The Visitor (19 page)

Henry sat very still through this sermon, knowing he was lacking in this area. He knew that he was too comfortable with life as it was. Such comfort kept him from looking at God as He needed to be viewed.

Beside him, Lizzy sat with thoughts of her own. She had fallen back to thinking about Morland almost constantly and had become discontented. She knew she was wrong. All those times she’d been concentrating on herself—telling herself she was lonely and whatnot—she could have been thinking on the awesome God who loved her.

Cassandra was in bad shape as well. She wasn’t yearning for someone far away, but she was so busy with life in Collingbourne that lately she wasn’t taking nearly as much time with her Bible and prayer. She too was missing out on the awesome God who had saved her.

The sermon ended in a song and then a long time of quiet prayer. All three members of the Steele family took the prayer time seriously. Cassandra and Lizzy smiled at each other when the service was over and even looked to Henry, who was looking down at both of them.

“I needed that,” he thought to say, causing both girls to become emotional. They turned with swift nods so as not to break down in church, and moved to visit with some of the church family.

“Mrs Thorpe?” Lizzy called, just catching that lady before she could climb into the coach to leave the churchyard.

“Hello, Elizabeth. Were you calling to me without my hearing you?”

“No, I called only once because I didn’t want my sister to hear.”

Harriet’s brows rose, but she remained quiet.

“Cassandra’s birthday is Friday. We’re having a very small party—just the three of us—but I did wonder if you and Mr Tate could join us.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, I don’t know.” That lady’s brow furrowed. “You said it would be small?”

“Very. If you join us, there will be five. Nothing lavish, just a few gifts and some conversation.”

“I shall check with Tate and let you know. Is that all right?”

“Certainly. And please, Mrs Thorpe, don’t pressure yourself or Mr Tate. Cassie doesn’t know I’ve asked you, so there won’t be any disappointment on her account.”

“And if we are able to come, would you want it kept quiet?”

Lizzy smiled slowly. “I think that might be fun.”

“Very well. I will send word tomorrow, and I’ll see to it that my reply goes only to you.”

“So good of you. Thank you.”

Lizzy waited until Mrs Thorpe’s coach pulled away, giving her a wave as she went. Her face looked serene as she stood in the churchyard, but in truth she suddenly wanted Mr Tate and his aunt to come to Cassandra’s birthday dinner very, very much.

Pembroke

“I would like to go,” Tate said. “I think it might do me good.”

“Cassandra doesn’t know anything about it, Tate. She won’t be disappointed if we’re not there.”

But I will be.

Harriet watched her nephew, not certain if she should say anything else.

“Do you feel I’ll be overtaxing myself?” Tate suddenly asked, his voice so humble that Harriet felt humbled herself.

“It occurs to me, Tate,” she spoke as the thoughts materialized, “that you are a better judge of such things. I want to cosset you. I want to go overboard with your rest, but you’re the one who knows if you’re taking it easy or not.”

Tate nodded.

“The doctor comes this week,” Harriet added, not certain he remembered.

“I did think of that, but thank you for the reminder. I will admit that I’m hoping for good news, but even if I don’t hear what I’d like, I need to carry on, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And now what does that have to do with Cassandra’s party, you’re wondering.”

“You read my mind.”

“I’ve done what the doctor has asked,” Tate observed, thinking aloud. “And I will continue to do so, trusting his authority on the matter. But progress with my eyes or not, unless the doctor forbids the action, I would like to go to Newcomb Park on Friday evening. I don’t see it as not resting, and quite frankly it would be nice to do something for someone else.”

“That’s a good decision, Tate. I’ll get word to Elizabeth Steele. It’s a secret, by the way.”

“Thank you for your counsel on the matter, Aunt Harriet, and for listening to my roving thoughts. Now, what shall we take for a gift?” With that, Tate was swiftly onto his next line of thought.

The two of them spent the rest of their lunch deciding on the perfect gift.

Chapter Nine

Newcomb Park

“Cassie, are you still awake?” Lizzy asked, opening the door a bit.

“Yes, Lizzy. Come in.”

It was rather late on Sunday night. Both Cassandra and Lizzy had been buried in books for the evening, and the time had run away from them. They parted in the hallway, bid each other goodnight, and closed their doors behind them. Lizzy, however, arrived in her room to find a letter on her pillow. The front read,
For Elizabeth and Cassandra
.

“It’s from Henry,” Lizzy said, now on the edge of her sister’s bed and unfolding the pages.

“And it’s to both of us?”

“Yes. Shall I read?”

“Please.”

“My dear sisters,” Lizzy began.

You might think it odd for me to address you in such a manner, especially when we occupy the same home, but because you are well familiar with my communication skills, I hope you will understand and forgive me.

I have been meeting at Blackburn Manor with James Walker for several weeks, and it was he who suggested I write and tell you about it. I know you visited him, Cassie, and you must never think me vexed at anyone save myself. To learn that you fear for my salvation causes me no end of pain, but I can see how easily your mind would stray to such a conclusion.

I have been under the false impression that I could merely act out my belief in Christ. I have lived my life believing I have little need of words. Proverbs 22:1 says, “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold.” I think my reputation as a fair man who is honest in my business dealings and as an employer are valid, and I would not wish to trade that, but as Walker brought to my attention, how can I tell anyone about the love Christ has shown me if I never open my heart and share? I now find that I have been so silent in my faith that my own sisters don’t even know where I will spend eternity.

This letter is to inform you that I am working on this area of my life. As you can imagine, it does not come easily to me. Indeed, it is one of the most draining exercises I have ever endeavored. I have such great love for both of you, but telling you this in person is not something that comes naturally for me.

This letter is to beg your forgiveness and patience as I labor in this process, which I hope will lead to further righteousness in my life. I would covet your prayers, and I thank you for your ever-present kindness.

I would also be happy to answer any questions you may have. Please feel free to come to me.

With greatest affection,
              

 
Henry
                                            

The letter went to Lizzy’s lap as she finished. The sisters leaned close to each other as tears streamed unchecked down their cheeks. Amazed that he had so many words bottled up inside, the women struggled to rein in their emotions. Reaching for hankies, they took some time before either was under control.

Cassandra soundlessly rose from the bed. When she moved to the door, Lizzy followed. The shortest of knocks was placed against Henry’s bedroom door before Cassandra eased it open. Finding darkness within, she nevertheless spoke from the doorway.

“Henry?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, Henry,” Cassandra told him, unable to hold the tears that started again.

“Thank you, Cassie.”

“As do I, Henry,” Lizzy added, her own voice thick.

“Thank you, Lizzy.”

“Goodnight,” they both bid him before returning to Cassandra’s room.

“Let’s pray, Cassie. Let’s pray for Henry right now.”

The women did just that. For long minutes they sat together and asked God’s blessing in Henry’s life. They prayed for Charlotte, Barrington, and Edward, confessed their own lack of courage over the years, and then asked God to work a great work in their lives, especially for those still at Newcomb Park, so that they might be a light in Collingbourne as long as God allowed.

Brown Manor

“You’re looking well, Mrs Weston,” Dr Smith told her after a brief examination. “How are you feeling?”

“Very well, but I do wish I could be up and about.”

The doctor asked a few more questions, Weston standing nearby, and then looked at the fine young couple before him.

“You’re over five months along now. If you still have no more spotting at the six-month mark, you may be on your feet for two hours a day.”

Anne smiled as though he’d handed her the world.

“Any bleeding, dizziness, fatigue, or blurred vision, and you must return to bed. Do I make myself clear?”