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“Bread pudding!” He shook his head. “I am twice amazed. I was quite certain you were going to say braised eel.”
She pulled a face. A week ago, when Martha’s attention had been diverted by something her husband was saying, Isla had braved asking Simon if he’d like her portion. His initial surprise had quickly turned to collusion, and they’d managed to transfer Isla’s helping onto his plate with no one the wiser. More to the point, they’d managed the same feat twice since then. Simon could have no doubt as to Isla’s feelings about the dish.
“Braised eel may stay firmly in this century,” she said.
He lifted her off Belle and set her on her feet beside him. “I agree,” he said. “I would be quite put out if one of my favorite foods disappeared with you.” He smiled, his teasing tone enabling Isla to find her footing in more ways than one.
“You only like it because you haven’t tasted fish and chips yet.”
“Is that so?” He appeared dubious. “What exactly is fish and chips?”
Isla laughed and pulled away. “I’ll save that one for another day. Today’s marvelous twenty-first-century invention is medicine.”
“Medicine is in existence here.” He shuddered. “It is quite awful.”
“If the little I’ve read about it is true,” Isla said, “awful is a euphemism.” She walked to the fallen log and sat down, glad when he followed her there and took a seat beside her. Over the last few days, the distance he’d placed between them had shrunk.
“Tell me about your medicine,” he said.
“I’m not qualified to explain much to you,” she admitted. “But I can tell you that modern doctors can do miraculous things. They’ve learned that most illnesses are caused by viruses or bacteria, which are so small they can’t be seen by the human eye. When they enter the body, they cause myriad diseases.”
Simon gave her a skeptical look. “How?”
“I don’t know, but those tiny things are real. And discovering them has done away with the belief in humors and evil spirits and has led to new and improved medicines, safer surgeries, and all sorts of life-saving medical techniques.” She paused. It wasn’t her place to share too much, but if a little information could protect Simon and his family from contracting the Black Death, she had to say it. “The bubonic plague is caused by one of those viruses. It’s being spread by rats and lice.”
He stared at her. “You believe if London were free of rats and lice, it would also be free of the plague?”
“Yes. It may take a while for the disease to fully disappear, but if people were to couple the removal of those two things with improved hygiene, it would happen.”
“I would have great difficulty persuading others of this.”
“I know. But even if you and Martha and her family are the only ones to benefit from that knowledge, it was worth telling you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “This situation—you being here and knowing so much about so many things—is disturbingly complicated.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I shall warn Maidstone and Martha about the rats and lice.” His smile was strained. “Thank you for your concern for us.”
Isla’s chest ached. Concern was not the word she would use to describe her feelings. The friendship she’d developed with Martha, the bond she had with the twins, the connection she felt to Simon. Those relationships engendered far more than a nebulous concern for their welfare. She gazed out at the view before her, struggling to know what to say.
The silence stretched on a few seconds too long. Simon cleared his throat. “I imagine there are many gentlemen desiring to court you in your London,” he said. “I assume that since you mentioned no one in particular when the subject of our counterfeit betrothal was first mentioned, you remain unattached at present.”
Isla had been ready for a change in subject. Unfortunately, this one was no better than the last. “Totally unattached,” she said. “Our courtship rules aren’t nearly as strict as yours, and we call it ‘dating’ or ‘going out’ rather than courting. There was someone I dated while I was at uni, but we parted ways several months before I left York.” She darted a glance at him. “With no negative repercussions to either of our reputations.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he said, although the lines on his forehead belied his supposed pleasure. “What was his name?”
“Jeremy Robinson,” she said, a vision of Jeremy sitting at a table in the small coffee shop where they’d often studied together rising in her mind. He’d been the one to call things off, and although it had been gutting to hear him say the words, it hadn’t been completely unexpected. He’d been making excuses for why he couldn’t meet up with her for weeks.
She sighed, grateful that the memory of the breakup no longer brought with it any pain. She had seen Jeremy with a stunning brunette several times after he’d walked out of the coffee shop without looking back that day. The first instance had hurt. Badly. But the passage of time and moving to London had helped immeasurably. “Jeremy was studying law at the same university as me,” she said. “We were together for about a year, but then he met someone else who he felt was a better match.”
“Because of her finances or her family?” Simon asked.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure it was more about how pretty she is and that she enjoys listening to rock music more than I do.”
Simon shook his head. “The fellow must be demented. I have yet to hear rocks make any form of music, and it is all but impossible to believe that he found anyone else so attractive as you.”
Isla probably should have taken the time to instruct Simon about modern music and Jeremy’s favorite bands, but how was she supposed to do that when his seemingly involuntary compliment hung in the air between them?
