cassandra hale

Cassandra noticed a flash of dismay fly across Edward’s face momentarily, but she said nothing of it. It wasn’t any of her business, and she had no reason to pry into whatever matter was floating through his head at the moment.

She smiled somewhat warmly and glanced down at her hands.“It is certainly not one of the most pleasant circumstances I could find myself in, but thankfully God has given me the strength to recover from Alexander’s death without too many tears.”

In her heart, she knew the statement was a lie. More than too many tears had been shed for both the man and the loss of her position, but she wasn’t naive enough to let others know such a thing. It would be comparable to a wounded dog biting itself, only making it weaker than it already was.

She would be no dog.

“How have things been going for you, my dear Edward?” she asked, straightening her spine. “I am sure that the loss of Lord and Lady Hudson have made you quite busy.”

There was little that Edward, from his limited interactions with the lady, suspected was untrue.  There had been a great age difference between the woman and her husband and it could be supposed that the conversations he had with her on other visits had indicated she had tired of the stale air amongst the usual set.  Perhaps, in some way, it lifted a certain burden off of her.  Surely her husband would have left her something and she could rely on some support from her step-children.

“Busy,” he agreed.  “The Hall has had a steady stream of mourners and friends.”  ‘Friends’ was a diplomatic way of putting it.  Anyone with any interest in the estate was coming in as a ‘friend’ or ‘relation’, even if the connection was distant or even non-existent.  In his own complicated way, Edward had liked Lord Hudson.  He’d heard enough horror stories from visiting servants to know Lord Hudson’s treatment of the staff was good and he thought well of him for the access he gave Anthony to the library.  Though his views about those upstairs had been tainted by too much ill-use, Lord Hudson hadn’t been an entirely bad sort.  It was a shame so few were truly mourning his passing.  

“They must have been well liked,” he said a little sardonically.

There was a slight tenseness in the air while she spoke of the late Lord and Lady. A certain uncomfortable tone in her voice that hinted at knowing something she shouldn’t. Though it was true that the Hudsons were good and kind on the surface, the young widow always sensed something was amiss when she visited. She felt as if something sinister was crouching behind a thinly cloaked veil, just waiting to be let out.

She did her best to push such thoughts out her head.

With a forced smile, Cassandra cleared her throat, an indication that she was done with the topic of the deceased. “Enough of that. Tell me, Edward, do you read much? You seem to be well-read.”

Cassandra nodded. “The estate needs some life. And, I’m afraid..my title has been revoked. Miss Hale will do just fine.”

She hated to admit the loss of her title. It stung her deeply to say it, to even think it, but there was no way she could keep it secret. When Alexander passed, it was revealed to Cassandra that he actually had a son many years ago with his first wife. At his death, Alexander’s son inherited the title of Lord Hale, and his wife the title of Lady Hale. Now, especially with the distancing of her by Alexander’s surviving family, the title was no longer Cassandra’s to claim, and she was reverted back to what her mother was before she married. Nothing but a miss.

The only reason Cassandra was still afloat in noble society was because her father had inherited land from a distant relative, enough to consider him wealthy enough to converse with the lowest of the nobility. Marrying Alexander Hale had been a way for her to escape the prison that was being the daughter of an Eldridge, but now all she had left was the skeleton of a name without a title.

She had come to hate Cassandra Hale.

“How is Anne treating you?” the young widow asked, breaking the awkward silence. “I know her as a kind girl, but you know what grief can do to a person.”

Actually, Samantha thought that since the two of them had been married, it technically meant that Cassandra could use the title of Dowager, or it was Cassandra, Lady Hale to differentiate from the new Lady whatever Hale. So she would still be more than a Miss. 

But the last thing Samantha was going to do was run around correcting people on their courtesy titles when she was trying to make them actually think nicely of her. If Cassandra wanted to be a miss, Samantha would call her miss until someone else did the business of setting her straight on her status. The bigger problem was that she had already managed to make two mis steps with this woman, and as someone who prided herself on not doing that, she couldn’t afford to make a third. 

“Miss Hudson has continued to be kind in her grief. She has taken on all the duties of the household, but she has also allowed us the chance to grieve if necessary. Lord and Lady Hudson would be proud.”

Not that Samantha ever actually spoke to Anne being nothing but a housemaid, but the principle was the same. 

Cassandra glanced over her shoulder as if to check for eavesdroppers, and then returned to look at Samantha. “This is a prying question, but I must know: who would you see inherit the estate? The other guests talk of it constantly, but seeing how you and the other servants will be affected by it makes me wonder about your own take on the situation.”

In her own mind, Cassandra had quite a few ideas about who she would prefer to see the estate go to. At the moment she rallied somewhat for Anne herself - after all, she was the daughter of the Hudsons, biological or not, and after spending some time with the family she saw the potential that the girl had to been an excellent heir. On the other hand, Elizabeth also intrigued the widow - she was witty and, being unmarried as well, saw the power that women could harness if they played their cards right. 

A genuine smile fell across Cassandra’s face, the first one in a while, and in response she placed a delicate hand on top of the other woman’s. “You are too kind. Please, indulge me - is there a chess table nearby? I’d like to continue this conversation over a quiet match if you’d agree to it.”

Cassandra took another sip of her drink, savoring the slight bubbling of it in her mouth. She hoped dearly that Elizabeth would accept her offer to play a game of chess - she hadn’t played in years, and the widow was more than eager to get away from the crowd that mingled before them. As well, it would give the two a chance to talk in private and help them in becoming fast friends.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s one to be found around here. I would love to, especially since it would mean we wouldn’t have as much of a chance of getting interrupted.” It was always nice to find a way to occupy herself at a party so that she could stay in control of who she spoke to and when she spoke to them. And continuing to speak with Cassandra would certainly help her night along.

She spotted the chess table, tucked away in a corner and thankfully unoccupied as everyone’s attention had drifted towards grander elements of the home. Elizabeth nodded her head in the direction. “And it looks like luck is on our side. I’m excited, it’s been too long since I’ve played a decent round of the game.”

“Well then, shall we?” she started again, raising an eyebrow. “Before we begin though, we must decide who will be white and black in this game. Care to provide any philosophical insight into the matter?”

Cassandra looked up, and upon seeing the footman, her face gave way to a genuine smile. “Edward? Oh, it is you! Lovely for us to meet again, Mr. Hopkins. I am afraid though I am no longer a lady, however. I don’t know if Lord Hudson ever mentioned it after we stopped visiting, but Alexander passed a few months back. I am only a widow now.”

To see a familiar face was such a great relief to the woman. Though she and Edward were (thinly) divided by class lines, they had shared many a conversation when she came to visit Hudson with her husband. She often found him much more stimulating to talk to than the late Lord and Lady or her husband; he seemed to appreciate literature as much as she and to be able to talk once again to the man after so many months away was refreshing.

Cassandra slowly slipped the ribbon that served as a bookmark out of the section it was saving and placed it on her own page. She then closed the novel, once again revealing the gold lettering that made out The Odyssey. 

“But we’ll have no talk of that. Please, come sit.”

It was a relief to find himself recognized and warmly addressed. Edward had not been certain that she would remember him or their conversation though he recalled both well.  It was a rare thing to find someone upstairs who welcomed conversation with the house’s servants and, moreover, who did not see his interests or curiosities about the world around them negatively.  It had been some time ago though and he hadn’t been sure how things stood now.  It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to put distance between their past and present.  He was glad to find time had not changed this aspect of her.

“My condolences,” he offered genuinely.  Edward had heard of the death of her husband but not many of the details as to what had become of Lady Hale in the aftermath.  Since it was news he had overheard and not told directly he hadn’t been in a position to make further inquiry.  “I had heard it was sudden.”  How her life must have changed since then.

Edward tried to hide his horror as she removed his bookmark and marked her own place.  Since he couldn’t very well admit to borrowing items from the library he wasn’t in a position to say anything but his face showed a flash of dismay as the action took place.

Recovering himself, Edward looked around and took a seat in one of the nearby chairs.  It was a good spot, one that would give a person a little warning were someone to enter.

She smiled somewhat warmly and glanced down at her hands.“It is certainly not one of the most pleasant circumstances I could find myself in, but thankfully God has given me the strength to recover from Alexander’s death without too many tears.”

In her heart, she knew the statement was a lie. More than too many tears had been shed for both the man and the loss of her position, but she wasn’t naive enough to let others know such a thing. It would be comparable to a wounded dog biting itself, only making it weaker than it already was.

She would be no dog.

Cassandra inched closer to her dearest friend and spoke quietly, her words tinged with excitement. “I think, if we happened to be rude enough to speculate about Lord and Lady Hudson's’ murder, the most appropriate place would in fact be the library. Where better to than among the great murder mystery volumes of all time? Besides, the sitting room is better for conversations about illicit affairs, wouldn’t you agree?”

Margaret was the only one who could get Cassandra to talk like she just had. Cassandra, always trying her best to keep up appearances and be a proper lady, would have never speculated about murder in the company of anyone else, but it was just the aura that Margaret gave off that allowed her to let her tongue slip a little every now and then. In moderation, it was a good thing and helped the overly-stressed widow relax a little, even though later on she would always feel a twinge of guilt about her words.

“Capital! I’d hate to have to relocate. So tedious!” Margaret covered her mouth with her book to hide her smile, though not very well. “I’m not at all the mourning type, I’m afraid. My father says it’s a sign of my materialistic, shallow lifestyle. Alas, I’m too far gone to repent at this point.” The mention of illicit affairs made Margaret’s eyebrow shoot up, but she didn’t comment on it. Yet. There would be time for Margaret’s plans later. Cassie needed a lover, and a husband, preferably both if it could be arranged properly. And Margaret was certain it could. It would just require some finesse. 

“I’ll admit to not remembering the Hudsons well at all. They didn’t really go out in society or come to London much. Do you know of any reason why someone would want them dead? It’s a lovely house, but I confess, I can think of easier ways to acquire one.” She tapped her lip, giving it minor thought, before digging a note out of her pocket and tossing it onto Cassie’s lap. “Someone left this in a book of mine. Shockingly rude, really. If I’m going to threaten someone, I at least do it to their face.”

Cassandra then glanced back at her friend, and after a pause, gave her a peculiar look. “How are you not intimidated by this? If I am being frank, I am absolutely terrified of what this means.”

Besides, Charlotte was not viewing her as a threat to get inheritance, so there was no reason to be unkind. “But I have been wanting to thank you for turning him down, it truly was a service to me.” It’s half a joke, and half serious, made in poor taste.

She pursed her lips. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to do you such a service, but at the time it was a rather difficult thing to do.” She paused for a moment before adding, just for good measure, “I am happy for you two, though. You make a handsome couple.”

Did he always have to be like that? It seemed to Cassandra that whenever she and Arthur spoke, he always made a effort to bring up the tense feelings that were between them. He could never get over her rejection, no matter how many years had passed and no matter how hard she tried to put it behind them.

Though she was hesitant to admit it, she had a secret hope that one day they could be on good terms once more. Once more chat as friends and as they had done when they were children, before the expectations of their parents and society got in the way. Deep down she knew he was kind, or used to be - Cassandra didn’t know which still rang true - but nonetheless she was still somewhat bitter about the way he treated her. Like he had never wanted her in the first place. After all, it was him who asked for her hand, not the other way around.

She wondered if he truly knew why she turned him down. She had made it seem like it was simply because she found him unbearable at the time, but with so many years gone by, Cassandra expected he had formulated his own theories. And, upon inspection, maybe some of them were partly true, but she still didn’t know if he could ever begin to understand the truth of the matter.

Cassandra forced a bit of sweetness into her words. “You act as if you are a last resort, Lord Cummins. Rest assured, you are no more unfavorable to me than anyone else in this estate as of late. I believe it has been some time since we last spoke.”

Originally posted by loveofromance

His eyes surveyed the room. He hated her for being here, hated that as his eyes took in faces he found none with whom he would rather share conversation than her, none who surpassed her. He hated her for rejecting him, for refusing to vanish after she did so, and he hated that no matter how much he stewed in his rejection he could never bring himself to hate her in the way he should.

Her words broke his heart, how he craved to simply disappear with her and Margaret, for everything to be as it once was when things were simpler when he had money, and pride, and hope, and the world had not yet exposed him. 

He could not go back, however. He could only go forwards. He could not let go of what she had done, would not let her get away with it. So she did not want him then, it was no matter, she would want him now. 

Perhaps, just perhaps, if he could gain her approval the rest of the world would give theirs as well. It was certainly worth a try. His back was straight, every movement stiff, uncomfortable. He was not a good liar and she knew him too well to accept too much of an act. He must be subtle, slow. “I have missed you. Talking to you. You are… There is no one here I would rather speak to.”

‘I have missed you.’

The last time the man had spoken that simple phrase was so long ago, when he couldn’t even be considered a man. They were both twelve, sitting in the parlor of Margaret’s childhood home, sipping on imaginary tea. They were pretending to be adults, proper Lords and Ladies; Arthur was Duke Pinkerton of Montrose, she the Baroness Evangelina of Stafford, and Margaret the Princess Pippa of Wales. Margaret had left the two of them alone to go attend to her mother, who, on that day, would not cease calling her, and the two continued to laugh and joke as old friends do.

After a few moments, however, the young Arthur became quiet. ‘I have missed you, Cassie,’ he admitted to her, a certain sadness lacing the edge of his words. ‘I don’t understand why your father continues to send you to finishing school when you have already become a proper Lady. It is not fair to me.’

Cassandra had only smiled at him in response, placing a comforting hand on his arm. ‘Life shall not be fair until we are grown. But when we are eighteen we shall marry, and then you will be deprived of me no more. Alright?’

‘I shall hold you to it.’

Arthur Cummins was no longer the boy that sat with Cassandra in the parlor that rainy summers day. He was no longer caring, no longer affectionate towards the woman that he once considered his closest friend, and no longer full of the childhood innocence that he so dearly needed to have once again. As far as Cassie was concerned, he held nothing but contempt and bitterness for her, still burned by the heat of her rejection that was everything but kind.

That was until that certain phrase slipped through his lips again. The stiffness in Arthur’s back only lent itself to the genuine tone of the words - he could never let himself relax while admitting such a thing - but still Cassandra took it carefully. No matter how badly she wanted it to come from the goodness that still resided in his heart, she knew better than to accept anything he said with more than a grain of salt.

She should have known better. 

“Let us catch up then, my dear Lord....Arthur. Won’t you sit with me?”

Cassandra, who had been staring at the ground when she came around the bend, was properly startled to hear a voice addressing her. She was even more startled when she looked up to see two terriers standing in front of her, along with a man she did not recognize. 

Bringing a hand to her chest, she sighed in relief when it became apparent to her she was under no immediate threat. “You frightened me, sir,” she admitted, a small smile present on her lips. “I did not expect anyone to be out here - I thought everyone would be inside.”

Giving him a quick look up and down, it was clear that the man before the widow was a servant. He was dressed as some sort of outdoor worker - a gardener or a groundskeeper, perhaps? - and had a bit of an intimidating demeanor about him.

“And, no. I am just wandering…I had to get a bit of fresh air.”

Lucy and Shep barked and Joe snapped his fingers at them to hush them. It was just a lady. The dogs weren’t used to all this traffic through the woods. Now that the house was close to full, it was becoming so he couldn’t step outside without running into one of them. He’d have to start putting up signs. 

Joe didn’t consider himself particularly frightening, but he supposed with the murder and everything, it was probably enough to set someone’s nerves on edge. “Sorry for that, miss. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He took his cap off, and gestured back towards his cabin. “I live out here, miss. I’m the gamekeeper.” He spoke slowly, in a manner you might address a skittish dog or a fox that might bite if it got too scared. You never could tell with ladies. 

“You might wish to stay closer to the path, if you don’t know your way, miss. It’s easy to get lost out here.” It was odd to think she was frightened of him. His lordship had spoken to him a bit like a mate down at the pub when the hunting was going, and had acted as if he didn’t exist the rest of the time. Her ladyship had mostly just smiled at him and asked him to keep the rabbits away from the azaleas. “If you need any assistance, I’ll be back that way.” 

He had begun to turn around to leave before Cassandra stopped him again. “I am terribly sorry to bother you, but could you perhaps show me around the grounds?” she asked, a small hint of genuine guilt in her words. “It’s getting late and I fear if I go alone I will get lost, even if I do stay on the paths.”

She smiled warmly at the man. She knew he would accept, as it was his duty, but she really did hope she wasn’t being troublesome. 

Stepping outside, he dug out a cigar, his one remaining vice from his time overseas. Blowing a cloud relaxed a man and helped chase off some of his more persistent dreams. Shep and Lucy’s ears perked and he knew someone was coming. If they’d come this far, they were either looking for him, lost, or up to something they ought not to be. Whatever it was, he’d do best to meet them head on. “Afternoon. Can I be of service?”

Bringing a hand to her chest, she sighed in relief when it became apparent to her she was under no immediate threat. “You frightened me, sir,” she admitted, a small smile present on her lips. “I did not expect anyone to be out here - I thought everyone would be inside.”

Giving him a quick look up and down, it was clear that the man before the widow was a servant. He was dressed as some sort of outdoor worker - a gardener or a groundskeeper, perhaps? - and had a bit of an intimidating demeanor about him.

“And, no. I am just wandering...I had to get a bit of fresh air.”

“Have I been standing here long?” Cassandra questioned back, a warm smile nestled in the corners of her mouth. “I’ve only been waiting three minutes for you to notice me!”

With a certain joyous air, the woman sat herself down beside her friend and reached for her hands, squeezing them tightly with affection. “Two weeks seems like a short time, but to be separated from you for any amount of days feels like being separated for an eon.”

After a moment of comforting silence between the two, Cassandra spoke again. This time, however, her tone was more serious - not sad, but not cheerful like it was just seconds before. “You know I will need your aid while we are here. We spoke about it in our letters - if I am to reclaim any of the things I had before Alexander died, I will have to be smart, not as I have been, but like you. Please say you’ll help me, dear friend.”

Originally posted by loveofromance

Margaret rolled her eyes but smiled and patted the seat next to her. “When will you learn that you are allowed to interrupt me? Honestly, you’re far more polite than Everard, and I haven’t known him half as long.”

Cassie had always been the beautiful one between the two of them. Margaret knew, now, after years of practice, how to make the most of what she had, but Cassie could wear a sack and still be lovely. If she’d been at all vain, Margaret wouldn’t have stood for it, but she was delightfully free from it. “Well then I promise not to stay away again. Was your new stepson truly beastly? He sounds absolutely wretched. You know you have only to give the word and I shall sic myself upon him. I can be very intimidating.” She made a grotesque monster face to demonstrate.

Margaret squeezed Cassie’s hands and looked her friend in the eye, turning to face her. “Darling, you really are the most dramatic creature. As if you could stop me from helping you! I’m sure Everard would love to know how to keep me from taking an interest in his affairs, but since, as he puts it, no one ever broke me to bridle, it would be foolish to expect it now.” Patting Cassie’s hands, Margaret rang the bell for a servant. “Goose, as if I won’t pry every last penny out of your money-grubbing little upstart’s hands. Now, since we’re done with that unpleasantness, do you think it rude to speculate about murder in the library? I’m wondering if it’s poor taste. But really, what room is appropriate? The sitting room?”

Margaret was the only one who could get Cassandra to talk like she just had. Cassandra, always trying her best to keep up appearances and be a proper lady, would have never speculated about murder in the company of anyone else, but it was just the aura that Margaret gave off that allowed her to let her tongue slip a little every now and then. In moderation, it was a good thing and helped the overly-stressed widow relax a little, even though later on she would always feel a twinge of guilt about her words.

Cassandra turned to look at Elizabeth. “I think you are quite right. For now, at least, but as the night wears on I fear it will be almost necessary to keep rising tensions at bay.”

Her eyes fell to her glass as she took a pause. “This is quite a change in topic but…I will be bold enough to say how much I admire how confident you seem to be in yourself. I hope I am not pressing a sensitive topic by saying so, but the way you carry yourself despite being unwed is…utterly inspiring. I’m sure you have heard about Alexander’s passing, as our families were - are friends, and I find comfort in knowing you are here and can show some that we ladies are more than just our husbands, or lack thereof.”

“Well, I wish I could vouch for the character of everyone, but I simply can’t. The wine will certainly grow to become a necessity over indulgence.” Honestly, she hoped to be tucked away in bed by the time that came around, even though she doubted she would find anything resembling rest until the ordeal was settled.

Elizabeth blinked at the other woman for a moment, startled by her abrupt shift in subject, even with her admitting it. Being a spinster was both a choice and … not. But it was still a relief to be met with some kindness, enthusiasm even, for the lot of her life. She smiled kindly, reaching out to squeeze Cassandra’s arm. “I did hear, and am terribly sorry for your loss. But no matter what is going on, I’m more than happy to have some company while showing everyone that a respectable woman does not require a husband looming over our own accomplishments.”

Cassandra took another sip of her drink, savoring the slight bubbling of it in her mouth. She hoped dearly that Elizabeth would accept her offer to play a game of chess - she hadn’t played in years, and the widow was more than eager to get away from the crowd that mingled before them. As well, it would give the two a chance to talk in private and help them in becoming fast friends.

Looking up, she smiled. Margaret’s smiles were rarely the nice variety, regardless of who she bestowed them upon, but they did have the ability of trapping whoever was caught in them until she got what she wanted. Setting her book down, she sat up. “Terribly sorry, have you been standing there long?”

With a certain joyous air, the woman sat herself down beside her friend and reached for her hands, squeezing them tightly with affection. “Two weeks seems like a short time, but to be separated from you for any amount of days feels like being separated for an eon.”

After a moment of comforting silence between the two, Cassandra spoke again. This time, however, her tone was more serious - not sad, but not cheerful like it was just seconds before. “You know I will need your aide while we are here. We spoke about it in our letters - if I am to reclaim any of the things I had before Alexander died, I will have to be smart, not as I have been, but like you. Please say you’ll help me, dear friend.”