Page 138 of The Sisters of Sea View
Viola thought. “Emily has introduced herself to Mr. Wallis, the publisher, who wields great influence over the author. And she wrote to invite the minister to visit Sea View, to experience its commodious qualities for himself.”
“Did she? Do you know, Mr. Butcher called here once, but I sent him away with a flea in his ear. I am staunch Church of England.”
“I did not realize you attended.”
“I don’t. Not since ... all this.” He circled a hand around his right side. “And has the minister responded to your sister’s letter?”
“Eventually, he wrote back to say that he prefers to remain objective, and that he has acommodioushome of his own in Sidmouth and therefore need not avail himself of ours.”
“Hm.” The major pulled a face. “I have no right to call anyone rude, but ... rude.”
“Emily thought so. But I met the man at the poor house, and he seems thoroughly kind to me.”
“Did you mention Sea View to him?”
Viola shook her head. “I am afraid my courage failed me. And who knows—if he did visit us, he might not be impressed. We still don’t know precisely what we are doing, and half the time are at sixes and sevens.”
“Correspondence,” he said abruptly.
Viola blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift from the personal to the professional.
“As you wish,” she coolly replied. She began flipping through the stack. “Any preference?”
“You know what? Never mind. I have been reminded of something I must do. Let’s adjourn until tomorrow. I will, of course, pay you for the full hour.”
Viola felt chastised and humiliated to be reminded that she was a paid subordinate. Talk of money always embarrassed her.
She wanted to protest, but her pride was provoked, so she turned and stalked from the room without even a good-bye.
She had gotten no farther than the entry hall when she realized she had forgotten her manners ... and her bonnet.
With a sigh, she turned back.
She found him squatting near the room’s rubbish bin, digging through its contents, and extracting something from it.
“Pardon me. I forgot my... What are you doing?”
He straightened to his full height. “Our talk reminded me of two letters I’ve received and neglected to answer.”
“Oh. Shall I read them to you?”
“I can manage.”
“I am sorry to hear it. Very soon, you will not need my visits.”
“Perhaps,” he replied, holding her gaze. “But I shall still want them.”
Later that day, Sarah sat alone in the office, again trying to balance their accounts. Recent outlays for the Eltons’ dinner had consumed most of the money they’d received from Mr. Gwilt’s advance payment. Perhaps they should have required at least a deposit from all their guests upon arrival.
Sarah rose and went to talk to her mother. When she reached her room, she was surprised to find it empty. That had been happening more often of late. She glanced out the window into thewalled garden—empty as well. Had Mamma gone sea-bathing with Georgiana again? That was probably it, she told herself. There was no need to worry.
But she did. She certainly hoped her mother was all right, wherever she was.
Sarah returned to the library and reviewed their ledger once more, looking for any additional cost-saving measures she might find. She wondered what Mr. Henshall might advise. For a moment, she wished she could share the problem with him. Share much more besides... Imagining it filled her with longing, quickly dampened by fear. What would become of her family if she left them?
No.
Sarah rested her head in her hands. She rubbed her throbbing temples, willing away the alluring daydream. Her duty was to her family, and Callum Henshall’s duty was to his.
