Page 69 of Winterset
She’d all but run out of the room today when I’d tried to move the chair toward her in my study. Perhaps she did not want to sit any closer to me. Now that I thought about it, was it an accident that she’d come to the dining hall instead of the drawing room before dinner? Was she trying to avoid me?
She was clever, that I knew, so I would not put it past her. But ... why? What had I done to make her dislike me?
The kitchen door swung open, and Mrs. Owensby stepped into the dining hall carrying a platter of food. The Duck à l’Orange smelled just as delicious as it had the previous night, but I didn’t have an appetite.
Mrs. Owensby glanced at the wide space between us, trying to figure out where to place the platter. Seeing the predicament, she took it upon herself to solve it by serving us both individually, then setting the platter in the center of the table.
“Do you require anything else?” Mrs. Owensby asked.
“No, thank you,” Miss Lockwood and I said in unison.
“Forgive me,” Miss Lockwood said.
“There’s no need,” I said.
She trained her gaze on her plate and took a bite of food. She closed her eyes and chewed slowly.
“How do you find your food, Miss Lockwood?”
“It is ...” Her sentence trailed off as she looked down at her plate. “It is the finest meal I’ve had in two years. Thank you, Mr. Jennings.”
Had it truly been that long since she’d had a decent meal? Until this moment, I’d not considered what she’d been eating. I felt instant remorse once again for having turned the tables on her, on trying to tease her by parading my fine salmon meal in front of her two days ago. “I’m so glad you like it,” I said. “I requested Mrs. Owensby prepare your favorite foods when I invited you to dine with me.” Should I have said that? Would she think that odd?
Miss Lockwood gave me a weak smile and took another bite, seeming to enjoy this one as much as the first.
I followed suit, and we ate in silence for several minutes.
“Shall we get this over with?” she said, setting down her knife and fork.
“Getwhatover with?” I asked.
“This dinner. Our conversation.”
“Is your punishment so severe that you want nothing more than toget it over with?” I gave her a small smile.
“Yes. I mean, no. I just want to know what you plan on doing with me.”
“I was planning on eating with you.”
“Mr. Jennings.” She frowned. “I am speaking of our situation.”
“As am I. We have a fine meal laid before us, Miss Lockwood, and I, for one, should like to enj—”
“Our currentlivingsituation,” she clarified.
“Oh, that.” I waved a hand in the air, brushing away the topic of conversation.
“Yes, that.”
“Well, it’s simple really—”
“Our situation is anything but simple, Mr. Jennings,” she said.
“You’re right, but my desire to help youissimple. Miss Lockwood, I won’t pretend to know your reasons for hiding here, but one day soon, I hope you will trust me enough to tell me. Even if you never do, though, I want you to know that I will do whatever I can to help you.”
“But ...why?”
“Because I am a gentleman. It is my duty to come to your aid.”
