Page 55 of Refining the Debutante
“You have not been yourself for several days. Not to worry. I have news that will cheer you. I want to host a ball,” Lady Callister said.
“Do not put yourself out on my account. I will be myself again; I promise.”
“I believe you, but a ball is still on the calendar. I should surely like to enjoy the company of my good neighbors before several of them head to London before Christmas.”
“I did not realize you hosted such large parties here.” Miranda slipped a ribbon between the pages and closed their book. Ethan and Miss Withers would be at the top of the guest list, but Miranda would not let such a detail diminish the occasion.
“I would guess your definition of a country ball and mine are vastly different,” Lady Callister said, taking the book and slipping it into her sewing basket. “I am rather loose about my standard of invitation. It’s an informal affair and far more entertaining than the stifling London balls.”
“You never speak of London except with distaste. Do you never travel there?”
Lady Callister sighed. “I rarely travel at all anymore. I am old, or did my timeless beauty fool you?”
Miranda laughed. “You are an artifice of deception.”
“Yes, well, I used to enjoy the Season, but it wears on a person. I’d rather drink cold tea for the rest of my life than suffer some people’s idea of good company. No, this is my home, and I prefer to stay in it.”
Miranda reached forward and clasped Lady Callister’s hand. “And it is a lovely home at that. Would you like me to start the invitations first thing in the morning?”
“Yes, and then we ought to see how you are at dancing.” Lady Callister’s shrewd eyes used to make Miranda fidget, but now she found them endearing.
“I would dance a pretty circle around your chair, but it might make you dizzy. I fear you will have to trust me.”
“Ha!” Lady Callister said. “I cannot believe you have any rhythm after listening to you practice the pianoforte every morning.”
Miranda feigned shock. “Well, I shall not embarrass you if I am by your side all night. You won’t have to worry for a minute.”
“Nonsense. You will be dancing like every other young lady.”
“Lady Callister—”
“I insist.”
Miranda pursed her lips. “Very well. If anyone asks me, I shall accept, but just because I know you will enjoy censuring me for my every move.”
“Exactly. Now, we must send out invitations straightaway. There is too much gloom and doom about the countryside with this confounded weather. The harvest has been very poor indeed.”
Miranda appreciated the subtle reminder that her concerns were not as great as many others’. Her uncle had sent her money today, and Lady Callister had sacrificed her own comfort to cheer Miranda—both reasons to celebrate. She knew Lady Callister was worried about a great deal of people, and Miranda no longer wanted to focus on Ethan. She wanted to help.
Before she retired to bed, she pulled out a sheet of parchment.
Dear Uncle,
Today, to my great surprise, I received a letter from you. I must thank you, for I did not expect to be granted such a generous gift! After opening your house to me, you owed me nothing. I find myself touched by your offering and hope you are warming to the idea of us repairing ties.
I hope this missive finds you in good health.
Until we meet again,
Miranda Bartley
* * *
Miranda spread the newspaper across the table. She read the headlines, took notes, and folded it back up. Then she replaced it with another paper, this one a week older. She repeated the process several times before Lady Callister found her.
“Ah, you found Mr. Lympert’s stash of old papers.”
“Your butler has kept every issue of this entire year,” Miranda said, amazed at how he had stacked them with such precision in his room.
