Page 54 of Winterset
“That is a rather delicate subject, one surrounded by much speculation.”
I furrowed my brow. “Will you tell me?”
She was more than happy to oblige. “Well, Mama said that upon her father’s death, Miss Lockwood was overcome with grief and cast herself off a cliff into the sea and drowned.”
I sucked in a shocked breath.
“Her body was never recovered. Although even if it had been, she would not have been buried in the churchyard, considering the circumstance of her death.”
I gripped the top of Mr. Lockwood’s gravestone to steady myself. I’d known Miss Lockwood was deceased from nearly the first moment I’d stepped foot into Winterset, but hearing proof of her death, when only hours earlier I’d seen symbols of her life in my books, hit me harder than I thought possible.
“If her body was not recovered, how did anyone know what became of her?”
“Her pelisse was found on the seashore. It was bloody.”
“But her body wasnotfound,” I said. “You’re sure?”
“I am certain, sir.”
“Miss Dalton,” Lord Markham said, approaching with Mr. and Mrs. Dalton in tow. “You weren’t telling Mr. Jennings ghost stories, were you?” He glanced down at Mrs. Lockwood’s gravestone. “You must be very careful, Miss Dalton. Mr. Jennings already believes Winterset is haunted. You don’t want to scare him away, do you?”
My gaze flashed up to meet his. Saints above, what had I said to him the other night in the tavern? “I don’t actually believe Winterset ishaunted,” I assured the Daltons.
“You seemedquiteinsistent.”
“Yes, well, I’ve developed a bit of an overactive imagination from reading so many ghost stories.” Or, rather, living in one.
“Iloveghost stories,” Miss Dalton said.
“As do I,” Lord Markham said. “I say, Jennings, Winterset would be the perfect location for a ghost-story reading.”
“A reading?” I said. “At Winterset?”
Lord Markham nodded, his eyes moving meaningfully to Miss Dalton, then back to me. I remembered part of our early conversation from the tavern, about my wanting to marry. He was giving me an opportunity to make her an invitation. “With all those secret passageways and priest hides in the walls,” Markham continued, “your manor is a uniquely qualified setting for a ghost-story reading, don’t you think?”
Priest hides? Secret passageways? At Winterset? Not wanting to repeat the humiliation of not knowing the history of my own house, I tried not to let my confusion show and gave a slow nod.
And then I remembered something Mrs. Owensby had said when showing me the manor about priests having perished while in hiding at Winterset, and I felt like a fool. A priest could not hide if he had noplaceto hide. She’d gone on and on about the house’s history, showing me room after room, but she’d left out arguably the most important parts: the priest hides and passageways.
Every curiosity that had occurred since I’d arrived flooded my mind: the scratching sounds in the walls, the pianoforte playing in the dead of night, the redacted notes, the books filled with sketches, the ghost I’d seen in the library.
Heavens.
What if myghostwas not a ghost but a living, breathingladyhiding within Winterset’s walls? And what if that lady were Kate?
Her body had never been found. It was possible.
The longer I thought about it, the more sense it made; Kate had grown up at Winterset, so she would know about the priest hides and passageways. And after her father died, with no family or friends, she would not have had anywhere else to go.
It seemed so obvious now.
It hadn’t occurred to me before because until this morning, I’d believed her dead. I’d had no reason to question her survival. But now that I knew her body had not been recovered and about Winterset’s priest hides and passageways, it made sense that she was alive and hiding at Winterset. I’dseenher with my own eyes, “floating” in the library, for pity’s sake.
I could not be sure. Perhaps I onlywantedit to be true. I had to talk to Charlie.
“Jennings?” Lord Markham said, pulling me from my thoughts and making me realize Mr. and Mrs. Dalton were eyeing me strangely. “What do you say? Will you host a reading for us?”
“I’m ... afraid Winterset isn’t ready for visitors yet.” I glanced around the churchyard for Charlie, eager to return to Winterset and search out all the priest hides. “Mr. and Mrs. Dalton, Miss Dalton, I apologize, but I must go.”
