Page 35 of The Sisters of Sea View
Emily picked up a stone and tossed it into the grass. “I shall.”
A quiet moment passed, then Georgiana said, “Bibi is a hard worker. I was thinking.... Could we not hire her to help us make beds and such? It’s a lot for us to do every morning.”
“Good idea,” Emily said. “We could pay her from Viola’s earnings.”
“Is she not needed at home?” Sarah asked.
Georgiana shrugged. “I know she cooks supper for the men every night, but she seems to have free time during the day.”
“Do you think she’d even want to work for us?”
“She hasn’t come out and said so, though I think she’d like having a little money of her own.”
“Mr. Cordey might not want his daughter working as a chambermaid.”
“It won’t hurt to ask,” Emily said. “If we ask tactfully.”
Georgie wrinkled her nose. “I know I suggested it, but I’ve had a thought. Might she not bring the smell of fish and damp nets into the house? I should be the last to complain since I often tromp about with wet hems, but the guests might not like their rooms to smell of fish.”
Sarah’s brow lined with worry. “Good point. I had not thought of that. And we would no doubt insult them if we mentioned it.”
Georgie said, “I know! I could say that, as I help make beds too, we’d like her to dress like me—wear one of my frocks, rather like a uniform. I have a few I’ve—” she coughed—“mysteriously outgrown.” Georgie made a funny face, then added, “We could hang it on a peg inside the basement entrance. She could change when she arrives, and then change back into her own clothes when she’s finished.”
“That might work. As long as she and her father don’t think we are being rude.”
“I can talk to them,” Georgiana said. “I’ve been told to change out of a stained frock enough times to know how it is done!”
The sisters shared amused looks.
It was certainly true.
7
WARM SEA BATHS
Fitted up in an extremely convenient and comfortable manner, have been established, both by Mr. Hodge and Mr. Stocker; they embrace every mode of bathing.
—The Beauties of Sidmouth Displayed
Mr. Henshall left the house again early the next morning, and again Sarah went downstairs in her dressing gown to lock the door after him. When he returned about an hour later, a breath of fresh morning air wafted in with him along with his own pleasant scent. His shaving soap, perhaps.
She gently confronted him. “Mr. Henshall, I noticed you leaving the house early these last few mornings. It is none of my affair where you go. But leaving your daughter here, unattended, well, that is my concern. I hope you know I cannot be responsible for her in your absence.”
He raised his hands. “Effie can take care of herself. She doesna wish to accompany me. She prefers to sleep in.”
“So would I. I would prefer not to have to rise to lock the door after you go. Do you intend to leave so early every morning?”
“Ye mentioned no prohibitions against doing so, or I—”
“No prohibitions, only precautions.” She held out a spare key.“Please lock the door after yourself and return the key before you depart Sidmouth. It is our only spare.”
His blinked his round, fair eyes. “I shall. Thank ye for trusting me with it.”
Did she trust Callum Henshall? She was not yet sure.
After that, Sarah went belowstairs to help lay out breakfast. During the meal, no one commented on the muffins as they toasted and ate them, but at least no one complained.
Later, emboldened by her modest baking success, Sarah decided to try her hand at making pastry. She had a hankering for jam tarts.
