life she thought she had been coming to, not the dim and empty Lumière sur la Mer. Light on the sea? It barely cast a light on their garden at night.
But then she admonished herself for being petty. She was alive, she was well, she was with the man she loved. They were at the start of their life together and things would improve. Besides, living a simple life was no less noble or worthy than living a life surrounded by fine things. She would get used to it if she had to.
She met a whirl of people, including the soft-voiced, pink-cheeked Laura and the Morningtons’ visiting eldest daughter, Maria. Maria had the nurse bring her baby daughter down, a little girl just starting to walk, and all the ladies cooed over her chubby-armed beauty while the men smiled indulgently. Tilly thought about a little girl of her own, and the thought infused her with warmth and light, so that she smiled at Jasper more fondly all evening—not that he noticed.
“Are you happy here?” Laura asked Tilly, when the child had returned to her room and they had a moment alone.
“I am still settling,” Tilly said honestly. “But I do believe I will be happy.”
An expression crossed Laura’s brow that Tilly couldn’t read. But it was followed by a quick smile. “You may always call on me,” she said. “Ralph and Jasper are good friends. I hope to see more of you.”
A meal was served, and Tilly found herself sitting between Ralph and another, much older man who was not interested in her at all and spent the entire meal with his shoulder turned away fromher, talking to his other neighbor. Ralph took it upon himself to make her feel welcome, chatting to her, asking questions about her grandfather, touching her shoulder lightly when her eyes grew teary describing his last days. He was a friend to her, a good friend, and she found herself warming to him very easily.
The food was a menu of traditional Guernsey fare—floured ormers with pork belly, whiting pie, Gâche Mêlée —created for the evening by Ralph and Laura’s cook whom they introduced at the behest of their delighted dinner guests. Tilly was surprised when the cook who emerged was a woman perhaps only of twenty-five, with thick strawberry blonde hair piled up loosely, and a sloe-eyed beauty about her that belied her hours working in a steaming kitchen.
“May I introduce Chantelle Lejeune,” Laura said, elbow-prompting Chantelle to curtsy. “Her English isn’t very good, but we have been so glad to have her in our employ this last year.” Laura smiled kindly.
Chantelle nodded, her eyes found each woman at the table one by one. When her gaze came to rest on Tilly, she assessed her with a proud flare of her nostrils, then looked away. What open arrogance. Between her and Mrs. Rivard, Tilly was starting to wonder why any good English folk would press the French into service if they couldn’t keep their manners. She pushed her plate away. The spicy apples in her dessert didn’t taste so good anymore. She looked around for Jasper, who was deep in conversation with a man near the end of the table. Laughter and talking started again, as plates were cleared away. Ralph had turned to talk to his other neighbor, so Tilly found herself in the middle of it but all alone. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to look as though she was enjoying her own company. People were moving about now, chairs scraping back, men speaking of retiring to the library with brandy.
Laura was at Tilly’s elbow. “Come, Tilly. The other ladies and I will take the southern parlor for tea.”
Tilly gratefully took her arm and the five ladies present took their places in the parlor. It had been a long time since she’d been in company and it was good to find herself chatting and laughing. How long since she had laughed? Really laughed? Certainly before Grandpa got sick. In fact, this was the first time since Grandpa’s death that the weight of all that had happened wasn’t sitting heavy across
But then she admonished herself for being petty. She was alive, she was well, she was with the man she loved. They were at the start of their life together and things would improve. Besides, living a simple life was no less noble or worthy than living a life surrounded by fine things. She would get used to it if she had to.
She met a whirl of people, including the soft-voiced, pink-cheeked Laura and the Morningtons’ visiting eldest daughter, Maria. Maria had the nurse bring her baby daughter down, a little girl just starting to walk, and all the ladies cooed over her chubby-armed beauty while the men smiled indulgently. Tilly thought about a little girl of her own, and the thought infused her with warmth and light, so that she smiled at Jasper more fondly all evening—not that he noticed.
“Are you happy here?” Laura asked Tilly, when the child had returned to her room and they had a moment alone.
“I am still settling,” Tilly said honestly. “But I do believe I will be happy.”
An expression crossed Laura’s brow that Tilly couldn’t read. But it was followed by a quick smile. “You may always call on me,” she said. “Ralph and Jasper are good friends. I hope to see more of you.”
A meal was served, and Tilly found herself sitting between Ralph and another, much older man who was not interested in her at all and spent the entire meal with his shoulder turned away fromher, talking to his other neighbor. Ralph took it upon himself to make her feel welcome, chatting to her, asking questions about her grandfather, touching her shoulder lightly when her eyes grew teary describing his last days. He was a friend to her, a good friend, and she found herself warming to him very easily.
The food was a menu of traditional Guernsey fare—floured ormers with pork belly, whiting pie, Gâche Mêlée —created for the evening by Ralph and Laura’s cook whom they introduced at the behest of their delighted dinner guests. Tilly was surprised when the cook who emerged was a woman perhaps only of twenty-five, with thick strawberry blonde hair piled up loosely, and a sloe-eyed beauty about her that belied her hours working in a steaming kitchen.
“May I introduce Chantelle Lejeune,” Laura said, elbow-prompting Chantelle to curtsy. “Her English isn’t very good, but we have been so glad to have her in our employ this last year.” Laura smiled kindly.
Chantelle nodded, her eyes found each woman at the table one by one. When her gaze came to rest on Tilly, she assessed her with a proud flare of her nostrils, then looked away. What open arrogance. Between her and Mrs. Rivard, Tilly was starting to wonder why any good English folk would press the French into service if they couldn’t keep their manners. She pushed her plate away. The spicy apples in her dessert didn’t taste so good anymore. She looked around for Jasper, who was deep in conversation with a man near the end of the table. Laughter and talking started again, as plates were cleared away. Ralph had turned to talk to his other neighbor, so Tilly found herself in the middle of it but all alone. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to look as though she was enjoying her own company. People were moving about now, chairs scraping back, men speaking of retiring to the library with brandy.
Laura was at Tilly’s elbow. “Come, Tilly. The other ladies and I will take the southern parlor for tea.”
Tilly gratefully took her arm and the five ladies present took their places in the parlor. It had been a long time since she’d been in company and it was good to find herself chatting and laughing. How long since she had laughed? Really laughed? Certainly before Grandpa got sick. In fact, this was the first time since Grandpa’s death that the weight of all that had happened wasn’t sitting heavy across
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