Page 160 of A Winter By the Sea
“I am,” Emily quickly replied.
He looked at her in surprise. “Are you? Are you truly over Charles?”
Emily nodded. “And no one is more astonished than I am. I loved him for years, but I realize now it was a schoolgirl sort of love. And I am not sure he ever fully loved me. He certainly did not approve of me, even before Claire’s misstep. I laughed too loudly and spoke my opinions too freely. Nor did he care a whit about my ambitions or talents, such as they are.”
She managed a small grin, but he remained serious.
“Perhaps I should have said, I wish we werebothfree.”
She blinked up at him. “Are you not?” Emily’s stomach clenched tight. “Are you still thinking of Miss Moulton? Or is there another woman?”
He pressed his lips together and said dryly, “There is only one other woman. The Duchess of Kent, who relies on me. Though less so, since her brother’s arrival. Regardless, I am not free. I am bound to earn my own living. I am expected to leave here soon and go where the duchess goes—or wherever my next position takes me.”
“I knew that, yet I thought ... maybe things had changed now the duke is gone?”
He shook his head. “If I were the firstborn, perhaps.”
She opened her mouth to again protest, but he laid a gentle finger on her lips. “I say itonlybecause then I would have the freedom to marry and the means to support a wife. I would not be beholden to an employer. Nor required to move far away from here, and far away from you.”
Tears stung Emily’s eyes, and she swallowed a sour draught of self-pity. She could not marry Charles and she could not marry James. Was she destined to be alone?
Something Prince Edward said to her echoed through her mind.“You will discover that you shall have morethan one chance at love in this life.”
Emily fervently hoped he was right.
30
The Poor’s Friend Society has sustained an irreparable loss in the death of his late Royal Highness the Duke of Kent, who had most cheerfully subscribed, and consented to become its patron.
—The Beauties of Sidmouth Displayed
Over the next few days, Sarah and her sisters watched as an impressive contingent of troops assembled in Sidmouth, preparing to carry the duke to his final resting place.
With the royal party’s departure imminent, Sarah began to worry in earnest. They still had not been paid for the men’s stay at Sea View—a stay of a month and a half. Her family had accumulated bills they could not pay for all the meat and groceries purchased for meals, additional fuel expenses, and other outlays.
Sarah discussed the problem with Mamma, who advised gently broaching the subject with Mr. Thomson. Sarah did so, feeling uncomfortable all the while.
“I hate to raise the subject of money at such a time,” she said, “and I realize everyone is preparing to leave, but I don’t wish our bill to be overlooked in all the busyness.”
“Nor I,” Mr. Thomson agreed. “I will talk to General Wetherall before he departs. Unfortunately, Captain Conroy is insisting the duchess will need all her husband’s remaining funds. He says we’ll send payments later, but I fearlatercould beneverdue to current financial difficulties.”
“Our financial situation is difficult as well,” Sarah admitted, embarrassment heating her face.
He nodded gravely. “I understand and will do my best.”
Unlike the rest of the duke’s retinue, Mr. Thomson had been asked to stay on a few days longer to see to any remaining visitors or late-arriving correspondence, and then to close up Woolbrook securely and return the keys to the property agent.
Emily was clearly relieved at this development and no doubt wished he could put off his departure far longer. Aware of the bond that had developed between the two, Sarah could not blame her.
Mr. Bernardi, however, would be leaving with the other members of staff. He’d begun packing up his tools in the kitchen and workroom, and Sarah went in to ask if she could be of any assistance—and to surreptitiously make sure he did not mistakenly take anything that belonged to Sea View, like their remaining store of sugar.
“Need any help?” she offered.
In the act of packing his wooden pestle, he lifted it and mimed delivering another blow.
Sarah shied away.
“Sorry. Too soon? I suppose I should not joke about such a thing.” He packed a few other utensils into his handled bag, then looked up at her once more. “I have been thinking. Cooking for those old folks at the poor house... That was satisfying indeed.”
