Page 68 of The Seaside Homecoming
Sarah ignored the comment.
“Perhaps,” Mamma allowed. “Yet there is still Georgiana’s future to consider.”
Georgie’s eyes flashed. “After what happened to Claire? I have no intention of eventhinkingabout men!”
“Please don’t despise all men because of what happened,” Sarah said. “There are still honorable men in the world.”
Emily waggled her eyebrows. “Thinking of any man in particular?”
Sarah dipped her head, neck heating. “Heavens, no.”
“There is also Sea View’s reputation to consider,” Mamma said. “Guests want to stay at reputable establishments kept by people of good character.”
“I don’t think there is much risk of harm to Sea View now. The only risk I can think of is if someone from home heard the rumors and came here to spread them around. That seems unlikely.”
“Remember, Claire is not asking to live here,” Viola said. “She has a place at Broadbridge’s. But she would dearly like to spend time with us. It’s why she came to Sidmouth.”
“I think Claire should be welcome to call on us, at least,” Emily said. “I would love to have her join us here for our weekly gatherings.”
“I would like it as well,” Sarah said. “But that is up to Mamma.”
They all looked toward their mother.
“I shall need to think about it. For the present, I will honor your father’s wishes in this manner.”
“Mamma!” Georgie dropped her sewing. “What is there to think abou—”
“Of course you do.” Sarah gently spoke over the outburst. “Take all the time you need. I know it was a shock, Claire showing up like this.”
“Indeed it was.”
Removing her spectacles, Mamma rose a bit shakily andretreated to her bedchamber, her footsteps accompanied by the terse whispers of her three younger daughters.
Sarah, however, followed their mother into her room and shut the door behind her.
“Mamma, I want you to know that whatever you decide I will stand with you. I cannot speak for the others, but—”
“Ha. Your sisters have made it plain they would welcome her back here with open arms, and I truly can’t fault them.” She looked into Sarah’s face, her own features pained. “And you, my dear, dutiful daughter, must search your own conscience and do what you think is right.” Her voice grew hoarse. “Do not blindly stand with me, a conflicted widow torn between duty to my husband and a heart longing to take my firstborn into my arms....”
“Oh, Mamma.” Sarah embraced her, hoping to comfort her, at least a little.
After luncheon, Claire helped Mary carry down the serving dishes. Then she gathered clean towels and started up the servants’ stairs toward the water closet and bath-room. As she reached the first floor, she saw Mr. Hammond leading another man into the passage that led to his apartment.
“My study is through here. We shall not be disturbed or overheard there.”
She only glimpsed his visitor’s profile, yet the tall, dark-haired man seemed familiar. Was that not Emily’s new husband? What could Mr. Hammond want with him? And why were they meeting where they would not be overheard?
Claire had thought Mr. Hammond’s secret keeping was over.
Apparently not.
Secretive or not, surely the two men were not up to anything nefarious, were they? When they’d met, Emily’s husband hadmentioned he worked for a local member of Parliament. Mr. Hammond had reacted to that news by abruptly taking his leave. Why now was he meeting with him? And in private yet?
Had Mr. Hammond told her the truth about his diplomatic career—one he had supposedly put behind him? She hoped whatever they were meeting about would not endanger Emily’s husband or his career. Did she owe it to her sister to make sure?
Curiosity and concern gnawing at her, Claire turned and went back downstairs. Leaving the towels in her room, she slipped out the tradesmen’s entrance, up the outside stairs to street level, and then walked through the narrow alley beside the house toward the unused stables.
Glad to find the sliding door unchained, she gingerly pushed on the door, which barely budged, iron fittings heavy and perhaps rusty with disuse. She shoved again, harder, and this time the door begrudgingly slid open with a groan of complaint. She paused, straining to listen over her pounding heart. Had they heard?
