"And with Lady Cullpepper being so persistent. Have you heard the latest news?" Emma leaned in to say in a stage whisper.
Everyone, including Mira, leaned in as well.
"She has set her sights on none other than Lord Atherton as her son-in-law. He only recently came into his title and fortune, did he not?"
There was a collective gasp.
"I can't imagine anyone wanting to marry that one, despite his wealth and status. Of all the things one hears. But that will prove to be an impossibility," Nancy contributed.
"Why?"
Emma snorted. "He's a marquess. That's just below dukes. Impossibly high in the instep. He'll end up choosing a duke's daughter or a princess to marry. Our poor Miss Cullpepper, the daughter of a mere baron, has no chance, no matter how hard Lady Cullpepper tries. He is a league too big even for our mistress."
"It would be for the best," Mira said as she set down her cup. Even she had heard of Atherton, and it had not been good. "Really, it would. Miss Cullpepper deserves someone who appreciates her. Not some cold-blooded lord."
"Mira has a point," Mrs Bates said. "They say he is a philanderer of the worst kind."
"Poor, poor Miss Cullpepper!"
"He may be the worst philanderer in all of England, but they also say he is oh, so wonderfully handsome." Emma folded her hands in front of her and sighed.
Mira shook her head. "What's the point of him being so beautiful if he's chipped out of marble? They call him the cold marquess. He has no heart at all. Even if he were the most eligible bachelor, who would want to be married to a slab of marble?"
"Poor Miss Cullpepper," Mrs Bates repeated.
"Mira is right. Who'd want a heartless, cold marquess to warm their bed? At least I have my Ben to turn to, and he is as warm as an oven." Nancy giggled.
"Oh, hush you!" It was no secret that Nancy and Ben the footman were a couple. Emma had a sweetheart from her hometown whom she planned to marry next year. Mrs Bates, the cook, was already happily married. And even Mrs Holt and Mr Brown, the butler, had been stealing glances at each other lately, with strange blushes on their cheeks. Her Ladyship had no inkling what was going on under her own roof.
"What about you, Mira, do you have a sweetheart?" Emma asked.
"Surely you must have had a sweetheart. A girl as pretty as you," Nancy said teasingly.
Mira took a sip of her tea and found it too cold. She put the cup down and stood up, straightening her apron. "I shall turn in for the night now."
She fled from the kitchen, away from the pitying looks that followed her.
"...and she is such a pretty little thing..." Mrs Bates whispered. "What a shame."
Mira slammed the door behind her.
Of courseshe'd had a sweetheart.
Once.
A long, long time ago.
In another time, in another world.
A love that was as ephemeral as the mist that hung over the cliffs in Cornwall.
But that was neither here nor there, and it was better not to think about it.
Mira unconsciously rubbed her ring finger, which was empty.
Sometimes she still dreamed of Cornwall.
Of him.
