Page 128 of The Sisters of Sea View
“You are certainly skilled, Tom. These are wonderful, truly. I look forward to seeing the others.”
He glanced at her tentatively, as if gauging her sincerity. Then he nodded with apparent satisfaction and turned to go.
When he had departed, Emily sighed and slumped back into her chair.
Viola resumed her seat as well. “You managed that beautifully, Emily.”
“Thank you. I am glad you were here with me.”
The stormy weather continued into June, keeping the family and their guests subdued and somewhat housebound. Georgiana and Effie decided to put on a play to give themselves something to do. They spent hours in the attic, writing a script, pulling together costumes and props, and clomping about on the bare floorboards as they rehearsed.
Mr. Elton read by the fire, content, while his wife paced the public rooms like a caged animal, longing to be out paying calls.
Meanwhile, Mr. Henshall continued to play chess with Mr. Hornbeam, and the older man often won. Viola had grown rather fond of Mr. Hornbeam, who was so much warmer to her than her own father had been.
Mr. Stanley played draughts with Emily rather less often lately. Braving the weather, he seemed to spend even more time with his sister. Viola could tell that Emily felt his absence keenly.
When the rain slackened somewhat, Viola decided to dart over to Westmount. Georgie no longer accompanied her on mostoutings, now that she was comfortable with her clients, but her younger sister had grown bored with playacting and asked to go along.
Together they ran to their neighbors’ house, Georgie in a hooded mantle, and Viola under a sheltering umbrella.
When they arrived, Taggart showed them into the drawing room, where Mr. Hutton sat with a newspaper and Colin slouched on the sofa. Mr. Hutton informed them that Jack was sequestered with his lawyer, who had arrived with some papers needing attention, but he insisted the ladies stay for a while.
Colin straightened. “Yes, please have mercy on us. We are drowning in boredom.”
Armaan came in and invited Georgiana to play a game of draughts, while Mr. Hutton returned to his newspaper. Viola sat on the other end of the sofa, and Colin jumped to his feet as though bounced.
“I am so bored,” he lamented. He crossed the room and ran a hand through the faint dust atop the pianoforte. “I wish we might at least have some music.”
Without glancing up from her game, Georgiana said, “Viola plays, and uncommonly well.”
Viola demurred, “My sister exaggerates.”
“I do not.”
Mr. Hutton looked up from the newsprint. “Perhaps you should allow us to judge for ourselves.”
Viola shook her head. “No, thank you. I play only in private.”
Colin groaned. “And deprive the rest of us of the pleasure of hearing you?”
“She is awfully shy,” Georgie allowed.
“Come, Miss Summers. Take pity,” Colin wheedled. “We are starved for diversion here—and can we convince Jack to venture to the assembly rooms to play cards, or even to the billiard room? No. We must have some entertainment or go mad.”
“I ... don’t like anyone watching me.”
“Who wants to watch? We only want to listen. Tell you what. You play the pianoforte, and we shall go into the next room. How’s that?”
“If you really want me to.”
“I do.”
“Very well.”
Georgie rose from her game. “Must you be so dramatic?” Heaving a sigh, she followed the men into the adjoining sitting room.
Viola sat on the bench and paged through the few sheets of music on the shelf before her. She waited until the others had vacated the room, then, foregoing any of the available scores, began playing one of her old favorites. As she struck the first notes, they seemed to jar the silence, calling attention to her and making her feel terribly self-conscious. But she forced herself to continue on, and as she did, her awareness of self faded, and the memory of the music and the satisfaction of smooth ivory beneath her fingers superseded her discomfort.
