Page 32 of Refining the Debutante
“She will not have mine,” Jane said. “The only reason I do not write to Mother and Father this very minute is because I dare not let a single word leave town about your folly.” She whirled around and marched from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Ethan blew out his breath and flicked his pen. It skidded a few inches and rolled to a stop. Jane had once been kind. She had been generous, even. Not anymore. Society had flogged out any goodness in his sister with the whip of vanity and pride. She was much like Miranda had been—heaven help her.
Jane, however, did have a good point about one thing. Helping Miranda could hurt his own family if he were not careful. He would start putting out word to some of those who’d associated with the Bartleys to make them aware Miranda was protected by her titled uncle. They need not know of his neglect. Thankfully, Lord Aldington had isolated himself, and the locals were unaware of whom he was housing. A few simple letters to the right people, and Lord Aldington’s station would lessen the severity of Miranda’s circumstance.
But there were still aspects of her life that Ethan did not have the power to remove. Her path would still be a hard one to walk—as would his, if he did not handle things just right. He would accomplish nothing, and would even go backward, if he could not maintain his emotional distance toward Miranda. The execution of his own life plan depended upon it.
* * *
Walking across the threshold of Stonebrook Hall felt to Miranda like stepping into a safe haven. The cool September air seemed to nudge her farther into the entry hall. The door shut behind her, and she took a deep breath, one more freeing than any she’d taken since leaving London two months before. A footman led her into the drawing room. Miranda’s heart thudded in her ears. She had expected an empty room, not to find Jane standing so near the door. Jane froze, just as off-centered.
Her old friend was quite regal, even with such a deep scowl on her face. Miranda had not given Jane credit often enough for the lovely young lady she was. The hint of uncertainty in her otherwise hardened eyes glimmered like hope to Miranda.
She dipped her head and curtsied. “Hello, Jane.”
“Miss Roderick, if you please.”
Miranda felt the verbal slap. She had been wrong about the glimmer of hope. Jane could never overlook Miranda’s disgrace. She steadied herself. “Stonebrook Hall is as beautiful as you claimed.” She motioned to the expansive room decorated in a soft peach color, searching for safe conversation.
Jane raised her brow. “Why would I lie about such a thing?”
Annoyance replaced the shock of seeing Jane’s rudeness continue. “To lure in innocent bachelors? I don’t know, Jane. Why this charade? No one is here but us. Can we not sit and have tea like old times?”
“There is no charade.” Jane sniffed, clearly refusing to lower her guard. “Unless you are referring to you in that dress. Where did you get it? It’s hideous.”
“Why, thank you.” Miranda gave a small, awkward laugh. “I did not spare a minute to change before fleeing my uncle’s.”
Jane squirmed, looking at the door as if she wished to escape. “Was it as bad as all that?”
An imaginary cold seemed to seep into Miranda’s bones as she tried to think of the best way to describe Gray House. A lump rose in her throat. “I am afraid I am not ready to share my experiences just yet. They are too fresh. You do understand?”
“I don’t know if I understand or if I care to.” Jane shrugged. “Ethan is attending to some urgent business and won’t be home for some hours. I will have a maid come show you to your room. Excuse me.” She turned on her heels and scurried from the room.
Miranda could not blame her. Jane had never known real hardship, and it was a shocking, ugly thing. Miranda’s gaze dropped to her gown covered in soot and dirt. She smiled in spite of herself. What a sight she made. A little laugh bubbled out of her throat as she realized there was a smell about her too. No wonder Jane had fled.
Despite her smile, tears began to trickle out. Tea. She needed tea. She settled into a soft chair by the fireplace and proceeded to drink every drop in the pot and devoured four almond cakes. No use letting them go to waste. The fullness in her stomach chased away her sadness, and she heaved a happy sigh. She might not have the friendship she craved, but she was never going to take such luxuries for granted ever again.
Once settled in the guest room, Miranda requested a hot bath in water she did not have to carry or heat herself. Vanilla and lavender filled her senses as she washed away the last traces of her former life. A maid helped her dress for dinner in one of her nicer gowns, and her scalp seemed to sing from the attentions of having her hair fixed. Heaven knew no bounds.
“Will you save that dress for me?” Miranda asked the maid Jane had reluctantly shared with her.
The tall, gangly maid held up the tattered gown she had collected from beside the tub. “Are you sure, miss? You have all those lovely gowns, and this one is better fit for the rag box.”
Miranda had not the faintest idea why she would want to keep it either. “For sentimental reasons.”
“Yes, miss.”
Feeling quite pampered, Miranda went down early for dinner to avoid a run-in with Jane and to poke around Ethan’s home.
As far as houses went, Stonebrook Hall nearly reached perfection. She had imagined some sort of Gothic setting since Ethan and Jane came across so seriously at times. In contrast, Stonebrook was light and spacious. Wood paneling painted white lined the corridors and staircase.
She stepped outside the house, once again entranced, as she had been when she had first caught sight of her destination. The outside was red brick with white pillars stretching to the first floor and plenty of chimney stacks for the plethora of rooms.
She turned away from the house to view the vast yard and the overgrown trees casting shade along the sides of the lawn. Tomorrow she would walk the perimeter. She was used to walking back and forth from Gray House to town, and the fresh air had served her well.
Miranda slipped back inside and wandered past the sitting room and dining hall toward a third door. This could have been her home, had things played out differently. A wistful sigh sailed through her lips as she trailed her hand along the smooth trim on the wall. She was just about to peek into the closed room when she realized it could very well be Ethan’s study. She had not seen him yet and was not ready to barge in on him unannounced had he returned without her knowledge. She moved toward a door that was open at the end of the corridor. A young lady stepped out as Miranda approached.
“Oh, hello,” Miranda said. “I did not mean to intrude.”
