Page 115 of Winterset
Oliver? Condescending? I studied his portrait but could not see it. “Well, condescending gaze or no,” I said, “Icould not have painted his likeness half so well.”
Hannah’s eyes lit. “You are an artist?”
“Aspiringartist,” I clarified. I’d carefully packed all the art supplies Oliver had given me in my traveling trunk and itched to use them again, if only to feel closer to him.
“I can’t even draw a simple outline of a figure, much less paint a portrait.” Hannah laughed at herself. “Consider me thoroughly impressed.”
“Me too,” Lord Jennings said.
“You would not be if you saw my most recent work,” I said, thinking of my sketches in Oliver’s books.
“I am sure you are a great deal better than you are giving yourself credit for. We women tend to be our own harshest critics, I think. You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Miss Lockwood.”
“Kate,” I said. “If I am to callyou, a countess, by your Christian name, it seems only right that you call me by mine.”
“I would be honored.”
“Your trunk should be in your room,” Lord Jennings said. “Would you like to go upstairs now?”
“I would. Thank you,” I said.
Lord Jennings and Hannah led the way.
At the gallery door, I glanced over my shoulder to steal one last look at Oliver’s portrait.
We climbed the grand staircase to the first level.
“Summerhaven has two modern wings connected by a central original building,” Lord Jennings explained. “However, only the west wing, which we now stand in, is in use.”
Hannah pointed out several rooms: the morning room, the music room, and a parlor, and I peeked inside each as we passed. They were all empty, devoid of decoration and furnishings.
“You said this wing is in use?” I asked Hannah, thinking I might have misunderstood.
“Yes. You are wondering why they are all vacant?” she asked, and I nodded. “Suffice it to say, my husband sold every furnishing he could to marry me.”
“A decision I do not regret in the slightest,” Lord Jennings said over his shoulder.
“Selling your family furnishings or marrying me?” Hannah grinned at Lord Jennings.
“Selling the furnishings, my dear, obviously. They were all sodreadfullyuncomfortable.” He winked at his wife, and his teasing nature reminded me so much of Oliver that my heart squeezed for missing him.
“And this is your bedchamber.” Hannah pushed open the door to reveal the aptly named lilac bedchamber. The walls were papered in a pale shade of purple. A four-post bed occupied the center of the room, and a mahogany vanity was positioned near the window. On the vanity was a vase of snowdrops. And through the window was the garden.
“Thank you,” I said to my hosts. “Both for welcoming me into your home and for allowing me to stay in this beautiful room.”
“What we have, we have to share,” Lord Jennings said sincerely. “We hope you will feel welcome here, Miss Lockwood. Please stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
He bowed and took his leave.
Hannah turned to me. “Dinner will be served at six,” she said. “I would be happy to send my maid Nora to help you dress and style your hair if you’d like.”
I hesitated. For two reasons: first, because it had been such a long time since someone had helped me with my hair, and I wasn’t sure I could endure it. And second, because I wasn’t sure it would be safe. The more people who knew about my being here, the more likely word was to spread. Servants had a tendency to talk, and I did not want word somehow getting back to Markham. It seemed impossible so far from him, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
“I don’t mean to overwhelm you,” Hannah said, sensing my hesitancy.
“It’s not that,” I said. “It’s only ...” My sentence stretched as I tried to find the right words to voice my concern. “What if the servants talk?”
