Page 83 of Refining the Debutante
Sarah’s eyes widened, and she dropped the scarf she was folding.
“I cannot marry Ethan. And Lady Callister cannot continue to shoulder my disgrace.”
Sensing Miranda’s feelings, Sarah excused herself and let Miranda have some privacy. Miranda fell onto the bed and wept. It was worse than the day at Gray House when she had convinced herself that no one loved her. Now she had someone who wanted her, and she was walking away from him. Why was this happening? Why did every glimpse of happiness seem to be ripped away from her?
* * *
Ethan crumpled up the missive from his father. No marriage or no money. It was absolutely ridiculous. His father’s reputation would suffer from their connections, but it would blow over. Some other scandal would replace this one. At least, that was how Society had reacted when he had called things off with Miranda before. He massaged his forehead. No, he knew this was different. This time, if Mr. Bartley could not be helped, there would be no recovering from such a blow. Society already had its teeth into the Bartley family, and it would rip them to shreds. If only her blasted uncle would exert some of his influence.
Ethan gathered his hat and overcoat, determined to find a way. They had not endured this much just to give up. Nothing else could possibly be more important for him than starting a family with Miranda. There had to be a way out of this mess. He would start with a visit with Mr. Bartley.
Entering the Marshalsea was like walking into the slums of London. There were those who suffered but could be trusted and those who deserved to be locked away for life. Ethan’s eyes darted in every direction as he wondered if someone would jump him from behind to try to rob him.
It was with some relief that he entered the prison room. He faced Mr. Bartley and shut the door behind him. The prisoner’s shirt was wrinkled and yellowing, and he did not have the same sparkle in his eyes as when Miranda had been with him.
“How do you do, Mr. Bartley?”
Mr. Bartley, pale and thin, stood and bowed like a gentleman. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
Ethan faltered. How would he broach this delicate topic? “Mr. Bartley, might I speak plainly?”
“Of course,” Mr. Bartley said. He waved Ethan toward the only chairs in the room, near the small wooden table.
“I would like to ascertain the amount of your debts. Will you tell me?”
Mr. Bartley rubbed the stubble on his chin, his eyes suspicious. “And who will buy this information from you to further shame our family? What benefit will you receive?”
Ethan glanced at the door, wishing he were already removed from such a place. The odor alone seemed to penetrate his clothes. “I would like to apply some of my own funds to your debts.”
“Whatever for?” Mr. Bartley leveled him with a hard stare.
“It can hardly surprise you, sir, that I have been paying for your rooms on this side of the prison for some time. Your comfort is important to me. I left your family subject to gossip when I removed myself from London at the end of last Season. My conscience urged me to make amends in some way. Now I will try all that I can to see you are released from this place.”
“Why?” Mr. Bartley asked, his eyes wide and curious.
“I know this might prove difficult for you to reconcile with, but I have once more attached myself to your daughter.”
Mr. Bartley waved the idea away with his hand. “You cannot buy Miranda’s love, Mr. Roderick. I am obliged to you for your generosity, truly I am. But you hurt her badly. I might not be able to prevent anything from the confines of this jail, but my girl will marry a man she loves and respects.”
The acid in Ethan’s stomach burned in his throat. He had not worked things out with Miranda at last only to have both their fathers thwart their happiness.
“I assure you, Mr. Bartley, I regret walking away from your daughter. I give you my word when I say we love each other. If you will not let me pay your creditors, then I do not see any further reason to remain here. Good day, Mr. Bartley.” Ethan rose and, with regretful steps, made his way to the door.
“Mr. Roderick,” Mr. Bartley said.
Ethan turned to face him.
“If Miranda truly loves you... then you have my blessing. But you must forget about me. My debts are significant indeed.”
Ethan swallowed hard. He could not break the news to Mr. Bartley that without freeing him from prison, it would be hard to support Miranda as his wife. “Thank you, sir. I promise to love her always.”
“See that you do.”
Nothing in his situation was truly resolved after his visit to the Marshalsea, but Ethan considered Mr. Bartley’s blessing a godsend. At least one parent supported them. Ethan was not finished though. He had one last idea. A sort of fever burned inside of him. This had to work.
Chapter 32
Miranda and Sarah were packingMiranda’s things when Lady Callister entered the room.
