Page 32 of A Winter By the Sea
“Then how do you know my name?”
“My dear lady, what man with eyes and taste does not know the name of Miss Emily Summers? You and your sisters have lived here for over a year now, and your reputation as a local beauty has spread.”
She hesitated, both flattered and discomfited by his words.
“Pray forgive the presumption and allow me to introduce myself.” He bowed smartly. “John Marsh, at your service.”
She gave a shallow curtsy, unsure if she should. To her memory, she had never curtsied to Mr. Wallis.
“This is your first visit to my establishment, I believe.”
“Yes.”
“Such a pity. I have felt your absence most keenly.” His mouth quirked, and this hint of humor eased the awkwardness of the words.
Emily said, “I have always frequented Wallis’s. It was nothing personal,” she hurried to add. “It is simply nearer our home. I have a subscription there, and I...”
“And you what?” he prodded, a teasing gleam in his bright, gemlike eyes. “Worship the man?”
“Of course not!”
“Why? Everyone else does.”
“Not I. Although I do enjoy discussing books with him, and his upcoming publishing projects, that sort of thing.”
He glanced at the manuscript pages in her hands, interest kindling in his expression. “And what upcoming publications might those be?”
“I ... could not say.”
“Ah. So she is discreet and clever as well as beautiful.”
There was something in his tone she did not like. She lifted her chin. “Yes, she is. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall not trespass any longer.” She turned toward the door.
“Not at all, Miss Summers. You are very welcome.” He hurried over to forestall her. “Please, forgive me. I meant no disrespect to you or to Mr. Wallis. Why would anyone not respect the man? After all he has accomplished? I certainly look up to him, although from afar. In fact, I consider him something of a mentor. An example to emulate. As you are probably aware, many credit him with pioneering, or at least popularizing, the inclusion of illustrations within books.”
She took this in, feeling somewhat mollified. “Do they? I did not realize.”
“Yes. And now he has the royal seal of approval. Something I can only aspire to.”
“He has been fortunate, yes.”
Nodding slowly, Mr. Marsh added, “He has been most fortunate indeed to gain your friendship and good opinion.”
Puzzled, she regarded him through narrowed eyes.
He explained, “I have noticed you leaving his ... fine library, book in hand, on more than one occasion. You must browse my collection before you leave. Surely there must be something you are longing for, something Mr. Wallis cannot supply?”
With effort she pulled her focus from his magnetic gaze and shook her head. “Another time, perhaps.”
He seemed about to object, but at that moment the door opened, and two other ladies walked in. He turned to greet them with his charming smile, and Emily took the opportunity to slip away.
When she returned to Sea View a short while later, shefound Mr. Gwilt helping give the house a thorough cleaning—the only New Year’s tradition they were observing that year. While Mrs. Besley and Lowen went through the larder, throwing away any food going off, Mr. Gwilt helped Jessie remove ashes from the fireplaces to start the year fresh.
“Ah, Miss Emily.” Kneeling before the hearth, he lifted grimy hands. “Please excuse the state of me.”
“Not at all.” She bit her lip, hating to disappoint him. “I am sorry to tell you that Mr. Wallis is not interested in Parry’s story. He said it’s nothing personal. He’s simply not publishing children’s books at this time.”
Robert Gwilt rose with a pop of his knee and turned to face her, revealing a sooty streak on his cheek. “That’s all right, Miss Emily. Don’t you fret. Never really thought he’d be interested in a silly story about my weedutty.”
