play about another person’s life. Here she’d spent months doing her best to pretend she was okay. That life was normal. That she had no cares beyond the Iron Rail and missing her husband.
But it had all been a lie, and once more it had been a useless one. She could have saved all that energy.
She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about her big secret being not so secret after all.
She didn’t feel embarrassed. Instead, she felt a curious sense of relief. As if she could maybe—just maybe—not be quite so alone anymore. That would be so nice.
“I am glad this is out in the open now,” she said at last. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
Belle looked extremely distressed. “I really am sorry, ma’am. Both about the letters and about knowing your secrets and never saying a word. I never thought you’d be so understanding.”
How did one respond to that? “Perhaps we should simply drop this subject.”
“Yes’m.” Belle nodded. Then blurted, “You see, I don’t think any of us wanted to make you more upset than you already were.”
“Pardon me?” Just how pathetic had she been?
Belle winced. “I know you don’t like to speak about your personal life. I mean, I know we aren’t supposed to talk about you. On account that you employ us and all—”
“You are right. Most employers value their privacy.”
“But, ma’am, well, I just want to say that I’ve felt real sorry for you,” Belle continued in a rush. “I mean, those letters are cruel, that’s what they are.”
“They have been difficult to read.” Raising a brow. “I am guessing you felt the same way?” She didn’t mean to be sarcastic and unkind, but this conversation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
Belle’s eyes widened. “Oh, I haven’t read them!”
“No? I thought you could read.”
“Oh, I can!”
“Then?”
“It’s just that . . . I mean, I’ve only read one,” she sputtered. “Emerson, Cook, and Winnie told me what the others said.”
“So all of you have taken to reading my disposed correspondence without my knowledge and then discussing it in secret?”
Miranda truly had no idea how to handle this. She fervently wished her mother were sitting next to her. Then she could have educated Miranda about the best way to handle this sticky situation.
Whatever she would advise had to be better than what Miranda was contemplating, which was to call all four of them to the parlor, chastise them soundly, and then promptly fire them all. Servants who disrespected their employers’ privacy were worse than useless.
But of course, they had been some of her only defenders in the city. If she let them go, who would even consent to work for her?
She sagged as tension filled her neck and shoulders. What she wouldn’t give to go back in time to just an hour ago, when she was still reveling in yesterday’s walk in the Strand!
“Mrs. Markham, please don’t be upset. It’s just that, well, Winnie found one on the floor about a year ago. She’d been in the hallway when you’d opened it. You’d cried out and ran upstairs to your room. It was obvious you were upset.”
“Yes.” Unfortunately, she remembered that day well. It had been the second time she’d received a letter. She’d been forced to accept that whoever was behind the threats wasn’t going to go away. And she never realized she hadn’t thrown the letter away.
One of Belle’s hands was twisting the edge of her white apron now. “Mrs. Markham, I’m sure Winnie only meant to pick up your letter. I’m sure she didn’t actually mean to read it, but . . .”
“But she did.” With a sigh, Miranda sat down at her desk chair. “I suppose I don’t blame her for that. It was human nature.”
“Yes.” Belle nodded. “It was that. Exactly.”
“I suppose she couldn’t resist telling the rest of you about it, either.” Miranda supposed she would have been tempted to do the same.
Belle winced. “It wasn’t like that. We
But it had all been a lie, and once more it had been a useless one. She could have saved all that energy.
She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about her big secret being not so secret after all.
She didn’t feel embarrassed. Instead, she felt a curious sense of relief. As if she could maybe—just maybe—not be quite so alone anymore. That would be so nice.
“I am glad this is out in the open now,” she said at last. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
Belle looked extremely distressed. “I really am sorry, ma’am. Both about the letters and about knowing your secrets and never saying a word. I never thought you’d be so understanding.”
How did one respond to that? “Perhaps we should simply drop this subject.”
“Yes’m.” Belle nodded. Then blurted, “You see, I don’t think any of us wanted to make you more upset than you already were.”
“Pardon me?” Just how pathetic had she been?
Belle winced. “I know you don’t like to speak about your personal life. I mean, I know we aren’t supposed to talk about you. On account that you employ us and all—”
“You are right. Most employers value their privacy.”
“But, ma’am, well, I just want to say that I’ve felt real sorry for you,” Belle continued in a rush. “I mean, those letters are cruel, that’s what they are.”
“They have been difficult to read.” Raising a brow. “I am guessing you felt the same way?” She didn’t mean to be sarcastic and unkind, but this conversation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
Belle’s eyes widened. “Oh, I haven’t read them!”
“No? I thought you could read.”
“Oh, I can!”
“Then?”
“It’s just that . . . I mean, I’ve only read one,” she sputtered. “Emerson, Cook, and Winnie told me what the others said.”
“So all of you have taken to reading my disposed correspondence without my knowledge and then discussing it in secret?”
Miranda truly had no idea how to handle this. She fervently wished her mother were sitting next to her. Then she could have educated Miranda about the best way to handle this sticky situation.
Whatever she would advise had to be better than what Miranda was contemplating, which was to call all four of them to the parlor, chastise them soundly, and then promptly fire them all. Servants who disrespected their employers’ privacy were worse than useless.
But of course, they had been some of her only defenders in the city. If she let them go, who would even consent to work for her?
She sagged as tension filled her neck and shoulders. What she wouldn’t give to go back in time to just an hour ago, when she was still reveling in yesterday’s walk in the Strand!
“Mrs. Markham, please don’t be upset. It’s just that, well, Winnie found one on the floor about a year ago. She’d been in the hallway when you’d opened it. You’d cried out and ran upstairs to your room. It was obvious you were upset.”
“Yes.” Unfortunately, she remembered that day well. It had been the second time she’d received a letter. She’d been forced to accept that whoever was behind the threats wasn’t going to go away. And she never realized she hadn’t thrown the letter away.
One of Belle’s hands was twisting the edge of her white apron now. “Mrs. Markham, I’m sure Winnie only meant to pick up your letter. I’m sure she didn’t actually mean to read it, but . . .”
“But she did.” With a sigh, Miranda sat down at her desk chair. “I suppose I don’t blame her for that. It was human nature.”
“Yes.” Belle nodded. “It was that. Exactly.”
“I suppose she couldn’t resist telling the rest of you about it, either.” Miranda supposed she would have been tempted to do the same.
Belle winced. “It wasn’t like that. We
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