Two weeks passed, and still no new governess had been found for Lavender. Word had travelled faster than wildfire through Britannia, and now every governess seemed to have a sudden reason not to come. Some claimed illness, others said they were already engaged, but everyone knew the truth , none of them wanted to teach the "Black Rose of Windmere."
The Marchioness sighed and let another list of names fall onto the table.
"Have you tried anyone else?" she asked, rubbing her temples.
"Yes," her husband said, setting his teacup aside. "But somehow, they are all unavailable."
The Marchioness stared at the window, her voice softening. "Lavender has been in her room every day, trying to copy words from her old books. She keeps making mistakes and tearing the pages when she gets frustrated. I can hardly bear to watch it."
The Marquess reached over and took her hand. "We'll find someone, Beatrice. I promise."
She smiled a little but didn't answer. They both knew promises were easier spoken than kept.
Across the room, Martha stood near the wall, twisting her apron nervously. She'd been quiet for a while, but the look on her mistress's face pushed her to speak.
"My lady," she began hesitantly, "if I may... I know someone who might help."
The Marchioness looked up. "Someone?"
"Yes, ma'am. My cousin. Mary Daniels. She's a teacher ... not a fancy one, but she's good with children, and she's patient."
"Martha," the Marchioness said gently, "you know we cannot just hire..."
"She used to teach the vicar's children," Martha rushed in. "She's kind, my lady. She really is."
The Marquess looked thoughtful. "At this point, my dear, it would do no harm to meet her."
After a pause, the Marchioness nodded. "Very well. Have her come tomorrow morning."
---
The Next Morning
The great doors of Sparrow Hall opened to reveal a woman of quiet confidence and modest dress. She looked to be in her early forties, with calm hazel eyes and a gentle smile that softened her whole face. Her hands were gloved, her posture proper , but there was warmth in the way she moved, unhurried and calm.
The Marchioness came down the staircase, Lavender following close behind, half-hiding behind her skirts.
"You must be Mrs. Daniels," the Marchioness said politely.
"Yes, my lady," Mary replied with a small curtsy. "It's an honour." Her gaze shifted to Lavender, and her smile brightened. "And this must be Miss Sparrow."
Lavender blinked up at her, surprised. No one had ever said her name like that before, as if it were something to be proud of.
"I understand you're looking for a governess," Mary said. "I've taught for fifteen years, mostly young children, some rather stubborn ones too."
The Marchioness studied her for a long moment, then gestured toward the sitting room. "You may begin with Lavender today. I'll have a maid nearby if you require assistance."
"That won't be necessary," Mary said kindly. "We'll manage just fine."
---
In the Study
The two sat together at a large desk, sunlight falling across scattered papers and ink pots.
"How old are you, Miss Lavender?" Mary asked, adjusting her spectacles.
"I'm seven," Lavender said quietly.
"Seven! A very fine age." Mary smiled. "And what do you like best... stories, perhaps?"
Lavender hesitated. "I… I can't read them."
Mary tilted her head. "Can't read them yet," she corrected gently.
Lavender opened her small satchel and brought out a worn book, the corners softened with age. "It was my father's," she said in a whisper.
Mary took the book carefully, brushing a thumb over the faded title.
The Tales of the Golden Shore, by Lord Edward Sparrow.
"So this was his?" she asked softly.
Lavender nodded.
Mary smiled. "Then I think we should start with this one. Would you like to learn how to read your father's words?"
Lavender's eyes brightened. "You'll teach me?"
"Of course," Mary said. "We'll go slow. I promise."
And so they began. Lavender stumbled over her letters at first, frowning every time she missed one, but Mary never scolded. When she finally managed to read a full word, her small grin made Mary laugh softly. For the first time in weeks, the room felt light again, almost happy.
When the lesson ended, the Marchioness appeared at the doorway. "Well?" she asked.
Mary stood and curtsied. "Your daughter is bright, my lady. She only needs time, and someone who believes she can do it."
The Marchioness's expression softened. "You are hired, Mrs. Daniels. But I must be clear, if I hear of any unkindness toward her, you'll be dismissed at once."
Mary met her gaze calmly. "You have my word, my lady. I see only a child who deserves kindness."
The Marchioness smiled faintly. "Then let us begin anew."
And for the first time in a long while, Sparrow Hall felt a little less heavy,as if hope had quietly stepped back inside.