Page 72 of Winterset
Heart racing, I quit the kitchen. Behind me, I heard him say something to Mrs. Owensby, but I could not hear precisely what. I hoped he was not vexed with her.
He did seem upset though, and I wasn’t sure why he would be, seeing as the house looked and felt much better than it had when he’d gone to bed last night, but I could tell from his tone that he was.
In the drawing room, Mr. Jennings gestured for me to sit on the settee. He leaned against the pianoforte and crossed his arms, taking in my makeshift apron. “Miss Lockwood, I seem to have left some things unsaid last night. I apologize.”
“There is no need.”
“I believe there is. Last night, I invited you to be myguest, and today, I find you sitting in the kitchen at the servants’ table and dressed in an apron, no less.”
“It is a painting smock, but it doubles quite nicely as an apron, don’t you think?”
Mr. Jennings blinked at me, looking utterly perplexed. “It does. Butwhyare you wearing it?”
“Well, last night, when you invited me to stay here alittlelonger as yourguest, I realized neither of those things is permanent. Eventually, I will need to find another situation. I thought that if I proved useful, I could convince you to hire me as a housemaid.”
“I have offered tohelpyou, Miss Lockwood, nothireyou.”
“Hiring mewouldbe helping me,” I argued.
“My assistance to you is not dependent upon your usefulness to me. You must know that.”
“I do, sir. But I also know that I cannot live here as your guest forever.”
“Did I not invite you to?” he said.
“You did not, sir. You invited me to stay here as yourguest, which, by definition, is temporary. And I daresay, my occupancy here is still more of an invasion on my part than an invitation on yours.”
“A fact you seem more preoccupied with than I am. And strictly speaking,” he hastened to add, “you did notinvademy house—you are not Napoleon, Miss Lockwood. You just never vacated it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I remained silent.
“I fear we haven’t gotten off on the best footing.” Mr. Jennings sighed.
“Considering I pretended to be a ghost and haunted you to get you to leave ...” I bobbled my head side to side. “No, I don’t think we have.”
His mouth quirked up at the corners, revealing a single dimple in the center of his chin. “May I speak candidly?”
“I would prefer it.”
Mr. Jennings pushed off the pianoforte and sat in the armchair opposite me. He rested his elbows on his knees, bringing us eye level. “I cannot in good conscience employ you as a servant. You are a gentleman’s daughter, Miss Lockwood. Your father was my tenant. I will not take advantage of your misfortune. I invite you to be my guest here at Winterset for as long as you need. Indefinitely, if that is your desire.”
“That is generous of you, Mr. Jennings. Still, I struggle to accept your invitation because I know I don’t deserve your help.”
He studied me as if searching for the right words. “Miss Lockwood, you do not have todeservemy help, nor do you need to earn your keep. You simply need to accept my invitation to stay. Will you?”
“I don’t want to displace you in your home.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I believe that has been exactly your goal,” he said teasingly.
“It was,” I admitted, my cheeks warming with shame, “but not anymore.”
“I am relieved to hear that, seeing as this is the only home I have.”
“It is the only home I have too,” I said quietly.
“Well then, since it seems we will be sharing this space for the foreseeable future, can we declare an official ceasefire?”
“On one condition,” I said.
