Page 141 of The Sisters of Sea View
Her heart warmed. “Thank you, Colin.”
Nevertheless, Viola was tempted to return to Westmount and wait to see who emerged—and might have, if Mrs. Gage was not expecting her.
The entire town was looking forward to the cricket match between Sidmouth visitors and local fishermen. Everyone, it seemed, except Major Hutton, who had declined to attend. Viola hoped Mrs. Gage would want to watch, but when she arrived at the woman’s home and the footman showed her into the parlour, Mrs. Gage seemed unaware of the event soon to begin outside her own front door. Fortfield Terrace was tantalizingly close to the playing field that lay between the fashionable row of lodging houses and the esplanade.
“Oh, good. You’re here,” Mrs. Gage said. “I have been wondering what will happen next.” The woman nodded to the chair Viola usually sat in, where the novelBelindawaited to be read.
Seated on the sofa, Mrs. Gage picked up her embroidery, liking to work while she listened. “Lady Delacour is such an interesting character, is she not?”
“Y-yes,” Viola replied, her gaze drawn to the window, wishing again she could attend the big event. “Are you not interested in the match?”
“Hm? What match?”
“The cricket match between Sidmouth fishermen and visitors.”
“Ah yes, I heard something about that.” The older woman flopped a dismissive hand. “Not something we ladies would be interested in.”
Viola tried to ignore the disappointment sinking in her stomach. “Well, shall we begin?” She picked up the book and started to read where they’d left off.
“Lady Delacour’s history, and the manner in which it was related, excited in Belinda’s mind astonishment, pity, admiration, and contempt: astonishment at her inconsistency, pity for her misfortunes, admiration for her talents, and contempt for her conduct.”
She turned the page and took a breath before continuing.
From outside came a rising wave of voices and the sound of musicians tuning their instruments.
Mrs. Gage frowned. “What’s all that racket?”
Viola rose and stepped to the window. A moment later, Mrs. Gage joined her, leaning on a gold-tipped ebony cane. The woman could walk short distances, rather quickly when she wanted to, and evidently she wanted to now.
The front windows overlooked the field. The match had not yet started, but a great deal of activity was going on.
Open-sided tents had been set up around the perimeter by some of the inns and other businesses. The brewer and one of the bakers were sharing a marquee, taking advantage of the opportunity to sell refreshments. And nearby, the Sidmouth band began playing a rousing martial piece.
“What’s all this?” Mrs. Gage breathed.
“It’s as I told you. A cricket match is being played between visitors and our fishermen. Several of the local men are reputed to be quite good.”
“Bah. Better than gentlemen who played at Eton, Oxford, and Cambridge? I doubt it.”
Viola made do with a shrug.
Mrs. Gage looked at her knowingly. “Shall we lay aside our reading for today, and go outside and watch?”
Mood lifting, Viola eagerly nodded. Her wish had been granted.
Viola retrieved the woman’s bonnet while the footman helped his mistress into her cloak and into the chair.
Mrs. Gage accepted the bonnet and tied it under her chin. “We must take Nero with us.” She patted her knee, and the fluffy little orange-and-cream Pomeranian leapt into her lap.
Viola put on her own bonnet. Had she the courage to forgo a veil amid such a large crowd? She hesitated, then positioned it over her face.
Again, the footman and maid lowered the wheeled chair down the terrace steps. Then Viola rolled it the short distance across the drive to the field.
Spectators had already gathered. Some Fortfield Terrace residents had dragged out chairs to sit and watch in comfort. Other ladies sat on blankets with fluttering parasols over their heads, while groups of men and lads stood clustered here and there, jesting and placing wagers.
Across the field, another open-sided tent shielded from the sun wealthy Emanuel Lousada and his guests.
And on the western side of the field, her own sisters and some of their guests sat on blankets spread on the grass, like a second picnic. Seeing her, Sarah, Emily, and Mr. Gwilt raised hands in greeting. Meanwhile Georgie and Effie sat near each other talking and giggling and petting a pile of fur she assumed to be Chips.
