Page 66 of The Sisters of Sea View
“Come in!” a singsong voice replied from within.
Mrs. Fulford opened the door, and Viola followed her inside.
“Mrs. Denby, good afternoon. May I introduce Miss Viola Summers? She has come to read to you.”
A small white-haired woman beamed up at them from her chair. “Has she indeed? What a delightful surprise! Come closer, my dear.” She held out a bent hand, and Viola tentatively walked forward and placed her fingers in the woman’s frail clasp. “What a pleasure to meet you. How kind of you to come.”
Would her warm reception cool once the woman saw her scar? Just how dim was her eyesight?
“Well.” Mrs. Fulford drew herself up. “I shall leave the two of you to become acquainted. I believe Miss Viola will be able to read to you, what, once or twice a week, at about this time?” The woman’s eyes held Viola’s through the veil.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Excellent.”
Mrs. Fulford nodded to each, turned, and left the room.
Mrs. Denby visibly relaxed when the fine woman departed. She said, “Mrs. Fulford is a kind, managing sort of woman. I am grateful for her.”
Viola nodded and looked around the tidy, sparsely furnished room, trying to think of what to say. The only decorations were some pretty pieces of lace on the side table.
She walked closer to inspect them. “Did you make these?”
“Indeed I did, along with my sister and mother. On the side, though, which was rather forbidden at the time. Don’t report us!”
She gave her a girlish grin, and Viola automatically returned it.
Mrs. Denby’s gaze trailed the pattern of her dotted net veil. She leaned close, squinting, and pronounced, “Machine netting.” The old woman shook her head with a regretful twist of her lips. “How things have changed.”
“Well. What shall I read for you?” Viola looked around for printed material. “Letters?”
“How I wish! I haven’t any. No one’s written to me in years.”
“The newspaper, then?”
“Haven’t one of those either.”
Viola lifted the volume from under her arm. “I did bring one book, just in case, though I did not know what you would like, so...”
“Oh! What have you brought?” The woman’s eyes shone. “A Bible?”
Viola’s mouth parted, courage waning. She’d not even thought of that. “Er, no. A book of nature.” She read the title, “Gilbert White’sThe Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne.”
The sparkle dulled, but Mrs. Denby said cheerfully, “Well, that sounds rather edifying too. Let’s hear it. Do sit down.”
Viola sat in the room’s other chair and opened the volume. Seeing the opening quotes in Latin and Greek, she turned the page to find heavy lines of introduction and guessed she had made a mistake.
“Why do I not turn ahead to one of the illustrations. You can still see a little, I gather?” She flipped the pages until she came to a line drawing of two birds on a branch, labeledM & F Goatsuckers. “Any interest in birds?”
“I adore birds. Love listening to them from my window.”
“Birds it is, then.” Viola bent her head and read:
“Thecaprimulgus(or goatsucker) is a wonderful and curious creature. This bird is most punctual in beginning its song exactly at the close of day; so exactly that I have known it to strike more than once just at the report of the Portsmouth evening gun, which we can hear when the weather is still.”
“Do those birds really feed from goats?” Mrs. Denby asked. “Or is that a legend?”
“I don’t know.” Viola admitted.
