Page 116 of A Winter By the Sea
Viola slowly nodded, countenance awash with joy. “Me too.”
Seeing her twin’s wistful, doe-eyed expression, Emily felt a stab of longing. She hoped she too would one day love a man who loved her back.
———
When Emily returned to Sea View, she asked Sarah a similar question.
“May I ask ... have you ever been kissed? I mean, you were once engaged.”
Sarah looked down, and Emily instantly regretted asking. Had she done more than embarrass her sister, perhaps saddened her as well?
She quickly added, “I am sorry. If it’s a painful subject, you need not answer.”
Sarah looked up, her cheeks pink and bemusement tilting her lips. “What’s brought this on?” Her expression turned wary. “Although after your outing yesterday, I am not sure I want to know.”
“I simply want to know if the poets and novelists are right—that’s all. If it is a thunderous, transporting experience. Or if it has all been exaggerated and I’ve been longing for something that does not exist.”
“You have never...?”
Emily shook her head, her face heating.
Sarah paused, then began tentatively, “After Peter asked me to marry him, we did seal our agreement with a kiss. A chaste, awkward kiss, truth be told. We were both nervous.”
“Was that the only time?”
“Goodness! You ask a lot of questions! No, he kissed me a second time, just before his ship sailed.”
“And?”
“And let’s just say, that kiss was longer and more ... impassioned.” Sarah’s blush deepened.
“Do you regret kissing him? When things turned out as they did and you did not get to marry him after all?”
“I don’t regret it. Not for an instant.”
“I am glad. And Mr. Henshall? Did he...?”
“He most certainly did not!” Sarah’s eyes flashed but her tone quickly softened. “Well, to be honest, that is not precisely true. He did kiss my hand before he left. And I learned that a kiss to one’s hand can be far more affecting than I’d ever imagined.”
That afternoon, Emily dressed in her thickest pelisse, woolen stockings, boots, and a knitted cap, which were warm althoughnot at all fashionable. She retrieved one of the blankets from the parlour sofa and carried it out with her onto the deserted veranda. She brushed lingering snow from one of the chairs and sat down, cocooning herself in the blanket. She wanted to be alone. To be quiet. To look at the water and think.
In the distance, the winter sea churned frothy grey, the swells formidable. She hoped no one would be foolish enough to go sea-bathing on such a day. She thought again of the time she and Viola had attempted it last summer. The sea had been choppy that day too, although nothing to this. A rogue wave had knocked over the bathing machine—knocked the two of them over as well. Emily had surfaced first. And for those few seconds when she could not see her twin and feared the worst, she had prayed like never before.
Emily wondered about that—how prayer worked. Why some prayers were answered and some were not. She had prayed for Papa to recover, for Claire to return to them, for Mamma to regain her strength, and for Charles to renew his affections. Some of these requests had been answered with a resounding no. Thankfully Mamma seemed much stronger than she had even last year. And Charleshadcome to Sidmouth. Had called on them, apologized, and even danced with her. Might it all lead to something more? Might her prayers about him be answered at last?
Did she want those prayers to be answered?
Emily blew out a long exhale, a white stream in the cold air, and let her thoughts wander. Her rebellious memory returned to the final night of the house party the Parkers had hosted in honor of Charles’s visiting friend, Lord Bertram.
———
Charles and Emily had danced together several times that night. He’d held her close during the waltz, smiling warmly into her eyes, and she had truly believed he loved her.
The room had grown too warm and suddenly seemed far too crowded.
They stepped out onto a veranda much like this one to cool down and catch their breath. A foreign silence hung between them—a new tension like a reverberating harp string. Emily was often prone to chatter on when nervous, but she found herself uncharacteristically silent, her throat tight, her heart beating hard.
Was he about to propose? She remembered her mother’s hints and hopes for the two of them, as well as her own.
