“Nay.” Mirrie sank back into the chair and stretched out her slender arms to the blaze. “Thank you, Frida.” She paused. “Do not feel you have to stay.”
Better than anyone, Mirrie knew how Frida hated to be still. Sitting by the fire on a day when there were jobs to be done would be a torment to her. E’en now, Frida itched to be moving. But at the same time, she was reluctant to leave her friend’s side.
One question plagued her, this morn more so than usual. Did Mirrie regret coming here?
Mirrie rarely complained, but Frida thought her good-natured friend had struggled to settle here in the northern hills. She openly admitted to missing the colour and gaiety of Wolvesley Castle, and the whirlwind of social engagements therein. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Something else tugged at Mirrie’s heartstrings; Frida felt it in her bones. Whatever it was—and Frida had a strong suspicion it was intrinsically linked to her eldest brother, Tristan—the arrival of Jonah, complete withgreetings and tales from their childhood home, had stirred it all up again.
Frida would never forgive Jonah if he ruined this new arrangement. Her father had been reluctant to permit the two of them to take up residence in Ember Hall. He would never allow Frida to continue living here if Mirrie returned to Wolvesley.
“Frida?” Mirrie spoke quietly, jolting Frida from her reverie. She had been gazing into the hypnotic depths of the fire, lost in thought.
“Sorry.” Frida came back to herself with a little shake. “Is there something else you’d like me to fetch for you?”
“There’s nothing I need. I shall be quite myself in another moment or two.” Her small hand briefly laid over Frida’s. “You mustn’t fret so.”
“Are you happy here?” Frida blurted out.
Mirrie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Of course.”
“Even though it is cold and the work is never done?” Frida ploughed on. “There are no parties and I know how you love to dance.” Her gaze flickered down to the polished expanse of wood beneath their booted feet. The hall would be plenty big enough for a dance, if they should choose to hold one.
Mirrie was young and pretty, with bright hazel eyes and heart-shaped lips that were quick to smile. Loyalty to her friend should not force her to miss out on the life that Frida had chosen to leave behind.
Mirrie smiled in return, although there was a sadness in it. “You are kind to speak of parties and dancing, when we both know that a young woman past twenty with an insignificant dowry to her name can hardly expect a choice of dancing partners.”
Frida opened her mouth to protest, but Mirrie held up a hand to silence her. This was so out of character that Frida’s words dried on her tongue.
“Your whole family has always been kind. Ever since my parents passed away. There has been no barrier between us. Tristan and Jonah are like brothers to me. You, Isabella and Esme are as sisters. But in truth, I amnotone of you.” A log cracked in the fire, as if giving emphasis to her words.
“You are,” Frida said, staunchly.
“Nay, I am not,” Mirrie persisted. “Truly, the day you asked me to accompany you to live a quiet life in Ember Hall was a blessing to me.”
Silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling fire and a faint rattle of wind blowing down the chimney. Frida wanted to believe her, but back then she had been so intent on getting her way that she had never stopped to consider why Mirrie had agreed to her wild proposal so quickly.
“Truly?”
Mirrie nodded, sincerity shining from her eyes. “I had no wish to stand in the shadows, watching the rest of you marry and move on, leaving me as a burden to your parents.”
“You would never be a burden,” Frida cried out, her denial ringing up to the rafters of the hall. A hound dozing by the fire opened one eye and thumped his tail upon the wooden floor.
Mirrie inclined her head. “They would never say such a thing, I know. But isn’t it better this way? You and I can live useful lives. On our own terms.”
Frida’s heart lifted. “That is exactly what I want.”
“And I too.” Mirrie squeezed her hand again. “Though I will say this. My options have always been limited. But you are Lady Frida de Neville.”
Frida snorted. “You mean that men want me for my father’s coin?” She screwed up her face to show her disdain for the notion.
Mirrie leaned closer. “I mean that you carry a great name as well as a great fortune. You are clever and beautiful and gifted.”Frida snorted again, but Mirrie would not be dissuaded from her course. “’Tis true, your dancing days may be over, but your future is still bright with possibility. Should you ever decide to return to Wolvesley—”
“I never will.”
“You must do what is right for you,” Mirrie concluded softly.
“I never will return,” Frida repeated. “This is my life now. I will work hard and do whatever I must to ensure the good fortune of the estate. But I shall never marry.” She cleared her throat. “I mean it, Mirrie.”
Mirrie sat back in the tapestried chair. “Forgive me, Frida. I will not speak of this again.”
