Page 27 of The Seaside Homecoming
“That’s right. I travel all over this area.”
“And what is it you sell?” Claire asked, more out of politeness than genuine interest.
“Bobbins, miss. For lacemaking. I’ll show them to you one evening, if you’d like.”
Claire was immediately on her guard.Show me his bobbins indeed.“I ... Well, thank you, but I shall be rather busy, I’m afraid.”
Mr. Hammond turned to the first man. “And Mr. Filonov is an artist. Many artists come here to paint the scenery, you know. He came all the way from Russia.”
“Goodness.”
“Is true. Dere is real beauty here,” Mr. Filonov said with a noticeable accent, hisr’s lightly trilled and histhmore like ad.
“Well, a pleasure to meet you both,” Claire said. “Do let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable.”
Mr. Jackson gave her a greasy grin. “I shall keep that in mind.”
Did a lewd suggestion lurk beneath the man’s words? Claire hoped not. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and smiled from one man to the other. “Though you might need to wait a few days until I am more familiar with my responsibilities. Good night, gentlemen.”
Together she and Mr. Hammond walked out. She glanced over and noticed his brow furrow.
In a low voice, he said, “Mr. Filonov is unfailingly polite. I don’t know Mr. Jackson as well. If he gives you any trouble whatsoever, please let me know immediately.”
Claire’s heart warmed at his concern. “I shall.”
8
Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.
—Jane Austen,Northanger Abbey
The next day, Claire awoke before dawn to the clanking of pots and pans from the kitchen down the passage. Mrs. Ballard and her scullery maid certainly got an early start on the day.
With a little groan, Claire rose, washed, and laid out the grey day dress Aunt Mercer had made over for her.
Mary knocked softly and entered, coming down as promised to help with her stays and fastenings. What would Claire have done without her? She supposed she would have had to swallow her pride and ask the cook or scullery maid for help, at least until she could acquire a pair of wraparound stays like Mary wore.
After Mary had finished and gone to the kitchen, Claire climbed the servants’ stairs to the main floor and went through the door into the public area.
As she walked through the hall striped with morning sunlight from tall windows, something metallic glinted at herfrom the deep red Turkish carpet. With a sigh, she bent and picked it up, glad again she had brought Mary along. Hopefully, between them, they could keep the house in good order.
She eyed the object as she straightened. A coin, yet unlike any coin she had seen before: shiny silver and engraved with strange symbols.
Had a guest dropped it? Perhaps Mr. Filonov? She did not know what Russian coins looked like. Then again, the tiny palm tree among the other symbols did not seem Russian.
She carried it into the morning room. The coin might be valuable, so Claire hesitated to leave it on the desk in plain sight. On impulse, she opened one of the drawers, intending to place it inside. Instead what she saw there made her hesitate, hand outstretched.
A piece of paper with handwriting on it stuck out from under a stack of stationery. It looked like a partially written letter, although not in a language she recognized.
Setting the coin in the drawer, she tugged the page free and studied it. Were these words or symbols?
She saw varying swirls and what appeared to beu’s with dots in the middle, as well as curvyj’s like upside-down interrogation marks.
What in the world? She recalled Mr. Hammond sitting at this desk the day before. She also thought of his refusal to tell her about his previous profession. What was he involved in?
In the next moment, she heard Sarah’s practical voice in her mind, calmly advising her not to jump to conclusions. This could mean anything or nothing.
It might not even be his handwriting. She thought again of Mr. Filonov. English was clearly not his native language. He might have come into the morning room to find paper and ink to begin a letter, and then laid it aside, unfinished. She remembered hearing somewhere that Russian was written in a different alphabet, so it was possible.
