A quiet knock interrupted the tea party, followed by a maid peeking around the parlour door. “The post has arrived, mum. There's a letter from overseas for Miss Clara— I mean, Mrs. Cooke.”
Clara's mother's face lit up with her smile. “There you are, my darling. I will wager that it is a letter from Theo, timed perfectly to arrive on your birthday. How clever of him!” She beckoned to the maid to bring the letters to her. “Yes, here it is, your birthday letter from Theo.” Mary took the letter from the maid and passed it to Clara.
Clara's heart sank. He wasn’t dead after all and now she’d have to read one of his cold, condescending letters. This was not a birthday treat. She tore the envelope open, heedless of the stamp that Reggie would have steamed off for his collection. She pulled the single sheet of flimsy paper out. It was almost greasy. Sand scattered across her lap when she unfolded it. Shuddering, she squinted to read the spiky, almost illegible writing. And then again. No, it couldn't be. The scone turned dry in her mouth. Was Theophilus actually demanding that she and the children uproot themselves from their home to travel across the ocean to join him? What on Earth was possessing him to make the demand? They'd been perfectly content for the past five years separated by an ocean. What had changed?
Her mother broke the silence. “Clara? Clara? What does Theo say? Is everything all right, my darling? Is Theo ill?”
Clara looked up, her face hot. “He is summoning us to the Bahamas. He wishes us to leave...immediately.” Her voice broke.
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