Cassie frowned in consternation. Had they been told her marriage to Harbury hadn’t been consummated? By whom? And, more importantly, why?
“We’d been told,” Miss Clapham started again, “scandal had forced the marriage. And that the marriage was only in name.”
Cassie supposed this was her fault, proposing a marriage of convenience. Things always got out no matter how hard you tried to keep them private.
Mrs. Bottlesworth turned to Mrs. Grayson. “I told you not to put stock in what Anderson’s housekeeper said. You should know better.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Mrs. Grayson replied.
“Mrs. Grant?” Cassie asked. “Is she Mr. Anderson’s housekeeper?”
Mrs. Townsend nodded, then quickly added, “We had better lay these out to dry and sit down to tea.”
Cassie sensed if she pressed any harder, the tentative connections she’d just made would have devolved into silence and suspicion. So, during the rest of the tea, she turned the conversation back toward estate matters.
The more she demonstrated a sincere interest in their well-being, the more they revealed. They spoke of their husband’s hardships and concerns, and even made a few, to Cassie’s mind, ingenious suggestions for surviving the current slump.
After assuring them she’d keep the details to herself, Cassie made general notes in a tiny book she had brought. She’d have to work up the courage to share those general ideas with her husband, and she hoped that, when she did so, he would be open to implementing them.
But although she made good progress, the knowledge that Mrs. Grant—whom Cassie had neither heard of nor met—had been gossiping about her marriage churned in the back of her mind. Malice, she thought. Pure malice.
But why?
When the visit ended, Cassie, at Mrs. Townsend’s encouragement, lingered, becoming the last guest to depart. As they waited for the pony cart to be brought round, Cassie thanked Mrs. Townsend for her efforts.
“The afternoon did go well,” Mrs. Townsend agreed. “I knew they would take to you as I have.”
“I’m not so sure about Mrs. Grayson,” Cassie replied.
Mrs. Townsend glanced heavenward. “Cynthia can be a right stick. You mustn’t mind her, she finds fault everywhere. But in times of need, she is the most generous of them all.”
“I’d like to know more about this Mrs. Grant.”
“Well, she’s been with Mr. Anderson since his wife passed some twenty or more years ago. I doubt she meant any real harm.”
“Butdidshe make certain implications about His Grace and me?”
Mrs. Townsend pursed her lips.
Cassie sighed. “I cannot ask you to divulge someone else’s words while simultaneously expecting you to keep mine confidential, can I?”
Mrs. Townsend gave a nod.
“Last time I visited,” Cassie tried another tack, “you mentioned Anderson had refused concessions requested by tenants in the duke’s name. I don’t yet know for sure, but I don’t believe the duke was ever made aware of any requested concessions. Now, I hear the man’s housekeeper is gossiping…”
Mrs. Townsend’s expression altered as she appeared to weigh various considerations. “I can tell you this…much as saying so pains me, Mr. Anderson has been—” She stopped herself. “Well, he is not the man I once knew.”
“Could you give me an example?”
When Mrs. Townsend didn’t answer, Cassie added, “From your own experience, of course.”
“Well, he’s always been very reliable. But the last time he was here, he told Mr. Townsend a very…” She searched for a word. “…inappropriate story. And in my hearing, too. Mind you, I don’t know how men speak when there isn’t anyone of the feminine persuasion around, but what I heard left me downright shocked.”
Cassie frowned.
“Why had he come?”
“The reason he gave for visiting was odd, too. He said Mr. Townsend owed him for the use of an ox borrowed from the home farm, but Mr. Townsend had already paid. Lucky thing my husband keeps every receipt. But Mr. Anderson reacted very badly when Mr. Townsend produced proof. Then, a few minutes later, Anderson’s mood completely changed again.”
