Lady Griffith's Second Chance

Chapter Twenty-One

It was quiet in the drawing room, with Regan and Katharine and Miss Kennett seated in various chairs set about the room. Katharine was ensconced at the writing desk, penning replies to various letters and invitations (though Regan suspected that the longest missive was intended for her betrothed and would not likely be finished for another hour.) Miss Kennett sat near the window, a piece of embroidery in front of her. Regan had complimented Miss Kennett's skill with a needle and thread several days before, her work neat and delicate and showing obvious aptitude for the task.

"I can also crochet," she had said, showing a lace collar created with a small silver hook and thread, the quality of it finer than anything Regan had ever seen.

Only six days had passed since Miss Kennett had arrived in Kent, but Regan had learned that Miss Kennett's education had not been lacking. Aside from her talent with embroidery and crochet, she spoke French and some German, played the harp tolerably well, had a strong foundation in mathematics and geometry, and was incredibly well-read for someone her age.

"I had not much to occupy me while I lived at Brindledown," she admitted, referring to her time at Lord Hays' estate. "And I did have a governess, plus there was a substantial library on the grounds, though most of it was so old and dusty I wouldn't be surprised if I was the first person to open any of its volumes in three or four decades."

"Probably not," Regan agreed, considering that Lord Hays had not chosen to spend much time at his ancestral estate, aside from when he jaunted back from London long enough to see Miss Kennett impregnated with his child.

"What are you working on today?" Regan set down her book - a novel, a gothic mystery, but too overwrought for her current mood - and blinked the words from her vision. Yesterday, Miss Kennett had been putting the finishing touches on a flowered band to dress up a rather plain bonnet. This afternoon, all Regan could make out were a few stitches of blue on a white field.

"It is to be a ship." Miss Kennett indicated a detailed plan on the paper beside her. "Peter is in love with all things to do with the ocean, and so there will be waves cresting white against the rocks here, and the ship positioned in the deeper waters over there," she described, waving her hand over the still empty fabric.

"I would accuse you of being overly ambitious," Regan said, her gaze darting from the paper to the fabric and back again. "But as I have already seen evidence of your incredible skill, I will not doubt that you shall do every stitch of that scene justice."

A blush stole across Miss Kennett's cheeks. "I-I thank you, Lady Griffith, for the kind words. Perhaps I could design something for you, or for the children! I would so enjoy creating a gift to give you in exchange for allowing Peter and me to stay here as guests in your home."

"You owe us nothing," Regan assured her. "But if you feel you must repay us in some way, then maybe you could show Maria a bit of your work, teach her the fine way you do some of your stitching. She needs to move on from mere piecework, and I am not as gifted with a needle and thread as I would like to be."

"Oh, I would love to teach her!" Miss Kennett's face lit up with excitement. "I could work with her while Peter has his nap. We could even sit outside, since the weather has been so fine the last few days."

The stifling heat and humidity of the previous week had indeed given way to a string of cooler days, and Regan could not help but think of autumn, even though it seemed as if the summer months had only just begun. "Yes, that would be..." Regan bit her lips, her thoughts suddenly expanding on their discussion. "I have an idea," she said, and shifted forward in her chair, her hands braced on her knees. "Once Katharine is married and gone from here, and Jack goes to school, I will be in need of a governess for Maria. We had one before, for Katharine, but she moved to Yorkshire a little over a year ago to help care for an ailing sister. But if you-"