Page 63 of The Sisters of Sea View
When she arrived at the library that afternoon, she found him surrounded by an audience of three fashionable females at least a decade older than she was, who hung on his every word, either because they were interested in his work, or because he was an eligible widower past his mourning period.
He was telling them about some of the notable visitors to his establishment. Lords, ladies, actors, and politicians. The women ohhed and ahhed like spectators at a Vauxhall Gardens fireworks exhibition.
When the trio finally departed, Mr. Wallis noticed Emily lingering there.
“And I suppose you, young lady, also wish to hear about all the important people who have come here?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. Unless ... have you met any famous authors?”
“Ah! A kindred spirit.” His eyes lit. “Have you readEvelina?”
“Of course! AndCeciliaandCamilla. Don’t tell me you have met the author?”
“I have indeed. Frances Burney. Do you know, Miss Burney actually visited Sidmouth once, though that’s nearly twenty years ago, before my time. I met her in London.”
Delight rippled through her. “What was she like?”
He thoughtfully tapped his chin. “Ours was only a brief meeting, yet I would say she is intelligent, observant, and tough. Had to be, to be a female writer in those days—and even now.”
Emily tucked that away to think about later. “Any other authors?” she asked, all eagerness.
“The poet Robert Southey came here as well.” Wallis made a face. “But I could not like him because he disapproved of Sidmouth. Called it a ‘nasty watering place, infested with lounging ladies, and full of footmen.’”
She bit back a laugh and shook her head in empathy.
He added, “And naturally, I am well acquainted with Mr. Butcher. You have readThe Beauties of Sidmouth Displayed, I trust?”
“Indeed,” Emily replied, thinking, here was her chance. “In fact, we...”
Grasping his lapels proudly, Wallis said, “I commissioned and published the book.”
“Yes, I know.” And that no doubt explained the fulsome praise of Wallis’s Marine Library within its pages.
She took a steadying breath and said, “I understand there is to be a new edition?”
“Yes. We have begun the planning of it.”
“And how does one go about having one’s guest house mentioned in it?”
His brows rose. “One would need to commission one’s own guidebook, I suppose. Or you could appeal to the author, although I believe he prefers to remain objective.”
Except in his praise of the publisher’s establishment, Emily thought, but only smiled in reply. Miss Stirling had been right.
He rubbed his hands together. “Now, how else may I help you?”
“I have come in hopes of purchasing a game,” Emily explained. “One our guests at Sea View would find diverting. Nothing too expensive, though. What would you recommend?”
He walked over to a display of board games. “The Game of the Monkey. My boys like this one, and so do I. Good for all ages.” He handed her the printed game sleeve, which held the folded board.
He explained its premise and reasonable price. “Playing also requires counters and dice or a teetotum. We also have those for sale, if you like.”
“Very well. I shall take the game and one teetotum.”
“Excellent.”
She followed him to the counter to pay for her purchases, consoling herself that at least she had managed to work the nameSea Viewinto the conversation, though she doubted it would be enough.
Later that afternoon, Sarah carried her portable worktable out onto the veranda and joined the five guests gathered there. Mr. Henshall softly played his guitar while Mr. Hornbeam listened. Effie slouched in her chair, clearly bored. And Mrs. Elton read a ladies’ magazine, while her husband looked ready to nod off.
