Page 64 of A Winter By the Sea
“Not really. To his credit, he might take a more active part if allowed. But our father likes things to be done as he has always done them.”
“And your other brother?” Emily asked.
“My next older brother showed aptitude in both strategy and fighting and planned to join the army, to my father’s delight. Unfortunately, he was badly injured and is now an invalid.”
“Oh no,” Emily breathed.
“Injured in battle?” Georgiana asked.
“No.” Mr. Thomson grimaced. “He never made it into the army. He was injured in a shooting accident before he left home. He was only seventeen.”
“How dreadful. I am sorry.”
Mr. Thomson nodded his agreement, expression pained.
After a respectful moment of silence had passed, Emily asked, “Did your father want you to go into the church?”
“Hardly. He esteems clerics even less than men of law. He wanted me to go into the army after Arthur was injured, as a replacement, I suppose.”
“You did not want that?”
“No. Father was not pleased.”
“Didyouwant to go into the church?”
Thomson shrugged. “I did not sense a vocation for thechurch, beyond being a dedicated parishioner. But I do wish to do good. That the duke has given me oversight of charities suits me well. I hope it is not vain to say I have long been interested in charitable organizations. And in this profession, I also employ the attention to detail and rhetoric I learned at university.”
Mr. Hornbeam lifted his chin. “Sounds not dissimilar to my duties as clerk assistant of the House of Commons. Until, that is, the loss of my sight put an end to that career.”
Mr. Thomson looked at the man, eyes alight with admiration. “Impressive indeed, sir.”
“Although the career you chose was not his preference,” Mr. Hornbeam said, “your father must be proud of you now.”
James Thomson chuckled, more sardonic than amused. “Not in the least.”
Mr. Hornbeam slowly shook his head. “Then he must be more blind than I am.”
13
The Duke had caught a cold, but insisted on going out and walked some distance with Captain Conroy, looking after the horses. He came back chilled through.
—Cecil Woodham-Smith,Queen Victoria
The next morning, Emily bundled up and walked to the parish church, notebook and a graphite pencil in hand. According to Mr. Marsh’s outline, she needed to describe the church for the new guidebook. Although she had been there dozens of times, she had never really studied it with a writer’s eye. Now she walked slowly around the exterior, composing in her mind:
The church is a handsome stone structure built in a tasteful style, having been repaired and beautified at various times over the years. The tower has an air of grandeur and is of considerable height. It bears a fine clock face, which has lately been put up for the convenience of residents and visitors alike.
Then she went inside, thankful to get out of the cold wind. She sat in a pew for several minutes making notes.
The church’s interior is neat and pleasant, containing seats for a numerous congregation. The church possesses a small organ, lately erected by subscription. Solemn memorials of the dead adorn the walls, many of whom came to Sidmouth as a last hope for the restorative power of its mild air.
It seemed to Emily that most of the memorials were for young people, however she doubted she should mention such a thing in a guidebook for visitors. She would probably revise it later.
On her way back, Emily stopped first at the post office to pick up the mail. There she encountered Miss Charlotte Cornish, daughter of the magistrate, George Cornish. Charlotte was a few years younger than Emily. The two had met at church and at a few social events, yet they remained polite acquaintances rather than friends.
“Miss Summers,” Charlotte began, her expression lighting up upon seeing her. “I heard there was a shocking incident near your house recently. A dangerous shooting at a very important residence.”
Because of her father’s position, Charlotte often learned of things before others did.
