Page 82 of Refining the Debutante
Sarah opened the curtains in Miranda’s bedroom, filling the room with streaks of sunlight. Miranda smiled from her bed, and not because she had her very own lady’s maid—a rare luxury for a companion such as herself—but because it was Sarah.
“Good morning, miss,” Sarah said. She poured water into the washbasin and began tidying up around the room.
“It is a good morning, is it not?” Miranda curled up on her pillow and sighed dreamily. “Today I shall tell Lady Callister about Ethan’s proposal. Then, in six weeks, you and I shall be moving once again.”
“Will Lady Callister be happy for you?” Sarah asked, returning her smile.
Miranda pulled herself up and shrugged. “Of all the people in this world, she wants what is best for me.”
Sarah pulled out a dress for Miranda and soon had her ready to go down for breakfast.
“Just ease her into the news,” Sarah suggested. “It is one thing to like you as a companion and entirely different to have you marry into the family.”
“I never thought of it in such a way,” Miranda said, frowning.
“Chin up.” Sara moved to pull the covers straight on the bed. “She might finally have a good reason to be rid of you.”
“Enough of your cheekiness,” Miranda said, sticking out her tongue. “It is so hard to find good help these days.”
Sarah grinned. “Oh, get on now. You know I will be praying mightily that everything works out.”
Miranda sighed contentedly once more and skipped down for breakfast feeling thankful for Sarah and even more thankful for having secured Ethan’s love.
Lady Callister sat at the table with her eggs untouched and a letter in her hand. She glanced up at Miranda’s beaming face and frowned. “You had better sit down.”
Sensing bad news, Miranda did not even feel the chair beneath her as she sat. “What is it?”
“A letter from Lady Gibson. My grand-nephew Mr. Roderick has engaged himself. Can you guess to whom?”
Miranda’s tongue felt twice its normal size. She finally managed, “Me.”
Lady Callister nodded once. “And Lady Gibson says here that such a marriage can never happen whilst your father is in the Marshalsea. She even goes as far as to offer you money to reconsider.” Lady Callister held up the banknotes.
Gasping, Miranda shook her head fervently. “Never.”
Lady Callister gave a small sigh. “Money could help your father.”
“But surely not enough to free him. I would be indebted to the family but never accepted by them. No, Ethan and I must make our own way.”
“And how does my nephew feel about losing all his financial support?”
The blood drained from her face. “Has it come to that?” She never thought the family would go to such extremes to avoid a connection with her. But this was not a game of pretend where every person received their happy ending.
Lady Callister folded the letter up and set it aside. “I admit I employed you because I suspected Mr. Roderick’s feelings for you.”
Miranda gaped.
“I knew your name from letters I received from the family the Season before while you and my nephew courted. I am an old, foolish romantic. I did my best to keep Captain Grant at bay and deliberately brought you to London to encourage this union.” She tapped the letter with her finger. “I am responsible for this. My nephew will be a baron someday, and I thought with my influence, I could smooth your reputation. Unfortunately, I have been removed from High Society for too long and have forgotten how strong tradition can be.”
“No, you are without fault here.” Miranda hugged herself. She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “This must end. I will write to Mr. Roderick and explain my refusal.”
“I don’t like giving up on such a good cause. Still, should you choose it, you will still have a place with me at Crowfield.”
Miranda could not speak without crying. She nodded and excused herself. She hurried back to her room to find Sarah still there.
“Did you forget something, miss?”
“Pack our things,” Miranda said, her voice cracking. “I am leaving.”
