"Well, the timing is the most important thing, but if you would like music, then I shall provide it, and you may all sing along with me if you wish," Cassandra said. "Now, are we ready?"

"Yes!" came the cry in unison.

"Very well, here we go." She began humming the tune to a popular waltz, taking Mary through the steps, one, two, three, and so on.

The next hour or so provided a joyous interlude that lightened Cassandra's troubled heart. When she finally wended her way home, now and then breaking into a waltz step and singing to herself, she felt soothed and quite happy. She entered the house by a rear doorway and exchanged her boots for house slippers in the vestibule before heading to the staircase, intent on her chambers. She had not yet finished reading Diana's long, gossip-packed letter from the day before and wanted to do that and begin a reply to her dear friend before bathing and dressing for dinner.

However, in the main hall, she encountered a bustling Hannah.

"Oh, hello, Hannah, you are very busy, I see," she remarked, stopping to speak to her. The housekeeper looked flushed.

"Indeed, Your Grace, I am, for Lady Collins has recently arrived," she explained with a smile.

"Has she, indeed?" Cassandra muttered, taken aback by the unexpected information. She had not bargained on another guest arriving, and she was hardly dressed to entertain after two hours of romping in the woods with the children. Besides, the idea of meeting Lady Collins made her nervous. She had only met the woman formally at her annual ball, the ball where her life had so embarrassingly imploded. She did not know quite how to feel about the woman she knew was another cousin of Malcom's, nor what she might expect from her.

"I had better hurry up and change then. Where is she? Is she staying for dinner?" she asked Hannah quietly, envisioning another awkward evening spent at the dinner table. Who knew what sort of mood Malcom would be in today?

To her great relief, Hannah said, "No, Your Grace, I believe she is only visiting for a short time. His Grace has ordered afternoon tea to be served in the drawing room shortly. Will you be joining them?"

Cassandra sighed. "I suppose I ought to, but I must change first. Will you tell Anna to come and help me change and send someone to tell His Grace that I shall be joining him and our guest as soon as I can, please?"

"Of course, Your Grace," Hannah assured her with a smile and a curtsey.

"Thank you. Now, I must run." Without waiting to see Hannah depart, Cassandra picked up her skirts and raced in a very unladylike manner up the stairs to her chambers, to await Anna's arrival.

***

Madeleine's arrival that afternoon, though unwelcome, had not been entirely unexpected by Malcom. With Terrence's foul mood on his last departure, Malcom had known the two cousins would collude. Terrence would have filled Maddy in on all that had been going on in the marital home. It was, therefore, inevitable that Madeleine would appear at some point to give him a lecture on the subject of his behavior towards Cassandra.

He now found himself, teacup in hand, lemon cake in the other—he was eating primarily so he did not have to talk—perched on a settee in the drawing room, listening to Madeleine and his wife engaging in lively conversation about the London scene, amongst a whole range of other topics. In fact, he was rather grateful for Cassandra's presence, for she was unwittingly delaying the dressing down he was sure Maddy was going to find some opportunity to give him in private before she left.

Moreover, she had arrived looking perfectly attired for tea, fresh-faced and smiling warmly at their guest when she greeted her. In short, she presented a picture of youthful health and happiness that he felt belied any expectation of misery Terrence might have planted in Maddy's head .

"I have always been in two minds about Byron, I must admit," Maddy was saying over her teacup. "He seems rather to have it in for us ladies. He is always accusing us of being either shallow or faithless, it seems to me."

"Oh, I agree completely," his wife replied with a smile. "I am so glad you think so, too. I am always a little afraid to say what I think of his work in front of others, as he seems to be almost universally worshiped as an artistic paragon. I keep my own counsel, fearing censure from his many devotees."

"Exactly, Cassandra, my dear. I too have held my tongue on many an occasion for the same reason. Between you and I, though I adore When We Two Parted , I think His Lordship is so handsome and celebrated and so used to getting his own way, what with so many ladies beating a path to his door, he has grown arrogant in that way which only a man may become," Maddy remarked.

"Indeed, one can see that reflected in his work, though I would be the first to admit he is a superb poet, arguably, one of the greatest of our age. There are some of his works which I truly admire. She Walks in Beauty is so deeply affecting to the senses, I find."

Meanwhile, Malcom was watching his wife and listening attentively to all she was saying. He noticed that, once again, as with Terrence, she was ably acquitting herself as a mistress of drawing room talk of a superior nature to the commonplace inanities he so despised. She and Maddy both evinced strong opinions on the artists of the day, while Cassandra enquired intelligently of Maddy as to her views on some of the latest of London's shows and exhibitions.

At one point, to his private astonishment, she briefly left the room and returned with an illustrated travelogue about India which she said her father had sent her, to show to Maddy. Once they had finished discussing it, Cassandra had handed it to him with a kind smile.

"I should like to know what you think of this, Malcom," she said, just as a normal wife might do to a normal husband. He was so surprised, he almost choked on his cake and barely managed to thank her properly. All the while, he could feel Maddy's eyes burning into him.

The rest of teatime passed in a similar fashion, with the two women getting on like a house on fire. He was thankful for it, for it saved him from having to bother saying much. Meanwhile, his silent admiration for Cassandra's well-reasoned opinions on a quite bewildering range of topics only increased. He felt an unaccountable flash of pride that she was his wife. Unbidden, a fragment of one of Byron's very recent works, Stanzas for Music , suddenly coalesced in his mind as his eyes and ears dwelled on Cassandra.

There be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lulled winds seem dreaming . .

By the time tea was over, Malcom was feeling very dull indeed. In addition, guilt at having torn Cassandra away from the intellectual milieu of the capital where she obviously belonged, to bury her at Lindenhall, was niggling at him. He was in quite a dream when Madeleine replaced her teacup in its saucer and suddenly turned to him.

"That was quite a delicious tea, thank you both. But now, I find I should like some fresh air. Malcom, would you be so kind as to escort me around the gardens for a while?"

"Oh, certainly," he muttered, getting up at the same time as she did, feeling a knot forming in his stomach. Was he going to be called to account for his lack of contribution to the conversation? Knowing his cousin well, he feared it was a certainty.

Cassandra obligingly claimed she had to go and see Cook about dinner, while he took Maddy's arm and escorted her into the gardens, his stomach knotting painfully.

"So, how are you both adjusting in these early days of married life, Malcom? Would you say you are learning about one another, coming to know each other's rhythms?" Madeleine asked as they walked along the winding garden paths.

He knew she had deliberately used a musical analogy to snag him, which was a little annoying. But he decided that since Maddy was one of the few people who cared about him and knew his past, and whom he trusted, he would be as honest as felt able.

"Truthfully, Maddy, It had not been plain sailing. I have been finding it . . . difficult." He told her about Cassandra's and his encounters in the music room, and how they had affected him, bringing back painful memories of the past. "I admit, I have been struggling to let Cassandra in," he finished.

Madeleine smiled gently. "I expected no less. Look, Malcom, I do understand that this is a difficult adjustment for you, for both of you to make, but I urge you to make more effort. Cassandra is charming. She is beautiful, and she has a lively mind. I strongly advise you to start letting your guard down a little more with her. You have your shared love of music to bind you. I am certain she will respond in kind."

"I am trying, Maddy, and I have felt that musical connection with her, it is true. But each time I get close to letting her in, something comes over me. It is like panic, a fear of letting go."

"Do not let the past spoil your hopes of finding lasting happiness, Malcom, I implore you. Please, I know it is hard, but try a little harder."

"I will, I promise," he told her, feeling frustrated that he seemed incapable of shedding the burden of guilt that was still oppressing him, even when his intentions were good.

Later that night, long after Madeleine had left and a quiet, tense dinner had been concluded, and Cassandra had retired to bed, Malcom yet again found himself closeted in his study, alone. He sipped a brandy, his mind turning over Maddy's words. He was grateful she had not given him the grilling he had expected. Instead, she had been compassionate and shown understanding. Even so, she had been firm in telling him to find a way to open up to Cassandra.

Thinking of his clever, beautiful wife sent his thoughts drifting to the music room and the times they had shared there. He wondered if the place, with all its memories of his mother, could offer him some help or inspiration with the battle raging inside him. Before he knew what he was doing, he had taken a lamp and was making his way there.