Page 28 of Refining the Debutante
“Why would you do so much for me? I was a horrible mistress back in London.”
Sarah smiled, her features still a little haggard from her illness. “There, I had the comradery downstairs along with decent wages to keep me going.” She looked up at Gray House. “Living here is like wishing for the sun to come up after a tempest, but it never does.”
“I am thrilled you have such nice things to say about my home,” Miranda quipped.
“It’s true staying here has been difficult, but I had faith in you.”
“I will never understand why.”
“You were like the good silver in the house—of great worth but tarnished by Society and indulgence. All you needed was a bit of polishing to make you shine. And who polishes silver best but a maid?” Sarah’s brows raised with an expectant smile.
Miranda couldn’t return the smile. She sniffed and blinked back tears.
“Keep your chin up, miss. One sighting of Mr. Roderick, and you’ll have your skip back in your step.”
“Mr. Roderick?” Miranda groaned inwardly, but it was better for Sarah to think Miranda would be taken care of, even if it was a stretch from the truth. “Oh, very well. Just so you have something to warm your carriage ride with, I will confide in you. When he walked me home from town the other day, I nearly swooned to have him so near me.” Sarah’s lips pulled upward, and Miranda decided to forgo any mention of the complete fear and anxiety she had suffered during that long walk as well. Instead, she added, “How could I not? His eyes are the color of melted chocolate.”
Sarah giggled.
Miranda would miss the sound of her laughter. She threw her arms around Sarah and squeezed her tight. “I won’t forget you!”
“And I you, miss. Stay out of Mrs. Guttridge’s way.”
“I shall endeavor to do just that.” Miranda released Sarah. Then she pulled a present out of her apron pocket. “This is for you.”
The present was not wrapped in paper but in a pretty oriental silk scarf. Sarah cooed, recognizing it immediately. “Oh, miss, you love this scarf.”
“So do you,” Miranda reminded her. “I have seen you look at it often. I want you to have it... and what is inside.”
Sarah unwrapped the scarf to reveal a garnet ring. “I cannot take this.”
“You can.” Miranda pushed Sarah’s hands back. “I should have sold it when we had so little to eat, but I had too much pride to let go of anything.” She clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. “I am ashamed of the failings in my character. Yet you did not abandon me when everyone else did.” She looked up again, meeting Sarah’s surprised and tearful expression. “If you never wear these things, I want you to sell them. Take the money and let it sustain you until you find another position.” Miranda pulled a second item from her pocket. “And this is a letter of recommendation. If my reputation does not serve you well, write to me, and I will have Mr. Roderick find you a place. I know he will help if I ask.”
“He will, will he?” Sarah asked with a gleam.
Miranda bit back her smile. “He has a good heart, and I promise to put aside my pride if you but ask.”
“For what it’s worth, I do care about you.” Sarah squeezed Miranda’s hands.
Emotion lodged in Miranda’s throat. “Thank you.” More than money and food, she wanted someone to care. She finally had a true friend. It warmed her and made her ache at the same time. Why now? Why did Sarah have to leave? At least she could be comforted to know Sarah would be happier somewhere else. Wiping her tears, Miranda waved goodbye to her only friend.
* * *
Dealing with Mrs. Guttridge over the next few days was like ordering a dress from the last roll of fabric only to have it cut too small. No amount of alterations would ever make it fit, just like nothing Miranda did could please Mrs. Guttridge. It was quite impossible to meet Ethan, though Miranda had already decided such an act was pointless and would only serve to torture her. Instead, she’d focused on what would improve her situation. As soon as she was sent to town again, she’d sell off the rest of her things until she’d raised enough money to flee to Scotland or maybe catch a boat to the Continent. There she would look for work as a servant, if anyone would hire her. Nothing was beneath her now. She wanted to work for someone who had no connection or knowledge of her past. Her uncle would no doubt celebrate her departure with a toast of his finest brandy wine.
With nothing to keep her at Gray House, Miranda decided to write her uncle a letter of farewell. He had still not returned from his trip, and she would not wait to speak to him. She pushed aside her toiletries on the small table in her room that doubled as a desk and dressing table. Opening her writing box, she pulled out her pen and ink and a sheet of paper.
Dear Lord Aldington,
I am leaving to seek employment elsewhere and will no longer burden you with my presence. Please do not be angry with me for my sudden departure. While I regret not making peace between us, this seems for the best. It is my wish that our family will someday repair our relations. I beg you to put aside whatever harm was done in the past. My father does not hate you and has long regretted this rift. He never told me what came between you, but I must believe there is a chance to heal. You might not ever care for me, but please try just the same.
Miranda wiped away a tear as she wrotetryat the end. There was power in that tiny word. Sarah had taught her that. Miranda folded the letter and crept down to her uncle’s study. She pushed open the door, noticing immediately that the room had not been aired for several days. Hopefully, it meant no one would stumble upon her or her letter. She slipped inside and closed the door.
The faint musty odor of alcohol made her nose itch, but after a moment, she no longer noticed it at all. She glanced at a few papers on his secretaire and added her folded one on top. She heard footsteps and froze. The sound approached the door, then kept going past it. Miranda clutched her chest and exhaled. She counted to one hundred before letting herself out. She returned to her room and began to pack her things. It was time to say goodbye again—this time, to Gray House—a home without a heart.
Chapter 13
Unique circumstances called for uniquesolutions. Ethan rested his head on the floor in the earl’s billiards room and put his hands on either side of his head. He took a deep breath and pushed up on his arms and kicked his legs upward. He swayed for a moment and then carefully balanced his legs and feet against the wall. Blood rushed to his head, but he ignored it and tried to think through his problems.
