Page 16 of Refining the Debutante
Sarah nodded. “I’ll keep calling you miss, but only because I think you’ve got the stuff in you to be a real refined lady. A dignified one, too, if you have the heart to try a little harder.”
Miranda yanked her head upward. “Try? I have been slaving away like a common servant. I am sick of trying.”
Sarah stared at her with sad eyes. “Perhaps, but you still sound the same when you talk.”
“Of course I do. I am still the same person.”
“Never mind.” Sarah folded her arms across her chest. “You’re right. I don’t have to stay here. It’s not the best money or work.” She stared at Miranda for a moment, then threw her arms down to her side. “Very well, I’ll stay a little longer on one condition.”
“Tell me.” Sarah was the only person who cared at all. Miranda feared life without her, for then she’d truly be alone.
“I want you tokeeptrying.”
“What other choice do I have?” Miranda huffed. Only in death could she truly escape her suffering, but if God gave her a reason—proved He cared—she could endure.
Sarah gestured at Miranda with a wave of her hand. “Just attempt to be nice for a change.”
Nice? Why? She had lost her entire world, and Sarah wanted her to be nice? How much would a person have to suffer to justify fits of despair? Sarah’s soft smile halted her complaint before it could be uttered. There was compassion in her expression, and it felt like a breath of hope.
“I will try,” Miranda finally said in a small voice. She cleared her throat. “Would you please help me put to rights this mess?”
“Ah,please, that’s a new one. Yes,miss, I would gladly help you.”
As they folded and hung dresses, Miranda’s deepest yearnings resurfaced. It was out of desperation that she confided in Sarah. “Losing my dignity is not as defeating as realizing not a single person in the world cares for me.”
Sarah eyed her. “What of your father?”
“I keep thinking about him. If he loved me, he would not have been able to leave me behind so easily.”
“It won’t do any good to doubt your father’s love, miss. He was only trying to protect you.”
“You are probably right. After everything that has happened, after being with my uncle, I am not sure I even know what love looks like anymore. But you are thinking clearer than I am. I will do as you say and not think ill of him.” Miranda’s eyes hurt from the hours spent crying, and new tears stung as they filled her lids. It was Gray House. Here, love and light were absent. What she wouldn’t give to feel both again.
Chapter 9
Ethan was making a listof things he planned to bring with him on his trip to visit his good friend. Stephen was Lord Meredith now, the Earl of Radnor, but they had been friends since university, and it was still hard to think of him in such a role. They had been corresponding about the current conditions of the poor boys’ school they both sponsored in Folkestone, spurring Ethan to add a few last-minute additions to his list.
He paused when he wrote about having a maid gather spare quilts. Quilts reminded him of the brightly colored ones spread on the lawn during his recent picnic with Miss Withers—a success, to say the least. Since the picnic, there had been a succession of pleasant encounters, some planned, some unexpected. Their relationship was progressing rather nicely. He wasn’t officially courting her yet, but she could not be mistaken about his intentions.
“What are you doing today?” Hannah stepped into the library and leaned over the back of a chair near him. Her hair was pulled up off her neck, and she looked years older than she was.
“When did you grow up?”
“Really, Ethan. If you didn’t want to tell me what you were doing, you could have just said so.”
His pulled his lips between his teeth while he added another item to his list. “I am just making plans for a trip to the boys’ school.”
“Why can’t you make a school for poor girls?”
Ethan sighed. “Timing is important, Hannah. Someday, perhaps I can be an investor for such a project. As it is, my funds are tied to Father’s, and I can only do so much.”
“Can I help? I’m dreadfully bored.”
“Are you?” Of course she was. Jane had not been her usual self this summer. She had been surly and despondent, and Hannah was not one to seek out the company of other young girls.
She picked at the embroidery in the chair’s upholstery. “When is Mother coming back?”
“Mother and Father will return in a few months.”
