a fine, flowing script was written only one word: Flowers.
“Flowers?” I glanced between Mary and Alice. “Perhaps this is some sort of joke. Or a mistake. Are you certain they aren’t meant for Daniel? Louisa was leaving flowers for him down by the lake.” I had to stop thinking of that area as the lake. It had already drained lower than it had ever been during a dry season. “Or maybe someone sent them for Alice, as a sort of get-well token?”
“Oh.” Mary glanced down at the flowers in confusion. “That could be. The man said it was for the miss of the house. I just assumed. . . .”
“It’s all right, Mary. Alice, why don’t we set them right here where you’ll be able to see them without too much effort? They really do brighten up the room, don’t they?”
“They’re lovely,” Alice responded in a tired voice. “Who would have sent them?”
“I don’t know.” I picked the book back up. “Perhaps Mr. Johnson? He is still in awe of your recovery. Or . . .” I leaned over. “Perhaps you have a secret admirer.”
She coughed. “Now you are teasing me.”
“I am not teasing you. You are a young woman of intelligence, beauty. . . .” A certain disregard for modern sensibilities. . . . I shook my head. I couldn’t seem to silence the sound of Gregory’s voice. “Any man of sense would be won over by you. Perhaps he’ll introduce himself at the wedding.”
Alice smiled. “Maybe you’ll dance with him at the ball.”
I smoothed the hair off her forehead. “If I do, I’ll be sure to act the perfect lady.”
Alice shook her head. “Don’t be like Louisa. Be yourself.”
I leaned over and kissed her head. “Deal. Now should we get back to this story?”
There was a package next to my plate at breakfast the following morning. “What is this?”
Daniel shrugged. “It was there when I sat down.”
I untied the ribbon and unfolded the paper.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A book.” I opened it.
“Who gave you that?”
It wasn’t just any book. It was the companion to my favorite book of poetry. I flipped through the pages and the book opened to a poem near the center. A piece of paper had been stuck between the pages. I tilted the book to read it. Gifts.
I frowned. Gifts?
Flowers. Gifts. Kisses.
I stood. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Where is Lord Williams?”
Daniel shrugged again. “He left after we’d ensured the trenches worked according to plan. There was no reason for him to stay around.”
“But is he in town? Is he coming back? Surely the project needs checking on a second time.”
Daniel shook his head. “It’s been three days. The project is just fine.” He regarded the book as he raised a cup to his lips. “Is that who the book is from?”
“It has to be.”
Daniel set his glass down without drinking. “Now, Margaret. Don’t go getting your hopes up. I admit I had wondered if his coming for the draining might have brought you two back together. But he seemed wholly focused on the project. Didn’t even ask after you. I’d hate to have you hurt again.”
I wouldn’t be hurt again. This was from Gregory.
Our father walked in. “Father,” Daniel said, “did you order a book?”
“What book?”
“The one in Margaret’s hands.”
I held up the book.
“What is it?”
I tilted it so he could see the spine. “It’s the companion to that book of poetry.”
“Oh. Yes. I hadn’t known it had arrived. It came rather quickly. I’ll have to send my thanks.”
I lowered the book. “You ordered this?”
Father took his seat. “Yes. It seemed a shame we didn’t have a copy, don’t you think? Though they must have had one already on its way to town. I didn’t expect it for another week or two.”
Opening the book again, I stared at the word. Gifts.
Sinking into my seat, I removed the note and held the book out to my father. “Here.”
“Oh, no,” he said, lifting his hand as though to block me from giving it to him. “I ordered it for you. You liked the other one so much.” He paused. “I hope it helps ease all that’s happened.”
I frowned. This couldn’t be a coincidence. If the book wasn’t from Gregory, why was the note in there?
That night, Alice and I finished the book we’d been reading together.
“What will we read now?” She’d eaten a few bites of dinner, and it showed in her voice—still weak, but with a promise of growing stronger.