Farewell and adieu unto you, Spanish ladies
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain
For we have received orders to sail to old England
We hope in a short time to see you again
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain
For we have received orders to sail to old England
We hope in a short time to see you again
19th May, 1888 — The beach at the Sanditon, at this event
The anxiousness with which she was awaiting news about the teaching position at Hogwarts had brought her right back to the days spent in anticipation of her OWL and NEWT results, a relentless season of biting her nails down to mutilated stubs. Speaking of seasons, however, it was nearly summer. Which meant the Welsh weather had been persistently wet. Irvingly had been rather better, recently, but Carmelina had been restless even in the sunshine there.
But she had heard that the Sanditon was opening for the season, and decided - well, now was as good a time as any. A weekend away would do to keep her mind churning over what the Hogwarts governors might be discussing at this very moment, or indeed what she would do with herself next if she did not get the job. Go back to her old life, she supposed. It would be different without Walter. But she would cope. She had, after all, found her feet out there - on digs and doing research - for herself, eventually!
The boardwalk had not kept her attention long. Instead, Carmelina had descended to the beach. Even with its warming spells, Sussex was not quite the same as the Mediterranean, the islands of Greece or the beaches of Turkey, its sands a shallow sight compared to the deserts of Egypt. It felt decidedly more English, surrounded by people in their English fashions, licking ice creams, building sandcastles, dipping their toes hesitantly in the water -
It was rather sweet, though, all of it, with a refreshing breeze rolling over from the sea and rustling through the folds of her clothes (and coaxing more flyaway curls of her hair into her face with every passing minute) as she leant against a rock looking out across the beach. Journal in her grasp and tongue caught between her teeth, Carmelina had distracted herself from her original purpose and taken up drawing one of the nearby guests in careful strokes of chalk and pencil. She supposed she ought to be drawing landscapes, as ladies did - or a still life, something she was better practised at from her work - but she had been determined to capture a particularly expressive face; in alternating her gaze between her page and her covert subject, she hadn't realised quite how obviously she was staring. Her eyes had been on her drawing for the past few minutes, utterly engrossed, which was possibly why she hadn't noticed anyone approach her rock until they were at her shoulder.
As it was, a voice spoke out of the blue; Carmelina started, nearly slipping off the rock in shock, her journal dropping unceremoniously onto the sand.
But she had heard that the Sanditon was opening for the season, and decided - well, now was as good a time as any. A weekend away would do to keep her mind churning over what the Hogwarts governors might be discussing at this very moment, or indeed what she would do with herself next if she did not get the job. Go back to her old life, she supposed. It would be different without Walter. But she would cope. She had, after all, found her feet out there - on digs and doing research - for herself, eventually!
The boardwalk had not kept her attention long. Instead, Carmelina had descended to the beach. Even with its warming spells, Sussex was not quite the same as the Mediterranean, the islands of Greece or the beaches of Turkey, its sands a shallow sight compared to the deserts of Egypt. It felt decidedly more English, surrounded by people in their English fashions, licking ice creams, building sandcastles, dipping their toes hesitantly in the water -
It was rather sweet, though, all of it, with a refreshing breeze rolling over from the sea and rustling through the folds of her clothes (and coaxing more flyaway curls of her hair into her face with every passing minute) as she leant against a rock looking out across the beach. Journal in her grasp and tongue caught between her teeth, Carmelina had distracted herself from her original purpose and taken up drawing one of the nearby guests in careful strokes of chalk and pencil. She supposed she ought to be drawing landscapes, as ladies did - or a still life, something she was better practised at from her work - but she had been determined to capture a particularly expressive face; in alternating her gaze between her page and her covert subject, she hadn't realised quite how obviously she was staring. Her eyes had been on her drawing for the past few minutes, utterly engrossed, which was possibly why she hadn't noticed anyone approach her rock until they were at her shoulder.
As it was, a voice spoke out of the blue; Carmelina started, nearly slipping off the rock in shock, her journal dropping unceremoniously onto the sand.
