Page 111 of The Sisters of Sea View
They had danced together several times the final night of the house party given in honor of his friend Lord Bertram. Was it already a year ago? Charles had held her close as they danced, smiled into her eyes, and once, when they were alone, seemed about to kiss her.... In fact, he was so attentive that Emily had almost wished she had not accepted the invitation to spend a fortnight with a school friend right after the party.
Shortly after that, Papa had suffered an apoplexy, and thoughts of romance had, for a time, receded. He had lived for another two months, bedridden, frustrated, and angry, until a second attack ended his life.
Charles had absented himself from the neighborhood during those weeks, choosing to spend time in his family’s London house. He returned for Papa’s funeral but kept his distance from Finderlay. At first, Emily had supposed his absence was out of respect for their mourning period. But when she happened to see him inpassing—at church or in the village—she quickly became aware of his new aloofness toward her. Yes, he politely acknowledged her and asked after her mother’s health, but then took his leave of her as quickly as possible.
Mamma had advised her not to press him. Said that gentlemen like Charles did not like to be chased. Pressured. Emily had tried to heed her mother’s advice ... for a while. But it had not brought about the desired result. And she still didn’t understand why.
With a heavy sigh, Emily turned to a nearby display of new novels, determined to lose herself in the comfort of books.
Sarah was sitting at the desk, flipping through the blank pages in the register, when Emily returned from the post office.
“Any new room inquiries?” she asked.
“Only one from an elderly couple requesting a ground-floor room.” Emily raised the three letters she had collected. “And unfortunately, Mr. Butcher has declined my invitation to visit Sea View.”
Sarah was about to tell her Mrs. Elton had invited the man to her dinner party, so perhaps all was not lost, but Emily went on before she could.
“I did receive one interesting letter, however.”
“Oh?”
“Do you remember Mrs. Jane Lewis?”
“Yes. I did not realize you were still in contact with her. I thought you lost touch after she moved away.”
“I had. But I remembered she moved to Surrey. To Hinchley Wood, which, as it happens, is quite near Esher.”
Sarah looked up and stilled. “You wrote to ask her about the Eltons.”
Emily nodded, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Let me guess, she does not remember them either?”
“She does, actually. She owns she is acquainted with them and also admits she does not like them—that no one likes them.”
“Poor Mr. and Mrs. Elton...”
“Poor Mr. and Mrs. Elton!”
“Well, if no one likes them. How sad they must be.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Sadis not the word Jane Lewis used, nor the word I would use for them either.” She lifted the letter and read an excerpt:
“I trust I am not insulting a new friend of yours, if friend you consider her. Her husband is all right, I suppose, but Mrs. Elton! I do not like to speak ill of anyone, yet I have come to believe her a manipulative, rude, selfish person who insinuates herself abominably. There it is. I hope you don’t think the worst of me, but you did ask for my honest opinion.”
“Good heavens,” Sarah said. “It is worse than I thought.”
Emily’s eyes flashed. “It’s exactly as I thought.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do about it now? I can’t turn them out for being unlikeable. And their dinner is already planned.”
Emily slowly shook her head. “We shall live to regret it.”
———
Feeling agitated after her talk with Emily, Sarah walked from room to room with a feather duster, taking out her angst on any dust that dared gather.
Seeing Mr. Gwilt and his parrot sitting alone together in the parlour, she went in to talk to him.
