Mrs Carthew, who had not raised six daughters by being indecisive, ordered everyone but Elizabeth out, and called for Nan, a servant who had nursed all of the girls through their childhood illnesses so that everyone had come to think of her as having healing powers. Dinner was forgotten, Henrietta borne up to her room, and the rest of the family scattered to various corners of the house with their nearest confidant, to weep and whisper.
‘Thank God it was not Captain Hertle!’ was perhaps the sentiment expressed more often than any other.
Some time after the letter had been read, Penelope came rushing into the library to find Elizabeth seated by the fire, the recent missive from her husband laid upon a small table near to hand.
‘It is a letter from him!’ Penelope blurted out.
‘What, pray, is a letter from him?’
‘The letter that Sandra and Anne have. It is from him – the one who died.’ She waved at Elizabeth’s letter.
‘Captain Hayden?’
‘That is the one. Henrietta’s Navy man. I heard them whispering. They said they were going to burn it.’
‘Are you certain, Penelope?’
‘Yes. Well, mostly.’
This made Elizabeth hesitate. ‘And where might one find them, pray?’
‘In the little sitting room. Where Mama likes to hide.’
‘I shall go to see them … alone.’
Penelope’s face fell in disappointment. Clearly she wanted to see her sisters, who had seen fit to exclude her from this plot, get their comeuppance. Elizabeth thought she might say something at this point about the propriety of eavesdropping upon the conversations of others but wanted to reach Anne and Cassandra before any letter might be destroyed.
Cassandra and Anne were indeed in the small sitting room, and Anne settled a pillow hurriedly as Elizabeth entered. The two young women could hardly have looked more guilty.
Elizabeth was not quite certain how to proceed. She would much rather the girls speak up and tell her what had been done – if anything. Confronting them would surely lead to retaliation against the informer – and it would not take them a moment to work out who that might be.
‘Is something the matter?’ Mrs Hertle enquired innocently. ‘You both look as though you are to be sent into exile. Do tell me we have not received more bad news …’
Neither answered for a few seconds and then Cassandra spoke. ‘We have done something that perhaps we should not have …’ she said very softly.
‘Oh dear,’ Elizabeth replied. ‘And what terrible deed could this be?’
The two girls glanced at each other. ‘A letter came a few days ago for Henrietta. It was from Captain Hayden – the late Captain Hayden, though we did not know he was late at the time. We carried it home from town where we had retrieved the post and … after lengthy discussion, apprehended it.’
‘Apprehended it?’
‘Yes. We kept it secret and told no one …’ Cassandra coloured noticeably.
‘We knew you had burned Captain Hayden’s letter and thought … Well, we thought that a letter from a dishonourable rogue could contain nothing that would cheer Henrietta but perhaps a great deal that might cause her distress. And as she was getting on so well with Frank, whom we both believe is her true intended …’
‘You did not burn it … did you?’ Elizabeth interrupted.
Cassandra produced the letter from beneath the pillow and passed it into the hands of her older cousin.
‘You had said you burned Captain Hayden’s letter and would not read it …’ Anne repeated rather defensively.
‘That is true but the letter I burned was addressed to me. Had it been addressed to Captain Hertle I would have delivered it to its proper recipient.’
‘Do you think we have done wrong, then?’
‘With the best intentions, I have no doubt, but yes, I do. Whatever the effect of the letter might be it is Henri’s to read … or not read. Only she can decide.’
‘Will you take it to her, then?’ Anne asked.
‘And will you tell her that we … held it for a time?’
‘Could you not tell her we forgot? She has enough to distress her as it is without being angry with us as well.’
‘Normally I should never lie to protect you from the consequences of your own actions. But in this one case I shall not tell and for the very reason you have just stated. Henrietta has experienced quite enough sorrow this day. I do hope this letter will not bring her more.’ She hesitated a second. ‘I will keep this letter and give it to her on the morrow and allow her to think it came with the post. But the two of you must never tell. Not as long as you live.’
‘Oh thank you, Lizzie!’ Cassandra said. ‘We shall never breathe a word, shall we, Anne?’
They almost threw themselves at her feet they were so grateful.
Elizabeth tore herself away, but stopped with her hand on doorknob. ‘Mark my words,’ she said to her cousins, ‘I shall not lie for you ever again. Next time you get yourself into difficulty you shall have to get yourselves out. Is that understood?’
Satisfied that she had been suitably strict, and feeling that she had taught the girls a valuable lesson, even if she could not say exactly what it was, she went in search of Penelope. If she were going to tell a lie – even one of omission – she would be certain those who might reveal her duplicity had all sworn a most solemn oath of secrecy.
Henrietta insisted that she would not lie abed the day after they had received the terrible news from Captain Hertle. Instead, she forced herself to go through the motions of a ‘normal’ day and begged a walk with only Elizabeth for company.
‘He betrayed my confidence, broke my heart, exposed me to the worst public humiliation, and yet I am as devastated as I would have been had he done none of these things. Some small part of me should be thinking, “There, Charles Saunders Hayden, you got the comeuppance you so richly deserved!” but I do not feel that in any corner of my being. Had none of this occurred – his betrayal and marriage to that woman – I would hardly be more desolate.’ Henrietta shook her head.
There had been a distinct and uncharacteristic lack of tears this morning, as though the reservoir had been drained that night, for certainly Henri had hardly slept. She was as pale as flour, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed. Even her beautiful, musical voice sounded thin and worn and she appeared to stoop a little as she walked.
‘You were in love with him, Henri. I believe what has happened is worse than his mere betrayal. Once a woman’s feelings have been attached it takes no small amount of time to sever that attachment. You have been both betrayed by a man you trusted and cared for, and lost the man you hoped to marry. It is a blow doubly cruel and the fact that you have even raised your head from your pillow this day is … well, it speaks to your great inner strength, Henri. Few others could do it.’
‘I do not feel particularly strong, cousin. Mama never coddled us. We could not lie abed for every little ache and complaint. We must be dizzy with fever and near delirium before we could stay abed. I dare not do as I wish – pull the coverlets over my head and hide from the world for a fortnight, at the very least.’
‘Well, I suppose the air will do you good.’
This caused Henrietta to smile, though quickly it twisted to a wince.
Elizabeth carried the intercepted letter in her pocket, and she was as aware of it, with every step, as though it were made of wood, not paper. Although she did not know its content, she feared terribly that it would be but another blow to her beloved cousin and she was now as reticent as Cassandra and Anne had been to deliver it into Henri’s hand. In truth, one moment she would decide to withhold it until a more propitious time, or until Henri seemed at least a little recovered. But then she would think she had no right to do so and had lectured Anne and Sandra on this very subject. The letter belonged to Henrietta – for good or ill. But then she would glance her cousin’s way and one sight of her would have her again thinking that withholding the letter a few days, perhaps a sennight, might be a far kinder course. What harm could be done? Charles Hayden was dead. The letter could cause nothing but more heartache and clearly Henrietta had all she could bear at that moment.
They came to an overlook, and beneath an ancient hornbeam found the little bench that was the object of their outing. Elizabeth brushed it clean with a hanky she had brought for this very purpose – as well as two others in case Henrietta had need of them.
A moment they sat and then Henrietta released a sigh so laden with sadness and confusion that Elizabeth covered her cousin’s hand with her own.
‘And then there is Frank …’ Henrietta said softly. ‘I do not know what I shall do with poor Frank. His offer could hardly have come at a worse moment. It is so unfair to him that he has been almost entirely driven from my thoughts. I feel wretched about it.’
‘It was the worst timing,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘It does, however, put a question in my mind when his offer of marriage has been entirely lost in your grief for another. What does this say about your feelings for the two gentlemen, one whose hopes depend entirely upon you, and another who dashed your hopes in the cruellest fashion?’
‘I should love Frank,’ Henrietta stated. ‘I should love him with all my heart. Who is more deserving? Certainly not Charles Hayden, who injured me so.’
‘And yet … ?’
‘Just so,’ Henrietta whispered, pressing down her tears. ‘“And yet …”’
She dabbed at her eyes with a square of linen, looked at it and declared, ‘It is sopping.’
Elizabeth produced one from her pocket. ‘I have two others,’ she informed her cousin.
‘Oh, I have several more than that, secreted about my person.’
They both laughed rather bitterly.
‘A horse trough might be the answer. I could lean over it and fill it every hour or three. And then … I could climb in and literally drown in my own tears.’
‘There will be no drowning,’ Elizabeth informed her firmly.
‘I was speaking in jest.’
‘Do not jest about such matters, my dear. It unsettles me.’
‘I am sorry, Lizzie. I did not mean it in the least. I am overcome with sorrow and many other feelings as well but I intend to last through it and make a life all the same. And in the next few days I must decide if it will be a life with Frank Beacher. I cannot leave him wondering for too long despite my own situation. Certainly he deserves better than that.’
‘Yes, you are right.’ Elizabeth took a long breath. ‘Henri? I have something in my pocket that I am loath to give you.’
‘Whatever do you mean, Lizzie. What is it, pray?’
‘It is a letter …’ She caught her breath. ‘From Charles Hayden – written and sent before he lost his ship, clearly.’
Henrietta held out her hand immediately. ‘Lizzie, you must give it to me this instant. Whatever does it say?’
‘I do not know, my dear. What Charles Hayden could write to you after what he did I cannot imagine.’
The letter was produced and passed to Henrietta, who once she had read the address hesitated to open it.
‘It might distress you terribly, my dear Henri. Shall I take it back and hold it a few days until you are more recovered and able to bear up to whatever might be written inside?’
‘No, thank you, Lizzie. If I might just compose myself but a moment …’
It took much longer than ‘a moment’. Henrietta rose and paced back and forth several times before the bench. Began to break the seal (her cousin had carried along a little clasp knife for this purpose), then stopped. Paced again.
After some time spent thus she settled upon the farthest edge of the bench, perched as though she might fly, and broke the seal with hands that trembled visibly. Immediately she read, a hanky pressed to her cheek with one hand, prepared to intercept any overflow. Elizabeth heard her breath catch and then she leaned back against the bench, a free flow of tears running down her cheeks. ‘He did not marry,’ she managed. ‘It was all a lie.’ A moment and then she pressed herself to sit back up and raise the letter again but could not read it for tears and pressed it on her cousin.
‘Oh do read it, Elizabeth. I cannot see for weeping.’
Her cousin snatched it up, desperate herself to see what was written there and with difficulty read:
My Dear Henrietta;
Before anything else is said, I must inform you that all rumours that I married while parted from you are utterly untrue. No such thing occurred. Two women, French émigrées, mother and daughter, have been making this false claim and using my name to amass a vast quantity of debt, and to acquire substantial sums from my prize agent. Neither Lady Hertle nor Mrs Hertle will speak with me nor read any correspondence I write, so I have been at my wits’ end to find some way to send you word of what has occurred. I am also very dismayed to think that the claims of these two women have caused you distress. The worst of all this is, that, at the request of Sir Gilbert Elliot, I aided these two women in coming to England and they have repaid my kindness by using my name to defraud any number of merchants and my prize agent and to cause you pain. Seldom has a good deed been so unjustly repaid.
I do hope you will read this and understand that I did not betray your trust in any measure and that my heart has not changed in the least these past months except that it is even more your own.
Your Very Own,
Charles
‘I should never have known a moment of doubt,’ Henrietta managed. ‘Nor judged without having heard his own explanation. And how can I ever make it up now? My poor, darling Charles. I would have been in London and seen him one last time had not all … this occurred. It is more than a heart can bear, Lizzie. More than a heart can bear.’
‘To think if I had but opened my door and had a five-minute explanation with him, the entire misunderstanding would have been swept away …’ but Elizabeth could not finish, she was so distressed.
Mrs Carthew sat at the head of the table, sipping upon a cup of coffee. There were no others present. ‘We all have a burden of guilt in this unfortunate matter. Each and every one of us spoke most harshly against Captain Hayden … and now we learn he was both innocent … and dead. Not one of us can now apologize or make amends. We must live knowing we had so little faith in him, even though both Captain Hertle and my own daughter held him in the highest possible regard.’
Elizabeth was quite certain that her own guilt was vastly greater, as none of the Carthew family but Henri had known Charles, while she had known him for several years and had previously given him the highest possible character. ‘Captain Hertle will never say it, of course, but he will be most disappointed in me that I so readily thought the worst of Captain Hayden. I fear he will think me disloyal if not foolish.’ She thought a moment. ‘If only I had not seen her with my own eyes …’
‘Whom, my dear?’
‘The French girl – Bourdage, I believe. She would be notable in a room full of the most handsome women. It was that beauty, remarked upon by all who met her, that made me believe Captain Hayden’s betrayal possible. Very few men could have resisted it, I dare say. But apparently he did.’
‘There is nothing to be done for Captain Hayden, now. No apologies to be made but in the silence of our own hearts. It is Henrietta for whom I am concerned. She has been wrenched first in one direction, and then another, and then yet another, poor girl. And that is not even to make mention of Frank Beacher finally speaking after all these years. Why in the world he should do so now after such a prolonged period of hesitation, I cannot imagine.’
This sentence, spoken in all innocence, had the effect of increasing Elizabeth’s guilt tenfold. If not for her – though she suspected that Mr Wilder played some part in it as well – Henrietta would more than likely never have said or done even the slightest thing that might have encouraged Frank Beacher, in which case he would not have dared speak for risk of having his suit rebuffed.
‘As if Henrietta did not have enough to concern her, now she must think of Frank and his feelings as well.’
‘You do not think she would say “yes” to Frank, now, do you, Aunt?’
‘It is not out of the question. And do not misunderstand me. Other than his propensity to be very timid in matters of the heart, I am more fond of him than I can tell. There is not a thing one can say against him. Why, many a mother has him under consideration for their own daughter. Mr Beacher and Henrietta are not unsuited to one another and would, I think, not be unhappy. But I am not certain that “not being unhappy” is the same as being happy, nor might it suit a girl of Henrietta’s temperament.’ She refilled her cup from a silver coffee pot. ‘Frank Beacher, however, is a matter for Henri to decide. Mr Carthew would certainly welcome such a match so there would be no impediment from that quarter. But what to do about Henri now? That is my concern.’ She looked up at Elizabeth, considering. ‘I wonder if you should not take her away, Lizzie, perhaps to visit Lady Hertle. Not immediately, of course, but when she is a little recovered from all of these terrible blows she has been dealt.’
‘It is not out of the question. I should not take her to London, which I believe would only increase her sorrows. Plymouth, I hate to say, might be little different, even though Aunt Hertle and Henrietta could hardly hold each other in greater affection. But Plymouth is the place where much of her time with Captain Hayden was spent and the memories that city might engender could cause her more heartache. We might consider going to some place she enjoyed as a child – the Lake District would be beautiful in May, and we would be far from the sea, which I believe a good thing.
‘It might be the very thing. I think we must get her away. A little time and distance will allow her to see things more clearly, I am quite certain.’
As she left the dining room and crossed through the hallway, Elizabeth became aware that someone lingered upon the stair.
‘Mrs Hertle?’ the lurker asked.
‘Mr Beacher. Can you not find a more comfortable seat than a stair tread?’
‘Not at the moment. I have been hoping you would pass and that I might claim a moment of your time …’ Frank Beacher appeared very subdued, as though the loss of Charles Hayden had been a blow to him – when in fact it was a great boon to him and his aspirations. Apparently his concern for Henrietta and his unanswered question were depriving him of sleep.
‘I should be most happy to oblige, Mr Beacher, on the condition that we walk out into this fine day even for a moment.’
‘I should like nothing better.’
The two passed through the house, across the stone terrace and down into the garden, which had been artfully terraced towards the south, providing the house with a magnificent view while allowing the many varieties of trees to grow to their mature heights without any danger of obstruction.
‘It is a lovely day,’ Frank observed, ‘if one considers only the weather, of course.’
‘Indeed it is.’
They walked on a moment.
‘Mrs Hertle, might I enquire after Miss Henrietta? How is she bearing up to these terrible shocks?’
Elizabeth was about to provide one of the common replies – ‘as well as can be expected’ or ‘far better than hoped’ – but then she thought that Mr Beacher’s question was not a mere formality but asked out of a concern that was both genuine and deeply felt. He was not losing so much sleep for nothing.
‘She is terribly distressed if not distraught, Mr Beacher, I will tell you honestly. Not that it should be unexpected given the nature of recent events. I have never seen her brought so low or melancholy sink its claws so deeply.’ She turned to Mr Beacher, who took this in with great seriousness. ‘You have not spoken to her?’
‘Not for several days – since you received the news from Captain Hertle.’
‘If it is any comfort, Mr Beacher, she has spoken of you with both affection and concern these last days.’
‘I am not the one requiring comfort, Mrs Hertle. Nor have I sought you out to learn Henrietta’s inclination on certain matters, though of great import to me, not to be considered in the present circumstances. It is Henrietta’s well-being that is my sole concern. If I may in any way be of service to Henrietta do not hesitate to ask.’
It occurred to Elizabeth that she might suggest he visit elsewhere for a fortnight and relieve Henrietta of the burden of giving him a reply – which was weighing heavily upon poor Henri, Elizabeth knew. But any such response would injure Mr Beacher terribly and she could not bear to do it. Frank was exactly that kind of person – no one wanted to bruise his feelings.
‘I do not know what anyone can do for Henrietta at this moment. She must grieve and grief is rather like a poison in one’s soul, Mr Beacher – the only poultice that will draw it is time.’ Something caught her eye on a nearby hilltop. ‘Is that Cassandra?’ she asked, pointing.
It was without question a woman on horseback, and then, from behind a stand of beech trees appeared another – though this a gentleman equestrian.
‘And Wilder,’ Beacher replied.
‘They both ride very well,’ Elizabeth observed.
‘Well, if you are going to explore distant lands being able to sit a horse is certainly a necessity.’
‘Not to mention elephants and dromedaries, though I do not know how one learns to ride those.’
‘I shall get them each a pair for their birthdays,’ Frank declared, which made Elizabeth laugh – something she had not done in several days.
Beacher stopped walking suddenly. ‘You will tell Henrietta, I hope, that I am most concerned for her?’ He stopped an instant. ‘And as to an answer to my question – she need not even consider it until her mind and heart are much recovered.’
‘Your patience in this matter, Mr Beacher,’ Elizabeth said with feeling, ‘is … is … well, very noble.’
‘It is the least Henrietta could expect of me.’ He considered. ‘I suppose at some point I shall begin to look a fool – though Wilder assures me, when it comes to this matter, I have looked a fool for many years.’
‘Never for a moment, Mr Beacher,’ Elizabeth assured him, though of course it was lie.
‘Good riddance to him, I say. Yes, yes,’ Cassandra went on, ‘I know we all judged him unfairly, and without question he was a very brave man and served England dutifully, but would he have made my sister a proper husband? I rather doubt he would. Henrietta requires a husband who will be at home with her, to appreciate all of her finest qualities.’
‘A devoted admirer, then?’ Wilder enquired.
They had just cantered up the hill and now walked their horses side by side, allowing the poor beasts to catch their breath – hardly a necessity as Cassandra and Wilder had spent the morning riding just as they were now so as to further a free flow of conversation.
‘Well, something more than just an admirer but, yes, Henrietta is a creature worthy of great admiration. Do you not agree?’
‘Entirely, and so too does my friend Beacher.’
‘The rather sad end of the navy man has cleared the way for them. The sooner Henrietta comes to her senses on the matter the better off she and Mr Beacher will be – and I shall not hesitate to tell her so – when she is somewhat recovered. Perhaps tomorrow.’
‘I am sure that Mr Beacher would approve of your intentions, though perhaps you might wait a bit longer – a sennight, perhaps.’
‘Do you think?’
‘Mmm.’
‘I shall wait, then.’ A small pause. ‘Do you not think there is a bit too much … melodrama in Henri’s response to all of this?’
‘The man she hoped to marry did just die. Before that she believed he had betrayed her.’
‘I suppose … but even so, she is getting a great deal of attention … which is rather like her, actually.’
‘Sibling jealousy?’ Wilder asked, trying not to grin.
‘It certainly is not!’
‘Not even in the smallest degree?’
‘Mr Wilder! I am deeply offended at the mere suggestion! My sister is very dear to me!’
‘I have no doubt of it, if only she would stop mooning around over this dead sailor and get on with it.’
‘I said no such thing!’
‘Perhaps not, but it was certainly what you meant.’
‘Mr Wilder! How could you think me so heartless? I believe you – like Frank Beacher – are in love with my sister.’ She turned up her nose, gave a heel to her mount, and set off at a canter. Immediately Mr Wilder was urging on his own horse, and dodging clods thrown up by the hooves of Cassandra’s mare as it raced along the crest.
In a moment they were climbing the next hill, and as they reached the top allowed their horses to walk again. Both Wilder and Cassandra were red-cheeked and laughing.
‘I will be completely frank with you, Mr Wilder; your inclination to point out my short-comings is rather a disagreeable quality.’
‘Then you prefer flattery?’
‘I do. The more extravagant and embellished, the more I like it.’
‘Then allow me to say your devotion to your sister in her time of need is exemplary, even selfless. I am surprised that she has not sallied forth to thank you, on bended knee, no less, for the sacrifices you have been willing to make on her behalf. Your heartfelt offer to exchange places with the late Captain Hayden was particularly touching, if a bit impractical.’
‘Now that is how I prefer to hear a gentlemen talk! Do go on, Mr Wilder, I am certain you cannot have exhausted the catalogue of my virtues in so brief an account as that.’
‘Why, Miss Cassandra, I have not even begun. Have I yet mentioned your superior understanding?’
‘No, but I believe you should.’
‘I do not know if I have the superlatives to do justice to its superiority.’
‘I believe if you think deeply upon it, you will acquit yourself in a manner that would make your family very proud.’
‘I should never wish to let down my family.’ He pretended to contemplate the matter for a few seconds. ‘In prudence, discernment, astuteness, perspicacity, wisdom, indeed in genius, I hardly think you have an equal.’
‘Mr Wilder! I am beginning to think your understanding almost equal to my own.’
‘And then there is your discernment in weighing such matters as “attention” and who might be getting more of it. In this, I say with confidence, you have no rival. Indeed, I should say your scale is so perfectly balanced and your mind so attuned that not the slightest attention goes unnoticed but it is weighed to a nicety and recorded in the ledger.’
‘I am not so enamoured of this line of flattery as I was the last.’
‘Then have I remarked upon your great beauty, Miss Cassandra?’
‘Not with a frequency that would do it justice.’
‘Of course a gentleman must approach such a subject with delicacy.’
‘My beauty is such that simply to behold it banishes all indelicacies – or so I have been told.’
‘Of course that is so. Where to begin, though … I should say, Miss Cassandra, that your nose is the most perfect hillock in the entire south of England.’
Cassandra laughed. ‘Mr Wilder! Surely you exaggerate! It might not even rival the most perfect hillock in Kent!’
‘I never exaggerate,’ he stated firmly, as though mildly offended that she might even suggest such a thing.
‘Do forgive me. I cannot think what made me say it.’
‘As I was saying, your nose is the most perfect hillock in the south of England … perhaps beyond.’
Cassandra stifled a giggle.
‘And your eyes … I am quite certain they see much farther than any of your sisters’.’
‘Mr Wilder, if you keep this up you shall turn my head, I am quite certain of it.’
‘And your feet! Your perfect, delicate, tiny little feet. How rapidly they carry you about; how certain they seem of where they go. I dare say they have never taken you any place you did not intend. How many can make such a claim? I should say not a single soul in all of this sacred isle.’
‘You would appear to be saying my feet are quite reliable?’
‘Reliable!? Faithful, trustworthy, steady, loyal. The English language cannot begin to do them justice.’
‘Loyal … What woman does not all but swoon to hear her feet so described. If I tumble from my saddle I do hope you will catch me?’
‘My dear, I am quite certain your feet will catch you before a mere mortal, such as myself, would be able. And I have not even mentioned your knuckles.’
‘No. No, Mr Wilder, I must protest. Another word and I fear I shall no longer be the master of my own feelings. If you are indeed a gentleman, you must desist, I beg you.’
‘Though it is difficult to stop singing your praises, Miss Cassandra, if you insist, I shall give it over … for now. But I might have to take it up again, at some future time. How could I not?’
‘Yes, I dare say, it is a bit overwhelming for mere mortals, such as yourself.’
‘I do not think you could begin to understand.’ Something took Wilder’s attention from his companion at that moment. ‘Is that Miss Henrietta and Mr Beacher – there, in the garden?’
Cassandra straightened a little in her saddle. ‘Is it not, rather, my cousin Elizabeth? Henrietta has no dress with skirts that colour. Surely it is Lizzie. See the way she walks. She does not glide as does Henrietta. I wonder of what they speak?’
‘It can be but one thing – or person, I should say.’
‘Henrietta?’
‘So I would assume.’
‘Will she agree to marry him? – Frank, that is?’
‘You are her sister, surely you know better than I.’
‘I believe she will. I do hope so, anyway. Frank will make her very happy. Much happier than she could ever have been with that Navy man … no matter how dashing he might have been.’
‘I never met the captain myself, but Frank has been my friend for several years and I do not hold a higher opinion of anyone in our circle.’
‘Not even yourself, Mr Wilder?’ She let just a hint of a wicked smile show.
He turned his attention to Cassandra, suddenly completely serious. ‘Most especially myself.’