Page 134 of The Sisters of Sea View
Another woman in a wheeled chair arrived, pushed by a liveried footman and attended by a maid in black. This woman was somewhat younger, plumper, and more elegantly attired than Mrs. Denby. Still, the two women nodded to each other as their “chariots” passed, like equally regal queens.
“Good morning, Mrs. Gage,” Viola called, and Emily and Georgiana greeted the woman as well.
Mr. Hutton senior came strolling up the path, and since he was alone, Viola insisted he sit with them.
Together they all processed into the church and down the long nave. Mrs. Denby returned the greetings of a few elderly people who were clearly astonished and happy to see her, which served to brighten Mrs. Denby’s already cheerful smile. Viola positioned her chair at the end of their customary pew and sat beside her, and the two shared a prayer book throughout the service.
After the benediction, Sarah and Viola lingered in the back of the church, waiting for Emily, Georgiana, and Mrs. Denby to finish chatting with their many friends.
Looking around at the numerous memorials on the walls and floor, Viola asked, “Do you think Mamma will end up being buried here? So far from Papa?”
“Hopefully, we shan’t face that dilemma for a long time. Who knows, Mamma may yet rally.”
“Do you really think so?”
“It’s possible. Consider Mr. Butcher.”
“Yes, though not everyone who comes here is cured.” Viola gestured around her. “You need look no further than these memorials for evidence of that.”
Sarah could not disagree, and found her gaze drawn to two memorials near them:
MARY, WIFE OF ROBERT LISLE, OF ACTON HOUSE,
in the County of Northumberland Esq.
died 21 February, 1791, aged 39 years,
and by her own desire lies buried here.
And another:
O Lord receive my soul.
Close to, and underneath this stone are deposited
the remains of
Charlotte Temperance,
eldest surviving daughter of
Thomas and Elizabeth Alston,
of Odell Castle, Bedfordshire.
She died at Sidmouth, on the 10th of November, 1810,
aged nineteen.
Viola, following her gaze, said, “So many deaths. And consider Mrs. Denby, who has lived here all her life, and is still frail.”
“Yes, but perhaps if she had spent her youth toiling in some dark northern mill instead of making lace in temperate Sidmouth, she might have died long before now.”
“I suppose that’s true. Thank heavens she is still with us.”
Sarah studied her formerly isolated, taciturn sister. “You are very good with her and generous with your time.”
Viola shrugged. “I enjoy her company.”
