Page 46 of The Sisters of Sea View
“And now? Is the cleft closed?”
“Yes, thankfully. I confess I live in fear of it splitting open as it has before. It has been a few years, and the doctors assure me it shan’t, barring new injury or accident.”
“What does it look like?”
“I have a vertical scar from nostril through my upper lip.”
“Which side?”
“Left. The skin above my mouth on that side pulls a little tight too.”
Again he nodded.
“It is why I wear a veil.”
He reared his head back. “You wear a veil to speak to an old blind man on your own property?”
Her cheeks heated. “It’s pushed back now, but if a stranger approached, I could easily pull it down.”
He nodded his understanding. “I suppose it’s no different from my dark glasses. I wear them to protect myself and to shield others from my defect—in my case, clouded eyes.”
She considered that, then asked, “What you said about my speech. Were you being kind?”
He shook his head. “Truthful. Rarely have I heard such fine elocution. Now and then, I hear a faint pause before you pronounce letters likepandb. Beyond that, your speech is excellent and lovely to listen to.”
“That means a great deal to me, as I worked hard to improve it.”
“Well done.” For a moment they were quiet, then he said, “The others you read to. Are they old blind people like me?”
“Oddly enough, my first client is only about thirty. A major injured during his service with the East India Company.”
“Blind, is he?”
“Only in one eye. He was injured in an explosion and suffered ahead wound. He can still read with his other eye, but he has blurry vision and headaches, so his family engaged me to read to him.”
“Poor man. Perhaps I might meet him one day and assure him a loss of vision is not the end of the world, though for a young man, an officer, I can imagine it might feel that way.”
“Yes. He lives as something of a recluse. His face and neck were burned in the blast, and he is scarred on one side. He was also shot in the chest. His lungs were affected, which was why his doctors recommended mild sea air.”
“Good heavens. With such injuries, he should be grateful to be alive.”
“I am not sure he is.”
“Well, no doubt your company is a balm to him as it is to me.” He found her hand and patted it. “Thank you for reading to me. If you ever have spare time, I hope you shall do so again. I will happily reimburse you for the pleasure.”
After pulling a tray of jam tarts from the oven, Sarah wiped her hands and went upstairs. She proceeded to her mother’s room to make sure Mamma was ready for company. Miss Stirling was coming over to take tea and catch up with how things were going, now that their first week as guest-house keepers was drawing to a close.
Finding her mother already dressed, Sarah helped her sit up straighter on the made bed, plumped bolster and pillow behind her back, and spread a lap rug over her legs.
She felt her mother’s pensive gaze studying her. Not wanting to add to her worries, Sarah forced a smile and kept on with brisk efficiency, moving a tea table to the center of the room and drawing chairs around it for the visit.
“What’s wrong, Sarah? You seem preoccupied.”
“Do I? Sorry. All is well.”
“Sarah...” The single word stretched out and said in thatcommanding tone told Sarah her mother would brook no further denials.
“I am sure it’s nothing. I have just seen one of our guests—a Mr. Henshall—poking about, and I am not sure what to think. I suppose we must grow accustomed to loss of privacy, but I don’t like it.”
