“It’s difficult to discuss,” Isabelle said.
“No need to confide in me. Why don’t I let Ezra know you’ve finally arrived?”
“Finally? Was he expecting me?”
But Alice was already off toward the hallway, her dress trailing her. She returned promptly.
“He’ll see you,” she said.
Ezra’s study was smaller than George’s and less busy. There was no wallpaper, and the only print on the wall was a nautical map of some ancient city—something, Isabelle guessed, that had no connection to Ezra himself. An assistant was stacking documents into boxes and checking items off a list. Ezra, seated beside the window, was watching the boy with a focused intensity, and when Isabelle entered, he told the assistant to take a break and return later.
“Sit,” he told Isabelle.
It had been only a day since she was at George’s bedside, and thinking of those hours spent beside him, his constant pleading and endless anger, nearly made her shudder.
“I’ve been sitting so long,” she said, “I believe I’d rather stand.”
“Then stand. Whatever pleases you.”
The room smelled of sweet perfume, and Ezra must have seen her nose pinch at the cloying aroma.
“It is my wife’s fragrance,” he said. “I could not stand the pungency of the smoke outside so I cloaked the place in other smells—though I have some regrets now, as it does linger.”
She registered the lavender now. Probably a fine mix, if applied in small doses.
“Well, if your study smelled at all like George’s, no doubt such a cleansing might improve things.”
“Perhaps that will be the result. I will let you know when I return.”
“And where are you off to, if it’s not impertinent to ask?”
She glanced at the half-filled boxes, then back at Ezra.
He would be going on a bit of a tour, he said. Not an easy feat for a man of his age, but he needed to check in on his sons’ shops to ensure they were maintaining his standards. With his own being rebuilt, there was no better time for it. Besides, they needed to make duplicate copies of their ledgers.
“If there’s one thing the fire has reminded us of,” he said, “it’s how quickly records might be lost. How quickly everything might be lost.”
They plunged into silence for a moment. Isabelle noticed upon Ezra’s desk, almost hidden, a framed daguerreotype: his family, none of them happy, the boys stone-faced and their mother even more so.
“But you know that better than I do,” Ezra said. “How is he?”
“They keep him plied with morphine and vapors. At night he cries. There’s little for me to do but listen and hold his hand.”
Ezra winced, then pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed his forehead dry.
“You are a godsend to him. And let us not forget his own heroics in the woods. Both of you make for quite the couple.”
“He got himself shot, Ezra.”
“Well, yes. But the boys are free, are they not? Hackstedde and the rest can say what they wish, but your son got that man out of jail and lived to speak of it. And George risked his life to see it through.”
She did not dispute his claim, nor did she agree to it. Whether the man holed up in the hospital was a martyr was immaterial to her; he was her husband: frail, withered, beautiful in his way. Let him be a hero to others, but it was not their relation.
“He wants to go home,” she said. “I don’t believe he’s taken his condition into account. But it’s his only wish. I plan to honor it.”
Ezra sat up, and, taking a hint—one she did not exactly mean to inspire—informed her that George had made all the necessary arrangements with him regarding his affairs going forward. Everything was set in stone. Everything that was his would be hers when the time came.
“I don’t wish to speak of this,” she said.
“And yet it is my duty to do so.”
“Well, it ends there. My reason for coming here is simple, and yet I haven’t been able to address it. I need some manner of conveyance for George. So I might get him home.”
Her request seemed to energize Ezra, and she imagined him working through the contacts in his head, favors owed, deciding which to avail himself of. A carriage or coach would be easy enough, she went on, but George needed to be laid out and she feared the hospital wouldn’t loan her an ambulance, considering his condition.
“Yes, yes,” Ezra mumbled as if to himself before speaking up. “I’ll tell you this. I am in the process of buying an entire catalog of goods, and a wagon or two will certainly be in the lot. I’m sure I can get use of one before the deal is finalized, as the owner is quite intent on selling as quickly as possible.”