Ashford House looked much the same as Cassandra remembered. She didn’t know why she had expected it to look any different.
The wrought-iron gates swung open at their approach, admitting the royal carriage onto the long gravel drive lined with neatly trimmed ornamental shrubs and flowering plants.
Beyond the gardens, Ashford House stood as imposing as ever. Its pale stone façade rose proudly against the sky, every window polished to perfection, every column standing as immovable as it had throughout her childhood.
How strange.
The place had once been home. Now it felt more like the residence of distant acquaintances than that of her own family.
The carriage rolled to a gentle halt before the broad front steps.
A footman hurried forward at once, opening the carriage door before extending a hand to assist her down.
"My lady," he greeted respectfully.
Cassandra accepted his hand with a grateful smile, allowing him to steady her as she stepped down.
The familiar entrance hall welcomed her with polished marble floors that gleamed beneath the afternoon light spilling through the tall windows. The faint scent of beeswax lingered in the air, mingling with the delicate floral fragrance that had permeated the house for as long as she could remember.
Very little had changed. Only she had.
Lost in thought, Cassandra barely noticed the figure approaching from the adjoining corridor until the woman stopped abruptly.
Mary’s eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of her. Then they filled with delight.
Abandoning whatever errand had occupied her moments earlier, she hurried towards Cassandra with surprising speed despite her age.
"My lady," she called, eager to capture her attention. The older woman had completely forgotten any pretence of servant-like formality.
She closed the remaining distance in seconds before stopping only long enough to wrap Cassandra in a warm embrace.
"Oh, my dear girl..." Mary’s voice trembled with relief as she held her tightly. "I’ve missed you so terribly."
Despite herself, Cassandra smiled.
"So have I."
The embrace lingered for several precious moments before they reluctantly stepped apart.
Mary cupped Cassandra’s face with both hands, studying her with the same careful scrutiny she had shown ever since Cassandra had been old enough to walk.
Her gaze moved from her face to her shoulders and back again, inspecting every detail as though searching for something.
"You’ve become thinner," Mary scolded, somehow managing to sound both worried and mildly offended.
Cassandra had always been slender, and Mary had spent years trying to persuade her to eat more. The thought that she might not be receiving proper care now clearly distressed the older woman.
"I have not."
"But you have."
"I assure you, Mary—"
"You work too much," Mary huffed. "It’s because I’m not there with you. Otherwise, I would have made certain you rested more often by bribing you with your favourite treats."
A soft laugh escaped Cassandra.
Some things, it seemed, never changed.
"It is good to see you again."
"And you as well, my lady."
The warmth and affection of the moment loosened something inside Cassandra that she hadn’t realised had remained wound so tightly.
For one fleeting instant, coming home did not feel quite so daunting.
"My, what a touching reunion."
Her father’s familiar voice shattered the peaceful moment.
Mary’s smile vanished almost immediately.
Cassandra turned towards the doorway.
Nathaniel stood there with one hand resting lightly against the doorframe. As always, his expression was unreadable.
His face revealed nothing of what might have been passing through his mind, leaving it nearly impossible to determine whether he felt pleased, indifferent, or merely inconvenienced by her presence.
Several long heartbeats passed as father and daughter simply regarded one another in silence.
The family resemblance between them was striking. He was an attractive man, and Cassandra had inherited many of his features, most notably his unusual blue eyes, whose shade shifted to grey in certain light. Her blonde hair, however, came from her mother.
Then Cassandra offered him a slight nod.
"Father," she said evenly, her posture as rigid as a drawn bowstring. She sounded as though she were addressing a stranger rather than the man who had sired her.
"Cassandra," Nathaniel replied in the same stiff tone.
Just like that, the air between them grew taut with unspoken tension.
Mary glanced anxiously from one to the other before clearing her throat with forced cheerfulness.
"I shall inform one of the kitchen staff to have tea brought to the drawing room."
"Please do," Nathaniel replied, though he never took his eyes off his daughter.
Mary bowed before hastily disappearing down the corridor, leaving father and daughter alone.
Nathaniel gestured in the direction of the drawing room and it was clear that he expected her to follow after him.
She did so without complaint.
He was behaving standoffish, and although Cassandra had never considered herself a petty woman, she saw no reason to make an effort to converse with him if he could not spare more than two words for her. She had not come for him.
She had come for her mother.
The room looked exactly as she remembered.
She had spent countless afternoons there as a child, now the familiarity brought little comfort.
Before long, a maid entered carrying a heavily laden silver tea tray.
She placed it carefully upon the low table before arranging the delicate porcelain cups, pouring fragrant tea into each.
Cassandra accepted her cup with a quiet word of thanks. The fine porcelain felt pleasantly warm against her fingers.
She lifted it to her lips and took a sip, welcoming the taste more for something to occupy herself than out of any real desire for tea.
Nathaniel waited until the maid had gone and the door had closed behind her before lowering himself into the armchair opposite his daughter.
Only then did Cassandra ask the question that had brought her there.
"Where is Mother?"
"She left for her sister’s house in Larkston three days ago."
He made no move to touch the tea resting before him.
Cassandra stared at him, stunned speechless.
Surely she had misheard him.
When she finally found her voice again, only one bewildered word emerged.
"...What?"
"Your mother has been quite unwell," Nathaniel explained calmly. "She wished for the company of her sister while she recovered. She pleaded with me to take her there. She desired feminine companionship, something she felt she lacked here."
A deep frown settled across Cassandra’s face.
"Then why ask me to come," she asked slowly, unable to conceal her confusion, "if she wasn’t going to be here?"
A muscle ticked in Nathaniel’s jaw.
"She wrote to you over a week ago." The words landed like sharp jabs, each one aimed directly at her. "You chose not to come."
Cassandra opened her mouth, only to close it again a second later.
Her father continued, his tone no harsher than before, which somehow made the rebuke all the more cutting. "You took your sweet time getting here. Did you expect her to remain here when she didn’t want to be, waiting for you?"
It stung because he was right.
The letter had arrived more than a week ago, and she had ignored it.
Cassandra lowered her gaze to the teacup cradled between her hands, watching the faint ripples disturb the amber surface.
"I..." she began, but the words deserted her.
She couldn’t even muster up a sentence in her defense. None that did not sound hollow, even to her own ears.
After a brief while, Nathaniel spoke again.
"If you still wish to see your mother, you may." He rose from his chair with measured composure. "Send the royal carriage back to the palace. I will have my own carriage take you to your aunt’s house. I’ll also have some of your belongings that are still here sent along, in case you decide to remain there with her for a few days."
Cassandra hesitated, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around the delicate porcelain cup.
After everything, should she still go?
The question lingered only briefly.
She had come this far. Turning back now would accomplish nothing.
"...Very well."
"I shall inform the coachman." Without another word, her father turned and left the drawing room as though he could not bear to remain in the same space with her a moment longer.
The door clicked softly shut behind him.
Left alone, Cassandra slowly lifted the teacup to her lips once more.
She took another sip, her thoughts already drifting to the journey ahead and the meeting that awaited her.
She never noticed the faintly bitter aftertaste lingering beneath the tea’s familiar flavour, nor did she realize that, with every swallow, the tonic laced into the tea dissolved a little further into her bloodstream.
Author’s Note: Hi guys, how are you enjoying the story so far? Always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions. It is very entertaining to read. Also, I don’t mean to be a bother but I would like to beg you to purchase the privilege Chapters. It really helps out the authors and forces the algorithm to see the book so it can be featured. Your support means a lot to me and I’m deeply grateful to you all. Love you!