Lady Griffith's Second Chance

Chapter Six

Regan woke up early the next morning, before the sun had risen or—she suspected—any of the other guests had yet stirred from their beds. She called for Molly, who poked her head into the room without much delay. Her maid, she knew, was well accustomed to the sort of hours she kept.

"What would you like, m'lady?" Molly asked, while she opened up the wardrobe and stood back with her hands on her hips, perusing all of the fine gowns on display.

"I'd like to go for a walk in the gardens, perhaps around the edge of the lake," Regan said, as she shuffled behind the screen in her bare feet and stripped off her robe and nightdress. "I spoke to Lady Polmerol last night, and she told me that the grounds are especially lovely at sunrise, and invited me to stroll all about them whenever I might wish."

"The calico then," Molly said and took down a gown more simple than the others, but printed with pale orange flowers and green leaves. "And will you wear a shawl, or a spencer? Mm, your brown spencer, I think," she continued, without waiting for an answer from her mistress.

Regan smiled to herself as she washed her face, neck, and under her arms. She dried off with a soft linen towel and stepped out to find Molly all ready with stockings, chemise, petticoats, and everything else she would need for an outdoor walk on a damp summer morning.

"Tell Katharine where I've gone," Regan said as Molly fixed her hair into two braids, twined and pinned around her head like a simple coronet. "I'll be back before breakfast is even laid out in the dining room, I'm sure."

"Most of this lot will still be keeping to town hours," Molly said from between a mouthful of hair pins. "You should have a good deal of time to yourself, m'lady."

"Good." Regan stood and didn't even bother to glance at herself in the looking glass before she snatched her spencer and gloves from the edge of her bed. More than anything else, she needed some time to herself, some time to think. She hadn't slept well, her thoughts swaying from memories of her years with Edmund to the warm glances and whispered words she'd shared with Mr. Cranmer.

She told herself it was not guilt that prevented her from finding any peace once her head touched the pillow. There was no reason for her to feel guilty. And yet the sensation remained, that she had touched on something forbidden, as if she had only plighted her trough to Edmund the week before and those vows rang fresh and clear as morning bells in her ears.

"Stay out of the grass," Molly warned her, as she tied the bow of her bonnet beneath her chin. "You'll ruin your boots scuffing them about through the wet and the dirt."

"I have other boots." Regan lifted her chin as her maid fussed with the bow until the loops were shaped to her satisfaction. "And these are my sturdiest pair. They'll survive several long walks through wet grass and over country lanes before they're no longer fit to be worn."

"The other ladies might faint at the sight of you returning with your skirts soaked in mud, and without a patten to be seen."

Regan smiled as she tugged on the first of her gloves. "Then I will simply have to prevent myself from being seen by such faint-hearted ladies, shall I not? Imagine, my trying to keep up with the children wearing a silly pair of pattens to keep my slippers clean. No, I'll continue to wear my boots, no matter what is considered de rigueur."

As soon as Molly declared her mistress fit to be seen in public—or at least by the birds and other wildlife that inhabited the grounds at Brandon Hall—Regan gave her gloves a final adjustment and walked towards the door.

"Are you certain you don't want me to go along with you?" Molly asked, but Regan shook her head.

"It's not Hyde Park. I doubt I'll be set upon by ruffians or thieves while walking along the edge of a man-made lake. The most injury I might suffer is the indignity of being chased off by a territorial swan. I do believe I'll manage."