Miranda agreed. “I’m sure what you have here will suffice for a while, till I can . . .” Miranda paused, thinking over how to actually teach what needed to be taught... “Ascertain where the pupil stands in several subjects,” she finished, feeling quite relieved at how she had handled the question. Tonight she would need to look over all the books, and make notes on what she remembered from her own governess. It couldn’t bethatdifficult, could it?
“Then I’ll leave you to find a few moments of rest.” Mrs. Keyes nodded and turned, but Miranda could have sworn she whispered, “You’ll certainly need it.”
Before Miranda could question her, she gestured to an open door. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
Miranda paused, but didn’t remark on the housekeeper’s words. She followed the woman’s mobcap into the next room.
“Again, if there’s anything you’re needing, please notify me at once.” Mrs. Keyes gestured to the room.
A small writing desk was beside a tall, stately window that overlooked another aspect of the gardens. A pitcher with water rested upon the large dresser, and a dressing table boasted a small mirror. By governess standards, it was quite impressive.
By a lady’s standards, it was underwhelming.
A small bed rested in the middle of the room, and immediately, Miranda missed her feather bed, and the warming pan that would heat the sheets before she snuggled in deep, listening to the crackling fire.
She glanced to the opposite end of the room, and relaxed slightly at the sight of the larger hearth. At least she wouldn’t be cold—even if it was still summer.
She had heard about Scottish winters, and she hadn’t a clue how long she’d be in residence.
A delicate shiver ran up her spine.
Belatedly, she realized Mrs. Keyes was awaiting some sort of response to the room.
“Thank you, I’m sure it’s more than adequate,” Miranda replied, keeping close to the truth so she wouldn’t have to remember a lie.
“Lovely.” Mrs. Keyes beamed. “I’ll send Maye up to fetch you when dinner’s ready. We keep country hours, even if we are close to town.” And with a warm nod, Mrs. Keyes quit the room, leaving Miranda to her thoughts.
At the housekeeper’s departure, Miranda sighed in the most unladylike fashion, quite reminding her of her sister’s antics on multiple occasions. And once again, a pang of homesickness waved through her.
But she wouldn’t dwell on what she had left behind.
She glanced to the door, seeing the footman had deposited her belongings on the floor.
As she studied the parcels and bags, she noted she had never once unpacked her own things.
A maid always assisted—with everything.
But now, she was the help. She glanced at her two hands, which had only seen delicate needlepoint and piano study, and wondered if they were capable of more.
If perhapsshewere capable of more.
She wanted to be.
Which was a good thing, because she was going to have plenty of opportunity to test her strength, inside and out.
And maybe, just maybe—she’d discover she was stronger than she thought.
That maybe, just maybe—she was more like her sister than not.
She certainly hoped so.
