Page 63 of Refining the Debutante
Lady Callister’s shrewd eyes narrowed further. “Heaven forbid you have come to like me. Perhaps I need to increase your time on the pianoforte.”
Miranda’s gloomy thoughts began to dispel with Lady Callister’s sudden candor. “I suspect more animated readings in the evenings might increase my aversion for you.”
“Yes, Psalms and more Psalms.”
Miranda pinched her lips to keep from laughing. “Very well, I admit it. I do enjoy being your companion. I never planned to like you, but then again, I never planned to be a companion. I thought I would be traveling the world with my father this summer past, but meeting you, I think, is far better. My friends are in such short supply, and I count you as a favorite.”
Lady Callister finally softened her expression. “You are a good girl. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Thank you.”
“You remind me of myself in some ways.”
“Do I? In what way?”
“I never speak of this, as it is rather dear to my heart, but I think it is a story you would appreciate.” Lady Callister looked away for a moment, her eyes pensive. Miranda was honored that she would want to confide in her, but she could tell the story would cost Lady Callister to tell.
“A long time ago,” she began, “I lost a baby. Stillborn.”
Miranda’s body tensed with the unexpected words.
“It was a long time ago,” Lady Callister said. “You need not worry for me. The first few years were the hardest. During this most difficult period of grieving, a tenant gifted me with a blanket.”
“A tenant?” Miranda asked, surprised.
“Yes. We moved in different circles, but it did not matter to her. She sympathized with my hurt and simply reached out. The blanket was so lovely in all its simplicity and such a sweet token to remember my baby by. She was the first tenant I connected with, but from that moment on, I began to see them all as real people—equal in their needs and potential in life.”
“I am so sorry for your loss,” Miranda said, wishing she could say more.
“From my experience, sorrow can only be lessened with time and with love. And that meant me putting my energy into loving someone else. I decided to pass on the kindness and found I enjoyed helping others. Your loss, Miss Bartley, is of a different nature, but nevertheless, it has caused you sorrow. Regardless of your hardships, you have embraced your position as a companion. Your mannerisms are proof of your genteel breeding, as they ever were, but you are not the same Miranda who first came to Sussex.”
“I’ve changed, then?” Miranda asked, hope rising in her chest. She believed she had felt it gradually over the past months, but she dearly wanted someone to confirm it. Despite Miranda’s shortcomings, Lady Callister’s honest appraisal of her character meant everything to her.
“You still speak rather candidly.” Lady Callister’s thin mouth pulled into a kind smile. “However, I find I am partial to a riveting conversation.”
Miranda’s throat lodged with emotion. She had found another person who believed in her as Sarah did. Miranda would do everything she could to be the woman Lady Callister thought her to be. Embracing her role with Lady Callister would be easy to continue, as long as Reverend Giles did not run her from town.
She need only forget Ethan, and she could truly be content.
Chapter 26
Miranda woke and did notwant to leave her bed, still reeling from Reverend Giles’s sermon. Was this how she would wake up every morning for the rest of her life—alone? She buried her face in her quilt. She wasn’t ill—not truly—but her mind did not know it. She ached to see Ethan—to fix what she could not. She wanted to be sensible like Lady Callister, but a penetrating ache of loneliness began to consume her. She thought quickly, searching for a reason to keep going.
She needed help. Indeed, someone should know how to handle this.
Her father.
What would her father say? He would tell her to walk to the shops and buy herself something. It had worked marvelously before, but something told her it would not this time. She burrowed farther under her blanket and thought about her maid and friend. Sarah would chastise her soundly and tell her to stop thinking solely of herself. Miranda smiled a bit at that, but her self-loathing ran deep enough already.
Restlessly, she rolled from her side onto her back. What would her uncle advise? She had written to him again recently, a silly letter about her day-to-day activities, but besides the money, she had yet to hear anything. In this case, the cantankerous man would surely pour her a drink and tell her to wash down her sorrows.
Ethan?
No, no, she was not to think of him again. Ever.
Lady Callister? Hmm, what would she say? She would pull Miranda to the window and tell her to open her eyes and see a world of people full of sorrow and empty dreams. Lady Callister would say,“Find those individuals, and mourn with them. Care for them. Serve and love them.”
Miranda did not care to serve anyone just now. It required a heart to serve, and hers was broken.
