Page 87 of Winterset
Oliver
After Miss Lockwood—Kate—retired to herbedchamber, I sat in my study. The only thought on my mind was how I might protect her from this monster Mr. Cavendish. I’d known men like him before. Men who charmed and took and ruined. They were as cunning as they were cruel.
Ihad once been cruel, courting women only for what they could bring to the marriage. I’d never ruined reputations, but I’d likely broken hearts. First, Hannah’s, and then Miss Digby’s, perhaps even Amelia’s. My past actions filled me with shame. I wished I could go back in time and do things differently. I wished I would have behaved as a gentleman and been a better man. While I could do nothing to change my past, I hoped that in helping Kate, I might find a measure of redemption and begin to shape a future filled with purpose and integrity.
When Mrs. Owensby told me that Kate’s life was in danger if she left these walls, I’d believed shethoughtKate was in danger, but I saw no real threat.
I saw it now.
While no immediate danger existed, if ever Mr. Cavendish were to discover Kate’s survival, I did not doubt he would make good on his threat. A man who’d gotten away with murder once would assume he could get away with it again. And seeing as no one outside this house knew Kate was alive, it would be all too easy.
The longer I sat in my study, the more my thoughts festered.
Was Mr. Cavendish still living close by? Did he suspect that Kate might have survived? Her body had never been found, so he might. All night long, thoughts plagued me. And when morning dawned, I had the beginnings of a plan to protect her: I would go to town today under the guise of borrowing a book for my ghost-story reading, and while there, I would learn everything I could about this Mr. Cavendish. I would be cautious and keep my questions subtle, so I would not raise suspicions.
I tugged the bellpull to call Charlie. Not long after, he appeared at my study.
“Granger?”
“Good morning, Charlie.” I motioned him inside. “Come in and close the door.”
He entered and sat. “Did you sleep?” he asked.
I rubbed my forehead, heavy with fatigue. “I couldn’t after my discussion with Miss Lockwood last night. Which is why I’ve called you here. I need your help.” I quickly relayed the pertinent facts about the danger Mr. Cavendish posed to Kate and my desire to learn everything I could about him so that I could protect her. “While I’m out of residence, would you look after her? I’d rather she were not alone today.”
“Certainly,” Charlie said.
After our conversation, Charlie saddled my horse, and I quickly readied myself and hurried out the door.
The sky was gray and ominous as I rode into town.
A premonition? A warning?
The wind was fierce, the weather unforgiving. I tugged up the collar of my greatcoat to guard against the cold, but it did little good.
Outside the lending library, I tied my horse to a post. A bell rang overhead as I entered, and the bookkeeper, a gray-haired gentleman with small, round spectacles looked up from his book.
“Ah, Mr. Jennings.” He stood to greet me. “Welcome.”
“I see my reputation precedes me,” I said.
“No, sir, only your good name. How can I help you?”
“I need a book for a reading I am hosting. A ghost story.”
“We have plenty. They are quite popular these days. Follow me.” He led me to a bookcase and showed me which shelf to search.
As I glanced over the titles, I feigned interest in ghost stories, asking if he knew about any local ones to cover my true intentions. But myinquiries led nowhere, and I left the shop with nothing but a borrowed book.
As I exited, I heard a familiar voice say, “Mr. Jennings.”
I turned and saw Lord Markham. “How do you do, Lord Markham?”
“Very well, thank you. Is that a book for our ghost-story reading?” He indicated the book tucked under my arm.
“It is,” I said, brandishing the book.
“I’m looking forward to the reading. How are preparations coming along?”
