Page 14 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

“The master had his mother’s furnishings put in your chamber. He made sure she was surrounded by things that reminded her of the countryside she so loved.”

“Did she die in this room?” Cassandra asked.

“Oh no. You need not fear that. The house was not built when she passed away.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Three years.”

“How did she die? She could not have been that old.”

“Consumption. Mr Hunt tried every doctor in Weymouth, but nobody could save her. It hit him pretty hard, though he doesn’t show it.”

Mrs Timms recollected herself and put a hand to her mouth. “Pardon, madam. I shouldn’t have—”

“Do not apologise. You know my marriage to your master was only arranged recently. I am grateful for anything you can tell me that might help me understand the man I married.”

What she did not say was understood between them. That if Mrs Timms didn’t tell her, she would likely never find out.

“Mr Hunt said you hadn’t brought a lady’s maid with you, and asked me to assign someone to help you dress. I’ve chosen Sally. She’s a bit on the chatty side, so if she doesn’t suit you, let me know and I’ll send up one of the other girls.”

How thoughtful of Jethro. A sign of his somewhat impersonal care for her. She must remember to thank him. To keep the gratitude flowing. “I’m certain Sally will work out just fine.”

“Do you wish to view the master’s room?”

Cassandra nodded and followed Mrs Timms into the chamber adjoining hers. It was probably the only chance she would have to see the room in which her husband had made it clear she was not welcome.

She should have talked to Jethro about the possibility of children before they wed. It was disappointing to find he was not interested in begetting an heir. To have a babe of her own was a dream she had buried long ago, along with her hopes of ever marrying. Now she had a husband, but it seemed her desire to have a child was still out of reach.

Cassandra examined the room and found it the exact opposite of her own. Whereas her furnishings were decidedly feminine, Jethro’s were starkly masculine. Everything was plain, from the carpet to the curtains to the uniform colour of the bedcovers. It even smelled masculine—the aroma of beeswax and leather.

It suited him. Stark. Businesslike.

And then she saw it. The portrait of a lady hanging opposite his bed. A golden-haired beauty with big, blue eyes, which shined as if filled by unshed tears.

Cassandra’s breath caught. Who was she? The woman must be dear to Jethro to have such pride of place in a room seen only by him.

She bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to suppress the wave of emotion that flooded over her as she stared up into the beautiful lady’s face. If this woman was the reason for Jethro’s coolness toward her, then she had no hope of ever winning her husband’s affections.

“Who’s that?” she asked Mrs Timms, pointing at the picture, praying she had not married a man who was in love with someone else.

“Mr Hunt’s mother.”

No sooner had Mrs Timms spoken the words than Cassandra took herself to task. Of course it was his mother. How foolish to imagine her unromantic husband had ever been in love. And if he had been captive to such an emotion, he would hardly have kept a portrait of the object of his affections in his room after his marriage to another.

“A beautiful woman, wasn’t she?” Mrs Timms said, interrupting her reflections.

“Yes, indeed.” But sad. Did Mrs Hunt already know she was dying when the portrait was taken?

Cassandra stored away what she’d learned, hoping it would help her understand the man she had married, and followed the housekeeper up another flight of stairs to continue her inspection of the house.

Mrs Timms seemed surprised she insisted on seeing the servants’ quarters in the attics, but the welfare of their employees was important to her. Cassandra was pleased to discover the rooms were well-ventilated and there was no evidence of vermin, even under the eaves.

It was to be expected. Jethro would take care of those who worked for him, just as he was taking care of her.

Most of the ground-floor rooms were adequately furnished, though there was plenty that could be improved upon. The table in the dining room was not big enough, but it was passable for now. Jethro must have brought it with him from his previous residence, rather than replacing it with one more suited to the space.

At the back of the house, there was a small sitting room with windows looking out over the harbour.