Page 7 of The Sisters of Sea View
On the far side of the field, she could just make out their own house—one of a trio of large, detached residences. Their father purchased it two years before as a seasonal retreat, hoping Sidmouth’s famous sea air would restore Mamma’s poor health. Instead,hehad died after staying there only once.
A tendril of dark hair blew into Emily’s eyes, impeding her view. Reaching up, she found tears there too, and brushed away both with a sigh. It was time to start back.
Emily and Georgie descended Salcombe Hill, stepping to the side of the road to allow a farm wagon to pass. They crossed the river via the wooden bridge near the mill, waved to the miller, then followed the High Street into town.
At the grocer’s, where the street divided like two prongs of the letterY, they veered to the right, onto narrow Back Street, because Emily wanted to stop at the post office. Soon the smells of ale, fried fish, and smoke from the Old Ship Inn assailed them. They continued on, past the lace shop, then the butcher’s, where a boy sat on a horse out front, basket on his arm, ready to make a delivery.
Leaving Georgie outside with the playful stray, Emily pushed open the door of the post office, and its bell jingled. “Good day, Mr. Turner.” She lowered her voice. “Anything for V.S., care of the Sidmouth post office?”
He looked. “Nothing in the Exeter post, but a letter was hand delivered a short while ago.”
Emily’s heart rose even as her nerves jangled—the first response to this particular advertisement. “That’s for my sister Viola. I’ll take it.” She held out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation he passed the letter to her.
“Nothing else?” she asked. “For Sea View or Miss Emily Summers?” Emily heard the plea in her voice and hoped Mr. Turner did not.
“No, miss.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, miss.”
“No matter.” She forced a friendly smile and departed, Georgiana and the dog trailing behind.
Continuing through town to the seafront, Emily could not resist stopping at Wallis’s Marine Library, a circulating library and reading room. The veranda out front, with its benches beneath a cheery striped awning and an unimpeded view of the sea, was a popular gathering place for visitors. Georgie remained there, imploring Emily not to tarry too long inside.
Ignoring Georgie’s groans, she opened the door with a thrill of pleasure. Ah, the smells of books—ink, paper, leather ... life.
When Emily entered, she saw two men talking and recognized them as Mr. Wallis himself and the elderly Reverend Edmund Butcher, who had funneled his enthusiasm for the seaside into writing guidebooks about the area. The most well-known was the one Miss Stirling had referred to when first suggesting they open Sea View as a guest house,The Beauties of Sidmouth Displayed. Emily had read it cover to cover. It described not only theSituation, Salubrity, and Picturesque Sceneryof the town, but also a selection of the businesses, lodging houses, hotels, and inns.
Perusing the periodicals and new novels, Emily slowly worked her way closer to the men and overheard part of their conversation.
The two were discussing possible additions and revisions for a new edition of the influential guidebook. Emily held her breath to hear how soon. Oh, Sarah would be thrilled if Sea View were mentioned. Well, thrilled might be an overstatement. This was serious Sarah she was thinking of, after all.
Now, how to go about getting Sea View mentioned, and in a favorable light? If she could manage it, she might be excused from dusting and bed-making for a month!
Should she interject herself into the conversation now? How could she do so without being rude or unforgivably forward?
She had just opened her mouth to address the men when thedoor opened and Georgie appeared in the threshold, waving almost frantically.
In reply, Emily shook her head and put a finger to her lips. But her not-so-subtle hint was ignored.
Georgie stuck her head into the library and hissed, “I have to go.”
Emily held up the same finger, indicating she should wait a minute.
“I can’t wait.” Georgie began a side-to-side jig. “Chips just made water on the veranda, and if we don’t leave this instant, I may follow suit.”
Face burning, Emily hurried to the door, ducking her head in mortification. She hoped the men had not overheard. Either way, now was certainly not the time to try to convince the clergyman and the respected publisher that theirs was a genteel establishment ideal for polite company.
Viola Summers could not imagine anything worse.
Opening their house to guests was the last thing she wanted. How could they expect her of all people to interact with strangers? Nor was she keen to work around the house like a charwoman.
During luncheon that afternoon, Emily had glanced at her, then announced, “If Viola won’t help with the guests, then she must earn income another way. Is that not what you said, Sarah?”
Their older sister nodded. “Yes, but what do you suggest?”
“I have taken the liberty of acquiring a paying situation for her.”
Shock struck like lightning. “What!” Viola’s mouth fell open, tightening her scar.
“Perfectly genteel. Don’t worry.” Emily lifted a square of newsprint from her lap and read,
