Page 24 of The Seaside Homecoming
“Oh. From India?”
“Yes. I’ve settled them in rooms up here, almost like a traditional English nursery and schoolroom. That way, we leave all rooms on the lower floors for guests.”
“And Mira’s mother?”
He grimaced. “She died, over a year ago now.”
“I am sorry,” Claire said, and after an awkward pause, she changed the subject. “And where will I sleep?”
“I thought the housekeeper’s room belowstairs would be best. Closer to the kitchen and common rooms. I believe that is where the former landlady slept.”
The housekeeper’s room?Oh, how she had fallen. Aloud, she said, “Very well.”
On the way down, they took the servant stairs toward the back of the house.
“I mentioned my apartment over the stable block. I had the old coachman’s and groom’s quarters renovated into a bedchamber and study for myself.” He paused on the first floor and pointed to a nondescript door. “I reach them throughhere. There is also access from the former stables, although I keep that door locked.”
“And if a guest arrives with horses?”
“The former owner didn’t offer stabling. Too expensive to keep a groom. She sent people to the livery opposite the London Inn. I do the same. Mr. Lake and his son are very accommodating.”
He started toward the next landing, then turned back. “By the way, I insist upon privacy. I shan’t enter your room and I ask that you not enter mine.”
That seemed rather harsh. She said, “But surely, should your daughter need you...?”
“My daughter is not your concern.”
He must have noticed her pull back, for he winced and qualified, “I only meant ... Sonali cares for my daughter. You are here to manage the boarding house.”
“I see.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Why? Have you experience with children?”
“No.” Realizing she’d answered more vehemently than intended, she added more gently, “That is, I do have four younger sisters.”
“Ah. In Scotland?”
“No,” she said again, and did not expand on her reply.
He waited a moment, his green eyes sparking with curiosity. Or was that attraction she saw reflected there? Surely not. At least, Claire hoped not.
They continued belowstairs, where he took her to the kitchen and workrooms and introduced her to the cook, Mrs. Ballard.
The rotund, pleasant woman gave her a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you. Miss Summers, is it? You know, there is a Summers family here in Sidmouth. Perhaps you are related?”
“It is ... quite possible,” Claire replied, avoiding Mr. Hammond’s gaze.
“Mrs. Ballard does not live in,” he explained, “but she comes every day to cook for us.”
The woman nodded. “That’s right. I come early to prepare breakfast and stay till dinnertime. The scullery maid does the washing up after I’m gone.”
“Do you live nearby, Mrs. Ballard?” Claire asked.
“Yes. Not far from the mill. Mr. Ballard and I have a nice little place near the river.”
“Well, I shall look forward to working with you.”
Mr. Hammond then led Claire toward the opposite end of the basement and opened a door on the left. “And here is your room.”
