"Wherever we travel to, the wonderful people we meet become our family." Lailah Gifty Akita, Think Great: Be Great!

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Chapter Fourteen

Cassian spent the next three weeks travelling through northern England, visiting and inspecting all of his factories, and ensuring that his workers were all in good health and spirits after the installation of the wheels.

He discussed business with each of his factory controllers right into December, ensuring that production was going to be efficient, of good quality, and financially prosperous come the New Year. Cassian's factories were some of the biggest employers across the north, so it was vitally important to hundreds of families that he maintained a successful operation.

The business talks were a welcome distraction. Cassian did not have a moment to think about anything or anyone back in London while he was away.

That was a lie.

Cassian thought about Faith all the time. Every time he turned around and saw a woman with a thick, brown braid of hair, he thought it was her. He kept hearing her voice across rooms and he had himself convinced on several occasions that Faith had followed him up to Yorkshire to reconcile.

But, of course, she had not.

Cassian and Faith were not meant to be. Faith had made that very clear.

Cassian only wished he did not miss her as much as he did. Every day, while discussing distribution plans, or machinery improvements, he found himself thinking about what he would be doing were he at home.

Cassian would have been with Lucy for starters. They would have been reading, or playing make believe, or Lucy would have been happy entertaining herself while Cassian worked. Having Lucy in his study made for a happy work space. Spending time with Lucy was like a reward. If he finished his correspondence then he got to sip pretend tea. He never could have imagined that he would enjoy sipping air but he did.

And then sometime in the afternoon, Faith would bring Cassian and Lucy luncheon, and she would join in on their games. Cassian never liked her to clean around him. He preferred to help her dust and wipe down the surfaces afterward. That precious, fleeting time felt almost like what a family would.

Cassian liked to think that at some point while his father had been alive that he, Cassian's mother, and Cassian all played together similarly.

By mid-December, the snow had begun to stick on the ground, and the weather was extremely cold. Cassian knew that if he delayed returning to London any more then he and Mr Green would be stuck in the middle of nowhere for Christmas. While Cassian did not have any desire to celebrate the season, he would not have Mr Green away from his family purely because Cassian was in a foul mood.

Their journey took them south, and the trek was more arduous thanks to the slippery road. It was late on December twentieth when Cassian's carriage pulled into the little village of Norwood, a picturesque town not a mile from Derbyshire's famous peaks. The sun was setting as Mr Green halted their carriage outside of a blacksmith.

"We ought to rest the horses, sir," called Mr Green to Cassian. "I shall talk to the smithy, see about some new shoes and a stable."

Cassian climbed out of the carriage and came to stand at the front. He placed a hand on the back of one of his horses. The poor beast was awfully sweaty, even though the air was icy. "Yes," he agreed. He handed Mr Green some money and turned to look about the long main street of Norwood.

It was quite quaint. All the shops and businesses were shut, of course, but he could see from the signage and advertising that there seemed to be just about everything. There was a blacksmith across the road, a post office, a tailor, a general shop, a bank, a library and even a magistrate's office. He could see the bell tower of a church at the end of the road.

Finally, Cassian saw an inn and pub. "I shall be over there," he informed Mr Green, pointing at the long white building. The windows were all illuminated and he could hear the faint sound of jolly conversation. "I shall get us rooms."

"Very good, sir," replied Green as he began freeing the horses from the carriage.

Cassian made his way over to the inn and was welcomed by the warmth of a roaring fire just as soon as he crossed the threshold. The interior of the pub was very simple. There were several tables that were occupied by the local villagers, each with a pint of ale in their hands. A long bar serviced the far wall, and a portly, older gentleman with a rather chipper smile was serving the patrons on the stools. The narrow staircase beside the entrance led up the inn, Cassian assumed.

"Can I help you, dear?" asked a female voice.

Cassian jumped, not seeing the tiny woman. He looked down to see an older, bespectacled woman, with greying blonde hair and small, clear blue eyes. Before Cassian could answer her, she was pulling his cloak from his shoulders and was hanging it with the others. "Yes, Mrs ...?"

"Mrs Porter," she replied. "What is your name?"

"Kensington, Mrs Porter."

"Welcome to Norwood, Mr Kensington," Mrs Porter said kindly.

"Thank you," he replied. "Mrs Porter, I don't suppose you have two rooms available?" he asked hopefully. "I understand you will be busy, what with the festive season upon us, but my driver and I only require lodgings for one night."

"Oh, yes, Mr Porter and I will be happy to have you, Mr Kensington. Will Mrs Kensington be joining you?" Mrs Porter looks around their immediate area for a companion.

"Oh ... oh, of course." Mrs Porter tried to sound sympathetic, but Cassian saw the glee in her eyes. Cassian wondered if the woman had an unmarried daughter.

Mrs Porter arranged rooms for Cassian and Mr Green, and ensured that her husband provided Cassian with a pint of ale at the bar.

Cassian, who was used to the searing taste of whiskey, enjoyed the ease at which the ale went down his throat. It was refreshing and comforting, and he demanded another within minutes. Mr Porter was only too happy to oblige his paying customer.

Cassian knew the behaviour was irresponsible, but the haze of alcohol clouded his ever racing mind. He could not miss Faith when he was concentrating on staying upright.

"Perhaps you ought to retire for the night, sir," encouraged Mr Green as Cassian finished his fourth pint.

Cassian nodded, the motion clouding his vision. Oh, he felt ill. Cassian climbed down off of the stool, and immediately lost his footing. His balance was non-existent as he stumbled across the floor and into one of the Porters' tables. Cassian's weight crushed the table and the glasses of ale went flying, shattering on the floor and splashing their contents over several customers.

In Cassian's drunken haze, he heard the shouts and cries of angry men before his world went black.

***

"A woman, money, or both?"

Cassian groaned. The inside of his mouth tasted like vomit. He had been sick at some point. His head was pounding, with much of it centred on his cheekbone. He brought his hand to the area and winced. It was sensitive. Had he been struck? With great difficulty, he sat up and opened his eyes.

Cassian was lying on a cot in a small, square, concrete room, with only a pot in the corner. The bed was hard and uncomfortable, with only a scratchy woollen blanket for warmth. The voice had come from the other side of the bars.

Cassian's eyes flared. Bars? Oh, good Lord. He was in jail. "What?" he croaked, his voice thick with sleep.

"A woman, money, or both?"

Cassian saw the man sitting next to the door of the jail. He was leaning against a wall, sitting on the floor, with his legs outstretched and his ankles crossed. He was finely dressed. He wore cream breeches with polished, expensive black boots. His green waist jacket was embellished with gold embroidery, and Cassian could see a golden watch poking out of his pocket. He wore no coat, but Cassian assumed that was just as fine. The man was rich.

He climbed to his feet and approached the door of the cell. He looked down at Cassian with calm green eyes. He had a fine face, not weathered at all like Cassian's. His skin was clear and pale, his jaw was strong and masculine, and his hair was copper in colour, and curled slightly at the ends, not at all like Cassian's own ratty black curls. He looked to be around Cassian's age, perhaps a year or two older.

"I have found that men only drink themselves stupid over a woman, money, or both," he said calmly. "So which is it?"

This man's theory had merit. "A woman," replied Cassian truthfully.

The man smirked. "Spurned you?"

How many drunks had this man imprisoned? "I asked her to marry me and she refused." Why he was divulging any of this, Cassian did not know. His situation was already embarrassing enough.

"Why?"

Cassian frowned. "Why do you want to know?" he retorted.

He shrugged. "Curiosity. My usual drunkards are in here after irking their wives or refusing to pay Mr Porter for their drink."

"I am not a drunkard," spat Cassian.

"And look where you are," he shot back. Cassian was silenced. "So, why did she refuse you? You are not ugly looking, and your pocket watch alone would feed a family here for a year so you have some money. Do you have an odious nature?"

Cassian did not know whether to be grateful for or offended by the man's candour. "Not that I know of," Cassian muttered.

"Then why did she refuse you?" he pressed.

Lord, he was nosy. "I have no idea," snapped Cassian. "I do not pretend to know the minds of women. Do you annoy your own wife in this way?"

He laughed lightly. "Oh, no, I am not married. I have not met a woman who could put up with me."

"I wonder why," mumbled Cassian.

He ignored Cassian's comment. "You are not my usual sort of drunkard, Mr Kensington. Your servant assures me that you are a good master and the word of a subordinate is good enough of a testimony for me."

Cassian needed to increase Mr Green's wages. "Testimony?" replied Cassian. "Are you with the law?"

"Of a sort," he replied. "My name is Finnegan Kelly. I am the county magistrate. I never really have any interesting cases so you can imagine my curiosity. A foreigner, like yourself, wanders into Norwood and winds up in our little prison. You are the talk of the town."

Cassian shuddered. He had gone twenty years without being noticed. This was not how he wanted to build a reputation. "I am from London. Hardly foreign."

"Foreign enough to us," replied Mr Kelly. "Not that I can talk." He chuckled. "Irish by birth. But I have acclimated. I am a Norwood native."

Cassian could detect the faintest of Irish accents on Mr Kelly's tongue. The way he flicked certain words gave off hints of an Irish twang. Cassian sighed and climbed to his feet slowly. "You should know that this is not a normal behaviour."

"According to your servant, this is not the first time you have overindulged," countered Mr Kelly.

Cassian scowled. He had changed his mind. He needed to sack Mr Green. "I have never before been in prison."

"Then let this be the last time," Mr Kelly replied calmly.

Cassian did not like how he felt after a night of drinking. He did not like the fact that this feeling was becoming somewhat familiar to him. He always enjoyed whiskey with his card games. But this was ridiculous. Cassian knew it needed to stop. "How may I repent, Mr Kelly?"

"Compensate the Porters for any damage. They are good people. All will be forgotten afterwards."

It was the least Cassian could do after such an embarrassing display of behaviour. "Oh, course, Mr Kelly," agreed Cassian.

Mr Kelly produced a set of keys and selected the right one to unlock Cassian's cell door. "We are very friendly folk here in Norwood, Mr Kensington. No one person higher than the other, no matter their station or fortune. To my friends here I am Finn. Mr Kelly is back in Ireland."

Cassian exited his cell stiffly. He thought it odd for a magistrate to be so informal. From what he knew of magistrates, they sent poor, desperate thieves to Botany Bay.

"I am Cassian," he replied, returning the gesture.

Finn's office was very simple and functional. All that occupied the room was a large desk. On it was Cassian's coat, cloak, purse and watch.

"What are you doing in Norwood?" asked Finn as Cassian gathered his possessions.

"Just passing through," he replied. "I had business in the north. I am travelling home to London."

"What is your business?" Finn asked, learning against his desk and crossing his arms.

Cassian wondered if Finn was deprived of social company. Surely he was not so interesting. "I own several factories," he said. "Cotton mills in the north. Textiles in the south."

"Ah, you must earn a tidy profit a year then," Finn surmised.

Cassian was not about to disclose his income to a stranger.

"My family's fortune was made in farming. I learned to operate land before I was in the schoolroom. We left Ireland when I was a boy and purchased several thousand acres of land off of a bankrupt aristocrat. Made it profitable again. My parents are back in Ireland now, and I run the business here."

Clearly Finn did not have any trouble in disclosing his business to a stranger. "Then how are you a magistrate?" Curiosity was now getting the better of Cassian.

"The people trust my judgement," Finn said simply. "I was only too happy to oblige. Does your father help with your business at all?"

"My father is dead." Cassian's tone let Finn know that he would not elaborate on the subject.

Finn winced, looking regretful. "Well, you know, I still cannot understand it," he said, changing his tone to a more light-hearted one.

"What?"

"You seem a decent enough man. You have a clever head on your shoulders. You run a successful business on your lonesome. What would provoke your woman to refuse you?" he pondered. "Did you strike her?"

"Of course not," snapped Cassian.

"Did you insult her? Is she ugly?"

Finn would not ask such a stupid question if he had ever seen Faith. "Faith is an angel," Cassian said firmly.

"Faith is her name? How odd," Finn murmured.

Cassian liked it. It suited her.

Finn pinched the bridge of his nose and appeared to be thinking deeply. "You did not strike her. You did not insult her. Apparently she looks like an angel. That I would like to see." Cassian growled under his breath. "Well, you must have scorned her then. Did she catch you with another woman?"

"No!" Cassian immediately retorted, but he then paused. His mind went back to that night with Fanny. He had never betrayed Faith, not that there had been any formal understanding between them, but he had remained faithful. Cassian had come close to disaster with Fanny, and she had covered him with her red lip paint.

He did not remember anything else from that night, but he had woken up covered in evidence of a supposed indiscretion. His first encounter with Faith after he had proposed to her was the following morning. She had looked at him with utter contempt. Disgust. She would not do that without a reason. Could she have seen him in such a state?

That still did not explain why Faith had refused him, but if it upset her to think he had been with another woman, it had to mean she cared. Cassian knew the theory was unlikely but it felt nice to hope.

"Ah, so you are a cad. That explains it," realised Finn. "Well, you know how to solve this. Flowers, decadent sweets, expensive gifts. They all work."

"Clearly you have never met Faith," murmured Cassian. "Faith values simple kindness and selflessness. And I am not a cad."

"Kindness and selflessness?" mused Finn. "I might just have an idea then. Come along, Cassian. You can pay the Porters, and then I will help win back your Faith." Finn slipped his arms into his own green coat. "What?" he asked, noticing that Cassian was staring at him. "I am a romantic, what can I say?"

Whatever his idea was, it needed to be bloody romantic.

Norwood was awake when Cassian stepped out onto the street. Despite the cold, the townspeople were busy and bustling about their daily business. The noise was nice in a way that the London noise was not. The people knew each other. They cared about each other. Each person wondered about how the other was doing.

"It is a lovely village," commented Cassian.

"I always thought so," replied Finn. "I complain about the idleness of the magistrate's work but then I would not like it if it were any worse. It is a good place to raise a family, I think. If I ever have the pleasure."

Cassian quite agreed. "Yes. It seems to have a sense of familiarity in the way that London does not."

Cassian apologised profusely to the ever accommodating Porters, and paid them handsomely for the damage that Cassian's irresponsible behaviour had caused. They were only too happy to forgive him.

Finn seemed to be well liked by the residents of Norwood. It was refreshing to see a kind and fair magistrate, despite his nosy questioning.

When Cassian and Finn left the inn, Cassian spied Mr Green readying the horses. Finn marched over to Mr Green and shook the man's hand, as though they were old friends. He then whispered something quietly to Mr Green, who nodded.

Finn opened the door for Cassian while Mr Green climbed up onto the driver's perch.

"Where are we going?" asked Cassian.

"To the place that would win any woman over," replied Finn confidently.

Cassian was not at all confident.

They travelled for about a mile. The scenery outside the carriage windows was beautiful. Cassian found himself getting lost in the hills, majestic and unending with the white layer of snow that sat atop them.

Finn opposite Cassian. "What makes Faith value such things?" he asked curiously.

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but he found that he did not really have an honest answer for him. Faith liked the things she liked, and never really offered any explanation for them. Cassian had snippets that he had managed to extract, but Faith had never really confided in him. "Faith has had fine things," Cassian believed, "and she has had nothing. Faith values people, and what people can do for others. She reciprocates than tenfold. She saved my life."

"Really?" Finn raised his eyebrows. "How?"

Cassian was not in the mood to rehash his poverty stricken youth. "Another time."

"I may just hold you to that. Well, Faith sounds like a very extraordinary sort of woman. I can understand why you want to marry her."

Cassian managed a small smile.

"Ah, we are here." Finn unlatched the window and let it drop down. A gust of icy air filled the carriage.

Cassian stuck his head out of the window to see just where "here" was. They were driving toward a house, passing through the iron gates on its border. House was really an understatement. This house was enormously grand, with three storeys of white washed stone, covered in a majestic layer of ivy. Several of the windows, there had to be a hundred of them, were illuminated, beckoning them in to the inviting home.

The grounds were flat and extensive. Trees, bare from the winter, littered the estate.