“You haven’t gotten to work on any cadavers yet, have you?” he asked, pretending to be worried, and she laughed at him.

“No, I just bring food and jugs of water to the patients, but one of the nurses said I might be able to watch a surgery one day.”

“You are a remarkable girl indeed,” he said, with a broad easy grin.

And by the end of the month, Consuelo finally had the courage to go through her husband’s and son’s things. They put some of them away, and gave away most of their clothes, but left Arthur’s study and Robert’s bedroom intact. Neither of them had the heart to take the rooms apart, and there was no reason to. They didn’t need those rooms.

They saw very little of Josiah in September, compared to his summer visits. He was busy at the bank, and they were still settling the estate. Although Arthur had no reason to think anything would happen to him, he had left his affairs in perfect order, and Annabelle and her mother were in excellent financial shape. Both of them could live easily for the rest of their lives on what he had left them, and there would still be a healthy estate to leave to Annabelle’s children one day, although it was the last thing on her mind.

Annabelle saw very little of Hortie that month too. The wedding was only six weeks away, and Hortie had a lot to do. She had fittings for her wedding gown, a trousseau to be ordered, her father had given them a house, and she and James were buying furniture for it. They were going to Europe on their honeymoon, and would be gone until Christmas, and Annabelle knew she would miss her while she was away. Once she was married, it would never be quite the same. Annabelle had seen it with other friends, and she missed Hortie already.

It was early October when Josiah finally came to visit again. Annabelle was at the Hospital for the Relief of the Ruptured and Crippled, and Consuelo was in the garden, enjoying a sunny afternoon with a cup of tea. She was surprised to see Josiah, but he was always welcome, and as she stood up to greet him, she looked genuinely pleased.

“We haven’t seen you in ages, Josiah. How are you?”

“Fine.” He smiled at her. “I’ve been in Boston for the past few weeks. My family had some things I needed to handle for them there. What have you and Annabelle been up to?”

“We’re fine. Annabelle’s been busy at the hospital again, but at least it keeps her occupied. There’s nothing much else for her to do here.” They had another six months in their formal mourning period, and Consuelo knew that although Annabelle never complained, it was hard on her. She hadn’t been out with her friends in six months, and it was boring for a nineteen-year-old girl. She needed to be out in the world, but there was nothing Consuelo could do.

“I know this time must seem long to both of you,” Josiah said quietly, as he sat down in the garden with her, and declined a cup of tea.

“I don’t mind it for myself, but I do mind it for her,” Consuelo admitted. “She’ll be nearly twenty before she gets out in the world again. It really doesn’t seem fair.” But what had happened to Consuelo hadn’t been fair either. Life just worked that way sometimes.

“She’ll be fine,” Josiah reassured her. “Annabelle’s the sort of person who makes the best of every situation. She’s never complained to me once about not being able to go out,” he said honestly, and her mother nodded.

“I know. She’s a dear. I’m sorry you missed her today, she’ll be disappointed. She’s always at the hospital on Monday afternoons.” He nodded, hesitating for a moment, looking pensively into space, and then back at Consuelo with a surprisingly intent look.

“I actually didn’t come to see Annabelle today. I came to see you, on a matter of business that I wanted to discuss with you privately.” He looked proper and businesslike as he said it, as though he were on a mission from the bank.

“Something about Arthur’s estate? Can’t you handle that with the lawyers, Josiah? You know how bad I am at all that. Arthur handled everything. It’s all a mystery to me.”

“No, no, everything is fine. The bank is handling it with the attorneys, and everything’s in order. This is a more private matter, and perhaps I’m premature, but I wanted to discuss it with you, and I’m hoping you’ll be discreet.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what it was as she listened to him, nor why Annabelle shouldn’t be around. For a fraction of an instant, she worried that Annabelle had been right months before, and that he was paying court to her. She hoped not. She liked him enormously, but if he had any romantic interest in her whatsoever, Consuelo was going to decline. She had no leanings in his direction, nor toward anyone else. As far as Consuelo was concerned, that chapter of her life was closed.

“I wanted to talk to you about Annabelle,” he said clearly, so that neither of them would be confused. He realized that he was much closer to Consuelo’s age than her daughter’s, but he felt no romantic spark toward Consuelo, only respect, admiration, and warm friendship. The Worthingtons had been extremely hospitable to him since Arthur’s death, and he had greatly enjoyed spending time with them. “I know you’re both in deep mourning for another six months, and that you’re concerned about her. It is a shame that she has missed this whole year since her debut, and all the opportunities that would afford. At first I thought I should say nothing to you, whatever my feelings. She’s extremely young, and I sincerely believed that she would be happiest with someone her own age. To be honest, I no longer think that’s true.

“Annabelle is a very unusual young woman in many ways, intelligent, intellectual, thirsty for knowledge, and mature beyond her years. I have no idea how you would feel about it, but I would like your permission, when your period of mourning is over, to ask for her hand in marriage, and see how she feels. If you and I remain discreet about it, and keep this to ourselves, it will give her another six months to get accustomed to me. If you agree, I would plan to continue visiting you both often. But I wanted your permission first.” Consuelo sat there staring at him. In her eyes, he was an answer to her prayers and a dream come true. She had been desperately worried about life passing Annabelle by during this year, and afraid she might wind up an old maid. And although he was nineteen years older, Consuelo thought Josiah was perfect for Annabelle.

Josiah was from an excellent family, well educated, exquisitely polite, charming, handsome, and had a very good job at Annabelle’s father’s bank. And from what she had seen, particularly over the summer, the two were becoming good friends, which Consuelo felt was a far more solid base for marriage than some starry-eyed girlish romance, which wouldn’t last anyway. This was the way she and Arthur had started out. He had been a friend of her family’s, had asked her father’s permission to court her, and they had always been friends as much as husband and wife. She couldn’t have thought of a better match for her daughter, and like Josiah, she thought Annabelle would do well with an older, more mature man. “I hope you’re not shocked, or angry,” he added cautiously, as Consuelo leaned over and gave him a motherly hug.

“No, how could I be? I’m delighted. I think you and Annabelle would be wonderful for each other.” And in her eyes, their year of mourning had not been a waste after all. It was the perfect way for the two of them to come to know each other well. And there was no distracting competition at balls and parties from silly young men to turn Annabelle’s head. Josiah was a solid, established man, and would have been a wonderful husband for anyone, particularly her daughter. And Annabelle didn’t seem to mind him, in fact she liked him very much. “Do you think she suspects anything about your intentions?” Consuelo asked candidly. She had no idea if he had wooed her or not, kissed her, courted her, or hinted at what he had in mind. Annabelle had never said anything to her mother, which made her think that she had no idea what was in Josiah’s head.

“I’ve never said anything,” he told Consuelo honestly. “I wouldn’t until I spoke to you, although I’ve been thinking about it all summer, but I thought it was too soon. And unfortunately, for the last few weeks I’ve been away. I don’t think Annabelle suspects anything. I’d like to wait to talk to her about it, until your year of mourning is over in April. Perhaps I could speak to her about it in May.” He knew she would be twenty then, and he would be thirty-nine, something of an old man to her. He was afraid she might have objections to that, but he wasn’t sure. She wasn’t flirtatious with him, but he had the feeling they had truly become good friends. And like her mother, he thought that was an excellent foundation for marriage. This was a first for him. He had never proposed to any woman before, but he hoped it wasn’t too late. And recently, he had been thinking that he would love to have children with her. She seemed like the perfect lifetime companion to him. Consuelo was absolutely thrilled.

“I couldn’t have found a better person for her, if I’d picked you myself,” Consuelo said, looking pleased, and ringing for the butler. When William appeared, she asked for two glasses of champagne. Josiah was a little startled. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy.

“I’m not sure we should celebrate yet. We still have to ask her, in May. She may not think it’s as great an idea as we do. She’s very young, and I’m twice her age.”

“I think she’s more sensible than that,” Consuelo said as the butler returned and handed them each a glass of champagne. Arthur had had remarkable wine cellars, and the vintage was very good. “And she likes you, Josiah. I think the two of you get on very well.”

“I think so too,” he said, looking happy, and wishing he could ask Annabelle that afternoon, but it wouldn’t be proper to propose to her so soon after Arthur and Robert’s deaths. “I hope she agrees,” Josiah said hopefully.

“That’s up to you,” Consuelo reminded him. “You have the next six months to win her heart and seal the deal.”

“Without her knowing what I’m doing,” he said cautiously.

“Maybe you could drop a little hint once in a while,” his future mother-in-law suggested, and he laughed.

“She’s too smart for that. If I start hinting, I might as well ask her. And I don’t want to scare her off by doing it too soon.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be as difficult as you think to convince her,” Consuelo said, beaming at him, in the dappled sunlight of the warm October afternoon. Thanks to him, it had been a perfect day. She was only sorry she didn’t have Arthur to share it with, and she suspected that he would have been pleased as well.

They were still chatting amiably with each other, about Josiah’s plan, when Annabelle strode into the garden with her hospital apron on. There was blood on it, and her mother made a face.

“Take that thing off,” Consuelo scolded her, “and go wash your hands. For heaven’s sake, Annabelle, you’re bringing germs into the house.” She shooed her away, and Annabelle returned five minutes later, without the apron, in her severe black dress. She looked almost like a young nun. It was a sober look, but she was wreathed in smiles when she saw Josiah, and the only thing somber about her was her dress. She seemed to be in a great mood.

“I had a terrific day,” she announced, then noticed the champagne they were drinking. She always observed everything, and never missed a detail. “Why are you two drinking champagne? What are you celebrating?”

“Josiah just came to tell me he got a promotion at the bank,” her mother replied smoothly. “They’ve given him all sorts of new accounts to handle. And I thought we should congratulate him. Would you like a glass too?” Annabelle nodded. She loved champagne, and went to get a glass herself, and then duly congratulated Josiah on his promotion, although she never found banking very exciting. It had bored her when her father and Robert talked about it too. She was far more interested in science.

“What did you do at the hospital today?” he asked her gently. He suddenly felt as though she were already his wife, and he was feeling extremely tender emotions toward her, which he couldn’t allow to show.

“Lots of interesting things,” she said, smiling openly at him, and then taking a sip of the champagne. She had no idea she was toasting her own future engagement, and knowing that made both him and Consuelo smile too. They had become co-conspirators that afternoon. “They let me watch while they sewed up a nasty wound.”

“If you tell me about it, I’ll be sick,” her mother warned, and Annabelle laughed, as they shifted the subject to something else. “You’ll have to stop doing that someday,” Consuelo said cryptically. “One day you’ll be grown up and married, and you can’t hang around hospitals, watching them sew up wounds.”