Page 65 of The Sisters of Sea View
Sarah swung hard, sending the shuttlecock high. The sea breeze caught it and carried it behind her. “Sorry!”
“I’ll get it.” Georgiana hurried off to hunt for it among the laurel bushes.
Once she’d retrieved it, she jogged back and prepared to serve. Mr. Henshall adopted a ready stance, feet spread, knees bent.
He returned Georgiana’s serve with a light swing, and again, the breeze propelled it with added force.
Sarah leapt to try to get her racquet under it, but the feathers fell to the ground once more.
She served it smartly and the shuttlecock flew. Mr. Henshall ran quickly backward, jumped high, and managed to whack it back.
“Well done,” Effie said with rare enthusiasm.
His smile of surprise and paternal pleasure touched Sarah’s heart.
“Thank ye, my dear.”
Mr. Stanley and Emily came outside and were soon persuadedto take Sarah’s and Mr. Henshall’s places. For a few minutes, Sarah sat near Callum Henshall on the veranda, the two catching their breath and cheering on the younger players.
Mr. Stanley proved to be athletic as well, although he curtailed his skill to keep the game friendly, seeming to take delight in hitting the shuttlecock just out of Emily’s reach and chuckling when she squealed.
The game probably would have continued longer, but Chips ran up, swiped the feathered birdie in his mouth, and dashed off with it, ending the match.
13
The new and favourite Game of Mother Goose and the Golden Egg, published and sold by John Wallis.
—Caroline Goodfellow,
How We Played: Games from Childhood Past
The next day, after reading to Major Hutton again, Viola returned to Sea View only long enough to collect Georgie and a book before heading to the poor house. Mamma had insisted Georgiana accompany her, at least the first time, since they were not exactly sure what Viola might be walking into, and because a woman like Mrs. Fulford might frown upon a lady crossing town alone.
Viola walked along the esplanade, skirts and veil buffeted by the wind, the book tucked under her arm. Georgie lagged behind, playing fetch with Chips, her ever-present shadow. They walked to the eastern side of Sidmouth, turned inland, and walked up the byes—the footpath along the river—passing the independent Marsh Chapel and Mr. Baker’s brewery before arriving at the poor house. Beyond it, the water mill slowly churned and the wooden bridge crossed the River Sid, leading toward the village of Salcombe Regis.
Reaching the poor-house door, she discovered Mrs. Fulford there before her. Viola was relieved to see she was not accompanied by Mrs. Robins nor anyone else.
“Ah, Miss Summers. Right on time. And this is your youngest sister, I believe?”
“Yes, Georgiana.”
Mrs. Fulford smiled from one to the other. Noticing Chips, she said, “And the stray you feed, I presume?”
Georgie nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well. This is the poor house, and that is the school next door.” She pointed. “Built seven or eight years ago, funded by the poor rate and by voluntary subscriptions. If either of you are willing to read to children, that is another need. But first things first.” She opened the door.
“May I wait here?” Georgiana asked, either intimidated by the tall, well-dressed woman or simply preferring to remain out of doors.
“Very well,” Viola replied. “Don’t wander off.”
Mrs. Fulford led the way into the neat brick building. Inside, rooms opened off a central corridor with a common dining room overlooking the river.
As they started down the corridor, Mrs. Fulford said, “If you wish to read to other residents in future, I am sure they would be appreciative. I should warn you about Miss Reed, however....” Here, she gestured to the door marked1. “I have tried again and again to extend Christian charity to her. But she has rebuffed my every attempt, as well as the vicar’s. I don’t say it to gossip. I simply would not wish you to be rejected and feel she had rejected you personally.”
“I understand.”
Mrs. Fulford proceeded to the door marked3. In a low voice, she explained, “Mrs. Denby can still see a little, but her vision has grown increasingly poor.” She knocked.
