Page 33 of A Winter By the Sea
“I did. And it’s not silly.”
“Don’t give it another thought, my dear. I only hope you don’t regret the time you spent on it.”
“Not for a moment. And I have not given up yet.”
8
Saturdays and Tuesdays are the chief market days. Poultry and eggs are brought by the country-people ... and the supply is commonly equal to the demand.
—The Beauties of Sidmouth Displayed
Sarah knocked at the door of Broadbridge’s Boarding House, intending to pay a friendly call on Fran Stirling, as she liked to do whenever she found herself nearby and with time to spare—which was not often enough.
Fran smiled upon seeing her on her doorstep.
“Miss Sarah, what a pleasant surprise. Do come in.”
Behind Fran stood Mr. Farrant, local carpenter and all-around handyman. It was not the first time Sarah had encountered him at Broadbridge’s. Sarah glanced from him to Fran, brows raised in question. “If you are busy, I can come back another time.”
“Not at all. Mr. Farrant was just leaving.” Fran sent him a significant look.
“Oh. Right.” He glanced around the room. “Just came to, uh, take a look at that crack in the plaster there. I’ll bring lime and horsehair when next I call.” He caught Fran’s eye. “Soon.”
The broad-shouldered man of perhaps forty sauntered fromthe room. Sarah looked back at Fran and saw her friend tracking the man’s exit with an appreciative gaze. Leslie Farrant was ruggedly masculine with his muscled forearms, merry eyes, and thatch of dark hair. Sarah could understand the appeal.
After he’d gone, Fran returned her attention to Sarah. “I am so glad you’ve come. Will you stay for tea?”
Sarah held up the parcel of biscuits she had brought. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
Over tea and the biscuits, the two women commiserated about the challenges of hosting strangers, and shared memories of the old days at Finderlay, when Miss Stirling had been Mamma’s lady’s maid. It struck Sarah that what had been the “good old days” for the rest of them might not have been the best for Fran.
She asked abruptly, “Was it awful, being in service? I never asked.”
“No, my dear. Not with your family. I could tell you horrid tales about my previous situation, but I shan’t. Your mother was always kind and gracious to me, and you girls were as well. I am grateful to have a place of my own now, of course, although at times I wish the work—and the people—were half as pleasant.”
The two shared a long smile.
Sarah sipped, then tentatively began, “You seem to find Mr. Farrant most ... pleasant.”
Fran blushed. “He has been very helpful to me since I moved here. I have come to rely on him.”
“And he clearly admires you.”
Fran looked down and then up again, a troubled look crossing her pretty face. “He does. In fact, he...”
“He what?”
“Oh, Sarah. He asked me to marry him.”
Sarah drew in a sharp breath. “Has he indeed? And have you given him an answer?”
Fran shook her head, nibbling her lip with uncertainty. “I am tempted, I own. I like him a great deal.”
“But you don’t ... love him?”
“I don’t know. I could do, I think. I am less enamored with the prospect of the nameFran Farrant. Although I suppose I could grow accustomed even to that.”
“Then what is it? Would you not want him here with you, in the boarding house?”
