Page 34 of The Seaside Homecoming
Claire laughed a little bleakly. “That makes two of us.”
Fran looked from Claire to her surroundings. “How strange to see you in this room. Quite different from the bedchamber you and Sarah shared at Finderlay.”
“True. But this room is larger, and the company more pleasant, than I had in Edinburgh.”
One of the woman’s dark brows quirked. “Is it? Do you find Mr. Hammond’s company ... pleasant?”
Heat rushed over Claire’s face. “I did not mean him in particular. Your company, for example, is very pleasant. Oh! And I saw Georgiana today. She was pleased to see me, although surprised.”
“I understand. Mr. Hammond stopped by our house earlier to tell me he’d taken on a partner who could benefit from my advice. When he mentioned your name, I was astonished.”
“I can well believe it. And he was right, I need all the help I can get.” Claire looked down at her clasped hands. “I hope you don’t think it wrong of me to come here. To Sidmouth, I mean. I would not presume to show up at Sea View after ... everything. But I could not stay away forever. I had to try. And after our great-aunt died, well, I had to move somewhere.”
Fran nodded in sympathy, yet her eyes remained troubled.
Claire hung her head. “I know Mamma won’t approve. In fact, I saw her today too. From a distance.”
“She knows, then? I wondered.”
Claire gestured toward the windows. “She stared down at me from the top of the stairs and then turned away without a word.”
“That must have been painful.” Fran took her hand. “But remember, this is difficult for her too. She told me your father made his wishes quite clear.”
“I know.” Claire blinked back tears and forced a smile. “Now, enough talk of woe. What is your advice for me?”
Fran pressed her hand and released it. “Next time. It’s late, and you’ve already had a full day. I had to come and see you when I heard the news, but I shall return when you are well rested and so am I. There is a lot to learn. Tomorrow is Sunday. Would Monday suit?”
“Definitely. I shall look forward to it.”
On Sunday morning, Claire washed and began dressing, doing as much as she could on her own, donning a clean shift, petticoat, and stays.
Leaving her stays unlaced, she slipped her black dress over it, all the while waiting for Mary to assist her.
No Mary.
She put on her stockings and shoes. Pinned up her hair.
Still no sign of the girl.
A look at the mantel clock told her she was running out of time.
She pulled on a spencer to cover her undone fastenings and hurried up the stairs, all the way to the attic. She was breathing a little hard by the time she reached Mary’s room, although not as much as she might have been, thanks to her years living in Aunt Mercer’s tall, terraced house.
Claire knocked softly, and upon hearing a grumbled “Aye?” she entered. Mary was still abed.
“I’m sorry, Mary. I thought you would be dressing for church.”And coming down to help me as usual, she added to herself.
“What time is it?” Mary murmured.
Claire told her.
“I’m not goin’ to kirk. Mrs. Ballard said I could sleep an extra hour on Sundays.”
“I did not realize. Sorry to wake you. Em ... could you lace me up while I’m here?”
Mary sat up sleepily. “’Course, miss.”
Claire turned, and in a matter of a few minutes, she was fully dressed.
