Read Online Ember Island by Kimberley Freeman - Free Book Online Page B

sea. The clattering streets of St. Peter Port, only two miles away, seemed very distant.
    She could hear her own pulse.
    And footsteps. She could hear footsteps within the house.
    The door opened and her heart leapt.
    “Jasper!” She launched herself into his arms and he took her firmly against him, his hands spread across her back.
    “You’re here,” he said.
    She stood back, beaming at him, all her worries melting away. He smiled in return. She noticed his hair was untidy, his clothes not as sharply pressed as she remembered. But he was still her Jasper, alive and well and here, at the home they were to share together. She turned to the footman and gestured, and soon her trunks were being brought up the path.
    “I didn’t hear from you,” she said to Jasper. “Weeks and weeks. No letters.”
    “I wrote at least half a dozen!” he protested. “But I had none from you. I thought you’d forgotten me!”
    Tilly laughed. All along it had been some miscommunication beyond their control. She should have known it. She pressed herself against him again, and he kissed the top of her head and said, “I’m sorry, my dear, but things might not be as you expected.”
    She looked up, into his gray eyes, and said, “You are here, alive and well in front of me. That is all I hoped for.”
    “Your grandfather?”
    The leaden sadness tempered her moment of joy. “He’s gone. Dead,” she said.
    He touched her hair. “I am sorry, my dear. Come in,” he said. “Welcome to Lumière sur la Mer. Welcome to your home.”
    While the footman bustled past with her trunks, and Jasper showed him where to leave them and paid him, Tilly removed her bonnet and gloves in the entrance hall to the house. The black and white tiles were as Jasper had described them, the ornate curvedstair. But where the chandelier had been there was an iron hook; where the side tables had been were empty spaces; and where the picture frames had hung were discolored squares on the wallpaper. She took it all in. The relief over finding Jasper alive and expecting her was so immense that she was incapable of feeling disappointed that the house wasn’t as grand as she’d anticipated.
    Finally, her trunks were inside, the door was closed, and just she and Jasper stood alone in the entrance hall.
    “My dear Tilly,” he said, taking her hand gently. “I have fallen on hard times since last I saw you.”
    She squeezed his fingers. “I am sorry you were troubled and I wasn’t here to offer you comfort. As a wife should have been.”
    Jasper lifted the smaller trunk, and pulled her close to slide his free arm around her waist. “A business deal went badly. I have had to sell many of my things. But it is temporary, dear. I promise you. Come. I’ll show you the house.”
    The sweet warmth of his body against hers was intoxicating. She barely listened to his words as he took her from room to room—parlor, dining room, conservatory, kitchen—then up the stairs, explaining all the way about his French émigré descendants, how they had fled the Revolution and built Lumière sur la Mer as a haven in the sea, away from the political turmoil of their own country. How he hadn’t the temperament of a farmer so had sold off all the stock and struck out on his own import and export business. He showed her the guest rooms on the second floor, and then opened the door to the library she had heard about, dreamed about.
    “Oh, my!” she gasped. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling. The smell of old paper and dust was strong.
    “You mustn’t get too excited. I’ve had to sell the whole collection to a Scottish fellow living in India. He’ll be back for them in six months or so. I promised him I’d have them organized and incrates by then, so do feel free to spend some time in here alphabetizing them or some such. I’m afraid I’m not particularly interested in books. They sit rather too still for my liking. Here, I’ll show you the third floor.”
    She