“Why?” Iris asked, her light brows arching.
“Because if not, you’ll appear the fool should you be invited to a party, and no one wishes to feel that way, Iris,” Miranda answered, using the response that would hit the weak chink in Iris’s armor, her confidence.
“Oh.” Iris bit her lip. “But what about embroidery? I can’t see any benefit in learning it.” Her confidence returned in full force.
Miranda lifted a delicate shoulder as the footman took away their plates. “Perhaps, but that’s simply one area of study, and probably not the most important.”
“What would you suggest is the most important?” Iris asked, a slightly impudent tone to her voice.
Miranda smiled, not even trying to hold her response in check. “Dancing.”
Iris’s brows pinched, her confidence faded, and she took a deep breath, as if steeling herself.
“You might even enjoy it.”
“Entirely doubtful.”
Miranda chuckled softly. “It’s actually delightful, and as bright as you are, you’ll catch on quickly, I’m sure.”
“You’ve just met me. You’ll be taking back those words once you see me try.”
“So, you have danced?” Miranda caught her.
“No. I said I’ve tried. There’s a difference,” Iris remarked, folding her napkin and setting it to the side.
“Well, there is no time like the present.” Miranda gestured for a footman, and he quickly pulled back her chair. As she stood, she realized Iris had scooted her chair back on her own.
“We wait for assistance.” Miranda gestured for Iris to sit back down, and she reluctantly obeyed. “When you’re finished at the table, signal for the footman and he will help you withdraw your chair.
Iris signaled for a footman with a quick and impatient gesture.
“No. A lady is always patient,” Miranda remarked, mimicking the tone and words of her governess when coaching her older sister Liliah. In a way, Iris reminded her of her sister: headstrong, stubborn, capable, and confident.
Iris resignaled the footman, and Miranda noted the slight twitch of his lips, as if he were amused. She wondered just how many times her own footman at home had suppressed grins at her and her sister’s antics.
“Much improved,” Miranda encouraged as Iris rose from the table properly.
Turning to the footman, she requested the presence of Mrs. Keyes.
In a moment, the woman entered the dining room, a smile on her kind face. “How can I be of assistance, Miss Miranda?”
“Mrs. Keyes, Iris and I are going to have a short dancing lesson. Where would you suggest we attempt such an activity?”
Mrs. Keyes thought a moment. “I do believe the red parlor will suffice. There’s a pianoforte and ample room for the two of you. If you’ll follow me?”
At Miranda’s nod, Mrs. Keyes led them down the hall.
It was a lovely thing, to be needed. And Miranda wondered if somehow she’d been missing that sensation all her life. To be more than just obedient but to contribute.
Maybe she had something more to offer the world than just a pretty face.
Who would have thought?
