ChapterSeven
Jessie wished she’d had more time to complete her toilette. She felt less confident with her hair rapidly bundled up and pinned willy-nilly, and was convinced there was an undone button on the back of her dress.
Piers wasn’t much better off. His cravat was crooked and his jacket sadly crumpled.
They walked silently together into Crawford Hall, obeying the summons that had come from Sir Gerald no more than half an hour after Thompkins had received the shock of her life, dropped the tray holding Jessie’s morning tea, and fled back to the Hall.
It had been a scramble, but they were mostly garbed, something they hadn’t been when the maid had walked in. Perhaps it was the bare skin that had stunned her, or perhaps the sight of two lovers entwined around each other, for that was indeed how they had slept.
Jessie felt fingers at her back and slowed her steps as Piers fastened the errant button. She shot him a grateful glance, but said nothing. What was there to be said? They had been discovered.
How Sir Gerald would react remained to be seen.
Piers steered her with an arm on her elbow. “He’ll be finishing breakfast, I expect.”
She nodded, biting her lip, nervous now as never before. She was surprised at how happy she’d become here in such a short time, and Piers was only part of that pleasure. A large part, to be sure, but when she’d taken the estate manager’s chair, and her natural intelligence flowered with the challenges it presented—that had brought her much joy. And pride in what she had accomplished, let alone what was possible in the future.
And now…had their desire for each other jeopardised it all?
Piers knocked and his father immediately answered; a brief invitation to enter.
“Miss Nightingale is with me, Father. May she join us?”
“Of course,” came the hearty response.
Hesitantly she followed Piers, her gaze coming to rest on the relaxed figure of Sir Gerald sipping tea. He rose as they approached, a smile on his face.
“Good morning to you both. There’s still breakfast here, and I would be most happy if you could join me. Especially you, Miss Nightingale. Since you’ve been buried in estate work, I hesitate to interrupt your routine, but a few minutes over tea will be quite welcome.”
Hisbonhomiedisarmed her, and she swallowed, smiling and dropping a curtsey as best she could. “You are very thoughtful. Thank you, tea would be lovely.”
Piers seated her and a servant poured them both cups; anyone observing the scene would think nothing was amiss.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Piers,” began Sir Gerald, as soon as the servants left the room. “I think we might explore the possibilities of your wool over the winter. I heard yesterday, through the village grapevine, that a weaver is coming to stay with her sister. Possibly live here.” He put down his cup and leaned back in his chair. “What do you think of giving her some preliminary bundles from your most recent shearing? Let her spin it and see what sort of cloth we can expect from it?” He looked at Jessie. “If Miss Nightingale’s predictions are correct, then we may all be in for a surprise…”
Piers frowned a little, and Jessie wondered if it caught him as much unawares as she was. Neither had expected such geniality, given the events of this morning thus far. Had Thompkins not revealed what she’d seen? That would astound Jessie, who was more than familiar with nature of gossip in country homes.
No, he knew. She was certain of it, and yet he did not, by the flicker of an eyelash, betray either his knowledge or his sentiments.
“It sounds like a good idea,” answered Piers. “Since it is a young flock, I didn’t get a large amount of usable fleece the first time we sheared them; certainly not enough to take to any large weaving establishment. And as the breeding seasons go on, we’ll expect to see some more changes in both colour and texture. So yes, I think trying it as it is would be an excellent experiment. It might help me learn more about that side of the business and perhaps make breeding changes if necessary to improve the overall quality.”
Sir Gerald nodded. “I agree. Since this is a brand-new venture, the more we learn at this point, the better off we’ll be as time goes on.” He turned to Jessie. “Miss Nightingale.”
“Sir.” She eyed him cautiously.
“Would you be able to tell me if there will be capital available to perhaps set up a weaver’s shop or building or something like that come next year? I don’t anticipate this experimental run to cost very much, so I won’t even bother asking about it at this point.”
Jessie nodded. “There are funds to pay for a weaver, perhaps a couple of helpers to do the carding and so on, and perhaps even a wheel if it’s necessary.” She paused and thought for a moment. “As for next year, a lot will depend on the harvest, of course. And also the results of what you’ve proposed here today. Should the wool be of as high quality as I anticipate, then we must certainly look toward establishing a Crawford weavers’ shop, or something along those lines. I’d prefer Crawford Hall to reap the benefits of Mr Crawford’s sheep by both spinning and weaving, rather than others, although inevitably that will be the case as time goes on.”
Sir Gerald obviously agreed, and Piers endorsed the suggestion. “Excellent point, Miss Nightingale.”
For a few moments, silence fell, broken only by the sound of teacups and saucers meeting with a little clink of china.
“Well,” said Sir Gerald at last, leaning back and touching his napkin to his lips. “I suppose we must address the matter, mustn’t we?” He looked at his son and then at Jessie. “I understand that you two have come to know each other very well.” He paused dramatically. “In thebiblicalsense.”
Piers cleared his throat as Jessie stared down at her teacup.
“Er…”
