The next morning, while I would like to visit Lottie and Gwen, it’s not like I promised to and I really don’t think I’ll be able to convince Violet. So I just get ready as if it’s a week day. Afterwards, I tell Len I won’t be going into town this weekend and then join Violet in the lounge and head for breakfast. As step one of her put-on-a-little-weight diet, I suggested she has porridge with cream and raisins to start her day, and she follows through with it now. Carbs, fat, and sugar—it’s perfect.

Of course, I’ve also told her to focus on the carbs rather than fat and sugar, important to still have a healthy diet. The extra desserts I’ve been feeding her took into account that she didn’t have much fat in her diet and little sugar outside of fruits.

Since we’re back at school, I insist on our after breakfast walk. I then try and distract her with the teddy bear’s picnic, but she’s having none of it. “If you wanted to play, you should have done your homework first,” she simply says.

Spoilsport.

So I work diligently through the morning, some noise outside near lunch as a batch of people arrive and others make use of the good weather to hang around in the dormitory’s shade. Violet has rather made herself at home, no hesitation to sprawl across my bed, propping herself up with my pillow. At one point, I look over and she’s even fallen asleep, looking a proper mess. Her head’s at an angle, neck crooked, hair splayed over her exposed cheek as the other cheek hugs her shoulder.

I gently slide her from a sitting position until she’s lying down; it surprises me how light she is. Well, I guess she hasn’t done much to build up muscle, has she? Gwen’s the only other person I’ve moved recently and she’s rather sturdy from all her childish exercise.

Since the time is more flexible with meals on weekends, I leave her to sleep when the distant bell rings for lunch. Closer to one o’clock, having finished the essay I was working on, I gently wake her. “Vi-o-let,” I whisper, stretching out each syllable as I rub her shoulder. Her lips mumble silent words, and she tries to turn away from me. Softly laughing, I switch tactics and run a fingernail up her neck, and she tries to squash the ticklish sensation. “It’s waking up time,” I whisper. She murmurs a couple of words, lost to the pillow.

Well, I tried to be nice, so it’s her fault for what happens next, right?

“Violet, Violet,” I quietly say, the tone urgent.

She groans, sounding more awake but not moving.

“Your knickers are showing.”

There’s a second of absolute silence, her sleepy breaths suddenly stilling, and then she jerks up in a panic, her hands flailing about to find the hem of her dress, pulling up her knees until even her feet are covered. Well, I just about wet myself laughing, everything from what she does to the look of terror on her face absolutely hilarious.

Taking pity on her, I say, “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” and gently rub her back. Slowly, the panic leaves her. Who knew she’s this bad with waking up?

After being suitably chastised by her and after I suitably apologise, we go for lunch. Not wanting to change everything at once, I suggested she has lunch and dinner as normal for a week or two, but she has me pick out her dessert, so I choose shortbread biscuits for both of us (tea to wash them down).

Although I haven’t finished all of my homework, I show her the progress I’ve made when we go back. Then, using the very convincing line of, “Won’t it be terribly embarrassing to have a teddy bear’s picnic when the others return?” I talk her into it. Of course, we only just ate, so that’ll be later. I get started on the creative writing assignment (a diary entry for someone working a middle-class job), while she goes to organise a blanket and snacks.

Over the next couple of hours, I get through most of the required page count. (Mr Leicester has a very warped idea of how long diary entries should be.)

Time for the picnic, Violet comes to pick me up (Ellie Promise hiding behind a folded cardigan). I’m not at all embarrassed about showing off Pinky, but, out of respect for Violet, I bundle up Pinky in a shawl. We walk a familiar route, through the flower gardens and past the greenhouses and the classroom where I have earth magic classes, all the way to the familiar picnic spot. Indeed, there’s a blanket laid out and a tray in the middle, a pair of maids to the side watching over it.

“If you would give us half an hour,” Violet says to them. They bow their heads and walk off. I guess she’s even embarrassed about maids seeing us, huh?

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“We don’t have to do it outside if you’re going to worry,” I quietly say.

She shakes her head. “I am… uncomfortable, but I know better than to let worries about what other people think stop me from doing what I want to do,” she says, her soft voice full of conviction.

I’m touched, my eyes prickling, and say no more about it. Neatly sitting down, I look out at the pleasant view of grass and trees, feel the warm breeze on my skin, and loosely hug Pinky. When I bring my gaze across, Violet is sitting next to me with Ellie on her lap. Really, I feel bad for having her treasure something so ugly, but I know she’s not shallow, that she can feel all the warmth I put into that scruffy teddy.

It’s sad that I’ll likely never find a man who will treat me as well as Violet does, especially not in this world. I’m really being spoiled by her.

Although I called it a teddy bear’s picnic, I know we’re both too old to properly play like children, so it’s really the two of us sitting and having tea, occasionally wiggling our teddies and pretending they’re speaking. But it’s nice. Just having Pinky with me makes me feel closer to Violet, kind of like we’re holding hands.

The half an hour passes quickly, then I’m led back to my bedroom to finish my homework. Violet joins me again and she brings Ellie with her, the two of them nestled in the corner of the room on my bed.

“You’re not going to fall asleep again, are you?” I ask with a smile.

She gives me a rather flat expression in reply. “You have had your fun, now finish your homework.”

“If you help me, I’ll be done quicker and we can play some more,” I say.

She raises her chin and says, “I don’t recall you helping me with my homework.”

“Let’s be honest, if I was around when you were doing it, I would have just annoyed you, so didn’t I help you by not being around?” I say.

She gives me a long look, and then says, “Just shut up and write.”

I sigh, deflating at my desk. “You speak to me so harshly these days. Are you falling out of love with me?” I ask.

There’s a moment of silence before she says, “I love you, now do your homework.”

Her words tickle my ears, making me happy and giggly. I really am a child.

While it’s hard to keep concentrating for so long, diligence is one of the virtues I can claim. Well, my governess worked it into me when I was young, and Queen Anne’s carried it on, but I’m sure my sewing hobby also contributed, so it’s at least a little bit thanks to me. Anyway, I finish up my last writing-based homework a little before supper and use the rest of the time to check over for mistakes. I’m rather thankful for inheriting a lot of Ellie’s knowledge at these times, no spellcheck meaning her experience with reading and writing is rather valuable. I’ve always been praised for my spelling, vocabulary, and grammar.

Being May now, it’s still bright even after supper, so I have Violet accompany me on another walk (keeping to the area around the dormitory where there’s maids and other ladies nearby). Wildflowers have popped up over the break, making every area that isn’t trimmed lawn a small garden. Buttercups (glistening yellow) and daisies break up the greenery, sometimes another weedy flower joining them. It’s a pleasant addition to the pleasant scenery.

When Violet starts to tire, her pace slowing and breathing noticeable, we retire… back to my room again. It’s a shame we don’t share rooms here as I’m sure she’d happily move in. Ah, but, there’s five of us, so I wouldn’t want someone else to be left alone. Mm. Lady Ashford wouldn’t be happy if I was with Trissy, but Trissy would get on with Helena, wouldn’t she?

Distracted by this new idea, I try to think of how to introduce them. It probably won’t be easy.

As I’m lost in silly thoughts, Violet gives my homework a once-over and (I’m not sure if she’s pleased, but) she doesn’t raise any issues. I’m pretty tired by now from all the concentrating; unlike a certain someone, I didn’t have a morning nap. It’s too early to sleep, so I find little things to do to keep me awake. I’ll arrange for frames and everything tomorrow, for now propping up the paintings I brought on top of my chest of drawers (using a couple of makeup tins to keep them from sliding down). I come across the rough measurements I took of Lizzy at the end of last term and note them down into my school diary. Tidying up my desk more, I sort out the designs and patterns I made for the exhibition dresses, throwing away most, only keeping a few for sentimental reasons. (Generally speaking, for each dress I keep an early sketch, the final design, and the final embroidery patterns.)

Violet kind of helps me, kind of just looks over my drawings. “You have… been working hard,” she quietly says.

“I’m not clever or talented, so I have to make up for it with effort,” I say, not really taking her words to heart.

She lightly laughs, her mouth uncovered when I glance over; her hands hold an early design for the starry night dress. “There’s a few ways to put it. One could say that diligence is a talent all of its own, or that things like skill and talent are simply the result of countless past failures, or quite simply that it is the ability to reach a goal which is important rather than counting the steps it took. Yet, whichever way you wish to take it, you are certainly talented.”

I awkwardly rub the side of my head, chastising myself for forgetting how dangerous it can be to play modest in front of friends. Her praise of me was… too beautiful. Exactly the kind of praise I crave. Not just a bunch of ticks on a piece of homework, but an acknowledgement of my effort. Validation.

“Are you thinking of learning to design dresses after schooling?” she asks.

I shake my head. “This is just for me to show my embroidery. Besides, even if I wanted to, it’s not the sort of thing a duke’s daughter would do, is it? My husband would hardly….” I trail off, unsure where I’m even going with it.

But Violet really wants to make me cry, so she says, “However, it is the sort of thing Nora might do, isn’t it?”

I don’t deserve her.