Page 80 of The Sisters of Sea View
Emily put her hands on her waist. “So you said nothing? At a time when he would have been inclined to listen to you?”
“I did say we had all read his book. And that it was ... well done.”
Emily threw up her hands. “Is that all?”
Sarah soothed, “I am sure Viola meant well. She is not accustomed to being out and about in the company of strangers.”
Emily was not moved. “Will you see him again?”
“It is possible.”
“Then I shall write down something for you to say the next time you meet him. You may commit it to memory, so you won’t have the excuse of not knowing what to say.”
Viola lifted her chin. “It is not my responsibility.”
“We all share the responsibility for our livelihood, whether we wish to or not.” Emily snapped her fingers. “That reminds me; I meant to tell you. I wrote to Mr. Butcher a few days ago, inviting him to visit Sea View, to take a meal with us or even spend the night, so he can experience our hospitality for himself.”
Worry lines creased Sarah’s brow. “What if he comes here unannounced and finds the place in disarray, or Mr. Elton snoring in the parlour?”
“We have to try something. Let’s just hope it works and he accepts.”
“That reminds me...” Viola handed over a few letters. “I picked up the post, since I was passing.”
Emily eagerly gathered up the small stack and flipped through them. “No, no, no. Nothing.”
“No reply from Mr. Butcher?” Sarah asked.
Viola leaned toward their older sister. “She means nothing from Charles.”
Emily wrinkled her nose at her. “None of these have local postmarks, so it doesn’t appear Mr. Butcher has replied.” She lifted the top one. “Ah! Here is one for Simon Hornbeam.”
“From his son?”
“I assume so. Let’s take it to him directly.”
Mr. Hornbeam had been with them for a week and hoped every day for his son’s arrival, or at least a letter. Viola prayed no misfortune had befallen the younger man to prevent him from joining his father as planned.
Sarah remained in the office, but Viola followed Emily as she went in search of Mr. Hornbeam.
They found him on the veranda, his favorite place at Sea View.
“A letter for you, Mr. Hornbeam!” Emily announced in a cheerful, singsong voice.
“Ah, thank you.”
Emily extended it toward the man, forgetting he could not see it.
“Shall I read it to you?” Viola offered more softly.
“Yes, please.”
Viola sat in the chair nearest him, opened the letter, and read aloud:
“Dear old Pater,
A thousand apologies for not writing sooner. A party of friends has invited me to visit Brighton with them. I know we planned to rendezvous at the seaside, but from all accounts Sidmouth is a sedate watering place—the preserve of the elderly. My friends assure me that Brighton is far more fashionable and diverting.
We went to see the Prince Regent’s pleasure palace today. You should see it sometime—forgive me, I sometimes forget you can’t. No real loss; I don’t know that it is quite your style. You are welcome to join us here, if you like, though it isa devilish long way. There is talk of venturing to Weymouth once we’ve sampled the entertainments here. So, I may make it to Sidmouth yet.
