Dare she ask him to list those reasons?
“However,” he continued, “if that makes you uncomfortable—”
“No.” This time her tone was more assured. “I agree that it makes sense to keep up appearances since that’s the whole reason we’re going through with this.” Is that what she really meant? “I just didn’t want you to feel as if you’d been backed into a corner. At least, not any more than you already had by circumstances.”
“It’s quite considerate of you to concern yourself with my feelings, but, my dear Miss Johnson, when have you ever known me to do anything I did not want to do?”
Far from an endearment, the my dear Miss Johnson made him sound more distant than ever. Not that she was looking for endearments.
She shook off that thought and went back to the conversation at hand. It seemed he’d already forgotten he’d been forced to propose to her. But, since he was being particularly pleasant, she wouldn’t bring that up.
He tugged at his sleeve. “I understand we haven’t known each other long and that this is not a union either of us desired.”
She hoped her mental wince didn’t show on her face. At least now she knew for certain how he felt.
“So I understand that you may need time to become comfortable with the idea of our marriage. If I may be somewhat indelicate, as well, if you were obliquely referring to our sharing more than a room, you can rest assured that I am willing to give you some time in that arena, too.”
Now what did he mean by that? Was he offering to sleep on the floor? She was mighty tempted to ask him to elaborate, but then chickened out. “Very well.” She stood. “Thank you for your time. I think I know where you stand.” But did she really?
“There is one more thing,” she said impulsively.
“And that is?”
“Do you think it would be okay to use first names when we are addressing each other?”
She saw something flash in his expression, but couldn’t identify it before it disappeared. Had she overstepped some line of propriety again?
Then he smiled. “I think that would be quite acceptable.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we, Daisy?”
* * *
As they headed back to town, Everett replayed their conversation, and her expressions, in his mind. He knew he hadn’t handled that as well as he should have, but he wasn’t quite certain where he’d gone off track.
Of course he wanted her in his bed. He was a man, and she would be his wife. And if he were being totally honest with himself, somehow, over the time he’d spent with her, she’d gone from being an annoyance to something much dearer. He didn’t love her in the romantic sense; it wasn’t in his nature to do so. But without him really noticing how or when it had happened, he’d begun to enjoy her company, to feel the need to protect her, to want to gain her trust and more.
And that thought scared him more than anything else in his life had up until now. And he wasn’t ready to examine just why.
He should have known she’d tackle that particular issue head-on, the way she did every problem she faced in life. Daisy wasn’t one to shy away from something just because it was uncomfortable or difficult. It could be a trying trait for those around her, but he was coming to admire her for it, as well.
Was he as honest and courageous when facing his own trials? He didn’t like the answer to that question.
Because the fact that he was determined to hide his newly discovered feelings for Daisy was proof that he did not.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Abigail ventured out for a walk. When she returned, she had a large parcel with her.
Daisy cast a stern eye her way. “You’re not supposed to be carrying anything heavy.”
“Now you sound like Everett. Don’t worry. This isn’t very heavy, and besides, a nice young man carried it all the way from the mercantile to our front door for me.”
Not surprising. Daisy wondered if Everett was prepared for the fact that his nearly grown little sister would be attracting more and more attention from the youths of her acquaintance.
“Anyway,” Abigail said with an airy wave of her hand, “look what I found at the mercantile.” She quickly unwrapped her parcel and lifted out two colorful lengths of fabric. She draped each over a kitchen chair, then stepped back to give Daisy a better view.
Daisy wiped her hands on her apron and moved closer. One of the fabrics was exactly what she would expect Abigail to select. It was a sapphire-blue with thin, yellow, vertical stripes—very soft and pretty. The other, which drew her interest more strongly, was a bright, sunshiny-yellow with sprigs of vivid red, blue and purple flowers scattered across it. “They’re beautiful,” Daisy said, stroking the yellow print. “Are you planning to make some new dresses?”
“No, silly, this is for curtains.” Abigail touched the blue-striped fabric. “This one is for my room. Blue is my favorite color.” She gave it one last pat and looked up. “Now that I’m moving into a room that’s not cluttered with Everett’s miscellany, I wanted to do something to make it my own.”
Daisy pointed to the more colorful fabric. “And this one?”
“That one’s for your room,” Abigail said with a very pleased-with-herself smile. “I couldn’t resist. It was so bright and cheery that it reminded me of you. I hope you don’t think it was too presumptuous.”
Daisy was touched by the gesture. No one had done such a thoughtful thing for her since her mother passed away. “Not at all. The fabric is exactly what I would have picked myself. Thank you.”
Abigail grinned. “You might want to wait to thank me until we have them up in your room. I still have to do the sewing. And with this bandaged wrist, I won’t be at my best. Too bad we don’t have a sewing machine here like the one at Miss Haversham’s.”
Daisy pulled her hand away from the fabric. “If it’s too much trouble—”
Abigail waved her protests away. “Not at all. It just means I’ll be slower and not able to do any fancy stitchery. But I’ll just forgo the ruffles and pleating and make these curtains straight and plain for expediency’s sake.”
“I’m sure they’ll look lovely.”
“The only thing I’ll promise is that they’ll look better than those dull window shades we’re using right now.” She straightened. “I won’t keep you from your cooking any longer. I have some measuring and cutting to do.”
She gathered up the fabric. “By the way, I didn’t see Everett downstairs when I walked through. Do you know where he went?”
Daisy shook her head, aware of how little she knew of her husband-to-be’s daily routine. “Out running some errands, no doubt. I’m sure he’ll be back in time for lunch.”
* * *
Everett sat quietly at the kitchen table as his sister and Daisy discussed cosmetic changes to his home. He was trying to come to terms with the fact that that’s how things would be for him from now on. So much for the peaceful bachelor life he’d enjoyed all these years.
But for all of that, he was glad to see the two had developed a close relationship. Perhaps Daisy wasn’t as refined as the girls his sister was accustomed to, but there were some things Abigail would do well to learn from his future wife.
Future wife. He was still having trouble getting used to that concept.
A sudden lull in the conversation gave him the opportunity to change the subject. He cleared his throat to grab their attention before they could launch into something else. “I’m glad you found something to keep you occupied, Abigail. It might interest you to know that I have prepared another pastime for you, as well.”
“Oh?”
Why did she look so apprehensive? “I finally unloaded the boxes of books I had in the storeroom. They are now all neatly stacked in your library area next door. So, sister of mine,” he said with mock formality, “once you are done with your curtains, if you want to spend some of your abundant spare time cataloging and preparing those volumes for use in your library, you have my permission
.”
Abigail popped up from her seat and gave Everett’s neck a hug. “Oh, thank you! Does this mean you approve of my idea now?”
“It means I’m resigned to the fact that you’re not going to give up on it. And that you need some way to occupy your time so you won’t get into further mischief.”
She grinned unrepentantly. “So true. I’ll start bringing my own books down, as well. I’ll have the library ready for business in no time.”
Everett gave her his sternest look. “You’ll do nothing of the kind. Set whichever of your books you want to add to the library over there.” He indicated a small table near the sofa. “I’ll carry them to the bottom of the stairs for you as I have the time.”
“That seems a bit—”
He didn’t let her finish. “I don’t want to catch you carrying anything down either set of stairs. Not until your wrist heals completely—do you understand?”
She huffed. “I understand my brother is a worrier.”
He wouldn’t reward her flippancy with a smile. “Abigail.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, yes, I understand.”
He didn’t have a lot of confidence that she would follow his rules, but he planned to keep his eye on her.
“Another thing—I don’t want you to take this as a sign that I’m resigned to having you stay here indefinitely. After the wedding, we will revisit the discussion of your return to Miss Haversham’s.”
Abigail lifted her chin defiantly. “Discussion, of course, is always an option.”
He decided to let that remark go. When the time came, they both knew she would do as he instructed.
Then Abigail changed the subject. “I’m going to work on the new curtains this afternoon, but tomorrow I’ll walk over to Constance’s and see if she still wants to help with the library.”
Was his little sister finally learning patience? There was a time when she’d have hopped up right then and there to recruit her friend to help with her latest scheme. Perhaps Daisy really was having a positive influence on her.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Abigail drifted downstairs and sat in the chair in front of Everett’s desk. With a sigh, he set down his pen. Between Abigail and Daisy, he was hard-pressed to find two uninterrupted hours back-to-back. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I think I should go ahead and move over to Daisy’s quarters today. You can’t get started tearing down that wall until I’m out of there,” she explained. “And the sooner you do that, the sooner we can get it ready for after the wedding.”
Everett still wasn’t certain how he felt about having workmen invade his home, much less letting Daisy and Abigail loose to decorate it. With Daisy’s flamboyant sense of color and Abigail’s adventurous spirit, he could imagine the havoc they would wreak in his orderly inner sanctum.
But the die had been cast, and he couldn’t turn back now. “That’s all very well,” he told Abigail. “But you can’t start carting things over to Daisy’s place without her permission. You can talk to her in the morning.”
“Why don’t I go talk to her now?”
“Because she spent the day cooking and cleaning up after us. It seems reasonable to think she would want some time to herself right now.”
“Pish-posh, Everett. Why must you always try to be reasonable? I’m certain Daisy is like me and enjoys having people around her. Besides, she’s practically one of the family now. She won’t mind. And if now is not a good time for my move, I’m sure she’ll say so.”
“Don’t try to cajole her, Abigail.”
“I won’t.” Abigail gave one of her customary airy waves as she popped out of her chair. In a heartbeat, she was out the door.
Everett stood and headed for the stairs. He had no doubt that Daisy would agree to his sister’s plans—it didn’t seem to be in her nature to refuse such a request. Which meant he was in for several hours of moving Abigail’s furnishings and belongings.
Chapter Eighteen
Just as Everett had predicted, Abigail had him rearrange her things a number of times until she pronounced herself satisfied. She also had him hang her newly constructed curtains in both her room and Daisy’s.
He wasn’t certain what he’d expected to see when he stepped into Daisy’s bedchamber, but he found himself surprised by the almost monastic simplicity of it. The bed was covered by her bedroll only—there were no sheets or coverlets, and no pillows. A small braided rug sat on the floor next to the bed, and two large crates served as tables. One held a Bible and lamp, the other a hairbrush and a small wooden horse. Her clothing—what there was of it—hung on pegs on the wall across from her bed.
If he’d expected her to be embarrassed or apologetic, he was mistaken in that, as well. While he hung the curtains, she explained to Abigail, with some pride, how she’d made the mattress herself, as well as the braided rug that served as Kip’s bed, and how the wooden horse was carved by her father and given to her as a gift when she was six.
She truly seemed content with what she had.
Was that part of the secret of her ever-present optimism? That she could find contentment in whatever her circumstances?
Could it really be so simple?
* * *
The next day, Everett contacted Walter Hendricks, the local carpenter, to take a look at his place with an eye toward doing the proposed remodeling.
“It seems a straightforward-enough project,” Mr. Hendricks said. “I don’t recommend taking the entire wall out, but we should be able to take down a good three-quarters of it to open up the room. My boys and I should be able to get it all done—tearing out and smoothing over—in about two and a half days.”
“When can you start?”
The man rubbed his chin. “I have another small job ahead of you, but I should finish it up in the morning. Is tomorrow afternoon okay?”
Everett nodded. “The sooner, the better.”
Mr. Hendricks gave him a knowing smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll have it all done before your new bride is ready to settle in.”
Everett made a noncommittal response, and the carpenter, with a tip of his hat, took his leave.
Everett moved to the window to check on Daisy. Today was her laundry day, and she was hard at work. He thought about bringing her something to drink, but saw Abigail step outside with a glass in her hand.
It appeared his services were not required.
He headed downstairs, noting how unusually quiet the place seemed, leaving him free from distractions.
Except the memory of last week’s laundry day and how it had ended.
* * *
Daisy brushed the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing the damp tendrils out of her way. It was only mid-morning, but already she felt wilted. Still, the chore seemed easier this second time around. Not only did she know what to expect now, but she’d learned from some of the mistakes she’d made last week.
One other thing that made the job feel less of a drudgery was Abigail’s frequent visits, bringing her lemonade and passing the time with her easy chatter. The girl even offered to help with a few minor tasks, but Daisy quickly dismissed that notion. She didn’t feel it would be right to accept full pay from her customers if she didn’t do the work herself.
Though she enjoyed Abigail’s company and appreciated her efforts, Daisy missed having Everett checking up on her the way he had last week. He had come out here first thing this morning, of course, before the last gauzy wisps of darkness had fully disappeared, to check that her tubs were all situated in a manner that would make them easy to drain later. She’d tried thanking him, and he’d merely said he wanted to avoid a repeat of what had happened last week. And that had been the last time she’d seen him today. Had he been too busy to bother, or merely too disinterested?
Daisy pushed those thoughts aside. Hadn’t she told both Abigail and Everett that she wanted to handle this job on her own? She couldn’t really fault him if he took her at her word, could sh
e?
That back-and-forth argument with herself kept her mind occupied through the rest of the day. By evening, when she’d brought the last of the clothes in, separated out the items that needed ironing and folded the rest, Daisy was ready to focus on something different. She quickly freshened up, then went upstairs to find Abigail working on a sewing project.
“The Gazette goes out in the morning,” she told the girl, “which means your brother will be working to get it printed tonight. I’m going over to lend him a hand.”
Abigail immediately set her project aside. “What a great idea. I’m coming with you.”
When they entered Everett’s office, he was already printing the first page. “I know your hand is better,” Daisy said by way of greeting, “but I thought you might want some help, anyway.”
He looked up with a frown. “That’s not necessary. I know you’ve had a hard day, and I have everything under control here.”
The hint that he might be concerned for her welfare, maybe even had checked on her without her knowing, lifted Daisy’s spirits. But it didn’t dissuade her from her purpose. “Be that as it may, since we’re to be married soon, I’d like to learn as much as I can about the family business.”
Abigail grinned. “Family business—I like that. But since I’m not any good at this sort of thing, I’ll take care of supper. I baked some fresh bread earlier. It’s not as good as Daisy’s, but it’s passable. Why don’t I prepare some sandwiches and bring them down here so we can eat picnic style. Then I’ll watch Kip and keep you two company while you work.”
Everett didn’t raise any further objections, and they had a surprisingly pleasant evening. Abigail tried to teach Kip a few tricks with results that had Daisy laughing and even drew a smile or two from Everett. As with the laundry, Daisy found the job of typesetting much easier this second time around. And she and Everett developed a comfortable rhythm working together.
When Daisy headed home that evening, she was accompanied by Kip and Abigail. It somehow felt wrong to leave Everett all alone in his place. Of course, that was just as he had been before she showed up. Perhaps it was how he preferred it.
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