Page 14 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)
NINE
No lace. No lace, Mrs. Bennett, I beg you!
The next day, Mr. Henshall came and found Sarah in the library-office. “I wonder if ye might help me with something?”
“Of course, if I am able.”
“I face a feat nigh on impossible. One that has defeated many a man before me.”
“Good heavens. As bad as that?”
“Aye.” Grim humor glimmered in his eyes. “For I risk fierce censure from a treasured female should I fail.”
A treasured female? Was he referring to her? Or to someone else?
Her mouth dried. She swallowed and managed, “Go on.”
“Will ye help me choose a gift for Effie?”
“Oh.” Disappointment flared, then quickly faded as he continued.
“Last year’s wool stockings and Fair Isle kep —a knitted cap—earned me a week’s cold shoulder. She accused me of trying to dress her like a cod fisherman.”
“I see.” Sarah bit back a smile. “Practical choices to be sure.”
“I thought so. Though clearly not what a girl wants. So will ye help? I took her to a few shops here hoping she would take interest in something and give me a clue. But little seemed to please her.”
“I am not sure I shall succeed in pleasing her either, but I will certainly offer what assistance I can.”
“I’d appreciate it. When might ye have time?”
With their cook ailing, Sarah really shouldn’t go but found she could not resist. “How soon were you hoping to give her a gift?”
“New Year’s Day, or Twelfth Night, perhaps? What is customary here?”
“Varies by family. But we can surely find something before then. Shall we say this afternoon?”
“Perfect.”
Georgie returned to the charity school that day, and Colin Hutton tagged along, saying he was on his way to the eastern town anyway to do some errands.
On this visit, they did not see scrappy Cora among the children playing in the schoolyard, and Georgie wondered if she had stayed home with her ailing grandmother again.
When Mr. Ward stepped outside, Georgie asked him, “Where is Cora?”
He winced and pointed inside. They looked through the door and saw Cora huddled in a corner, sobbing. A few girls were gathered around her, trying to comfort her.
“What’s happened?” Colin asked.
“Her grandmother died,” Mr. Ward replied. “Her last living relative, as far as we know.”
“Oh no. What will become of her?”
“We shall meet with the governors to decide what is best to be done. We shall likely have to send her to the orphanage in Exeter. The vicar has offered to give her a place as a scullery maid, so that is an option as well.”
“Surely she is too young to enter service,” Colin said. “She is only, what, eight or nine?”
“What else would you suggest?”
“I ... well, there must be something. Orphanages are rather bleak prospects, are they not?”
“Some are, yes. And all the more for a gentlewoman’s granddaughter.”
Colin asked, “How did Cora’s parents die?”
“Carriage accident. Cora has lived with her grandmother since then. Or had.”
“How dreadful.”
“Yes. Life is often difficult. Especially for vulnerable children.”
“Poor Cora,” Georgie murmured.
“Indeed. I am surprised she is here,” Colin said, “given her recent loss.”
“Are you? When she has friends and a warm fire here and an empty pair of cold rooms at home? I know which I would choose.”
Georgie nodded. “Good point. So would I.”
Mr. Ward opened the door for them. Seeing the visitors enter, the other girls moved back to give them room. Georgie sat on one side of the grieving girl, Colin on the other.
“We are so sorry to hear about your grandmother.”
Still sniffling, the girl nodded, head bowed. “She was all the family I had. And very good to me she was too.”
“I am truly sorry,” Georgie repeated. “We both are. And we can relate, at least in part. I’ve lost my father, and Colin here, his mother and brother. Are you certain you have no other relatives? An aunt or uncle or cousin?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Don’t lose heart, Cora. You are not alone. You have friends like us, not to mention your schoolfellows.”
“Not the same, though, is it? As having someone who loves you and cares for you?”
“No, I suppose it is not.”
They stayed for several minutes longer. Then Colin excused himself to continue his errands. Before he left, they made plans to return to the school the next morning to see how Cora fared.
Georgie did not really feel like playing ball after learning of Cora’s loss, but the other students cajoled her into joining them for a game, which with Georgie was rarely difficult to do. Her spiritless opening kick quickly blossomed into an energetic, full-blown match.
Soon Cora came out to watch. When a ball rolled in her direction, she instinctively chased after it at the same time Georgie did.
Georgie raised her hands to try to prevent a collision, but the two ran into each other. Cora fell into her arms and held on tight.
For several moments, they stood that way, Georgie patting the girl’s back. Then Cora straightened, wiped a sleeve over her eyes, and said, “Now, let’s play.”
On their shopping excursion that afternoon, Sarah and Mr. Henshall stopped first at Wallis’s Marine Library, a circulating library that also sold prints, local guides, sheet music, and more.
“You mentioned Effie plays guitar and mandolin, so perhaps sheet music?”
“Good idea, although she mostly plays by ear. And no books, or she’ll accuse me of trying to make her learn something. She’s still opposed to more schooling.”
“Very well. Let’s move on.”
They next visited a modiste and milliner.
“Perhaps ruffles, to add to a dress?” Sarah suggested.
He shook his head. “If I bought her something as impractical as ruffles, she would die of shock—and know straightaway I had not picked them out.”
Sarah chuckled and could not contradict him.
He then inspected an embroidered handkerchief, but Sarah told him she could make one finer for a fraction of the price.
Sarah hesitated at a selection of embroidered dancing slippers. “These are lovely. And I recall you saying Effie likes to dance.”
“Aye. She’s a bit young to attend formal balls, but she loves to dance at neighbors’ parties or cèilidhs .”
Sarah tried the foreign word, “‘Kay-lees.’”
He nodded. “Although Effie is often mortified by all my boisterous stomping and whooping.”
“In that case, should we avoid dancing at our Twelfth Night party?”
“Not on my account. I wouldna suspend your pleasure for worlds.”
“It’s Georgie who requested dancing. And I’m determined to give her a festive Christmastide if it kills me.”
It was his turn to chuckle. “Now that I wouldna like.”
They continued through town, looking in windows at displays of elaborately decorated Twelfth Night cakes, star-shaped iced biscuits, and other pastries at the bakery, and every sweet dainty imaginable at the confectioner’s.
They stopped at a jeweler’s and admired the gold chains, earrings, brooches, and rosewood jewelry boxes on offer.
“I know she already has her mother’s necklace and earrings,” Sarah began. “But perhaps something simpler for daily wear like this gold cross or this one of amber?”
He bent to look closer. “Both are nice. Which do ye prefer?”
“I like the simple gold cross, but I don’t know that Effie would share my taste.”
“I shall give it some thought before I decide.”
In the stationer’s they looked at embossed writing paper, memorandum books, ink, and other supplies.
He picked up a penknife.
Sarah shook her head and gently took it from him, returning it to the shelf. “Too practical.”
They stopped next at the Nicholls lace shop. They looked at the finished articles of lace in the display window, including collars, fichus, and handkerchiefs edged in queen shell lace.
“Devonshire is famous for its lace, but I suppose it’s a bit dear.”
“Lovely work, though I wonder if Effie is old enough to appreciate all the fine skill and time that goes into making something like that.”
They moved on. Passing a secondhand shop, Sarah spied a tambourine in the window. “I don’t suppose Effie would like that?”
“She might indeed.” He grinned. “But would the rest of us like the clatter?”
“Good point.”
In the end, he purchased a plain pair of dancing slippers that Sarah assured him she could embroider by Twelfth Night.
“With everything else ye have to do?”
“It will be my pleasure.”
“In that case, may I treat you to some refreshment? Georgiana and Effie tell me the cakes at the York Hotel are excellent.”
“I am not hungry, but tea sounds heavenly. Thank you.”
When they reached the hotel, a waiter seated them and took their order. While they awaited their tea, Sarah realized a few of her female acquaintances were there and watching them with interest. And one, Mrs. Robins, with disapproval.
They were doing nothing untoward, Sarah reminded herself. A public place. A family friend... And as she and Mr. Henshall began relishing their tea and conversation, Sarah forgot to care about what anyone else might think.
“You mentioned Effie is opposed to more schooling?”
“Aye. We had a few governesses in the past. She found fault with every one of them and none lasted long. I suppose I should try again. She is also opposed to the idea of going away to a girls’ school, and after losing her mother, I didna have the heart to insist. Katrin’s sister offered to take Effie’s education in hand, but I wasna keen on the idea.
She is well-intentioned, as I’ve said, but a bit—what is the term here—scatterbrained? ”
Sarah nodded. “When we visited, I noticed she had a slight limp.”
“Did she? It was gone by the time we got home. The woman is forever striking her toe on something. Forgets to look where she’s going.”
“Oh.”
“I hope ye don’t think less of me for saying so.”
“And I hope you don’t take a severe view of women in general.”
“I do not. In fact, I am thoroughly impressed with you, Miss Summers. You’re gracious and capable, kind and lovely, and”—he smiled softly—“not scatterbrained in the least.”