Page 95 of A Winter By the Sea
“I did not intend to. I don’t think either man is pleased with the arrangement, but both have agreed to it.”
“So ... what? You plan to go to the assembly rooms together, just the three of you?”
“I would ask Viola, but neither she nor the major would be eager to attend a public ball. And you know Vi would not dance if she did. She always refused to join us for lessons with the dancing master.”
“I remember.”
“If it helps sway you, Charles will collect us in his carriage.”
“Kind of him. Will he deliver you home again afterward?”
“I don’t know. I did not think to ask.”
Sarah settled into bed. “In all honesty, I have little desire to go, but nor do I think going out at night without a female chaperone would be wise.”
“So will you go with me?”
Sarah sighed. “Let me think about it.”
“Very well.” Emily climbed into bed and blew out the candle, heart heavy with doubts.
She thought back to last summer, when a former guest, Mr. Stanley, had walked her home from a ball alone. That moonlit strollhadbeen a little uncomfortable. And later, Viola had seen him kissing another woman. Emily still cringed at the memory. Yes, she certainly did land herself in awkward situations.
18
Fencing brings to mind thoughts of tragic duels at dawn.
—Kay Geyer,The Sportswoman
The next morning, Sarah approached Antoine Bernardi in the breakfast room, where he lingered over coffee and a cookery book. She noticed a small plate of bonbons nearby. He must have made them himself.
“Mr. Bernardi, I wonder if you might help me with something?”
He looked up with interest. “With your mortar-and-pestle technique? I was hoping you’d ask.” His hazel eyes glinted with humor.
“No. I am hoping you will help prepare a few meals for our local poor house. The woman who does so is recovering from a fall, and the elderly dears are getting by on fruit, a bit of meat, and stale bread.”
He scrunched up his face in displeasure.
Before he could refuse, she went on, “You said you were bored! And that you had extra time on your hands now that the duke is eating only invalid food and the duchess has lost her appetite.”
He turned a page in his book. “There is plenty to do in roasting joints and boiling potatoes and making plain custards for people who would not knowgrande cuisineif it kissed their lips. But sadly, little call for fine pastries or my other works of art.”
The man certainly had a high opinion of his abilities, Sarah thought acidly. Then again, having seen and tasted some of his creations, she really could not blame him.
Even so, she would not give up so easily. She paraphrased a Proverb, “Whoever is generous to the poor lends to the Lord, and He will reward him for his deeds.”
He looked up at her, expression flattening. “That is low. I did not suspect you of being a manipulative woman, Miss Summers.”
Irritation rose. “Then forget I asked. Heaven forbid you should lay aside your bonbons and receipt books to help someone in need. I shall keep that privilege for myself. After all, ‘it is more blessed to give than to receive.’”
She turned in a huff and quit the room, even as her face flamed and remorse singed like melted tallow, burning her heart. What a hypocrite she was! He was right. Using Scripture to persuade him had been manipulative. She was ashamed of herself for doing so. Especially when she considered how she had neglected Scripture reading and prayers of late, busy as she was with the guest house. She had no right to hurl verses at him like weapons.Forgive me, Lord.
With a heavy sigh, she retreated into the office. She hesitated to ask Mrs. Besley to do more when cooking for their guests clearly sapped her strength and her aging bones were not fond of the cold weather. Not to mention Lowen was often laid low with his rheumatism. Mr. Gwilt was always eager to help and filled in where he could but had little experience in the kitchen. No, she would find a way to do it herself.
In the end, Sarah put together a simple meal for the poor house on her own: cold meat, cheese, fresh rolls and muffins, good butter, and bottled fruit. The meal would win no awards, but it would be nutritious and filling. Georgie helped her carry it over to the poor house and serve it to the residents, who were all graciousness and gratitude. All for this, her simple fare. Mr. Bernardi did not know the blessing he was missing.
Late that afternoon, Emily, Georgiana, and James Thomson gathered in the hall, awaiting Charles Parker’s arrival for the promised fencing bout.
