A/N:If you come here to read my Uber MirAndy story "Iceberg" - I have taken it down, as it has been approved for publication by my publisher Bold Strokes Books! I kept this story up for several months here, and hope that most of you that were interested in reading it in this format, managed to do so.

I hope you understand why it had to come down for contractual reasons. And for those who have read it and commented, I downloaded all your comments, my responses, and a list of all your kudos, and keep them with the MirAndy version of the story.
Thank you again for all the fun, lovely comments - and I hope some of you will consider buying the book when it comes out. I will post about that on the Facebook DWP page.

Thank you so much, everyone!

Gun

1. The Governess

Miranda looked up with mild annoyance as Kipling, her butler, entered the library. "Yes?" she said shortly as she returned to her manuscript.

"Miss Andrea Sachs, the new governess, has arrived, Milady."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Only two days late. She better have a good explanation. I was starting to think she had perished on her way from Scotland."

"It seems she had quite the misadventure on her way here, Milady." Kipling waited patiently just inside the door.

Mildly interested, Miranda swiveled her chair. "Well, if she's presentable, do show her in." She adjusted her prematurely white hair as it kept falling into her eyes, as always, and waited for the woman who came so highly recommended to enter.

"Miss Sachs, Milady," Kipling said, holding the door open for a tall, dark-haired woman. She wore black and held her hat as she approached Miranda.

"Lady Priestly," Andrea Sachs said and bowed.

Bowed? Miranda just stared. Didn't this…this girl know how to curtsy? And in nothing in her correspondence with her friends, the McKellars had they mentioned how young Andrea Sachs was. "You're late." Miranda pursed her lips. She thought she could sense a faint smell of smoke from the woman.

Miss Sachs nodded. "Yes. The train derailed." She made an odd little gesture with her hands as if apologizing for the mishap of the train.

"Derailed." Now that sounded too fantastic, but the girl looked at her with unwavering brown eyes. No, not brown. Cognac-colored.

"Yes. It was a terrible accident. Other trains are still being rerouted. Hence my being delayed, rather than late, Milady." Miss Sachs met Miranda's eyes. "I had to travel to the next town to catch another train—"

"Your excuses are of no interest to me." So, not late. Delayed. It didn't escape Miranda that Miss Sachs corrected her, albeit very cordially.