She shivered and pushed the thoughts away. Maybe it would be best to find a distraction before her mind carried itself too far into the past. Mira deposited Nero on the windowsill, ignoring his meows of protest, and pulleda copy ofPersuasionfrom the shelf, returning to her seat again.
“Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his—”
Sir Elliot rather reminded her of the mannerisms of her uncle. He’d always been focused on status and propriety, even when he couldn’t live up to his own expectations. As recently as October he’d been blustering about social status and whether or not she and Walker would ever marry. Now, here he was,married himself and with a decidedly different demeanor and a revised view of the world.
Mira had known that things would change for her after Cyrus and Loretta were married. The family dynamic, their living arrangements, and her future all took a drastic turn. She had expected that. But her emotions were not part of that expectation and she wasn’t prepared for how much the sensation resembled the feeling of being left behind.
Cyrus had a new family, and while Mira was technically a part of it, she still felt as if she were on the outside. A niece, not a daughter.
But was it unfair to think that way? Cyrus had done the best that he could in raising her and her brother. But seeing him with Loretta’s children she could see a new side of him, one he had rarely shown to her or Walker. It hurt to see him acting so fatherly to the Lavigne children, when it took almost twenty years for him to act that way with her and Walker. He’d been too detached, caught up in his own grief about their mother’s death, to even be a proper guardian for them.
And then there was Loretta.
The general air of the household had shifted since Loretta came. And it wasn’t just because there were more voices filling the air and more footsteps running through the corridors. There was a change in energy, in purpose, in care. And Mira wished it didn’t hurt so much to see what it would have been like to have a mother.
She’d never imagined that Cyrus would ever marry. When she was younger, she gravitated more towards daydreaming what her relationship might be with her future husband’s family. With his parents and his mother especially.
A loud crash sounded from one of the lower landings, startling Mira from her musings and the cat from her side. She pushed the curtains aside, meeting Clarisse’s wide, blue eyes.
“What was that?” Clarisse asked, pulling the covers tight to her chest.
Mira moved to her, holding out a hand. “Shall we find out?”
They found Jean-Marie and Georges apologizing profusely to Landon on the landing just below Cyrus and Loretta’s room. Teacups and tray were strewn about, the china in pieces and the carpet stained. Each of the occupants of the landing were covered in the remains of eggs, sausage, toast, and crimson jam.
The bedroom door opened just as Mira and Clarisse arrived. Cyrus poked his head out, asking the obvious question.
“What happened?”
“A little accident, sir,” Landon said, stacking the detritus on the tray. “I thought you might want breakfast in your room this morning.”
Cyrus glanced at the mess. “A good thought, but considering the circumstances, why don’t we all adjourn to the dining room?”
“Yes, sir. I was thinking the same thing.”
“We didn’t mean to.” Jean-Marie rushed through his words.
“There is always a risk to running inside the house,” Landon said, his voice warm but stern. Mira had heard this tone many times as a child, although usually it was directed at Walker. The butler stood, balancing the tray in one hand.
“I’ll send one of the parlor maids up to finish cleaning straightaway. In the meantime,” he said, spying Mira and Clarisse’s bare feet. “I do believe shoes are in order.”
***
Breakfast was much louder than Swan Walkhad ever seen it. Even at its full length, the table was crowded with people, splayed out elbows, and dropped silverware. That isn’t to say that Mira’s cousins had poor manners, but in such close quarters, it was difficult to stay within one’s own space; andwith so many conversations happening at once, it was difficult to know what anyone was saying. Mira had a sneaking suspicion that Landon had foreseen the difficulty and had hoped to avoid it by serving breakfast to her aunt and uncle separately.
“We’ll want to leave the house by six-thirty at the latest if we’re walking,” Cyrus said. “I want to be there a bit early. It wouldn’t do to be late to dinner with the Renaldis.”
“Why can’t I come?” Clarisse asked.
“This is a more grown-up party, my love,” Loretta said, buttering her toast. “It wouldn’t be much fun for you, I promise.”
This dinner party had been planned over several weeks of correspondence. Liza was anxious to spend more time with Walker and wanted her parents to have a better understanding of the family she could possibly marry into.
“But Georges is coming,” Jean-Marie said.
“I would rather not,” Georges said sinking in his chair.
“It will be good for you,” Loretta said to her eldest. She turned to Jean-Marie. “You’ll be old enough in a year or two.”
