The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,22
surface of his mind. But he said nothing.
The breeze carried strains of a pianoforte from somewhere in the house, and she glanced toward the door. “I should return. If you will excuse me?”
Without a thought for decorum, Graham reached out and touched her arm. “Wait.”
She turned, her eyes flitting from his hand on her arm to his face. “Yes, Captain Sterling?”
He shifted uncomfortably. He was alone with her. Would not now be a good time to speak with her as he had intended? With his time in Darbury limited, he did not have the luxury of waiting. “I wondered . . . I have been meaning to ask . . . You see, I know very little about my wife’s final days.” He hesitated, pausing to interpret the shadow crossing her face. “Might I trouble you for a moment of your time to ask you a few questions?”
She hesitated, interlaced her fingers, then nodded. “Of course. You have my permission to ask me anything.”
“I received only three letters from Katherine after she moved to Darbury. I have no doubt she wrote more frequently, but as you can imagine, the post did not always extend over the sea. How did you and Katherine become acquainted?”
After an awkward silence, Miss Barrett spoke. “We met after she moved to Darbury, to Moreton Cottage. That was almost a year and a half ago. Jane Hammond—that’s the vicar’s wife—told me that I had a new neighbor, and as I am sure you can imagine, we do not often receive new neighbors in Darbury. I called upon Katherine; we grew fond of each other and soon became fast friends. We spent nearly every day in each other’s company. She was, of course, with child when she arrived, but a few months after her arrival, she fell ill. Since she was all alone at Moreton Cottage, with only two servants to tend to her, I insisted she stay at Winterwood for her lying in.”
Graham could no longer hold back the question. “Did my brother not offer any assistance?”
Miss Barrett’s lips parted in what could only be surprise at his directness. Heavy silence blanketed the space before she spoke. “If I remember correctly, Mr. Sterling was out of town for most of the time Katherine was in Darbury.”
Graham masked his annoyance. He would deal with his frustration toward his brother at another time. Right now there were other things he needed to know. “What was it . . . That is to say, how did she . . . ?” He stopped himself and tried again. “What were the circumstances surrounding her death?”
Miss Barrett stepped to the railing, as if trying to put distance between them.
Graham closed the space she created by joining her at the balustrade. “I don’t mean to upset you, but I beg of you . . . I must know.”
She stared away from him into the blackness. “How much do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
A sharp gust swept over the terrace, and Miss Barrett shivered. She gathered the hem of her shawl and ran the fringe through her fingers. He adjusted his stance, preparing to hear whatever might pass her lips.
“From the beginning of her confinement, it was clear that something was amiss. She was confined to bed early on. The midwife advised that if she was too active, she could lose the baby.”
The wind calmed. Miss Barrett paced with slow, decided steps, her shimmering gown billowing behind her and glittering in the faint light from inside.
“When her time came, the midwife told us it was too soon. Katherine should have carried Lucy for another month, but she couldn’t . . .” Amelia paused, her head lowered, as if gathering her thoughts or calming her emotions. She sniffed, fixed her eyes on the ground, then went on. “She labored for days. Then, after Lucy came, Katherine succumbed to puerperal fever.” She pointed, directing his attention to a narrow window in a far wing. “There. That was her room while she was at Winterwood. She died in that room.”
Graham rubbed his hand over his face and let it settle over his mouth. Katherine, his Katherine, had been in pain. Snippets of memories bombarded him. Her smile. Her hair.
He looked over at Miss Barrett. She had stayed with Katherine to the last. Without her, who would have been there for his wife? His indebtedness to this wisp of a woman ran deep indeed.
Graham forced words through his tightened throat. “That must have been very difficult for you,