That night, when Soren took his son to his bed in the nursery, Logan stopped him in the doorway. “I don’t want to sleep here.”
“But this is your room.”
“I don’t want this room. No lock,” Logan insisted, and Soren understood what he’d meant. If he’d been held prisoner for weeks in a room, would he want go back into it? He thought not.
“One moment,” he told his son. He went into the room, set the candle on the dresser, and then paused, looking around. The top of the furniture was dusty. Further inspection showed that the chamber pot had been emptied but not cleaned. He would have words with Mrs. Branwell. His son was right not to want to sleep here.
He picked up the mattress, bedclothes and all. He went out in the hall. “Let us go, sir.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my room.” He didn’t have to repeat himself. Logan skipped ahead in happy agreement.
The two of them set up a pallet on Soren’s floor in the space between the wall and the bed. “Here now, brush your teeth,” Soren said. He brought a chair over to the washstand for Logan to stand on as he performed the task.
The door between his room and Cassandra’s opened. She stood there in a nightdress and the green dressing robe she’d worn that fateful night. Her hair curled down around her shoulders, the way he liked it.
“You have company,” she noticed.
“Hello, friend,” Logan said, before spitting into the basin.
“You don’t spit there,” Soren warned. “You spit in this mug.” He moved it closer to the basin.
“Why do I have to do this?” Logan complained. He held up the brush.
“To keep your teeth in your head,” Soren admonished. He’d met a barber who swore teeth fell out because mouths were filthy. “And so you don’t wake with the breath of a goat.”
Logan laughed.
“What does he wear to bed?” Cass asked, looking around the room.
“The same thing I do.”
“You’re kidding. He will freeze.”
“He hasn’t yet.” Soren looked at her. “Perhaps his nakedness might be why my mother locked the door?”
“You know her better than I.”
“The nurse did make a comment. She said she would dress him for night and in the morning, he would be undressed.”
“Again, like his father.”
He grinned and walked over to her. There was a kiss and a second one. “I will see you later,” he whispered.
She smiled. “I hope. Don’t dress.” She closed the door.
Having finished with his teeth, Logan jumped off the chair. He picked up Miss Edgeworth’s book that was on the upholstered chair before the hearth and, with a busy air, walked to the connecting door and knocked.
Cass opened the door. “You forgot this, friend.” Soren’s son handed her the book.
She knelt to his eye level. “Thank you. Do you like books?”
His answer was a shake of his head. “His father’s son,” Soren said. “But then, I’m not certain how well he understands what they are.”
Cassandra changed her question. “Do you like stories?”
“What kind of stories?” Logan asked.
