Page 65 of Winterset
News of my reappearance would undoubtedly circulate quickly. How long would it take before Mr. Cavendish found out about my survival?
I knelt in front of my trunk and opened the lid. Memories from two years ago greeted me. The blue silk gown I’d worn the night of my engagement ball was neatly folded on top. I ran a gentle hand over the delicate lace neckline. It had been mended. I could hardly even see the tear.
I pushed the dress aside and sifted through the trunk. My hunter-green traveling dress was folded at the bottom. It was wrinkled but well-made and warm, ideal for wherever I might find myself tonight.
Father’s letter, the one he’d written me to read the night my engagement was announced, was in the trunk lid pocket. I’d memorized it long ago, but I wished for a physical reminder of him. I held the treasured memento to my heart for a moment.
My throat constricted with grief. I would be leaving so much behind. There was no time to dwell though. Mr. Jennings would rise soon, and I wished to be waiting for him when he came downstairs. I replaced the contents and closed the lid.
I put on my traveling dress and tucked Father’s letter inside it for safekeeping, then wove my curls into a simple plait and went downstairs to wait for Mr. Jennings in the study.
I stood near the back wall by the window, which would be out of his direct line of sight when he entered, but I didn’t hide. There was no reason to anymore.
While I waited, I mentally rehearsed what I would say. I was duty bound to make sure my servants wouldn’t be blamed for my mischief. Once I was certain of that, I would leave Winterset for good. I hoped Mr. Jennings would accept my defense of them. He did not seem like a cruel man, but I’d been deceived before, which was why I had to choose my words carefully.
At half past nine, Mr. Jennings strode into the study with a ledger tucked under his arm and went directly to his desk. He did not sit down though; he stood behind it, transfixed by whatever was on the page in front of him. A curl fell across his forehead, but he did not seem to notice. Neither did he notice me.
He was dressed in his usual restrained color palette of beige and brown and black, save for his shirt and cravat, which were white. It was like he was trying to tone down the natural beauty with which God had overly blessed him, but his dull wardrobe did nothing to deflect attention. It made his fine features—blue eyes, gold hair, red lips—more pronounced.
Mr. Jennings was handsome.Aggressivelyhandsome. But a young lady who had stolen shelter and food and tormented him had no right to notice.
Another minute passed, and I grew anxious.
Not wanting to prolong purgatory, I shifted my weight, deliberately causing a floorboard to groan.
Finally, Mr. Jennings looked up, and his gaze met mine. He blinked several times, as if not believing what he was seeing. And then hedid notblink, as if doing so would cause me to disappear.
Mr. Jennings straightened and slowly strode toward me, not stopping until he stood very near. My heart pounded as his eyes—so blue—searched my face. “For one who has wreaked so much havoc, you are positively petite, Miss Lockwood,” he said, and then he did something entirely unexpected. He smiled.
I frowned.
“Please, have a seat.” Mr. Jennings indicated the high-backed armchair facing his desk.
I glanced at the chair, which was positioned entirely too close to where he stood. I didn’t want to be so close to him when I didn’t know his intentions.
I took a backward step.
“Or ... you are welcome to stand.” His smile softened into a straight line. “I assume you’ve come out of hiding because you’ve surmised that I knew about you.”
I nodded.
“Out of curiosity, what gave me away? Mrs. Owensby?”
Not trusting my voice, I shook my head and glanced at his watch fob ribbon.
He followed my gaze to his seal and grinned. “Of course. I daresay you are a great deal more observant than I. And better at hiding things too. Though, to be fair, youdidhave the advantage. You knew Winterset’s layout, the passageways, the priest hides. Not to mention the help you had hiding.”
Worried about my servants’ safety, I stiffened.
He noticed. “Which, I suspect, is why you are standing before me now.”
My hands trembled at my sides, and I clutched my dress to still them.
He noticed that too.
“Please don’t punish them, sir. Everything they did, they did for me.” But no, that wasn’t quite right. That made it sound like they were equal partners in this idea when, in fact, I had been the mastermind. “Imadethem do.”
“We both knowthatisn’t true.” He laughed lightly. “I daresay Mrs. Owensby could not be made to do anything she didn’t wish. But I respect you for trying to protect them.” He sat on the edge of the desk, extending his legs and folding his arms. “Please. Go on.”
