Cassandra's Sister Read Online Free PDF

together at Godmersham. Did Jenny’s exclusion from these discussions signal her exclusion from the party? If so, it would not be for the first time. Three years’ difference in age
did
matter sometimes, however often people commented on how inseparable the sisters were. Cass was regarded as a woman – twenty-one, calm and practical, blissfully engaged to an equally level-headed man – while Jenny was still seen as a fledgling woman, half-formed, without her sister’s polished manners, and her head always full of questions no one seemed able to answer.
    â€œWell, I agree with my daughter, Miss Cassandra,” Mrs Lloyd was saying. “You are very patient for one so young. And now, Mr Henry, may we enquire if there is any young lady you are paying your addresses to? I suppose the fair creatures of Petersfield have been introduced to you and your fellow officers?”
    Henry bowed politely, but would not be drawn on the subject. Jenny was not surprised. Henry was attractive to young ladies, certainly, but like Tom Fowle he had no fortune. He could not contemplate marrying until he had made money from the army or some other source. She also knew, better than Mrs Lloyd, that he was sensible of the fact that in time of war, any serving militia officer could be required by the regular army at short notice. He was not prepared to inflict the cruelty of daily anxiety upon those he left behind.
    They left the Lloyds late, Hastings and his nurse having gone back to the Rectory after tea. All four were fatigued as they trundled homeward in Mrs Lloyd’s trap, pulled by her slow old pony, driven by her slow old coachman.
    â€œHow dull our country life must seem to you,” said Henry to Eliza ruefully. “And Mrs Lloyd is extremely interested in other people’s marriages, is she not?”
    â€œMrs Lloyd is a dear lady without malice towards anyone,” said Eliza. “But her habit is to speak her mind.”
    â€œAnd she has two daughters past marrying age,” observed Jenny.
    â€œI flatly refuse to marry either Martha or Mary Lloyd!” cried Henry.
    â€œYou see?” said Eliza. “Country life is not dull at all. Engagements and weddings and – what did she call them? – the fair creatures of Petersfield?”
    Henry answered with a contemptuous look.
    â€œI know you despise such things, Henry,” said Eliza, “but your parents’ hospitality is the very best medicine for me at present. Why else do you think I made my way straight here? I could have all the wailing and tearing of hair I might wish for among my London friends, but I crave the peace of Steventon. The harmless inquisitiveness of your neighbours is far preferable to the speculation about
my
situation which is doubtless taking place at this very minute in Mayfair.”
    Jenny was unable to discern what expression lay on Eliza’s face, shadowed as it was by her hat brim and the dusk. She knew Eliza was resilient by nature, and that her long separation from her husband must ease the pain of his passing. She knew her cousin would face her widowhood boldly, and not dwell on horrors like Jenny herself was wont to do. But it was true that Eliza’s “situation” was interesting. She was very rich, very beautiful, and quite alone. Moving in high society as she did, her smallest action would excite speculation. Who would blame her for hiding herself in Hampshire for a while, until the London gossips had whispered their last about the unspeakable manner of her husband’s death, and the unknowable nature of her future?
    Jenny’s thoughts returned to the idea which had presented itself so irresistibly in the Lloyds’ garden. Tomorrow, she would start to put it into practice. Once her household duties were done and Cassandra was conversing with Eliza downstairs, she would slip up to the sitting-room and begin. And if people asked where she was, Cass could employ the excuse