Page 39 of The Seaside Homecoming
With an uneasy glance at Mamma, Sarah said, “Perhaps you and James would rather go alone?”
“Actually, I wish you would come. I feel strangely nervous.”
“So do I,” Sarah admitted, then paused to consider. She had not verbally agreed to her father’s edict but neither had she refused. Was a promise tacitly understood? Sarah was not a wife who had vowed to obey her husband. She was a daughter, taught to obey and honor her parents, yet she was a sister too. And as Mamma had said, sisterly bonds were tenacious.
She looked to her mother, and for a long moment their gazes held. Searched. Then Mamma gave the slightest of nods.
Sarah rose. “I will go with you.”
11
The tariff at a respectable Boarding-House appears to bear the following average: bed and breakfast 3s.; dinner (chop or steak) 2s.; tea without chop 1s.
—Cruchley’s London: A Handbook for Strangers
Sarah, Emily, and James put on their outdoor things and walked along the esplanade toward the eastern town. It was a warm, sunny afternoon. On the beach, many ladies waited to use the bathing machines, a few young men flew kites, and children splashed and waded while their parents or nurses looked on. The scene reminded Sarah of her and her sisters when they’d first come to Sidmouth, delighted with the seaside. Sarah and Claire, hand in hand, wading in the surf, squealing every time the cold water doused their ankles...
At the memory, Sarah’s hand closed of its own accord, as if trying to capture Claire’s hand once again.
When they reached Broadbridge’s, Emily looked to Sarah to knock, and when Sarah hesitated as well, James stepped forward to do so.
Only a few seconds passed before a well-dressed gentleman opened the door. “Excellent timing. I was just passing through the hall. What can I do for you?”
James replied, “Actually, we came to see Miss Summers.”
“Ah.” Curiosity glinted in his gaze as he looked from person to person. “Of course. Come in. I will see if she is at her leisure.” His lips tilted wryly.
Assuming this was the new owner, he might very well resent a social call. He led them upstairs and into the same parlour where Sarah used to take tea with Fran.
“May I tell her who is calling?” Again that crooked grin, as if amused by something.
Emily found her voice. “Mr. and Mrs. Thomson, and Miss Summers.”
“Another Summers. I shan’t ask if you are related, for it is obvious you are.”
James clarified, “Her sisters and brother-in-law.”
“Ah. Wait here.” He turned and quit the room, closing the parlour door partway behind himself.
A moment later, Sarah heard him call, “Miss Summers, are you at home to callers? I am playing butler now, apparently.”
“Who is it?”
“Two sisters and a brother-in-law. I’ve put them in the parlour.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Sarah’s pulse pounded as they all turned expectantly toward the door. A moment later, Claire pushed it open and stepped inside. She hovered just over the threshold, hands clasped and expression timid.
“Claire!” Emily hurried forward and threw her arms around her. “You don’t know how I’ve missed you. And how much you’ve missed! Did you receive my letters? I hope it does not come as a surprise—or at least not an unhappy one—to learn your younger sister is married.” She turned to her tall, dark-haired husband. “Please meet James Thomson, my new husband. James, my oldest sister, Claire.”
He bowed. “A sincere pleasure. Emily speaks of you often and with warmest affection.”
Claire gave an awkward curtsy. “Mr. Thomson. The pleasure is mine.” She turned back to Emily. “And yes, I received the invitation to your wedding but only after the date had passed. It was ... misdirected at first. We always knew you would marry young—as pretty and witty as you are. Did we not, Sarah?”
Thoughts elsewhere, Sarah did not immediately realize Claire had addressed her. She hesitated, then managed a flat, “Indeed.”
Sarah did not rush forward with an effusive embrace as Emily had done. Instead she hung back.
