Page 12 of A Winter By the Sea
“That does sound interesting,” Emily said, thinking Viola would find itveryinteresting indeed.
She added, “I hope you are not sorry to be consigned to Sea View. I suppose you would have preferred to stay in Woolbrook or even Fortfield Terrace with the other upper staff.”
“Not at all,” he replied. “In fact, I volunteered to lodge here.”
“Did you? Why?”
He glanced at her, then away again. “I had my reasons.”
She wondered what they were and told herself not to be flattered. She had been taken in by flattering words before.
The impulse to flirt with an attractive man was still there, Emily realized, but with effort, she quashed it. This time she would be more careful. She was not eager to be hurt again.
———
In the office, Sarah smiled in welcome as another dark-haired man stepped forward. This one had a broad nose, oliveskin, and hazel eyes. He was a bit older than Mr. Thomson, perhaps in his early thirties.
He introduced himself as Antoine Bernardi, assistant cook and pastry chef, and wrote his name in the register with a loopy flourish.
Sarah’s attention was piqued by the mention of his profession. She was not certain, however, how her mother would react to hosting a cook as a guest in Sea View. She decided she would refer to him as the duke’s pastry chef, which sounded grander.
“And would you like a view of the sea as well?” she asked.
“A room near the kitchens would be most convenient.”
Sarah looked up with a start. “Mr. Bernardi, you are here as our guest. We do not expect you to help in the kitchen.”
He shrugged. “Force of habit.”
Did he mean he was accustomed to sleeping near the kitchen, or that helping in the kitchen was a habit he meant to continue while residing at Sea View? Surely he would leave early every morning to assist the head cook at Woolbrook and remain there through dinnertime. At least Sarah hoped so. She decided to let the comment pass and handed over keys to the Willow room.
He stepped aside, revealing a third man, who held a wooden chest about three-and-a-half feet long with iron bands and lock. Another case and a smaller valise sat atop it. Based on his hunched posture and the neck muscles straining above his cravat, the load must be terribly heavy.
“Oh!” Sarah exclaimed. “Do set that down. It looks heavy.”
“It is.” He set his burden on the desk with a clank, breathing rather hard.
This man had faded ginger hair and signed his name in a hurried scrawl.
Sarah tried to make out his signature. “Mr.... Deering?”
“During. Selwyn During.”
“Ah. Welcome, Mr. During.”
He asked in a rush, “Do all the rooms have sturdy locks? I trust you will assign me a room with the securest of locks?”
Sarah blinked, somewhat taken aback, and then hurried to reassure him. “All our guest rooms are equipped with new locks.” She quickly decided against giving him the chamber with the smaller adjoining room, as there was only a traditional latch between them.
“Any other preferences I should know about? A view of the sea or countryside, or a quieter room at the back of the house?”
“I would prefer a quiet room, set apart from the others,” he replied. “And with no access from any ground-floor windows.”
Mr. Bernardi, she noticed, rolled his eyes.
“Very well. The Oak room is upstairs at the back corner of the house. It is one of our largest.” She thought about handing the man his key but realized he did not need anything more to carry.
After Sarah had explained the mealtimes and quiet hours, she rose to lead the men to their rooms.
