With that, Ever rolls off the bed, throws on his trousers, and ducks out the door, leaving me to my own devices. Although the fire has been stoked and a log was added at some point in the night, a chill persists in the air. This is going to take some getting used to.
Wrapping myself in sheets, I push off the bed to explore my new home.
Ever owns exactly three mugs, three plates, and three sets of cutlery. The bottom cupboard in his kitchen holds one pot and one small cast iron skillet. What I’m most interested in is the bow and quiver of arrows hanging beside the door.
Perhaps he’ll teach me how to shoot.
Not that I have it in me to kill anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to learn. Having distance between my prey and me might help as well. The last thing I want is for Ever to think I cannot take care of myself.
Two pairs of trousers soak in a bucket beside the fire.
Laundry.
Now, that’s something I know how to do. All I need is some laundry powder…which I cannot find, so the bar of soap filled with pine needles will have to do.
Using the washboard and soap, I scrub his trousers along the metal ribs until my arms feel like they’re going to fall off. Then I twist and squeeze the fabric with all my might and hang them outside on a line that runs from a tree to the front of the wagon.
Ever hunkers by a small fire, his broad back on full display as he cooks us breakfast. I wouldn’t say it smells good, but my stomach grumbles all the same. At this stage, I’ll eat anything.
Not wanting to wear a sheet for the day, I meander back inside.
The dress I wore yesterday doesn’t exactly suit the current landscape. Perhaps I’ll be able to purchase something more practical on Market Street. I could pick up some supplies as well, like bakeware and sugar and cinnamon. And bread. At least three loaves.
Maybe Ever has a shirt that I can wear in the meantime. I kneel down and peek beneath the bed. Sure enough, there is a flat trunk stuffed under there. It takes some maneuvering, but eventually I extricate the heavy box.
When I open the top, a waft of floral perfume tickles my nose.
Two pairs of worn trousers rest atop four pairs of thick wool socks and boots that have seen better days. I add a new pair to my mental list. That is, if they make them this large.
Unfortunately, there isn’t a shirt in sight.
There is, however, a stack of white boxes tied with black ribbons bearing Madame Ella’s insignia on the corner.
I remove the lid on the first one, revealing a stunning gown of emerald satin and lace. How did he get this dress? When?
“What are you doing?” Ever stands in the doorway, his brows drawn together.
Was his father part wraith? I didn’t even realize he’d come in.
“I’m sorry.” I rush to replace the lid. “I wasn’t snooping.” Not intentionally, anyway. “I only wanted to see what we needed from Rosehill.”
His lips press flat as he pushes off the frame. “You are going back?”
“Only for supplies and the rest of my clothes.”
He nods slowly but his frown remains.
“These are beautiful.” The ruffles on the silk undulate like waves in the sea. “They’re Madame Ella’s.”
“No, they belonged to my mother.”
My hair tickles my bare back as I shake my head with a laugh. “I mean Madame Ella designed them.”
“Well, they are yours now.”
“Really?”
He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “They are hardly going to fit me.”