Page 173 of The Sisters of Sea View
In the doorway, she halted midstride, stunned to see her mother at the scrubbed oak table, uncovering bowls and platters of the food prepared for the Eltons.
“The beef and smoked salmon we can serve cold along with the salads. But these other dishes will need to be reheated. Are the stove and oven fired?”
Mrs. Besley nodded. “Lowen is stoking them now.”
“Good. We’ll also need to heat the soup. Just the thing for a cold, wet evening.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I think arranging the serving dishes on the sideboard will be best on this occasion. I will begin slicing the ham and tongue.”
Sarah broke in, “Mamma ... I am delighted you are up and about, but I have not seen you belowstairs before. How did you even get down here?”
“I walked, my dear. How do you think? Here, help me carry this soup pot. It’s heavy.”
“Yes, of course.” Sarah hurried forward. “I can lift it. Don’t overtax yourself.”
“Very well. I’ll slice the bread and set the butter near the stove to soften. No one wants to spread hard, cold butter.”
Setting the pot on the stove, Sarah said, “Thank you for helping, Mamma. I doubted we could get everything prepared before people began arriving, but I see you and Mrs. Besley have everything well in hand between you. Where is Jessie?”
“Gathering all the extra cutlery and plates she can find.”
Sarah nodded. “I will go up and make sure the sideboard is cleared and lay a clean cloth on the dining table.”
Her mother said, “People can eat either there or in the breakfastroom, or even the drawing room, if they prefer. This is no time for formality. Let’s make everyone comfortable.”
“I agree.”
Sarah looked at her mother’s contented profile and busy hands and felt a lump rise in her throat. On impulse, she leaned forward and kissed her cheek before hurrying upstairs.
33
Such a rushing happiness went through me; And I felt as if it was so pure and strong it might even cure me of my ill. There was some truth in it, too, for my lip did never look quite so bad from that day.
—Mary Webb,Precious Bane
Viola paced up and down the Sea View veranda, praying Jack would soon emerge from the darkness. Inside, the house was awash in light and buzzing with voices as guests gathered to get warm, sip hot tea or cider, and exchange stories of the flood.
Outside, the rain slackened at last. Yet Viola’s worries did not abate.
Might he have gone home to Westmount without coming to Sea View first? It was possible. Although he must know she would worry about his safety.
Emily stepped out onto the veranda. “He will be all right, Vi.”
Viola twisted her fingers. “I hope so.”
She was just about to walk down to the beach to discover if the Cordeys had returned or if any of the other fishermen had seen the major when a donkey cart came rumbling up the dimlane. As it neared, she recognized Major Hutton amid its three passengers.
Relief filling her, she grabbed Emily’s hand.
When the cart stopped, Major Hutton and Armaan helped an elderly woman alight. This must be Miss Reed, with her veil askew. But at that moment, Viola had eyes only for Jack.
“Who is that with them?” Emily asked.
“Miss Reed, from the poor house, I believe. She didn’t want to come.”
“Ah. I remember you telling me about her. Leave her to me.”
