Page 75 of A Winter By the Sea
“I suppose you adore this novel because it is about lovers who were unjustly separated, and then later, have a second chance at romance, and finally achieve their long-awaited happy ending.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you still had one chapter left?”
“It is a foregone conclusion. After all, the final chapter begins, ‘Who can be in doubt of what followed?’”
“I lovedPersuasionon its own merits,” she insisted.
“I am glad to hear that.”
Secretly, Emily wondered if her fondness for that novelwasrelated to her disappointment over Charles. Possibly. She pushed the thought aside and said with resolve, “Now, I am going to finish this chapter if it kills me ... or puts me to sleep. And you finish yours.”
“Very well.”
———
Emily, cold and uncomfortable, awoke while it was still dark, her neck aching. The bedroom fire had gone out, and she must have slept in an awkward position. She gathered her blankets around herself and shifted, trying to find a comfortable place on her pillow—a pillow that seemed surprisingly hard as she drifted off once more.
She awoke again as faint dawn light began seeping into the room. At least she was warmer and far more comfortablethan she had been earlier. She cracked open her eyes and stilled.
She was not in her bed. She was still on the parlour sofa, her head resting on Mr. Thomson’s shoulder. She must have slid closer to him while she slept. He sat low on the sofa, his head resting on the back, eyes closed, breathing deeply. She, meanwhile, half reclined on the cushions, using the man as her pillow.
Oh dear.
Emily straightened gingerly, hoping not to wake him.
Getting quietly to her feet, she gazed down at him, looking relaxed in slumber. Younger. She spread her blanket over him and tiptoed from the parlour.
Going upstairs, she slipped into the room she shared with Sarah, hoping not to wake her either.
But her sister, who regularly rose early, was sitting up on the edge of her bed. “Oh! There you are, Emily. I was worried to wake and find your bed not slept in.”
“Sorry. I fell asleep reading downstairs.”
“Did you? That must have been cold and uncomfortable.”
“Um, a little, yes. Would you mind terribly if I slept for a bit longer? I am still tired.”
“And no wonder! Very well, but don’t sleep too late. I shall need your help clearing up after breakfast.”
“Thank you, Sarah.”
“Never mind. Now, get some sleep.”
Emily yawned and climbed into her own bed.
———
After she had washed and dressed for the day, Sarah went downstairs. On her way to the breakfast room, she glanced into the parlour to see if Emily had left any used teacups or blankets to tidy.
She was surprised to see Mr. Thomson standing in theroom, folding a knitted blanket and returning it to the arm of the sofa.
For a moment she stared at him, her thoughts whirling. Nothing untoward had transpired between him and Emily last night, had it? No. Surely not.
Not wishing to embarrass him, she turned and walked quickly and quietly away.
Was she right to worry, or had Claire’s fall from grace made her overly sensitive?
Either way, she decided to caution Emily the next time she saw her.
