That evening, next evening, and Friday evening, Trissy doesn’t come to see me. I mean, I expected as much. She has her friends, she doesn’t need me. I really hope I helped her, though, even if but a little. When I think about it, the only important time in our lives (as ladies) is our debut. Will she be able to find someone she likes? I thought Evan and Helena were the shy types, but Trissy really takes the cake.

No, I should believe in her. She was already working on it—that was how we met—so I’ll trust her. Besides, Lady Ashford has left a good impression on me, her other friend probably nice as well.

Saturday now, I’m still unsure of what’s the best escape plan. I liked eating early so I could slip out while most of the ladies were in the dining hall. However, I like having breakfast with my friends too, just that there’s more of a chance of me being discovered.

I think it over while I go through my calisthenics routine.

(Incidentally, I’ve started to notice a difference from my exercise. My pulse is steadier and I’m a little more flexible. I think my appetite has been better as well, but that could be because I eat with my friends now.)

By the end of my routine, I decide to go out earlier rather than later. What tipped it for me is realising that Lottie and Gwen will be waiting. I’d hate to delay Lottie’s plans because she didn’t want to leave the house before I arrived. So I quickly have my morning bath, dress up in the school uniform, eat breakfast, come back to change, and then slip out with Len.

Tuton is a lot busier in this warmer weather. It’s light enough to see from six in the morning until seven in the evening, so there’s a lot of day to work with. I think, going by actual sunrise and sunset, the equinox is today or tomorrow; we don’t really celebrate the equinoxes, though, just the solstices.

Anyway, we walk through the loose crowds and down the familiar streets to Lottie’s house. I give Len my silent thanks and knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, Gwen’s voice sounds out, this time shouting something incoherent, but she probably says, “Ellie’s here!”

I smile, even just her voice enough to lift my spirits.

The lock clicks and door opens ajar, one mossy eye looking up at me for moment before she jerks the door open all the way. “Ellie!”

I lower myself with ease and grace, catching her hug without a wobble. “Good morning, Gwen. How are you?”

She gives me a good squeeze and then steps back, grinning brightly. “I am well, and you?” she says, perfectly mimicking her mother but for the pitch.

“So very well,” I say.

I come inside and take off my coat, hanging it up. And I notice Gwen is brimming with excitement. Something must be up, but I can’t think what.

“What shall we do today? Is your mother going shopping soon?” I ask her, watching closely.

She shakes her head, and then takes my hand and tugs me towards the kitchen. It is strange Lottie hasn’t said anything. Has Gwen baked me something, perhaps?

Coming to the doorway, I spot Lottie at the table. “Hullo,” I say, bringing up my free hand in a small wave.

And then my heart jumps.

“Hullo, Ellie.”

My smile slips off, eyes prickle, and I can’t think, can only say, “Iris.”

“Yup,” she says happily, a warm smile on her face. “What’s with that look? Did you think I died?”

I shake my head before letting out a nervous giggle. Wiping my eyes, I take a deep breath and catch myself. “No, I just really didn’t expect to see you today, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Her eyes pinch as she chuckles.

Lottie lightly clears her throat and, when I turn to her, she gestures at a chair. “Tea?” she asks.

“Yes, thank you,” I say quietly, taking a seat.

There’s a long moment of silence as Lottie pours me a cup, Iris sipping her drink and Gwen finishing a biscuit—I guess she left in the middle of eating to let me in. After Lottie serves me, she sits on the last chair.

I have a taste of the tea; it’s sweet.

“Iris, or should I call you Miss Thatcher?” I ask, stumbling at the very start.

She shakes her head. “I don’t mind you calling me Iris, unless you don’t want me calling you Ellie?”

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“No, I’d like you to…” I say, hesitating as a flush of guilt chills me. “Did you, um, I’m not interrupting, am I?”

Neville did say he asked Lottie to work for him before, and she seemed familiar with him and Terri at the “Yule” party they all threw me back at the start of the term.

“Rather, I was waiting for you,” Iris says, rendering my thoughts entirely wrong. “My parents have been telling me for a while to take breaks, but it’s not like I work all day, and I’ve not had something else to do, you know?”

Me? She… wanted to see me?

Her face scrunching up, she asks, “I suppose I should ask if I’m interrupting?”

She really wanted to see me.

“No, you’re not,” I quietly say.

“That’s good, then. I was worried, but it’s not like I can send you a letter. Even if I begged papa, he wouldn’t tell my anything,” she says, finishing on a chuckle.

That sounds like Neville. All those modern companies in Ellie’s world could learn a thing or three from him.

However, knowing that my secrets are well kept makes the guilt in my heart heavier. A suffocating guilt, squeezing my throat lest I speak, killing off my courage. I try to settle myself with a sip of tea, a struggle to swallow it.

Picking up on my silence, Iris looks at me with her eyes that remind me of Violet. “Are you okay?” she asks, sincere.

I smile, but I know it’s unconvincing. Yet being reminded of Violet helps me to find myself. I’m… not the same person I was at the start of the school year, so desperate for friends that I was willing to lie by omission. I believe in myself, that I’m worthy of being loved for who I am, and I accept that some people won’t love me because of some part of me.

“You should know that, rather than Ellie Kent, my full name is Eleanor de Kent,” I say, my voice quiet yet clear. “I am Duke Kent’s second daughter.”

My heart lightens as I speak, but at the same time prepares to break. I watch her closely, waiting for an unpleasant emotion to show, or for her to become guarded. When I told (café) Len, I couldn’t bear to look, so I should at least prove to myself I’ve grown, that I’m stronger.

But all she says is, “I know.”

I wait for a second longer, and her expression stays warm, her smile genuine. “You do?” I whisper.

She nods. “Well, I knew from the start you were brought up properly, and then Lady Kent visited—there’s no way Miss Charlotte would have brought her to our café without a reason. Not to mention you attended to her impressively well, very familiar with her tendencies.”

So I’ve been seen through all this time, huh?

“Actually, it’s quite funny. Since papa told us not to ask about your outside life, Millie and Len thought you were a maid from one of the local noble families making extra money on your days off. Oh, but Annie—she was certain you were from a fallen family, or maybe an illegitimate daughter.”

She spoke with such infectious humour that, by the end, I’m giggling along. “She didn’t,” I say.

“She did! The kitchen staff thought so too. You’re good with numbers, aren’t you? They’d grumble when you noticed them overcharging by mistake,” she says, her eyes once again pinched by her broad smile.

Pouting to myself, it’s not like I made a fuss over those times. Wouldn’t it be terrible for everyone if the client complained?

Amused by my reaction, Iris pats my hand and says, “Don’t worry, everyone was just having fun and didn’t take it seriously. We all love you to bits, you know?”

Thinking of Len, I say, “Not everyone,” and hate myself for the self-deprecation as soon as the words leave my lips.

Iris keeps her hand on mine, her palm hot from her mug while the back of my hand is still cold from outside. When she speaks, her voice loses its humour, but gains a tenderness.

“Really, we do. You came in and worked hard, week after week, treating everyone like friends. In particular, I admire how focused you were, your attention to detail incredible. When I watched you serve customers, you just seemed to know everything. I mean, there’s the one lady who eats left-handed but drinks tea with her right hand?”

It’s not Jemima, but I know who she means, and I shake my head. “It’s just that etiquette lessons will teach her to use her right hand to drink.”

“But how many people, even nobles, realise that?” she asks, her hand squeezing mine. She turns to Lottie. “Miss Charlotte, were you aware?”

I look over as well. Despite being suddenly involved, Lottie shows no surprise and promptly gives her answer. “No.”

“There’s no one left-handed at the Kent estate, though,” I say, sticking up for her.

Iris gently laughs, taking back her hand to cover her mouth. Then she bows her head, gazing into her mug, a touch of a smile left behind.

“Putting that aside, I really do admire you. From working alongside you, talking with you, seeing the dresses you made, I feel like there is a lot I want to learn from you. I don’t think there’s anything I can teach you, since, you know, all I know is waitressing, but I hope we can still meet from time to time.”

Oh god, is she trying to make me cry? Is this how I sound when I’m being honest and somewhat dramatic?

“You… don’t mind that I’m….”

“A noblewoman?” she asks. I nod. “Not really. You seem level-headed, and your parents don’t seem to mind, so there shouldn’t be a problem with us meeting, right?”

She’s looking up now, and there’s a cheery expression back on her face. Yet it’s fragile. I’ve not thought much before about how I’m not the only one who sometimes acts confident.

And I can’t sit by while someone I care about has to hide her worry.

Like I’ve flipped a switch, I settle into a warm smile, and my timid voice grows arrogant. “Well, there is one problem, which is that I am rather busy and only have time to meet with my friends.”

Although she tries to keep a polite expression, I can clearly see her growing despondent by the end of my sentence. “Oh, of course.”

Reaching over, this time I rest my hand on top of hers, and I lightly squeeze. “So you will have to be my friend. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Slowly, the warmth returns to her expression, and her mouth twists into a beautiful smile, an almost bashful look enveloping her as a light blush powders her cheeks. “I can’t believe you,” she mumbles, covering her face.

My poor hand is left alone on the table.

“I would apologise, but you should know before you make your decision that being teased is an essential part of friendship with me. Not even Lottie is spared,” I say, glancing over at the end to see Lottie nod in agreement.

“You really had me there,” Iris says, almost a whine.

“While you can keep complaining, I would like an answer.”

She takes a deep breath, and then lowers her hands, her eyes slowly coming over to meet mine. “Well, I thought we were already friends, but sure, I’ll be your friend.”

What a wonderful start to the day.