Page 34 of Refining the Debutante
Hannah surprised Miranda by placing a hand on her arm. “Oh, do come. I should love to have someone there to talk to.”
“How do you like that?” Jane guffawed. “Your own brother and sister will be there, yet you act like you will be entirely without support.”
Hannah let the silence speak for her.
No one knew more what it felt like to be alone than Miranda. Hannah was innocent to the cruelty of Society, and Miranda couldn’t hide in her room while the poor girl suffered. Besides, she couldn’t imagine disgracing herself any more than she already had. “I shall come if it will make you feel more comfortable, Hannah.” She turned to Ethan. “Unless it will make your guests uncomfortable.”
“You underestimate our friends,” Ethan said, giving Jane a significant look. He relaxed back in his seat and stretched his legs out before him. Miranda had never seen him so at ease before. “I assure you they will be more accepting than those in Town. You will be our guest of honor.”
His pronouncement did not reassure her in the way he might have hoped. “Wonderful. I shall feel like the prodigal debutante.”
Ethan chuckled, but if glares could kill, Jane’s would have done him in.
Miranda’s analogy was more fitting than she cared to admit. If she could go back and live her life differently, maybe she would have more allies than merely Ethan and Hannah.
Chapter 15
Morning came like a silentgift, blessing Miranda with new surroundings and a chance to be a new person. She pulled back the bright-yellow quilt entangled around her legs and breathed in the hint of vanilla and lavender from her bath the day before. Ethan had invited her to join him and his sisters on a ride, and after an indulgent cup of hot chocolate taken in bed, she decided to do something brave first.
Miranda pulled out her writing box and spread out a paper, some ink, and a pen on the small table in the corner of her room.
Dear Lord Aldington,
She paused. The man did not care one wit about her. Why was she doing this? She knew the answer as surely as she knew her reservations for writing him. She would always loathe her time at Gray House, but the hope she harbored for her uncle encouraged her to put pen to paper.
I arrived safely at Stonebrook Hall, where I am visiting Lord Gibson’s children. I am well. I do not know when, if ever, I shall see you again, but I hope this letter finds you in good health. I intend to find a position somewhere but am enjoying my time with old friends until something can be arranged.
Would he even read her letter? She knew he would not demand her to return, but would he care at all if she were safe or not? With a flick of her pen, she signed her name and blotted the ink. When she was sure it was dry, she folded and sealed the letter. She gave the missive and some coins for post to a servant in the passage and made her way to the stables.
Wearing her riding habit again thrilled her to no end. It was a robin’s-egg blue made of gabardine wool, with white braided frog clasps and matching ruffles around her wrists and neck. One of life’s pleasures was beautiful clothes. Riding, of course, brought its own source of satisfaction. Miranda had wondered if she would be given the opportunity to ride again with her new circumstances. Once on the lawn, Ethan, astride his gray gelding, led a lovely roan-colored mare with a white stripe down her nose toward Miranda.
“This is Starstreak. I thought she would make a good match for you. She has just enough spirit to make the ride enjoyable.”
“She is beautiful.” Miranda accepted a lift up from the groomsman. The familiar feel of reins in her hands made her sigh with pleasure.
“I know you rode often with your father while in London,” Ethan said, pulling his horse up beside her. “You have a good seat.”
Jane groaned from atop her horse.
“I mean... a good seat on a horse,” Ethan corrected, followed by a short cough.
Miranda bit back her smile.
Jane turned to her sister. “Come, Hannah. I will race you to the tree line.”
The mention of racing made Miranda squirm. No doubt betting on races had been part of her father’s financial downfall. She tried to think of another source of conversation, but there was an undercurrent of awkwardness between her and Ethan. How did one transition from marital prospect to charity case? It was simply too difficult to find her footing. Perhaps she should make plans to leave sooner rather than later.
“What do you make of Stonebrook Hall?” Ethan finally asked.
Miranda nudged her horse in the direction Jane and Hannah had taken. “It is bright and cheerful.” She paused. “My, that sounds rather doltish, does it not?” She used to be cleverer with words. The new her was too introspective and unnatural.
“Not in the slightest.” Ethan seemed pleased enough with her answer. “Then, you are comfortable here?”
“Certainly,” Miranda said, hiding a grimace. It was hard not to focus on the fact that she might have been the lady of such a fine house. Thankfully, she was distracted by ridiculous thoughts like how long it would take to scrub the floors in the gallery. “You must write and give my compliments to your parents. When do they return from Bath?”
“I plan to see my parents in London for the Season and not before then.”
“Oh.” Such a pronouncement brought immediate relief. Perhaps they were ignorant of her presence in their home. She imagined they would be as angry as Jane should they discover it. Miranda and Ethan passed underneath a large tree, and the hundreds of leaves shook in the slow breeze. It gave her sudden perspective. She was just one of many shaken by adversity, struggling to find a place in this world. Realizing this helped her to relax in Ethan’s presence, allowing for a comfortable silence to fall between them as they rode.
