Page 133 of The Seaside Homecoming
Mamma nodded again.
Sarah asked, “Do you really think Papa would still want you to ostracize Claire, now that he’s gone on to his eternal reward? A reward he is only enjoying thanks to God’s mercy and forgiveness?”
“I don’t know.”
“Remember, there is no more sorrow in heaven, Mamma. His pain has passed, and his anger too, I imagine.”
Mamma clutched Sarah’s hand. “Oh, Sarah, I dearly hope you are right.”
Sarah returned to the library-office. A short while later, Mr. Gwilt handed her a thin rectangular parcel, barely thicker than a letter. Noticing the postmark, she sat at the desk and eagerly opened it.
In a matter of moments, she held the necklace in her hand, just as Claire had described it: a cross pendant with scrollwork and small ruby on a thin gold chain.
She turned her attention to Mr. Henshall’s letter that accompanied it.
Dear Miss Summers,
I am pleased to report that I found the shop as you described and was able to redeem your sister’s necklace. The proprietor, Mr. Duncanson, was reluctant to hand it over without the original ticket. But as I was armed with your letter and the correct payment in full—not to mention discovering I had been at school with his parson—he became convinced. Please be assured that it was my sincere pleasure to help. No repayment is necessary, but in return I would be grateful for word of your sister and any news of you or your family.
For my part, I can relate that I am once again in Effie’s black books. After a recent wedding, the bride’s family hosted a céilidh (a party with spirited dancing, pronounced in English “kay-lee”). Effie and I attended, and she was utterly mortified to witness my attempt to dance a Scottish reel. Might I have whooped too loudly, like a “howling wolf or barbarian”? Stomped and clapped and snapped my fingers in a “most unbecoming manner”?According to Effie, I am guilty of all these unforgivable trespasses and should be banned from céilidhs forever....
Sarah smiled at his self-deprecating humor and carefully refolded the letter to read again later. Filled with gratitude and eagerness, she set off for Broadbridge’s.
31
Confession is good for the soul.
—Scottish proverb
Sarah came to Broadbridge’s, her usually reserved expression bright with excitement.
Claire invited her inside, and the two sat down together in her room.
“I have something for you,” Sarah began.
Claire chuckled. “More biscuits? Or did you find something else I left behind?”
Sarah nodded, lips pursed in a barely restrained grin. With an air of ceremony, she held out her fist, and Claire extended her palm to receive whatever it was.
Sarah opened her hand and from it slithered a pendant on a dainty golden chain.
Claire stared at it in astonishment, then lifted the cross to examine it more closely, barely believing her eyes: Aunt Mercer’s cross pendant with its small ruby and thin gold chain.
“How in the world...?”
“When you described it to me and told me how sorry youwere to leave it behind, I wrote to a Scotsman I know who lives not far from Edinburgh. He went and reclaimed it for us.”
Claire thought back, eyes widening. “That’s why you asked so many questions about the shop and its proprietor!”
Sarah nodded. “Apparently Mr. Duncanson was reluctant to hand it over without the original ticket, but Mr. Henshall can be quite charming and persuasive.”
“I am astonished. And very grateful for your kindness, and his. I’m afraid I cannot repay him presently, but...”
“Never mind. Mr. Henshall assures me it was his pleasure to do this service for me.” She quickly corrected, “For us.”
Claire looked at her sister, cataloging with interest her averted gaze and the dull blush creeping up her neck.
“This Mr. Henshall, Sarah. What does he look like?”
