The Watsons: Beginnings - Chapter 4

A Sister’s Counsel

          It had been some time since Cassandra had left Briddhalh even to visit with her other siblings. She had spent the last couple of years rotating between Henry, Hodgson, and Hewgill’s homes; however, recently she preferred to remain at Briddhalh—just in case Mr Watson should call.

          A few days after the rain had stopped and he had left them again, Cassandra was assisting her sister Elizabeth in the stillroom of their brother’s house. Their sister-in-law had been with them, but she had been called away by the housekeeper to discuss a matter with one of the rooms in an older part of the house. The two sisters kept on with their work, and Cassandra was surprised when Elizabeth suddenly changed the topic of their conversation.

          “Will you not be visiting Nina or Emma anymore this summer? I had thought you might be wanting to make a trip to York for some shopping.”

          Cassandra only glanced at her sister curiously before turning back to the flowers and herbs she was preparing. “You know that I have very little pin money to waste on fripperies even should I enjoy looking around the shops. What brought this up all of a sudden? Do you feel that I have been neglecting our sisters?”

          “Oh, it is just that I was speaking with our brother and sister about it only yesterday. We were all surprised when you declined his invitation to ride to town on the morrow. I daresay you will be wanting some new clothes—or at least a few new night things—soon. So, it only seemed reasonable that you would wish to purchase them in York if given the chance.”

          Cassandra laughed though taken aback. “Will I? It has only been four years since Vere’s death, and you were all kind enough to help me purchase more modest clothes when I came to live here. Are my gowns already so dowdy?”

          Elizabeth gave her a knowing look. “I was only thinking that Mr. Watson should be making you an offer soon.” She missed the flash of panic that crossed her sister’s face as she went on. “Your courtship has already lasted several weeks, and it is not as if you are growing any younger. He will be good for you, and both Henry and Hodgson are excited for the connection though for different reasons. According to Emma, Hodgson even asked me to send on his request that you bring Mr. Watson by from time to time. He has been pleased to have an accomplice in combating James and Hewgill’s old-fashioned beliefs.”

          She laughed at the thought, but when Cassandra did not reply, she turned to looked at her sister and was shocked by what she saw.

          “Cassie! You are white as a sheet! Come, come, sit down here.” Cassandra had begun shaking and hyperventilating at the thought of being subjected to another marriage. Elizabeth had no idea what had affected her sister, but she led Cassandra over to a stool and helped her sit. “Wait there,” she said before hurrying to call for some restorative tea.

          When she returned, Cassandra looked less pale but no less anxious. Elizabeth allowed her time to sip her tea in silence while she finished hanging the herbs to dry. At last, when her task was complete, they moved to the parlour to speak more comfortably.

          “Now,” Elizabeth began, once the downstairs maid had brought more tea and a plate of cakes and biscuits before leaving them alone, “take this.” She handed Cassandra a new cup of freshly brewed tea along with a small cake. “And tell me what that was all about just now.”

          Cassandra ate the cake slowly, using the time to gather her thoughts. She knew that she was completely uninterested in the idea of remarriage, but she could not account for the sudden and strong fear that had enveloped her at the very thought. She had suddenly remembered scenes, vivid scenes of his cruelty, that she had thought were all in the past.

          When she could no longer stall, she began, “You—you know something of the issues with my marriage and my late husband.”

          Her sister nodded but said nothing, allowing her to continue.

          Cassandra took a deep breath, and in a near whisper said, “The truth is, it was much worse than what is generally known.”

          Elizabeth’s eyes flew open; however, before she could ask anything, Cassandra raised a hand to stop her.

          “I am not ready to talk about it,” she said firmly. “My maid knows my reasoning and has helped me keep the secret all this time. I do not know why I am even telling you this much but—” she paused as her breathing had once again become laboured. She sipped at her tea until she calmed while her older sister looked on with mingled horror and pity. She did not like to see either expression, but she was used to much worse on the face of her poor lady’s maid. “The truth is, I swore to myself that once I was free of his power, I would never again put myself at the mercy of another man. Even thinking about it—” she convulsed at the thought and almost spilled her tea. “I—I cannot,” she said in a whisper though there was a conviction in her voice.

          Silence settled between them for some time as Elizabeth considered how to respond to such a confession. While her sister had not told her any details, her physical reaction added to what little she had said was enough for her to get an idea of what Cassandra had suffered—was still suffering. She soon gasped with realization, “Is that—is that why you always insist on wearing long sleeves?” She could not help the sob that came out with the last word.

          Cassandra only nodded with tears now streaming quietly down her face. Elizabeth threw her arms about her sister and the two sat weeping in each other’s arms for some time.

          When they had both finally calmed down enough to speak, Elizabeth asked her sister in a slow and careful tone so as to not upset her sensibilities once more, “Then you will not consider Mr. Watson’s suit?”

          Cassandra shook her head. “I cannot.” It pained her to say it as she had grown to care for him deeply, but had she not once cared for that man as well? And how could she even consider what came with marriage. The idea of Robert seeing the scars that marred her skin, of explaining their origin, of admitting to what she had experienced.

          “I have suffered too much already. I am now old enough—and poor enough—to enjoy some small independence and avoid another such risk.”

          “But you love him, do you not?” her sister asked in a near whisper. “Can you honestly tell me you do not care for him?”

          “Of course, I care for him!” Cassandra exclaimed even as her tears began anew. “How could I not do so? He is the kindest, most open-minded man I have ever known. He listens to my thoughts and ideas, and I am greatly mistaken if he does not also enjoy hearing them. He is a good friend, and if only—” She choked on a sob. “If only—” she covered her face with her hands and began to weep again.

          “If only you had met him first?” Mrs. Hodgson finished for her as she calmly patted her dear little sister’s back in a soothing gesture.

          It was too much. Cassandra’s sobs turned to wails, and her sister pulled her into her arms once more. They did not hear the knocking that preceded the entrance of Henry who had just returned from business with his steward, and Cassandra was unaware of either the trepidation and worry on his face or Elizabeth’s quietly shooing him away.

          While Elizabeth could scarcely imagine what her youngest sister had endured, she could only regret that their father had not lived long enough to protect her from it in some way. Yet she did not want Cassandra to turn away from what might be her best chance at happiness. She must try to help her sister to overcome her fear and give Mr Watson a chance, for she was sure that he was a very different sort of man and would never harm her sister in either body or mind.

          “My dear,” she murmured once Cassandra’s wails had subsided, “I hate to see you like this. But I hope you will not dismiss him just yet.”

          Cassandra looked up in shock and began to pull away as if struck.

          “Hear me out, Cassie.” Her voice soft but her tone unyielding. “You love him—do not deny it. It is as clear as day to anyone who sees you together.” She paused to let that sink in. “You must know that you love him.”

          Cassandra’s expression flickered between anger and chagrin. “I know. I also know that he is not—”

          “Yes,” Her sister interrupted, “You know that he is nothing like that man, but you will not accept it. Mr Watson is truly a good and honourable gentleman. You have seen it for yourself—you have said it for yourself. What if—what if God placed him in your path to give you a chance at happiness, Cassie? And just think of Mr Watson, whose love for you has been plain from the start. Are you truly willing to break his heart for the sake of a man long dead? Are you willing to let him marry someone else while you wither away at our brother’s estate—caring for his children instead of having your own?”

          Cassandra flinched. “But I cannot—I cannot have children.”

          “Says who? Hush. I know what they say, but these things are not always the woman’s fault. Remember Mrs. Jamison? She was married twelve years and never felt the quickening, yet with her second husband she had eight healthy offspring—the last when she was six-and-forty. And even if you cannot have children, what of the rest? What of your happiness?”

          Cassandra said nothing, but Elizabeth could see that she was at least considering the idea. That was enough for now.

          “You do not need to answer me today. After all, he has not yet asked anything of you. I only hope—” she lifted Cassandra’s chin with her finger so that their gazes met, “that you will not reject the idea without truly considering what it is you would be giving up.”

          Cassandra held her eyes for a long moment before nodding, and the two of them silently returned to their rooms as it was past time they began preparing for dinner.

Next: Chapter Five - Reflections and Resolutions

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