Page 84 of A Winter By the Sea
Emily nodded thoughtfully. “He looked rather unwell when I last saw him and had a bad cough. I would not blame him if he did cancel.” She sent the two men an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“Actually,” Mr. Thomson said, “the duke has no intention of canceling the party. He insists on going ahead with it.”
The chef raised a triumphant fist. “Huzzah!”
During rose. “Well then, it’s almost time we went over.”
He and Bernardi left the parlour together to change.
Mr. Thomson looked at Emily, some suppressed emotion flickering over his lean, handsome face. “Why do you not look similarly pleased?”
Emily shrugged. “It makes little difference to me, although I know many people would have been disappointed.”
“But not you?”
“I am not invited. None of us here are.”
“Are you quite certain?” He pulled something from his pocket. “Then I wonder what this is?” He unfolded it. “It looks very like an invitation to me. And see—your names are written just there.Mrs. Summers andthe Miss Summerses.
She took it from him, studied it, then looked up into his face. “This is your handwriting. You did this.”
“I did. With the duke’s consent.”
“If he does not really want us there, then...”
“An oversight, I assure you. When I reminded him who you were and described your family, he was most agreeable. He remembers meeting you on his walks and said of you, ‘Ah yes, a charming young lady.’”
For a moment vanity wrestled with longing. Should she decline for pride’s sake?
The twinkle in his eyes began to fade. “You don’t wish to go?”
She bit back a grin and replied, “Well ... Iwouldlike to see more of Woolbrook Cottage. I got no further than the morning room on the day of the shooting.”
The light returned to his eyes, and the grin she was trying to suppress won out.
“Then I shall take great pleasure in giving you a tour.”
Emily quickly found Sarah and showed her the invitation. They let Mamma nap for a time and then went into her room to share the news with her as well. Mamma decided that it was enough for Sarah and Emily to go and represent their family. She and Georgie would stay home.
Emily could not resist putting on her cloak and dashing over to Westmount to tell Viola the good news. When he heard two of his sisters-in-law would be attending, the major insisted on sending his carriage for them, even though it would take longer to ready the horses than to make the walk of about a hundred yards.
———
That night, Emily took pleasure in donning an evening gown in a vibrant color the magazines calledcelestial blue. The dress was several years old, but Emily still liked it. The blue satin slip had a pleated bodice and short sleeves. With it she wore a long sleeveless robe of white crepe trimmed in lace.
Sarah helped with her hair and fastenings, as Emily’s injured hand was too clumsy to manage alone. Sarah also helped her wrestle on white kid gloves, even over the bound hand. Her fingers were stuffed tight as sausages, but at least the long glove disguised the ugly bandage. Sarah, meanwhile, wore an elegant high-necked gown in a dull shade of lavender-grey. Emily thought the style a bit matronly but made no comment.
When the Huttons’ carriage arrived for them, Emily and Sarah climbed inside, and the vehicle bore them down theirsloped drive and then up Glen Lane. Though bitterly cold, at least it was not snowing, and the lingering snow on the lane had been packed down by a procession of tradesmen making deliveries and other guests arriving before them in chairs and chaises.
Passing Westmount, they soon reached Woolbrook Cottage, its short drive lit by torches. In their glow, combined with moonlight, the house shone creamy white. Snug in its snow-covered glen, it looked like a small fairyland castle.
When they alighted, the door was opened by a footman, and the sisters stepped into the modest entry hall, where a servant took their cloaks. With a few whispers to Sarah, Emily pointed out the morning room, where they had been questioned after the gunshot. Emily thanked God yet again for the merciful outcome.
From there, they followed the sound of voices past a stairway into a larger reception room with tall windows and papered walls, where guests stood mingling and waiters served drinks from a cloth-covered cart.
The room was not large, and guests flowed from it through an open archway into the adjoining room. Even with fires lit and the growing crowd, the house was still barely warm enough to forgo one’s cloak. Emily wished she had thought to bring her long silk scarf.
At one end of the room stood the duke and duchess, greeting guests as they filed past singly or as couples or families, the guests offering bows and curtsies to thank their hosts for inviting them.
