Page 10 of A Winter By the Sea
Later, when the ladies returned to Sea View, they found Mr. Gwilt and Lowen decorating the front door with pine boughs, holly, and ivy.
Sarah beamed. “What a lovely surprise!”
The others agreed and praised the men for their efforts.
“Were Gwilt’s idea,” Lowen said, with a nod to the younger man.
Mr. Gwilt laid a hand on his elder’s stooped shoulder. “And I could not have done it without you.” He turned back to themand added, “We want the place to look nice for our important visitors, now, don’t we?”
“Indeed we do.”
At that moment, the sound of hooves and the jingle of tack drew their attention as several horse-drawn vehicles turned up Glen Lane, carriage lamps blazing.
Emily breathed, “And just in time.”
———
Emily and the others hurried inside, where it was warmer. They gathered at the library windows to watch the caravan pass by, the carriage wheels coated in snow: two traveling chaises, a larger coach, and a phaeton, pulled by a mismatched assortment of horses.
“How dreadful, having to travel on such a cold night, in the midst of a snowstorm,” Sarah said.
Emily nodded. “And at Christmas.”
“Look! There’s a birdcage in that carriage!” Georgie pointed. “Poor things must be freezing.”
“Do you see the duchess?” Emily asked, craning her neck.
Mamma squinted. “Difficult to tell.”
“No time to stand here gawking,” Sarah admonished. “Our new guests could arrive any minute. Quick, put away your outer things. Oh! And I’ll need to mop the wet floor from all our boots.”
“I’ll see to it, Miss Sarah,” Mr. Gwilt reassured her. “You prepare yourself.”
“Yes, my dear. Tidy your hair,” Mamma said. “The wind has blown it from its pins.”
“Why am I so nervous?” Georgie asked.
“So am I,” Emily agreed, setting aside her fur muff and unclasping her mantle.
“Come, everyone,” Sarah urged. “It won’t do to have us all fluttering about like startled pigeons when they arrive. Go. Go.”
They dispersed, hurrying to stow their things, refresh their appearances, and prepare to receive their official guests.
When the door knocker sounded a short while later, Emily whirled to answer it, but Sarah grabbed her arm and whispered, “Let Jessie go. Let’s at least pretend to be dignified.”
Georgiana smirked. “Then I had better make myself scarce.”
“No need for all of us to overwhelm them,” Mamma said. “I will wait in the parlour. Call if there is anything I can do to help.”
Emily followed Sarah into the library-turned-office and stood nearby as Sarah sat at the desk, lamp burning bright and registration book at the ready.
Jessie showed in three men, their hat brims and shoulders dusted with snow.
The first in line was Mr. Thomson, the private secretary who had accompanied Captain Conroy on his initial visit to Sea View.
As Emily remembered, he was tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a thin, aristocratic nose and a slender, athletic build. He appeared to be in his mid to late twenties and was in need of a shave—the beard stubble darkening his fair face made him look perhaps a little older than he was.
“Mr. Thomson, a pleasure to see you again,” Sarah said.
