Page 53 of Winterset
“It is quite simple, I assure you.” Miss Dalton stepped closer and extended the ribbons toward me. “Please?”
Saints, she was persistent. What should I do?
Damon had more practice with eager women such as she. Until this moment, I’d envied the attention he’d always garnered. Wherever we went, women all but threw themselves at him. But now, being wanted simply forwhatI was, notwhoI was, felt rather reductive—like I was nothing more than a hat to be plucked off a shelf and worn about town.
Seeing no polite way to refuse her, I hastily took the ribbons, tied a bow, and then put a proper distance between us again. “It is a little lop-sided, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sure it is perfect. Thank you, Mr. Jennings. You are too kind.”
I forced a smile and surveyed the churchyard. “Do you know if the Lockwood family is buried in this cemetery?” I asked Miss Dalton.
“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised.
My change of subject might have been a bit abrupt. “I only ask because they were my tenants, and I have not had a chance to pay them my respects,” I explained.
“How gracious of you. I believe their plots are over there. I will show you, if you’d like.”
“I would. Thank you.”
I stepped forward, but she stood still. “Would you be so kind as to lend me your arm? The walking path is uneven, and I don’t want to take a tumble.”
I begrudgingly offered her my arm, and she sidled up to me.
Their plots were not far from where we stood, only a few paces away. “Here they are.” She gestured to two gravestones.
Eustace Lockwood
Beloved Father and Husband
My throat tightened. “How did he die?” I looked up at Miss Dalton.
“According to thechurch’srecord, Mr. Lockwood died in a ‘misadventure.’”
“And the truth?” I raised my eyebrow in question at her.
“A duel,” she said somberly.
“Aduel?” I couldn’t contain my shock. Having died in the same year as his daughter, I had assumed they’d perished in a carriage accident or succumbed to the same sickness. A duel had not once crossed my mind. “Do you know the reason for the challenge or who issued it?” I asked, anxious for answers.
She shook her head. “I do not.”
I nodded and moved to the next gravestone, expecting to read Miss Lockwood’s name on it, but it wasn’t hers.
Eleanor Lockwood
Beloved Wife and Mother
“I believe she died in childbirth,” Miss Dalton said, her voice quiet.
“How very tragic,” I said, feeling a pang of sadness that Kate had never known her mother.
Miss Dalton nodded.
“And what about Miss Lockwood? Where is she buried? Her grave must be nearby.” I glanced at the inscriptions on the neighboring gravestones but did not see Miss Lockwood’s name.
“Miss Lockwood is not buried here,” Miss Dalton said.
“Oh? May I ask why not?”
