Chapter 34

34

Broadbridge’s Boarding-house in the Market place no longer exists.

—Edmund Butcher, The Beauties of Sidmouth Displayed

A few days later, Viola and her husband hosted a dinner party in honor of Claire’s engagement to William, and Armaan’s to Sonali.

It was a joyous night for Claire, celebrating with William and Mira, her mother and sisters, and new friends Armaan and Sonali.

There were toasts to family—original families, family lost, and family found. There was laughter and good food, thanks to Mrs. Besley’s help in the kitchen.

At one point, Claire found herself standing beside Armaan while the others listened and laughed over some tale of Georgiana’s.

He said to her, “This is good, yes? You shall have William, who needs you. And I shall have Sonali, who needs me more than she admits.”

He grinned and the two shared a fond look.

Claire said, “William counts you as a brother, you know. And since I am to be his wife, you shall be brother to me as well. I am grateful I shall keep you in my life.”

“I also am grateful. And sincerely wish you happy.”

“I wish the same for you.”

“Thank you, my sister. My didi . Who would have guessed when I lost Vanita I would gain so much?”

William came over and wrapped an arm around Claire’s waist, heedless of the gathered company. “And what are you two talking about?”

She smiled. “Oh, only how happy we all shall be.”

The next morning, when Claire arrived at Broadbridge’s for the day, Mr. Filonov and Mr. Hammond were waiting for her in the morning room. The Russian artist was about to leave, and Claire was sad to see the kind, talented man depart.

“A humble gift before I go.” Mr. Filonov presented them with a wrapped parcel. “In honor of your betrothal.”

From the size and shape of the parcel it was easy to guess the gift was a painting. But when Claire pulled back the paper, what she saw took her breath away.

It was the painting he’d begun during their beach outing. She recognized the shore, the sea, the distant sails. And now in its final form, three figures completed the scene: A man and woman swinging a small child between them.

Claire’s eyes filled. “Oh, Mr. Filonov. I love this.”

“So do I. Thank you.” William clapped the man’s shoulder, and Claire noticed his eyes were bright with tears as well.

Later that day, Claire found William in his private study and asked, “Will you take me somewhere, my love?”

“It would be my pleasure. Where shall it be? Paris? St. Petersburg? Vienna?”

Claire shook her head. “Nothing so far as that. May Hill, Gloucestershire. I want to visit my father’s grave.”

“Ah. I understand. I would like to take Mira to see her mother’s grave when she’s older, but I fear it is too far. I will gladly take you to visit your father’s.”

When Claire mentioned the plan to her family, Georgiana begged to go along, eager to see their former home and neighborhood for old times’ sake. Mamma, too, asked if she might accompany them.

None of the family had visited May Hill since the move to Sidmouth more than a year and a half before. And Claire had never seen Papa’s grave. The visit was long overdue. Claire felt she needed to go there, to say her piece, and hopefully, to find peace.

Mamma confided she felt much the same. “And if you think I’m letting you travel without a chaperone, you are very much mistaken, young lady. Not until you’re married. I am determined to make up for my previous neglect!”

Leaving Armaan and Sonali to watch over Mira and the boarding house—with help from the capable Fran—Claire, William, Mamma, and Georgiana left Sidmouth in a hired post chaise.

The journey was too long to undertake in a single day, so they made stops along the way for fresh horses and postilions, refreshment, and sleep.

During dinner at one of the inns, Georgiana could hardly keep her eyes open, so she and Mamma decided to retire early. After they had gone up, Claire and William lingered at the candlelit table. They talked about wedding plans, and Mira, and their shared joy over the engagement of Sonali and Armaan.

“Where would you like to go on our wedding trip?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Will we be able to get away again? Leaving the boarding house for a relatively short trip like this is one thing, but we can’t expect the others to manage things indefinitely.”

“I’ve had a thought about that. I have not said anything to Armaan, because I wanted to talk it over with you first. What would you say to selling the place to him and Sonali? He told me he’d been thinking about his future even before he met her. He does not want to live with the Huttons forever. He wants to make his own way in the world, have something of his own.”

“I know, but I thought you wanted to live there, to raise Mira as Vanita wished?”

“Vanita wanted her daughter to experience the English seaside her father had waxed lyrical about. She said nothing about a hostelry. I have realized I am not really cut out to be a boarding-house proprietor. I bought it as an investment, a source of additional income, but with the work the Foreign Office is now sending my way, I don’t think it’s necessary. I might even publish an account of my travels as other diplomats before me have done. But if you want to keep the place, if you enjoy managing it, then I won’t mention it to Armaan.”

Claire considered. “I have found it interesting, meeting people from different places. But the work itself? I don’t have my heart set on it.”

“And what do you have your heart set on, my love?”

Wings of excitement fluttered in her stomach and a smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “I think you know. My heart is fervently set on becoming your wife and Mira’s step-mamma.”

“And would you welcome more children, should God bless us with some?”

“With open arms and much thanksgiving.”

He squeezed her hand. “And so would I.”

A few minutes later, he led her upstairs to the door of the room she was to share with her mother and sister.

“I am going to kiss you good-night now.” He stepped nearer, his masculine scent enveloping her.

Claire breathed in deep, wanting to press close.

He gave her one of his wry grins, and then those quirked lips touched hers in a light kiss, leaving her wanting more.

He wrapped an arm around her and drew her against him, raising his head to press kisses to her cheek, her forehead, the tip of her nose.

“And kiss you good morning, good afternoon, and good life to come.”

She giggled until his mouth descended on hers once more, kissing her more deeply. She slid a hand to the back of his neck, drawing him closer yet.

The door creaked open, and Mamma appeared in her dressing gown. “That’s enough, you two.”

“One more minute, Mamma.”

“Very well. I shall be watching the clock.” There was a smile in her voice, and Claire knew her mother wished to make sure she felt cared for. That this trip, with nights spent in an inn with a man, would not be nights she regretted.

Mamma added, “I trust you will treat my daughter with propriety, Mr. Hammond.”

“Of course. I would not have it any other way.”

“She is a lady, after all. A respectable female.”

“As I am well aware.”

“Good.”

Mamma closed the door, and Claire fell into more giggles, muffling them against his broad chest. “Though sadly not quite the respectable female you advertised for.”

He remained serious, slipped a gentle finger under her chin, and lifted her gaze to his. “You, my dear, far exceeded anything I could have wished for, just as you are.”

“Oh my...” She leaned on tiptoes and kissed him again.

Instead of pressing his advantage, he pulled her into his arms in a tight embrace. The sweetest, most satisfying embrace of her life. “I love you, Claire,” he murmured near her ear.

Claire shut her eyes tight to relish the moment. “And I love you.”

The next day they reached the parish church of All Saints. It held only a small graveyard, but her father, being prominent in the parish, had been laid to rest there.

Claire could hardly believe she was really here, walking among the headstones, chest tombs, and Celtic crosses adorning the sleepy, shady graveyard of her childhood church.

Memories played at the edges of her mind. Leaving the church as a family after a service, Sarah holding little Georgiana’s hand, Viola and Emily giggling together, Claire taking her father’s arm as they walked down the path, him smiling down at her. “And how is the prettiest girl in the county?”

A later memory, of finding Sarah there, crying over the loss of her Peter, lamenting his burial at sea that meant no gravestone, no lasting memorial.

And finally, the last time she was here—attending an evensong service during that ill-fated house party. Although there had been nothing godly in the way Lord Bertram had looked at her...

That memory she quickly cast from her mind.

Near the gate, Georgiana talked to a former neighbor girl and petted a stray cat, while Claire walked on, reading epitaphs, until she found it.

Here Lies

Harold Summers

Beloved Husband and Father

1763–1818

May he rest in peace.

Pain pierced her. Silently, she spoke to him. Oh, Papa. I am so sorry.... I never meant to break your heart. I thought only of my heart. I thought I was in love. I was wrong ... then. Please forgive me. I suppose it’s too late for that now. Oh, God, will you forgive me, if he cannot?

A gentle breeze rose, making the summer leaves dance. On its breath, Claire imagined she heard a soft voice say, “You are forgiven, my daughter.”

And the voice sounded a lot like her own father’s.

Tears rushed to her eyes even as her heart lightened with relief and gratitude.

William and Mamma gathered around her. He took one of her hands, Mamma the other.

Mamma whispered, “Harold, my dear. I am sorry, but I cannot shun our daughter any longer. I choose to believe you would not want me to, now that you are with God. I hope you understand. We shall have a lot to talk about when I join you one day.”

Claire pressed her hand, and together they took their leave.

A few days after their return to Broadbridge’s, Claire joined William in his study. She looked at the maps on the walls while William sat at the desk nearby, going through the post, reading one letter with particular interest.

“I’ve received the reply from London I hoped for. It took all my powers of persuasion—not to mention a promise to continue my deciphering work—but the foreign secretary dispatched one of his men to East India House and procured news of our surgeon’s assistant, Liam MacBain. They confirmed he is on the crew list of the Clyde and promise to make every effort to have him sent back on the next available ship.”

“That is excellent news!”

“It is still a long journey, with many uncertainties. Even with good winds, it is unlikely he could arrive in England before the babe is born. Still, it is something. And in the meantime, Mary shall have a home with us.”

“Oh, William, I am so grateful. As Mary will be when she hears.”

She leaned down to kiss his cheek, but he slipped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap.

She squealed in faux protest and laced her hands behind his neck. “Thank you, my love. You are quite wonderful.”

“You can say that again, oh, a dozen times. I do so like hearing it. It gives me pleasure to please you.”

He held her close and gave her a warm, lingering kiss.

At the door, someone cleared his throat.

William reluctantly lifted his head. “Ah, Armaan. Wretched timing as always, killjoy.”

Claire scrambled from William’s lap, face scalding. “Not at all. Just in time, I’d say.”

Not the least embarrassed, William asked, “Well, what do you say to our proposal? Are you and Sonali interested in taking on Broadbridge’s?”

Armaan nodded. “Most interested. Some guests may not respond kindly to us, we know. This is not London, after all. Even so, we are ready for the challenge. In time, we may also wish to change the name. I must ask, though—are you sure you can bear to part with the place?”

“With the place, yes. With you and Sonali, no. We are not yet certain where we will live long-term but shall likely stay at Sea View until we decide.”

“As you wish. However, Sonali and I have talked it over, and you are welcome to stay and help us here until we all work out what we are doing.”

“A generous offer.” William rose and shook his hand. “Just promise we will remain on good terms once you learn how much work you’ve let yourself in for.”

Armaan grinned. “I promise.”