“So, you aren’t really married, are you? You just made that up.”
“You know I’d never keep something like that from you.” Because they were a team. Because they were all one another had.
Daisy handed him some bread and soup. She always tried to have something ready for him when he came home—he was a growing boy, after all. Already taller than most boys his age, Gil never refused food. How long before he towered over her entirely?
“Do you understand why I would lie, though?” she asked, watching as he tore off a piece of bread with his teeth.
Gilbert snorted. “Because he wasn’t dressed.”
Ah, yes. He understood, if only on the most basic level.
“Him joining us in the kitchen like that was most inappropriate,” she agreed. “And yes, his lack of proper clothingcertainly made it worse.” She took every opportunity to instill manners and propriety into him. He might need them someday.
“I don’t suppose he had much choice, though,” Gilbert reasoned. “Stuck in the larder like that.”
“True.” Daisy couldn’t help but smile at his logic. “But you and I need to talk. He still hasn’t remembered who he is, so he’s going to stay with us a little longer. And since I told Mrs. Farley that his name is… Alastair,” Daisy forced herself to continue, “and that he is my husband, we’re going to have to keep up that story until it’s safe for him to go.”
Gilbert, who had been listening intently while he chewed, nodded. “Will he still sleep in there?” He gestured toward the pantry door.
That was… a good question. Daisy hadn’t thought that part through. There were only two small rooms upstairs—hers and Gilbert’s. And her brother’s was so tiny there was barely enough space for his bed, much less another person.
After her aunt’s passing, she’d refashioned the parlor into a proper salesroom for her soaps and oils, leaving only the kitchen and the small dining room where they took their meals and where Gilbert did his schoolwork. It was also where she sometimes sat for tea with Mrs. Farley.
But the dining room was larger than the pantry. It had a window.
If they moved the mattress in there, he’d be more comfortable. Gilbert could do his homework in the kitchen, and if Mrs. Farley came for tea, they’d simply move the mattress elsewhere.
She certainly couldn’t share her small bedroom with him.
Alastair.
Impressions from a long-ago afternoon unexpectedly raced through her mind. Wildflowers in the grass, his fingers stroking along her cheeks and brow; bright green eyes and atilted, boyish smile. Memories she’d struggled to keep at bay because they hurt too much.
Please, leave me be.
“We’ll move him into the dining room next time he’s up. Before Mrs. Farley comes for tea, we’ll simply move the mattress elsewhere.”
But then she changed the subject, not wanting to think any more about this stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger. “Now, tell me about your day...”
Gilbert, although not a gossip, could go on and on about academic subjects that interested him. History and philosophy topped that list.
“We’re reading from the writings of John Locke,” he announced just before tearing off another bite of bread.
Daisy arched a brow. “The philosopher.”
Her brother nodded enthusiastically. “The fourth book ofAn Essay Concerning Human Understanding.”
Before their father had taken up farming, he’d attended the small village school where he’d learned to read, studied history, and even dabbled in philosophy. So much so, he used to joke, that he’d married the teacher.
Daisy and Gilbert’s mother.
Both had gone on to encourage Daisy to share her lessons over supper, or while working alongside them in the kitchen or the fields. Looking back, she’d realized they’d been tricking her into learning.
So she’d adopted the same habit with Gilbert, encouraging him to share his lessons each evening. If he could teach them to her, he would have an even stronger grasp of the material.
And aside from the practicality of it, Daisy—like her father—wasn’t opposed to filling her brain with new thoughts. She especially loved literature and history.
She had loved listening to Alastair discuss new ideas he’d learned while away at school.
