Page 129 of The Sisters of Sea View
Soon, she was playing with passion, letting the music wash over her. What peace. What pleasure.
She reached the end. And when the resounding chords filled the room, then faded, she drifted into another piece, forgetting time and place in the majesty of the music.
Eventually she became aware of someone nearby. She should have been instantly uncomfortable. But glancing over, she saw it was the major, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, head bowed, concentrating, listening without staring.
As the final notes of that second piece danced across the air between them, he looked up, met her gaze, and said only one word. “Beautiful.”
He must be referring to the music. Yet, in the way his gaze stroked her face, her shoulders, her hands, it felt like a praise of her whole person.
And perhaps it was.
Later that day, the weather cleared at last, and Viola went to pay a belated call on Mrs. Gage, the newer client Mrs. Fulford had referred to her. The woman, eager for a change of scenery after the recent stretch of poor weather, asked Viola to take her out for a walk.
A short while later, Mrs. Gage’s footman and sturdy maid lowered the wheeled chair down Fortfield Terrace’s few steps. Then Viola began rolling her along the esplanade, the little Pomeranian on her lap. Together they walked along, nodding to passersby, exchanging greetings, and enjoying the freshened air. It was really rather pleasant.
An idea struck.
“Mrs. Gage, may I ask... is this your own personal chair, or—”
“No, mine was too bulky to bring in the carriage. This one was hired from someone here in Sidmouth.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t know. My footman arranged it. Ask him.”
“I shall.”
Later, she returned Mrs. Gage to Fortfield Terrace in time for the older woman to have a lie-down before friends arrived for a game of whist.
The footman opened the door for Viola on the way out and was happy to tell her where to acquire a Bath chair. “Yes, miss. Several fellows here in town rent both sedan and Bath chairs. I hired this one from Radford and Silley.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Denby, who struggled to walk more than a few steps and rarely left the poor house, might enjoy a little outing. And Viola would certainly enjoy giving her one.
She decided against a sedan chair, not only because it would be difficult to have a pleasant outing with two strange men accompanying them all the while, but also because paying two porters would prove expensive.
Yet she could competently maneuver a Bath chair herself, thanks to her experience with Mrs. Gage. She was eager to give it a try.
Viola showed up at the poor house the next day, pushing a simple wicker Bath chair—the least expensive model, without a folding hood. Thankfully, the day was fine, so neither of them would need protection from the elements besides a bonnet—and Viola wore hers with her veil pushed back.
“Good day, Mrs. Denby. Do you fancy a ride?”
The older woman eyed the chair, curious but wary. “Did you rent that for me?”
“I did.”
“Where would we go?” Tentative eagerness sparked in her expression.
“You pick. The High Street? The promenade? Somewhere else?”
Jane Denby’s eyes took on a distant, thoughtful look. “The High Street. I have not been there in years.”
Viola smiled. “Then let us go.”
“Are you sure it is all right? That chair ... I can’t repay you.”
“Already paid for. It is ours for the next hour.” She gestured to the door. “Shall we?”
“Yes!” Mrs. Denby clapped, but then her eager expression clouded. “I should warn you. You may not wish to be seen with me. Some people may remember me, and what my son did.”
