Page 99 of The Sisters of Sea View
“We have not yet had that pleasure,” Sarah replied evenly. “And as far as vegetables and salads?”
“Yes, several of each.”
“Very well. I will need to talk to Mrs. Besley. Again, it will depend on what is in season locally or available from the greengrocer. She serves a dish of tomatoes with balsamic on sea kale that is delicious.”
“Sea kale?” Mrs. Elton wrinkled her nose a second time. “I don’t think so. What about beetroot? Mr. E is partial to beetroot.”
“As am I. But I don’t believe they are in season yet.”
“Asparagus?”
“A bit past season.”
“How trying are these limitations!”
“Now, don’t worry. I shall talk with Mrs. Besley—”
“And your mother.”
“And my mother, and plan a delicious menu. I shall also prepare an estimate for how much such a dinner would cost. It will be expensive, I fear.”
Mrs. Elton raised a dismissive hand. “Ah well. The price of having friends. And still less costly than letting a lodging house of our own. Yes, yes. Quite worth it. I shall finalize our guest list.”
With a triumphant lift of her chin, the woman turned and eagerly departed the room.
On Sunday, Sarah helped lay out the cold collation Mrs. Besley had prepared: sliced meats, bread, and cheeses. Potted shrimps. Meat and egg pie. Fruit and jellies. These she arranged on the mahogany buffet in the breakfast room for guests who wished to eat either before or after church.
A short while later, a small contingent from Sea View set out together to attend divine services. Effie, Georgiana, and Mr. Henshall strolled together, followed by Viola, her hand on Mr. Hornbeam’s arm, and Sarah and Emily, walking side by side.
They had invited Mr. Gwilt to join them, but he’d politely declined, saying he and Parry would sing a few hymns together in their room.
Mrs. Elton insisted on attending the Old Dissenting Chapel in hopes of meeting the Reverend Edmund Butcher. Sarah had overheard Mr. Elton mutter that he prayed none of their home congregation learned of it.
When they reached the churchyard, Sarah and Emily happened to walk up the path with Lady Kennaway, whom they had met in passing and occasionally exchanged greetings with before or after services.
Sarah greeted her. “Lady Kennaway, good morning.”
“Good morning, Miss Summers. Miss Emily. How is your mother? I trust her health has improved?”
“She has begun sea-bathing, on Dr. Clarke’s advice,” Sarah said. “And we all have high hopes.”
“Good. I shall pray for her.”
“Thank you. We appreciate that.”
Emily spoke up. “By the way, we have one of your friends staying with us.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? May I ask whom?”
“A Mr. and Mrs. Elton.” When no flash of recognition dawned, Emily added, “From Surrey.”
“Elton? I am afraid I don’t recall that name.” Lady Kennaway added in conspiratorial tones, “Please don’t mention I forgot them, however. Dreadful to get old.”
The lady appeared perfectly sharp and well-informed to Emily. She smiled and assured her, “Not at all, my lady. You seem quite young to me.”
When the woman continued on toward her pew near the front, Emily leaned close to Sarah and hissed, “The Eltons are nothing but preening name-droppers!”
“We don’t know that,” Sarah whispered back. “Perhaps Lady Kennaway forgot, as she said. A lady like her no doubt meets a great many people.”
