The most tense part of this all is the beginning. Liz, Karen, and I all agreed that we should meet, but we would, by virtue of our respective locations, standings, so on, have to take different carriages.

Which, naturally, would arrive at different times. Thankfully, I don't have any doubts that Liz will be just fine until I arrive. And Karen is arriving later.

But that still gives us a time during which we could be forced to enter, or, more accurately, encouraged to enter. We have to be on our guard.

After all, we want this to go as smoothly as possible. And we want to let this brat know that we aren't the easy target she thinks we are. My brow crinkles, until I feel a hand on my knee.

"Letty, it'll be alright. Trust Liz and me... Please?"

I smile, and nod. Still...

"You know, I think you're the luckiest of the four of us. You, at least, get to wear something comfortable... I swear, this skirt... I'm just grateful mama and papa aren't the type to force a child into a corset." We both nod at this... Corsets are the devil's work. Hateful things, even in my past life, you couldn't drag me to one with wild horses...

Lynn smiles, and... Do I detect a light hint of wryness there?

"Well then, Letty, you need to become Sir Letty at some point. Or was it Dame?"

It was a hint of wryness! Well, I can't help but laugh a little. She's opened up so much, and I'm happy for her. For all that she's fine on the training ground, she shies away from socialising with the knights, so having a little more confidence is good!

I can hear the carriage slowing down, and we both look expectantly toward the door. Sure enough, the coachman opens it, and it's Lynn first.

A noble lady, apparently, cannot embark from a carriage by herself, after all.

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"Thank you, Michael." The coachman bows, as we look at our destination. "So this is the mansion, huh?"

We both grimace. It's gaudy, a mishmash of styles that, individually, would be graceful, yet imposing. Together, though... I can see why the girls would quietly talk about this when Jane wasn't around. It's even worse than I'd heard. Still...

"We should go find Miss Elizabeth, Milady..."

I nod. Ah, yes, in public, we must appear as master and servant. I swear, Goddess, why all this noble stuff, mmm? You could have just made me Villager A or something, it would have been less hassle.

Oh, wait, there's Liz, thank god. I stride forward, and clasp her hands. "It's good to see you, teacher."

A chuckle "And you, my student."

Oh, she's playing this to the hilt. And she loves it. But as she leans in to kiss me on the cheek, she whispers harshly.

"I've already had some polite enquiries about entering the party already. Not directly from the birthday girl or her parents, but definitely from interested parties."

I sigh. And it's not just because we were expecting a flock of harpies, so to speak.

No, it's because the parents have arrived.

Marquis Barton is, on the surface at least, a jovial, walrus like fellow who's only starting to bald, with an easy smile, and the Marquess a fine figure of a woman, delicate and with short, but luxurious black hair.

On the surface, anyway. Sad to say, however, the rumour mill is nearly always abuzz with talk about them. Never any actual dirty dealings, but verbal abuse to other peoples' servants and freemen disguised as polite conversation, petty backhandedness, and a tendency to throw their title's weight around when purchasing goods. I give them my brightest smile, and curtsey.

"Why, Marquis and Marquess Barton, it is a pleasure to meet you for the first time. You are well, I hope?"

They smile easily, and it's the Marquis who begins.

"Oh, most certainly, and I'm very happy you've come. The coachman has already delivered your gift, and we're sure it will befit my lovely daughter's birthday. She's a little worried, however, that you haven't greeted her!"

Yup, there we are. Now what the hell do we-

"Oh, we shall most certainly do so, but we also wished to witness this lovely garden as we ensure our friend has arrived safely. After that unpleasant business, we are, naturally, concerned about each others' safety." It comes so glibly to Liz' lips, and Lynn and I do our very best not to look surprised. The garden, after all, is as much of a hot mess as everything else.

Thankfully, they seem to take the bait, and the Marquess claps her hands with glee. "Why thank you, we're very proud of it! The camellias, in particular, took a lot of work from our talented gardener!" She looks significantly at her husband, and they both, after a few more empty words, withdraw.

Once they've gone back, Liz lets out an exasperated, despairing sigh.

"The camellias? Seriously? I have a black thumb, and even I can grow camellias..."

I'm glad she's muttering, because one of the Marquess' guards is nearby, and he's not even attempting to hide his contemptuous, searching gaze. God, this place is rotten to the core, isn't it?

My musing is, thankfully, broken by the arrival of a familiar carriage. The coachman lets our guest of honour down, and we take her hands in ours as we make our way inwards.

This will hopefully be a party to remember.

And hopefully in the right way...

Showtime.