A feeling of doom penetrated Everstow Manor. Joel became a ghost of himself. He barely spoke, and his lips formed a straight line beneath his aquiline nose. Although I tried to stay out of his way, it became impossible to avoid him altogether.

While Joel grew silent, Lottie's temper rose. Her loud, grating voice often filled the corridors with complaints and sarcastic remarks. She found fault with everyone, particularly Cassandra. Poor Cassie retreated into the nursery and remained hidden in the schoolroom most of the time. I tried to persuade her to stroll in the garden or the vicarage. She dolefully shook her head no and continued gazing out the window.

I spent my free time with Dinah. The vicarage and church grounds provided a happy oasis for me. My cousin and I wandered around the churchyard, looking at the gravestones. The oldest we discovered was dated 1482. We speculated romantically about the woman buried beneath our feet.

"Ida Jenkins, 1430-1482," Dinah stated, laying the hedge roses she'd plucked earlier before the crooked stone. "Age fifty-two. I expect she was a villager."

"Probably lived in a cottage with her husband and six children," I answered, casting my eyes toward the other stones. "I don't see any other Jenkins around. Perhaps she was a maiden lady."

"Unlucky in love," Dinah sighed, hooking her hand in my elbow. We continued to stroll.

"Someday, I'll bring Cassandra with me," I remarked as we passed through the vicarage gate. "You'll like her. She's a charming child."

"Is it true she's Charlotte's daughter?" my cousin questioned, eager for gossip.

I sighed deeply and continued along the path at a quickened pace. In a small village, word traveled fast. By now, everyone knew of the difficulties at Everstow Manor. My brother Joel created a sensation when he married Charlotte Plumb.

The evening we discovered Cassandra was Lottie's daughter, Papa called them into his private office. I lingered in the hall, listening to the raised voices beyond the closed door. Lottie's shrill voice penetrated the thick walls with her blatant excuses. On a dark, foggy evening, an unknown male caught her in an alley and assaulted her. She had to endure an unwanted pregnancy at a very young age.

Her mother and father had sent her into the country to visit relatives. During the final weeks, her parents appeared and remained during the last days of her pregnancy. When they left, her mother carried the baby home, declaring a surprise birth. From then on, Cassandra became Charlotte's sister instead of her daughter.

The sound of Charlotte's weeping carried into the corridor. In my ears, the tones sounded fake and forced. Nevertheless, I heard Joel's soothing voice as he comforted her. A quarter-hour elapsed before they emerged in a close embrace. My brother bought her story, lock, stock, and barrel.

When the door opened, I scuttled as far into the great hall as possible. I had to make it appear as though I wasn't listening. As Charlotte passed, she threw me a triumphant glance. I met her eyes defiantly, and she cast hers aside.

Joel and Lottie ascend the staircase quickly. As soon as they disappeared, I hastened into the parlor. Papa stood at the mantle, smoking his pipe. The flames flickered, casting his face in its orange glow.

"I don't believe a word of it," I stated hotly. I could not hold my tongue.

"You shouldn't listen to keyholes, Priscilla, my dear," Papa responded gruffly.

"Surely you don't believe that cock and bull story." I sank onto the couch and stared into the flames.

"Joel believed it," my father announced. "I suppose, at this point, that's all that counts."

"He would."

"Priscilla."

"I can't help it, Papa!" I wailed, covering my face with my hands. "I wish Joel never brought her here. I wish she would go away. She's making my life miserable!"

"Life isn't all about you, my darling child," Papa chided, facing me squarely. "Oh, I expect I'm at fault. I've overindulged my children. Your mother is frail. I've tried to educate and provide for you, but I couldn't provide all your basic needs. Life is give and take, Priscilla. If you want to get along with Charlotte, you must give a little."

"I have to give a little?" I shouted, rising suddenly. "I've had to give everything. All Charlotte does is take, take, take. I can't even plan my wedding without her getting involved. Do you know she's my matron of honor now? I asked Dinah, but Mama says I asked Charlotte. I did not!" I stamped my foot. "And I'm told her sisters are in the wedding instead of Spencer's. How much more do I have to take?"

"Kindly keep your voice down," my father demanded fiercely. "We've had enough raised voices for one night without you chiming in."

"Oh but surely, Papa," I began. Instead of listening, he excused himself and sauntered from the room.

Dinah listened to my story patiently. Dear sweet Dinah, She was not only my cousin but also my best friend. I knew I could talk to her about anything. How different her life was from mine. The vicarage had a cozy feel, with small but serviceable rooms—not rambling like at Everstow Manor. Since Lottie arrived and invaded my life, I often wished to trade places with Dinah and become the vicar's daughter.

"Sometimes I believe you are the lucky one," I sighed, trailing my hand along the picket fence bordering the vicarage. "You live such a simple life."

"Don't envy me, Priss," my cousin responded. "I expect we're better off than most vicar's families. Everstow is prosperous because of our family connections. Many others are as poor as church mice. Still, Mama patches my dresses, and my shoes are donated. And I would probably marry the curate if we had one. You're going to marry Spencer."

"I hope so." I cast my eyes downward.

Since my return from Yorkshire, I barely heard from my fiancé. He wrote once saying he had taken on extra duties on the family estate. It made traveling difficult at the moment. When he wrote, he evaded the topic of Lottie's interference in our plans. I did not particularly appreciate how he skirted the issue but tried not to feel deflated by it.

"I want our plans to go perfectly, but Lottie has insinuated herself in Mama's apartment again," I continued, spilling all my worries onto Dinah. "I know she's plotting against me."

"Oh, but why, Priscilla?" My cousin skipped ahead along the village high road. I followed at a demure pace.

"I don't know. That's the problem." We stopped in front of the newsagents and studied the window. "She's disliked me from the moment she arrived."

"How can anyone dislike you? You're the nicest person I know." Dinah sighed. "Shall we have nougats or jellies?"

"Nougats," I answered, pushing open the newsagent's door. "I'll take some home to Cassie too. I don't expect she gets many sweeties."

"Do bring her next time," my companion suggested, smiling. "I would love to meet her."

"She won't come," I answered ponderously. "But, perhaps you could meet her if you came for tea. If we double our effort, perhaps she will stroll with us."

"Yes, perhaps," Dinah instantly agreed. "When shall I come?"

"Tomorrow, I expect. Might as well get acquainted straight away."

******

When I presented the bag of nougats to Cassandra, her eyes lit up and nearly popped from their sockets. She grabbed the gift and huddled on the window seat, clutching it protectively. Digging in, the child crammed several into her mouth. The amount made it difficult for her to chew.

"Indeed, Cassie!" Miss Young declared, her hands on her hips. "One at a time, if you please."

"Yes, Miss," the nursery newcomer answered reluctantly.

"Hand me that bag, and I'll parcel them out as a treat," the governess ordered, reaching out.

Cassie hugged the bag closer to her small chest. Balefully, she shook her head no and refused to relinquish her unexpected treat. Miss Young tried to remove it again, but the girl shrieked like a banshee. Leaping to her feet, she backed into a corner. The governess advanced.

"Miss Young isn't going to take them away, Cassandra," I calmly explained. "She'll let you have them, but not all at once."

"If you eat the bag full, you won't want your supper," Miss Young chimed in. "She acts as though she never had candy before," she stated as an aside.

"But I ain't, Miss," Cassie finally stated, tightening her clutch. "I ain't. When Papa gives me sweeties, Bertha and Despina immediately take them."

"Who's your Papa?" I couldn't restrain myself from asking. Miss Young shot me a horrified look, but I defied her.

"Papa," the girl stated quickly. After a momentary pause, she continued, "There's Papa, Mama, Horace, Charlotte, Bertha, Despina, and me. Only Charlotte's actually my mother, and I don't know who my real Papa is. Lottie says anyone might have fathered me—she lost track of who."

Miss Young gasped audibly, and I stared with incredulity. Cassie's eyes flew open wide at our expressions, and her mouth formed an 'O.' She dropped the nougat bag and flew into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

The governess and I exchanged a shocked look. Cassandra had inadvertently revealed another secret about Lottie. I wasn't far wrong when I called her a wagtail in the past. How many lovers had she had, and did she accept money for those encounters? I could confront her with my new knowledge, but she would only fill Joel's ears with more horrible lies.

"Oh dear," Miss Young gasped, sinking into an easy chair. She looked faint, and I rang for tea.

"By the way, I've invited Dinah for tea tomorrow," I stated when Ann Marie pushed the trolley in. "I hope you don't mind after all that's happened. I wanted her to meet Cassie."

"Splendid," the governess agreed. "Cassandra could use a new friend. She requires companionship."

I knocked at Cassie's door to inform her of Dinah's visit. The child brightened considerably at the mention of a new friend. After much consideration, she finally handed Claudia the sweets bag. Miss Young invited her to sit at the table and opened a grammar book. I sat across from them and helped correct the girl's pronunciation of certain words. We both wanted to curb her Cockney accent.