Regan shifted in her seat and nudged a slumbering Katharine into wakefulness.
"Wh-what is is it?" her daughter said through a yawn, the back of her hand making an ineffectual swipe at a shimmer of drool that had escaped the corner of her mouth.
"I believe we've arrived," Regan announced as they passed a tall, stone column she assumed was one half of the gate marking the entrance to Brandon Hall.
"Oh!" Katharine blinked several times, tucked a loose curl of hair beneath her bonnet, and leaned over her mother to peer through the window. "Have you seen the house yet?"
"No," Regan admitted. "And if it follows the design of most country estates, it will be several minutes before we do."
Katharine returned to her seat, all signs of tiredness rapidly clearing from her features as she fidgeted with her gloves and her hair and the buttons of her spencer. "How long have you known Lady Polmerol, Mama?"
"A few years." Regan smiled at her daughter. "Well, more than a few. We had our first season together. We even married the same year. She lost her husband some years before your father passed, though. Poor man caught a trifling little cold that developed into something so much worse." She turned her attention towards the view on the other side of the window, of trees dappled by afternoon sunshine, of a stream curling its way through the well-tended underbrush. "We still made every attempt to communicate with one another, letters and brief visits and the like. And then, after your father died..."
"Oh, Mama." Katharine reached forward and took her mother's hands in her own. "I know this has all been very difficult for you, but I do wish to thank you for coming with me."
"And not your Aunt Agnes?" Regan said, and smiled again at her daughter.
Katharine returned the light tone with a grin of her own. "It isn't that I'm not terribly grateful to Aunt Agnes for all she's done for me these past few months, chaperoning me here and there, introducing me to so many people, but..." Her voice trailed away as her expression took on an awkward edge.
"But she's still Aunt Agnes?" Regan provided.
"Yes," Katharine bit down on chuckle before it could fully give her away. "Very much so."
As they approached the house, both ladies made a last check of their gowns and gloves and the angle of their bonnets before the carriage rolled to a halt before the main entrance to Brandon Hall.
The door was opened for them and the step lowered before they were both helped down to the white gravel drive. Regan glanced up at the imposing facade, with its tall windows and twin stone staircases winding up to the house's front doors.
Regan's own home was certainly nothing at which to turn up one's nose. But this was not her estate, with all of its various rooms and corridors surrounded by the sprawling grounds that she knew so well. All of a sudden, she felt as if she'd been transported back to those first days of her first season in London, two decades earlier. Except it was no longer her own marriage prospects that she fretted over, but her daughter's.
She glanced over at Katharine, who gazed up at the house—and the woman descending one side of the staircase to come and greet them—with a greater appearance of confidence than anything Regan could summon on her own.
"Regan!" The woman approaching them held out both arms and grasped Regan's hands tightly. "How wonderful of you to come! I had so hoped I could persuade you to join us, and then when I received your acceptance... Well, Theo will have to tell you how pleased I was to have drawn out the elusive Lady Griffith at last!"
"Lady Polmerol," Regan said, and turned her cheek just in time for it to be kissed. Lady Polmerol was her junior by only eleven months, but Regan thought the years had been kinder to her erstwhile friend's appearance than her own. At thirty-eight years of age, their hostess gleamed bright and youthful enough to hold court with any of the young ladies celebrating their first or second seasons.
"Oh, no! None of that stuffiness between you and I! I always have been and always will be 'Maggie', if you please." She stepped back to regard Katharine, her light brown curls bobbing as she clapped her hands beneath her chin. "And who is this delightful young beauty? Surely, this cannot be your little Katie, can it?"
Katharine managed a curtsy a moment before Maggie reached for her hands and dropped a light kiss on her cheek.
"Oh, goodness. She has Sir Griffith's eyes, does she not?" Maggie said over her shoulder to Regan. "Such fine features. I can see who will be a favorite among the unmarried gentlemen in the drawing room tonight!"
Katharine looked over at her mother, a silent plea in her expression, but Regan simply shook her head and gave Maggie a gracious smile before they were led inside.
"Now we do keep country hours here," Maggie explained as they passed through the foyer and towards another large staircase that separated at the top, each side leading into a different wing of the house. "Though I understand that those just coming from town will insist on rising as late as possible, so you're free to keep whatever hours you wish as long as you are here!"
They followed Lady Polmerol past colorful tapestries, shining suits of armor, and hundreds of pieces of medieval weaponry that had been forged into sunbursts before they were fixed onto the walls as decoration.
"I've given you adjoining rooms," she continued as she led them down another corridor rich with the early Georgian touches still leftover from previous decades. "Of course, if you find anything not to your liking, let me know at once and I'll do everything within my power to remedy it!"
Their rooms were decorated in contrasting shades of pale greens and yellows, Katharine's in mainly yellow with green accents and Regan's in mainly green with yellow. A white door separated their rooms, and while each woman inspected the space that would be their home for the next several weeks, Lady Polmerol continued to chatter about dinners and picnics and a shooting tournament planned for the men on the following day.
"And we'll be having tea in the blue music room this afternoon," she continued, having hardly ceased to draw a breath during the entirety of her speech. "So you have a bit of time yet to rest and refresh yourselves before coming downstairs to become better acquainted with the other guests who have already arrived."
As soon as they were alone, Regan began to remove her bonnet and gloves while Katharine tackled the buttons on her spencer.
"It is lovely here," Katharine said as she took off her own bonnet and searched for a looking glass in which to inspect the state of her hair. "Though I don't believe Aunt Agnes would be able to stand the furnishings," she admitted with a small smile in her mother's direction.
"She'd have all of this gilded stuff tossed onto a bonfire and have it replaced with clean lines and Grecian urns," Regan laughed, just as the doors opened and their trunks arrived, accompanied by their maids.
"So," Katharine said, and gave her mother's hand a gentle squeeze. "Tea, downstairs with all the guests? You've not faced a greater crowd of people than a few neighbors invited over to gossip over fresh scones and cream. Are you ready?"
Regan drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Allow me to wash and change, and then... Yes, I believe I will be."
***
She had lied, of course. Despite her hands and face being washed, her plain traveling gown exchanged for one of blue muslin, and her hair brushed out and pinned up again by the skilled hands of Molly, her maid, she did not feel in any way prepared to face a room full of strangers.
But they wouldn't all be strangers. Regan knew that, yet more than a half dozen years away from society would no doubt render them as such.
"Oh, Mama! You look lovely!" Katharine said, as she joined her mother outside of their rooms before going downstairs.
Regan accepted the compliment, but she could not bring herself to believe it. She missed her lavenders and her greys, but all of her old gowns had been packed away before they'd left home two days earlier. Today was the first time she'd worn any of the new fashions made for her, the hired seamstresses making quick work of her gowns since the season in town was already at an end and large orders were scarce. Now, not a single shade of mourning or half-mourning resided in her trunks, and each time she glanced at the array of colors and fabrics in her wardrobe, her breath caught in her throat.
She would not have believed one could become so attached to a few muted shades of color, but at that moment, in her vibrant blue trimmed in ribbons that gleamed as bright as sapphires, she might as well have been naked for all the discomfort she experienced as she walked down the stairs with Katharine at her side.
A manservant directed them to the blue music room, a bright and airy space that looked out over a portion of the lake. Regan only glanced at the windows for a moment before her attention returned to the room itself and those milling about inside of it. Lady Polmerol broke away from a group of older ladies to greet them at the door, exchanging a few pleasantries with them before drawing them further into the room.
They both accepted cups of tea and while Katharine chose a seat near the window, Regan opting to remain standing.
She could not sit. Her legs wanted to fidget. She sent another glance towards the windows and wondered why they were not all outside, enjoying the clear sky and sunshine. No doubt Jack and Maria were out of doors at that very moment, Maria making mud pies while Jack attempted to launch a flotilla of paper boats. Regan's fingers tapped restlessly against the side of her cup before she took a sip, though if it was tea or coffee or even brandy she swallowed, the flavor did little to draw her back from her distraction.
Another glance towards Katharine showed that her daughter had already fallen into conversation with a gentleman who had wandered over to the window. Regan assumed the two had already been introduced, as Katharine's expression gave no hint that she wasn't acquainted with the man or wished to be elsewhere. She looked for Lady Polmerol then, the only other person in the room Regan recognized, but found her all the way over by the door, welcoming another guest to tea.
Regan's cup clattered in its saucer. The sight of Mr. Cranmer entering the room startled her. She hadn't expected to see him here. To be honest, she hadn't expected to ever cross paths with him again, a thought that had given her some comfort after their first meeting several weeks before. Her fingers tightened around the delicate handle of her teacup as Lady Polmerol led Mr. Cranmer into the room, their hostess's hands fluttering, her face lit up with the broadest of smiles, as if he were the Regent himself come to grace their little gathering with his presence.
There was no way Regan could excuse herself from the room without drawing even more attention to herself. She wondered briefly why the desire for escape should even cross her mind, and then she recognized the same warmth of... something in her cheeks, while the lines that decorated the palms of her hands slickened with perspiration. Here approached this young gentleman, surely more than ten years her junior, and she was incapable of keeping her stomach from turning somersaults, as if she were a blushing youth rather than a widow and mother of thirty-nine years.
And so she did nothing, simply standing there with her teacup, hoping that this Mr. Cranmer was a forgetful sort and would have no recollection of their previous meeting. Or that he wouldn't recognize her out of her colors of half-mourning.
"Oh, Regan!" Lady Polmerol came over to join them, Mr. Cranmer held tight to her side as if they were the oldest of acquaintances. Regan blinked at the familiarity, but showed no other sign of discomposure as they approached. "Thomas here was just telling me that he'd already made your acquaintance at your home in Kent! And here I thought I'd been the one to rescue you from your hermitage."
"Lady Griffith." Mr. Cranmer disengaged himself from Lady Polmerol's side and sketched a small bow. "It is a pleasure to see you again."
Regan lifted her chin an inch. His gaze met hers as he straightened up, his eyes more grey today against the subtle shades of blue that filled the room around them. Goodness, he looked so very young. She would have thought him barely into his twenties if not for the slight crinkling of the skin around his eyes when he smiled. And he did smile, as if she were the only other person present and they were back in the rose garden, with a bit of greenery in his hair and the sun warming their faces.
Or perhaps she was letting her imagination run away from her again.
"Mr. Cranmer," she replied. She looked down at the cup of tea in her hands and wished for a beverage that would not make her mouth feel so dry. "I take it your summer thus far has been a pleasurable one?"
"Yes, it has." He moved closer to her, not so much that his proximity would be deemed indecent, but near enough that Regan had to tilt her chin further upwards in order to see him better. Did the man have to be so tall? And did the line of his jaw... ?
She cleared her throat and took another sip.
"Of course, I was disappointed not to meet you again, but then I was informed from several quarters that you possessed a penchant for seclusion. That is, until recently, I see."
She ignored his attempt to draw out her reason for keeping out of society for so many years—if, indeed, that was even his intention. And so she glanced out the window, at the green lawns that beckoned her, and she licked her lips, and she looked back to find Mr. Cranmer watching her intently. "I take it you are well acquainted with our host," she said, deftly steering the conversation onto another subject. She nodded towards Lady Polmerol, who had already drifted away to speak with one of the servants about something. "Or did she strip your surname from you the moment you arrived?"
He smiled, and for once, he didn't maintain eye contact with her as he did so. She thought he almost looked embarrassed, an expression that did little to hide his youth. "She is my cousin, if you must know. In fact, we were raised together for a time - well, as much as the difference in our ages permitted. And then I went off to school and she went off to search for a husband in the marriage mart."
"Oh, I didn't know." In all of Regan's chats with Lady Polmerol - or Miss Maggie Carruthers, as she had been when they were close - she could not recall a mention of a male cousin raised in the same household. But then, she realized, he would have been a mere youth of only sixteen or seventeen the last time she had seen Maggie, and probably well ensconced in his studies. Before then, he would've only been a child. "But your accent," she blurted out, looking up at him anew. "You sound nothing at all alike."
"My mother was from Edinburgh," he said, dipping his head down as if it were a confession. "I was born there, lived there for several of my formative years, then returned for my education."
"I see," was all she could think to say in response. Had she been away from the circles of polite conversation and idle gossip for so long that she'd forgotten how to speak with another person beyond her own family? Or did this Mr. Cranmer manage to send all words longer than a single syllable flying out of her head with only a smile and a glimmer of his eyes?
Regan again raised her cup to her lips, allowing just enough liquid to slide over her tongue that it wouldn't stick to the roof of her mouth on her next words. "We moved in the same circles in London," she said, careful to skirt any mention of Edmund. Not because she didn't want Mr. Cranmer to know about her husband—she was sure he could inquire about the former Sir Griffith from anyone else in the room and receive all the pertinent information he could desire—but because she didn't believe herself ready to speak about Edmund with someone she hardly knew, and especially not over tea and cakes. "We met at the various balls and assemblies, traded gossip and compliments as all young ladies do."
"And now your own daughter is the one traveling through those same circles, I understand?"
"Yes," she said, with a quick glance over to the window where Katharine and her gentleman still conversed. Her eyes narrowed for a moment as she wondered how her daughter could fall into such deep discussion with someone who appeared to be much older than her, but Regan pushed the thought away before it could take hold. "And now it is my turn to remain on the sidelines." She dragged her gaze back to Mr. Cranmer, her own words laden with as much significance as she could manage. "Until she is settled and content, and then I will return to my seclusion," she added, with an edge she had not intended.
"To be with your younger children." Mr. Cranmer's expression softened at the edges. "A commendable goal, in my opinion. I take it you miss them already?"
"I do," she admitted. "We spent two days travelling, and I've never been away from them for even a single night. I'm sure there are other women here who would laugh at my desire to be home again with them. Perhaps I have been in seclusion for too long, and I've forgotten the proper way to behave."
"The way society expects you to behave and what is proper are not always in accord with one another, my lady."
She looked at him then, and she suddenly wished that he wasn't quite so young, or that she hadn't clung to her mourning for so long. "Well, be that as it may, I must remember that Katharine needs me as well. And she will most likely be leaving me soon, off to begin managing a family and household of her own. What time I still have with her, I've no wish to squander."
It left her reeling slightly, at how easy it was to be open with Mr. Cranmer, to admit things to him she had yet to even acknowledge to her own mind. She told herself it was because she'd been so long removed from society that she could not help but share too great a measure of her thoughts with him. She told herself this, and yet she had difficulty making herself believe it.
"If you'll excuse me." She pressed the backs of her fingers against her mouth, hoping to disguise the slight quiver of her bottom lip. "I should check on Katharine, make certain the journey here has not left her too fatigued to endure so much company." It was a weak excuse, but she left him standing there, no more than a curt nod marking her departure. She found her way to Katharine's side, her daughter alone again after her long conversation with the older gentleman who had paid her such a generous amount of attention.
"And who was that I saw you speaking to," Regan said, settling herself on a chair beside Katharine's. "Behaving for all the world as if there were no one else in the room but the two of you, hmm?"
Her tone was light and teasing, and when she saw a blush color Katharine's cheeks, Regan's heart gave an ominous flutter in her chest.
"He's... Oh, he's Mr. Winthrop. Did I not tell you about him?"
"I can't recall..." Regan began vaguely, though she was sure she would've remembered any mention of a Mr. Winthrop, especially if he had the power to bring such warmth to her daughter's face.
"I met him at... Oh, I can't remember precisely when. I saw him once at Mr. Trenton's, but we were not introduced until several weeks later. But he's ever so kind, and he loves to talk about all sorts of subjects, and he likes to hear my opinion on matters, as well."
"And not merely about horses and curricles, I take it?" Regan studied her daughter's expression as she spoke about her Mr. Winthrop.
"Oh, no. Not at all." Katharine smiled, but not for her mother's benefit. The light in her dark blue eyes was too far away, most likely still musing over her tete-a-tete. "He likes to talk about books, and history, and—Oh! So many interesting things. He's an historian, did you know? He is an expert on Egypt, along with a great many other places of antiquity!"
Regan looked at her daughter for another moment, before she allowed her gaze to drift towards the view beyond the music room window. It seemed only fitting that she would doff her widow's colors and re-enter society in order to oversee her eldest child's search for a future husband, only to find that Katharine seemed to have already caught the attention of - or been caught by - an eligible gentleman. That is, if Regan considered a man who appeared to be nearly two decades older than her daughter an eligible match.
"Well." She tore her gaze away from the window and its lovely prospect. Just because there was a possibility Katharine had become infatuated with someone did not mean they would be reading the banns and choosing wedding clothes anytime soon.
If Katharine wanted to marry this Mr. Winthrop - or anyone, for that matter - she would need her mother's approval first. And perhaps spending the next few weeks getting to know more about Mr. Winthrop would act as the perfect distraction against a certain tall, dark-haired Mr. Cranmer and his inexplicable attentions towards her.
**********************************
Chapter Four will be posted on Friday, August 2nd!
I hope you have been enjoying the story so far. As always, thank you for the reads, comments, follows... well, just everything! Wattpad readers are some of the best readers I have found!
Quenby