The Widow's Confession Read Online Free PDF

to see the view from that swirling island of quicksand – and Gorsey tells me you are the man to take me there.’
    ‘A ridiculous idea,’ said Theo. Benedict glanced at him, bemused.
    ‘I’m a hoveller and a shipwright, sir,’ said Solomon. ‘But I don’t go to the Sands unless necessity takes me there. As Mr Hallam indicates, it’s not a place
for picnics and sketching. I treat it with respect, and I suggest you do the same.’
    Amused outrage permeated the young man’s expression. ‘What makes you think I would not treat it with respect?’ he said, glancing at Gorsey, whose face was reddening at the
thought of his lost commission.
    ‘The fact that you can name it with a smile on your face, as though it means nothing to you,’ said Solomon. ‘You may find someone to take you out there, but I am not the man.
No, Gorsey – be silent on the matter; you’ve said quite enough already. Mr Benedict, if you take my advice, you will spend your money on donkey rides for your children. Those that go to
the Goodwin Sands – whether willingly or otherwise – most often have cause to regret it.’ He nodded, and went to turn away.
    ‘What time does your widow come to paint?’ said Benedict, to his back. ‘I am planning to go out there in the mornings myself, and I wouldn’t wish to disturb
her.’
    ‘I hardly know,’ said Solomon. ‘And you are free to do what you wish, sir. It’s nought to me who walks on the beach. Mr Hallam, Mr Steele, I’ll wish you good
day.’ He nodded at Gorsey, and strode out of the room.
    To Theo’s evident irritation, Benedict stayed with them after Solomon’s departure, and even managed to wrestle an introduction to Mrs Quillian, who came to join them not long
afterwards. Having charmed her with several compliments, the painter departed with little ceremony, saying that he should be working. Edmund was relaxed about the young man’s lack of manners,
but he could tell Theo was not sanguine.
    Edmund found Theo’s aunt to be an agreeable presence, enlivening his conversation with Theo like a shot of rum in water. It was clear she was past sixty, but despite her widowhood she
dressed in bright colours, and confided immediately in Edmund that Mr Quillian would not have wished her to wear black for longer than was necessary. She was wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and had the
kind of nimble movements which showed that she had long enjoyed climbing mountains, making tours and arranging excursions, and was not the kind of woman to make a fuss over small things. She had
already canvassed Mr Gorsey for the most interesting arrivals to Broadstairs and, she told Edmund, made firm friends with a certain Miss Waring, a woman near her own age, who had come down from
London with her beautiful niece. She looked at Edmund with frank interest and admiration. ‘You may even wish to marry the young girl!’ she suggested, a wicked glint in her eye.
‘She is as pretty as a picture, you know.’
    ‘Aunt,’ said Theo, with a sigh. He had been out of sorts since the conversation with Benedict, and was listening to Mrs Quillian with a resigned expression, toying with the knife on
the tablecloth.
    ‘Mr Steele is not offended, Theo,’ said Mrs Quillian stoutly. ‘And I’m told that gentlemen often come down to the seaside to find a bride, even a distinguished man such
as Mr Steele, who I am sure could marry whoever he wishes.’
    ‘I am sorry to tell you I am not looking for a bride,’ said Edmund, with a smile. ‘And I am practically in my dotage, so if you have found a beautiful young lady, she is not
for me.’
    ‘In your dotage?’ cried Mrs Quillian. ‘Nonsense. You can’t be more than five and forty.’
    ‘I will ask for more tea,’ said Theo, getting up and squaring his shoulders, as though he might shake off his aunt’s words like a dog shaking off dust.
    Mrs Quillian watched her nephew cross the red carpet and speak to Polly. The brightness faded a little from her face,