Page 75 of Winterset
“I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” I said, my voice betraying my tension.
She descended the stairs, stopping on the last step. “I wasn’t sure you truly wanted me to.”
“I did. Ido. Did I do something to make you think otherwise?”
“No,” she said hastily. “You’ve been more than kind.” Her cheeks pinked ever so slightly. “It’s just ... I feared you offered only politeness.”
“Not at all,” I said. “I invited you to walk with me today because I enjoy your company, Miss Lockwood. And I’m relieved you accepted.” She glanced away shyly. “Had you not, I might have run straight into another hedgerow,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Seeing as I led you into the first hedgerow, you may want to rethink your invitation.”
“No,” I said simply and offered her my arm.
She hesitated, and I realized my mistake.
“Forgive me,” I said, returning my arm to my side. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t,” she said quickly. “You only surprised me. I’m out of practice at, well, everything.”
“You don’t seem to be. But even if you were, I’m glad you came. If you would still like to walk with me, Mrs. Owensby has kindly agreed to be our chaperone.” I tipped my head toward Mrs. Owensby, who stood discreetly by the dining hall door.
“I would like to walk with you. And if you are still willing, I should be glad to take your arm too.” She lifted her hand.
I eagerly held out my elbow. The feeling of her featherlight fingers on my arm made my heart race. Bexley opened the front door, and Miss Lockwood’s grasp tightened on my arm.
“Bexley, will you please ensure the courtyard is clear?”
He quickly did so and returned promptly with a nod, signaling that it was safe. As we stepped outside, I wished just for a moment that the ivy I’d loathed upon my arrival still cloaked the front gate to offer her a sense of security.
“Where shall we walk, Miss Lockwood? You know these grounds far better than I.”
“Would you like me to show you the walled garden?” She glanced up at me, her eyes hopeful.
“I’d like that. It’s one of the few places in Winterset that I haven’t seen yet.”
She led me to the hedgerow maze. The path to the garden entrance was well-worn, something I hadn’t noticed when I’d chased her. We reached a weathered wood door, and she produced a key from her pelisse.Entering first, she led me down a cobblestone path to a pond. Mrs. Owensby trailed behind us, but not distractingly so.
“I’m afraid the garden is going dormant, so there aren’t any blooms, but what do you think of it?” she said, her voice laced with uncertainty.
I took in the tranquil scene: the weeping willow, the winding path, the small pond. The garden was not overly large, but it was well-appointed, peaceful, and protected. I understood why Miss Lockwood liked coming here. “It’s beautiful.”
Her expression softened. “I know it doesn’t look like much now, but in a few months, this garden will burst into life again. The hawthorn blossoms will turn the hedges white as snow, and clusters of primroses will dot the ground. Robin song will fill the air. And the scent of blooming lilacs will be intoxicating.”
“I knew you were a talented artist, but am I to understand that you are also a master gardener?” I raised an eyebrow.
She scoffed. “Hardly.”
“How do you know so much, then?”
“My father taught me the basics of how to plant and prune, but everything else I have learned from your library.”
“Do you enjoy reading?” I asked her.
“Immensely.”
“It is a wonder, then, that you drew in my books,” I teased, unable to resist.
She grimaced. “I ran out of paper and used the books I thought no one would ever read again.”
