"Pardon?" Miranda asked, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. She was sure an eternity had passed since he had spoken. This cannot be happening. I want to go back. Back to before I knew this.
Mr Detorri shot her a quizzical look. "his fiancee." He repeated.
She couldn't breathe. Her heart was racing, fluttering like a trapped bird. "Oh yes, her name has slipped my mind. Do remind me."
He gave an exasperated sigh. "He's engaged to a lady by the name of Rosalind Parker." The name sparked a fleeting sense of recognition, but it slipped through her fingers and vanished as quickly as it came.
"Of course… lovely lady I hear."
He scoffed at this. "Yes, quite."
The rest of the ride back to Woolford passed in a blur, and next thing she knew she was back home with a blinding headache.
Penny had been waiting for her, and seemed to be in an impossibly upbeat mood. "Ah! How did everything go? Wasn't Mr Detorri a charmer?"
Miranda unclenched her jaw. "We had a very… enlightening conversation."
"Splendid!" Penny declared, before her delight turned to concern. "Are you alright darling? You look a little pale." She pressed her hand to Miranda's forehead.
Miranda brushed her off and forced her lips into a cheery smile. "It must just be the midday sun. I think I shall go lie down for a bit."
"Yes, that would be a good idea. I'll have the kitchen send up some mint tea."
Miranda laid down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to push down the sobs rising in her throat and failing to stop her mind from spinning, repeating Mr Detorri's words in a hellish loop.
It cannot be true. It simply cannot. How can it be? And yet, she couldn't swear that Detorri was lying. He said her name! Miss Rosalind Parker. She was sure she'd even heard it before…
She closed her eyes. Her thoughts began drifting back, all the way back to the first time she met Mr Preston. Their encounter at the assembly rooms, how sweet and serendipitous it had all seemed. Then her shock when he moved into the cottage next door…
She gasped. It was the cottage. Miss Parker was the lady who had enquired about the cottage! She had been so shocked when Mr Preston moved in, because she had been told the new neighbour was to be a lady. Charlie had told her so. He'd said her name. Miss R. Parker.
The sob in her throat escaped and she cried until there were no tears left.
Tilly came up to her room later with more tea, and Miranda was still on the bed, catatonic
"Miranda darling, I know it doesn't seem like it, but I promise things will be okay."
"I cannot comprehend why he would hide this from me."
Tilly took a deep breath, then smoothed her dress and sat down by her side. "I did not know if I should tell you, but I went through something similar with Rupert."
Miranda raised her head off her pillow. "You did?"
She nodded. "We were good as engaged, when I became aware he was seeing ladies left and right, and had no intention of stopping. My parents insisted I overlook such a thing, for it was still a greatly favourable match, but I was unswayed and broke it off. A marriage like that would have been intolerable. Still, the pain was unbearable at first. I acted out and behaved badly, such that I was banished to the countryside," she said with a chuckle. "I daresay it's been a very healing trip."
Tears pricked Miranda's eyes. "You've been so brave Tilly. A true woman of honour."
Tilly smiled and squeezed her hand. "As are you. All I'm saying is, acknowledge your pain and know it will pass. One day this shall just be a distant memory."
Miranda looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set, the sky streaked with pink clouds. "I fear this wound will take a very long time to heal."
Stevie came to see her the next day, and hugs were given and more tears shed. But despite the support from her friends, Miranda was desolate, sleepwalking through the surrounding days.
As Mr Preston's return loomed, the passage of time was agonising. Curiosity got the better of her, and when the opportunity presented itself at afternoon tea with her mother in the garden, she broached the topic carefully.
"I've forgotten what it's like to have the old cottage empty again now Mr Preston's away," said Penny. "Such a nice young man!"
"Do you happen to know how he came to rent it?"
"I believe he's a family friend of the owners, the Parkers. Very well to do couple I understand, though of course they never lived here. It was a terrible tragedy when they passed. You were just a little girl then. They left behind a daughter younger than you, Rosalind."
She flinched at the name. "You know her?"
"Only through letters. Now she's of age it was the first time we'd heard from her directly, when she informed us that Mr Preston would be arriving. It was nice to know that she had grown up seemingly well, despite everything."
"Yes of course." Miranda replied, a sobering sadness washing over her. And if Rosalind knew what I had been doing with Mr Preston, I will have caused her another heartbreak. Furthermore, not only was Mr Preston engaged to another, his fiancee was a wealthy orphan who had just come of age. It was difficult not to assume the worst.
What on earth had he been doing here? All the promises and sweet words, the hiding and secrecy that she thought was terribly romantic and her own doing, had she been playing into his hands all along? She was bereft, afloat with nothing left to cling to.