For Elise by Sarah M. Eden

back to hiding behind her walls. Gone were the eager smiles of their discussion of Mrs. Ash. “I suppose that is to blame for my late morning.”
    She pressed her fingertips to her temples, closing her eyes for a drawn-out moment.
    “Are you unwell?”
    “No.”
    Would she not even tell him something so commonplace as the state of her health or well-being?
    “You are in time for lunch, however.” Miles kept to a safe topic, though he could feel the tension in the air between them. “And we are having a picnic.”
    “A picnic?” She looked up at him. Beneath her solemn demeanor, Miles thought he detected some degree of interest.
    Miles silently thanked Mama Jones for the suggestion. “Under the tree, in the meadow.”
    A hint of a smile crept onto Elise’s face. “We picnicked under our tree quite often.”
    “Do you remember the picnic when you refused to eat anything that wasn’t red?” The Epsworth cook had actually enjoyed trying to put together an entirely red picnic. Everyone had adored Elise.
    “I don’t believe I’ve ever eaten so many strawberries in a single meal.” The memory lightened her expression, though she still looked burdened.
    He silently listed those things he’d done for Elise the past few days that had been successful in the hope of hitting upon something that might help now. Looking after Anne. Pleasant memories. Not pushing her to confide in me. She seemed to be happy about the picnic. “Mrs. Ash, Anne, Beth, and Langley will be making up the picnic party,” he said. “The weather is quite fine.”
    “And I am quite famished,” Elise said with a hint of forced humor.
    Miles tried to laugh in response but found himself far too concerned for laughter. Elise did not look well. She was paler and more withdrawn. When she’d been small and her worry lines had appeared, he had kissed her forehead. The gesture had seemed to help then. It would be entirely unwelcome now.
    “Anne is still a bit shy with Mrs. Ash,” Elise said. “I hope that will improve with time, but she has always been very wary of strangers. Except for you, oddly enough.”
    “What is so odd about that?” Miles shrugged with as much feigned arrogance as he could muster. “I’m a very likeable fellow. Hardly anyone has disliked me enough to shun me or push me out of a tree or put dead fish in my bed. Hardly anyone at all.”
    “If I promise not to inflict on you any further bodily harm, may I attend your picnic?” Elise asked.
    She did want to attend. He hadn’t missed the mark so entirely.
    “I really ought to extract a promise from you not to teach Anne to push me out of trees,” Miles said. “I’m not certain I’m equal to the task of keeping both of you at bay.”
    “We would be a very formidable combination.”
    “I believe it.” Miles chuckled.
    “When is this picnic?”
    “Right this very moment, actually.” He found her surprised expression immensely enjoyable. It was unguarded and completely honest.
    Beth’s abigail had taken Elise’s measurements after she’d awoken, Miles had been informed, and would be sending them on to the seamstress in Sheffield, who would begin several dresses for Elise and bring a couple at the end of the week for a fitting. The rest of the day, therefore, was open.
    When they reached the back doors, Humphrey handed Miles Elise’s cloak. He draped it over her shoulders.
    “Are the others already gathered, then?” Elise asked as he led her around the house and toward the back meadow.
    “I was sent to see if you were up and about and desirous to join us,” Miles explained.
    No sooner had they reached the picnic blanket than Anne began gesturing frantically. Elise responded in kind. He needed to learn their shared language so he could be part of those conversations. He hated feeling left out of Elise’s life. He’d missed far too much as it was.
    “The staff will bring out the meal in a few minutes’ time,” Miles said. “What shall we do while we