Page 147 of The Seaside Homecoming
She smiled. “Oh, only how happy we all shall be.”
The next morning, when Claire arrived at Broadbridge’s for the day, Mr. Filonov and Mr. Hammond were waiting for her in the morning room. The Russian artist was about to leave, and Claire was sad to see the kind, talented man depart.
“A humble gift before I go.” Mr. Filonov presented them with a wrapped parcel. “In honor of your betrothal.”
From the size and shape of the parcel it was easy to guess the gift was a painting. But when Claire pulled back the paper, what she saw took her breath away.
It was the painting he’d begun during their beach outing. She recognized the shore, the sea, the distant sails. And now in its final form, three figures completed the scene: A man and woman swinging a small child between them.
Claire’s eyes filled. “Oh, Mr. Filonov. I love this.”
“So do I. Thank you.” William clapped the man’s shoulder, and Claire noticed his eyes were bright with tears as well.
Later that day, Claire found William in his private study and asked, “Will you take me somewhere, my love?”
“It would be my pleasure. Where shall it be? Paris? St. Petersburg? Vienna?”
Claire shook her head. “Nothing so far as that. May Hill, Gloucestershire. I want to visit my father’s grave.”
“Ah. I understand. I would like to take Mira to see her mother’s grave when she’s older, but I fear it is too far. I will gladly take you to visit your father’s.”
When Claire mentioned the plan to her family, Georgiana begged to go along, eager to see their former home and neighborhood for old times’ sake. Mamma, too, asked if she might accompany them.
None of the family had visited May Hill since the move to Sidmouth more than a year and a half before. And Claire had never seen Papa’s grave. The visit was long overdue. Claire felt she needed to go there, to say her piece, and hopefully, to find peace.
Mamma confided she felt much the same. “And if you think I’m letting you travel without a chaperone, you are very much mistaken, young lady. Not until you’re married. I am determined to make up for my previous neglect!”
Leaving Armaan and Sonali to watch over Mira and the boarding house—with help from the capable Fran—Claire, William, Mamma, and Georgiana left Sidmouth in a hired post chaise.
The journey was too long to undertake in a single day, so they made stops along the way for fresh horses and postilions, refreshment, and sleep.
During dinner at one of the inns, Georgiana could hardly keep her eyes open, so she and Mamma decided to retire early. After they had gone up, Claire and William lingered at the candlelit table. They talked about wedding plans, and Mira, and their shared joy over the engagement of Sonali and Armaan.
“Where would you like to go on our wedding trip?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Will we be able to get away again? Leaving the boarding house for a relatively short trip like this is one thing, but we can’t expect the others to manage things indefinitely.”
“I’ve had a thought about that. I have not said anything to Armaan, because I wanted to talk it over with you first. What would you say to selling the place to him and Sonali? He told me he’d been thinking about his future even before he met her. He does not want to live with the Huttons forever. He wants to make his own way in the world, have something of his own.”
“I know, but I thought you wanted to live there, to raise Mira as Vanita wished?”
“Vanita wanted her daughter to experience the English seaside her father had waxed lyrical about. She said nothing about a hostelry. I have realized I am not really cut out to be a boarding-house proprietor. I bought it as an investment, a source of additional income, but with the work the Foreign Office is now sending my way, I don’t think it’s necessary. I might even publish an account of my travels as other diplomats before me have done. But if you want to keep the place, if you enjoy managing it, then I won’t mention it to Armaan.”
Claire considered. “I have found it interesting, meeting people from different places. But the work itself? I don’t have my heart set on it.”
“And what do you have your heart set on, my love?”
Wings of excitement fluttered in her stomach and a smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “I think you know. My heart is fervently set on becoming your wife and Mira’s step-mamma.”
“And would you welcome more children, should God bless us with some?”
“With open arms and much thanksgiving.”
He squeezed her hand. “And so would I.”
A few minutes later, he led her upstairs to the door of the room she was to share with her mother and sister.
“I am going to kiss you good-night now.” He stepped nearer, his masculine scent enveloping her.
