The Time Baroness (The Time Mistress Series) by Georgina Young- Ellis Page A

in response as she inspected a silver serving spoon she had been polishing.
    “Mrs. Merriweather, please tell me if what I propose is shocking,” Cassandra ventured to say. “I am not familiar with the British etiquette concerning this sort of thing.”
    The woman looked at Cassandra directly, and after a moment spoke. “Well, I must admit that it is not the usual thing to do.”
    Cassandra steeled herself to form a rebuttal.
    “However, you are a grown woman, Mrs. Franklin, independent, and with a grown-up son to boot. This is your house, and I should say you can make your own decisions and to blazes with anyone who does not like it.” She set the spoon down firmly on the credenza, picked up a meat fork, and began rubbing it with resolve.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Merriweather. I appreciate your open-mindedness.”
    The housekeeper looked up at her again. Cassandra gave a small, awkward bow, turned and walked away, wondering when she was going to stop saying bizarre things, but also marveling at the fact that Mrs. Merriweather was far more ahead of her time than the woman could possibly know.

 
Chapter 7
    May 10, 1820 – Things are becoming more interesting. Mr. Johnston and I have been meeting to play music together for about three weeks to, it seems, our mutual satisfaction. His company has certainly made my experiment much more pleasurable than it had been just those few short weeks ago. Amazing what a difference it makes throwing a man into the mix —not that I have any intentions of any sort. It’s just nice to have his company.
******
    Lady Holcomb was reclining in the sunlit window seat of Cassandra’s sitting room, pouring cream into her tea. The two had been chatting for some minutes when she asked Cassandra if she would dine with them the coming Saturday. Cassandra replied that she was free and would be delighted.
    “Good,” said Lady Holcomb, “Because Mr. Johnston wishes it.”
    “Mr. Johnston?”
    “Yes. I sent him a note yesterday, inviting him to dine with Jane, Jeffrey, and me, and he replied in the affirmative, and then, as a side note, inquired if Mrs. Franklin would be joining us. Of course, I was on the point of sending you an invitation, but I thought it was curious that he was so anxious for your company.”
    Cassandra blushed.
    “Hmmm,” the lady continued. “Your former protests about the gentleman are not so persuasive now.”
    “No, no! I do not know why he asked about me.”
    “Truly?”
    “Truly.” Cassandra’s eyes flitted away from the gaze of her friend and wandered to the piano where a copy of the Bach sonata sat open on the music stand with an inscription in Mr. Johnston’s hand. She’d memorized it. It read: To Mrs. Franklin, your copy to practice and to enjoy. May your possession of it bring us both a great deal of musical pleasure. –Benedict Johnston.
    “Well, then, forgive me for being nosy,” Lady Holcomb said. “I fear it is one of my faults.” She took a sip of tea.
    “You are too strict with yourself, my dear Charlotte. We all love a little gossip. It is just that in this case, there is nothing to tell.”
******
    It was raining on Saturday, so Cassandra ordered the carriage to take her to the cottage. When she arrived, Mr. Johnston was already there. He leapt up when she walked into the parlor and hurried over to take her hand. “Mrs. Franklin, how wonderful to see you again!”
    “I am equally delighted,” she returned. She let her hand linger in his, then remembered her friend and looked over to see Lady Holcomb and Jane sitting on the sofa, staring at them both.
    Before another word could be spoken, Jeffrey bounded into the room, wet and red-cheeked. “Hello, Mr. Johnston!”
    The gentleman let Cassandra’s hand drop and reached out to shake Jeffrey’s. “Hello, my boy, how are you doing?”
    “Jeffrey!” his mother scolded, “What do you mean coming in here all wet and muddy? For goodness sake, go remove those boots and change your