Cassie dived into herself. A technique she had mastered around the age of ten and one which effectively blocked out all of the outside world so she could focus on her latest story and allow her characters to speak to her. She had started it last night, whilst listening to Papa rehearse Sunday’s sermon, and it was tentatively titled Orange Blossom and the Great Apple Debacle. Except, just as it had last night, the flow of the narrative kept being interrupted by thoughts of Captain Galahad, those aquamarine eyes and splendid shoulders.
Apparently, her affection-starved brain was determined to create a completely different sort of story involving him, his mouthwatering strong arms and a willing damsel in distress eager to fall into them so they could ride off into the sunset together. In her mind, the damsel was so thrilled to be going she did not even bother looking back at her hateful father as she headed triumphantly towards her new life. There was no point in pretending the damsel bore a passing resemblance to Miss Cassandra Reeves because she was Miss Cassandra Reeves. A bolder, braver version of herself, who batted her eyelashes coquettishly when the dashing Captain complimented her on her legs.
Really, Captain Galahad? Do you think so? Eyelash flutter. Well, while we are swapping compliments, I think you have a fine pair of shoulders. Perhaps the finest I have ever seen. I do like a man with broad, strong shoulders...
The word Warriner floated into her ears. The farmer’s wife was quite animated with indignation.
‘That family are the epitome of sin, Reverend. Debauchers, cheats and vile sinners every one of them. There’s four of them Warriner boys and all four of them would sooner fleece you than be neighbourly. It’s a scandal, I tell you!’
‘Those Warriners sound exactly like the sort of people who could do with hearing the benefit of God’s word. Perhaps I should visit them tomorrow?’
* * *
The zealot gleam was lit in her father’s eyes all the way home. Cassie said nothing as she frantically sought a believable excuse as to why he probably shouldn’t, then panicked when nothing suitable came to mind that would not result in him punishing her for speaking out of turn. As soon as they entered the vicarage Cassie busied herself with her normal daily chores, hoping he would forget, while her father disappeared in the direction of the church, appearing as preoccupied as he always was. With any luck, he would forget to visit the Warriners, as he so often forgot things that were not top of his list of immediate priorities. Fortunately, his priorities did tend to change like the weather and he had a memory like a flour sifter. Most of the time he forgot he even had a daughter, a very pleasing state of affairs as far as she was concerned as it gave her more freedom than most young ladies of her age. Cassie hauled the heavy kettle on to the stove to boil and got ready to prepare his luncheon.
Despite being well able to afford it, the Reverend Reeves never bothered with servants. Servants suggested he thought himself better than others, which hinted at vanity and vanity was one of the seven deadly sins. Something which was all well and good, but left the entire running of the house up to Cassie. Ungratefully, she supposed, she had come to believe her father kept her as a skivvy to ensure there was never any possibility of her meeting a nice young man and marrying him. She dreaded to think what sort of a rage he would fly into if he suspected she was desperate to leave. It did not help that his sour disposition and hot temper did not lend itself to finding willing employees. Far better to inconvenience his daughter, who slaved for free, and could barely scrape together a few coins for any luxuries whatsoever in the pathetic housekeeping allowance he counted out weekly like the miser he was.
* * *
Nevertheless, Cassie enjoyed two blissful hours of her own company, completely devoid of any fiery sermons or pertinent reminders about the need to continually spread the word of God to the seething cesspool of Earth-dwelling sinners. Or any veiled threats about the need for solitary penance to reflect on her wayward tendencies.
‘Wool-gathering again, girl?’
His sudden reappearance at the open back door startled her. Without thinking, she touched the pocket of her apron to reassure herself that the key to the door was still there as he resolutely shut it behind him. Something which always created a cold trickle of fear to shimmy down her spine each time he did it. ‘Not at all, merely thinking about what I need to do next.’ Cassie put down the bread and dutifully pulled out a chair for him at the table. He sat heavily on a chair and began to load his plate with the food Cassie had placed on the kitchen table.
‘I have had a most informative conversation with another parishioner.’
‘Really?’ Already she could feel herself glaze over, but tried to remain focussed, like a dutiful daughter who was not daydreaming about running away would have.
‘I made some enquiries into that family we were warned about—the Warriners.’
Cassie felt the icy grip of fear stiffen her muscles, dreading what was coming.
‘Yes. Indeed. A thoroughly bad lot. The eldest recently married an heiress, but in Nottingham there is talk he abducted the poor girl and compromised her into marriage.’
Letty certainly did not appear to be the unhappy victim of a kidnapper. Cassie had not met the woman’s husband, but she had seen the great affection in his wife’s eyes as she had talked about him and unconsciously rubbed the unborn child nestled in her womb like it was the greatest gift she had ever received. ‘People do like to embellish gossip, Papa. Perhaps the Warriner family are merely the victims of such nonsense.’
‘I fear not, Cassandra. There is too much evidence levied against them for there not to be strong foundations forged on truth. I have heard grave tales, far too terrible to sully your delicate ears, involving avarice, greed, debauchery. Suffice to say I am convinced they are in dire need of the Lord’s guidance.’
Oh, dear. ‘If they are as bad as you fear, Papa, then perhaps they are best avoided.’
‘Nonsense. I have never shied away from the challenge, Cassandra.’
‘Of course you haven’t, Papa. In a few weeks perhaps you should call upon them, when you are more familiar with your worthier parishioners.’
Her father’s response was as loud as it was instantaneous. ‘These Warriners are in desperate need of my guidance, Daughter. I will go this very afternoon!’
There would be no stopping him, but there was still a chance Cassie could avoid accompanying him. At least then she would not have to witness the tender new shoots of her friendship with Letty and her only link to the Captain ruthlessly trampled on. Good gracious! A far greater issue suddenly presented itself. As soon as he visited them he would learn she had already done so and blatantly neglected to mention it.
‘You came home a little earlier than I expected, Papa, and have rather spoiled my little planned surprise.’ Cassie tried desperately to sound nonchalant. Her father hated liars almost as much as he hated thieves, murderers and fornicators, especially when the liar happened to be his own daughter.
He lifted his head and stared at her quizzically. ‘I did?’
‘Yes! I was about to make your favourite spiced fruitcake. Why don’t we postpone our visit to that family until tomorrow?’ By which time Cassie might well have thought of something to prevent her father from ever darkening their door.
‘You would put cake above the saving of souls?’
‘But, Papa—I was so looking forward to making it for you today.’ Pleading to his better nature had not worked once in all of her twenty-one years, but still Cassie persisted. Her father smiled his benevolent I-know-better-than-you smile and took her hand, a gesture so uncharacteristic it took Cassie completely by surprise. ‘I know what this is about.’
‘You do?’ Surely he had not been apprised of her unaccompanied visit to the family or, heaven forbid, her sinful behaviour in the apple orchard?
‘Yes, and it does you credit. You are