Those words Ms Berks spoke follow me on my slow walk back to the dormitory, carrying the two canvasses with me. Once the initial shock wears off, I realise she definitely doesn’t know that I kind of am from another world, influenced by Ellie’s world. Rather… she thinks I’m naïve or something. As usual, her exact meaning is hard to know.

At the dormitory, I sneak through to my room and hide away the canvasses, thinking they’ll make a nice surprise for the sleepover. Then I take a bit of time to think some more.

She said she pities me, that she’s worried I’ll be broken. No, that I, too, will be broken. I think it’s one of those things where she doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes that she did. Maybe she sees her old self when she looks at me. I mean, I’m not her, so I’m just guessing, trying to make sense of what she said.

As for me breaking… that’s, well, not unlikely. There’s been many moments this last year and there’ll be many moments next year, and all the years after. That’s, you know, what happens when you open yourself up, right? You get hurt. Sometimes, you get so hurt that you can’t imagine what tomorrow looks like, what a future where you’re happy looks like.

You get so hurt that you don’t want to open up ever again.

But, you know, even if she thinks she’s broken, she looks like a beautiful person to me. Despite what her fiancé and family did to her, she still stands tall and proud. And I know she cares for me. Even if she thought she could never love anyone ever again, I recognise the warmth she shows me. A gentle and nurturing love, somewhat similar to Lottie’s; I hope that she can feel my gentle and trusting love for her. More than anything, I hope she finds some small comfort from our relationship.

After sorting out my thoughts, I busy myself with a bit of sewing to settle my mind, not really ready to study just yet. Twenty, maybe thirty minutes later, I make my way to the lounge, feeling refreshed.

“Back so soon?” Helena asks.

“Just had a bit of a chat today, nothing else to do,” I say, smiling.

While we study for a good hour or two (taking short breaks now and then), it’s hard for us to keep focused, even Violet struggling. It’s been a long week. We continue until supper, but settle into idle chatter afterwards, heading off to our rooms earlier than usual.

The extra time (including earlier in the day) means I finish off the embroidery for Iris’s dress and get started on stitching the pieces together. I’m not so fussed about the fit, knowing Terri can adjust it, but I do my best to make such adjustments minimal so that the embroidery lines up.

When bedtime comes, I’m too nervous and excited to sleep easily. Eventually, though, I fall asleep.

Those feelings follow me through the morning, barely any of the studying going in. At eleven o’clock, the bell rings for lunch—to accommodate those visiting for the open days, we are having lunch early. I don’t eat much, but I force some toast and “scrambled eggs” down.

It’s not time yet to meet up, but I say goodbye to my friends once we’re back at the dormitory. I stop by my room to pick up a small bag, and then walk over to the art classroom, heart beating quick in my chest. Coming to the room, I peek inside.

Ah.

I open the door and step in, closing it behind me, and then my hands naturally come together, fingers wanting to fidget. “Hullo, miss.”

She lets out a soft chuckle. Although she isn’t reading a book, she treats me the same as always and has me wait while she finishes looking over the papers in front of her. “It is only natural to be nervous,” she says, raising her gaze until it meets mine.

I give her a sheepish smile.

There are a couple of small additions to the room since yesterday, mainly chairs: four in the centre of the room, and one in front of the desk. She gestures at the latter, so I shuffle over and sit there. Silence. I can’t say how long it lasts, my sense of time distorted by my state of mind. If I reason it out, I probably arrived at half past eleven and the models should get here a few minutes after midday; it feels like an awfully long half an hour.

Saving me from my mild anxiety, the door opens.

“We and the guests are here, mistresses,” Len says, leading in Lottie, Gwen, and Iris, and Lizzy follows closely behind.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I glance over at Ms Berks, but she has a look which says, “They have nothing to do with me.”

That silly thought actually helps to soften my mood, a little smile on my face as I turn back to the models (and Gwen). “Thank you for coming. The dresses are in the backroom and, if you could let me know what you would like for lunch, I will arrange for that to be presented. Um, nothing messy though, okay?” I say.

Lottie and Iris softly giggle, while Len and Lizzy stay serious, and Gwen is too busy staring at the paintings to take much notice of me. In their various ways, they respond affirmatively. It turns out that Len and Lizzy already ate, so they go through first; Lottie simply asks for plain toast and tells me to choose what I like for Gwen, and Iris asks for a croissant. (It goes without saying that tea will accompany this, and a glass of water for Gwen.)

I pop over to the dining hall. It is fairly busy with the families visiting the school; not many girls (Queen Anne’s has its last exam today), a lot of boys. Gosh, they look so small. Are they really only a year younger?

While I’m distracting myself, one maid gathers up the food and another the drinks, and then they follow me back to the room.

The dresses very simple to put on, I’m greeted by four models when I enter the room. I can’t help but smile. I mean, I’ve only seen them on the mannequins before, so seeing them…. Oh gosh, don’t cry, don’t cry. Deep breaths.

“Lunch,” I carefully say, gesturing at my friends from town. With nowhere else, the maids place the trays on the edge of the desk and then politely leave. Lottie, Gwen, and Iris walk over and, well, it’s obvious when Lottie notices what I chose for Gwen to eat. “Very good for growing brains,” I say.

Lottie simply turns to look at me and raises an eyebrow. I smile sweetly back.

No fish, but of course there’s fish-like alternatives—they just happen to be a bit… pricey. I mean, Lottie can afford it on occasion if she wants, just that there’s better things to spend money on. Anyway, Gwen is very excited about her “brain food”.

While those three eat, I lead Len and Lizzy to the backroom, where I open the curtains to let the light in and then put out a couple of chairs. Patting the seat, I look at Len.

She looks back at me.

I smile.

She raises an eyebrow.

I smile so broadly that my eyes pinch a bit closed.

With a sigh, she gives in and comes to sit in front of me.

“Was that so hard?” I say, picking up the bag I left here earlier.

She doesn’t ask what I’m going to do and I don’t tell her, but it should be obvious when I take out a makeup brush. I take her silence as consent. (She’s hardly shown herself to be reserved, willing to remind me when I act inappropriately.)

Normally, I would ask how she wants to look, but I guess it’s an indulgent day for me. This is about how I want her to look. She is the sea, yet the reflection of the mountain adds a roughness. A smooth, flowing face, yet a jagged outline. Though I think all that, her appearance is better described as pale with freckles. Her makeup is an accessory to the painting—not a continuation of it.

I can’t get too into it, constrained by time, so I soon move on to Lizzy. Hers is a rather standard bit of makeup, pale with gentle spots of blush that look like petals. It goes nicely with the blossoms on her dress.

Iris comes through next. I can’t darken her skin to match the night sky, but I can make her face look like the moon, pale and round, and I add some “craters” to her cheeks by using a slightly darker skin tone instead of blusher.

Lastly, Lottie. Again, I can’t really make her match her dress, but I try go give her a fluffiness—as if a cloud.

With all the makeup done, I tidy up my things and then head back through to the classroom. The four models are sitting on the chairs in the middle of the room. (I guess Ms Berks told them they can sit there when no one is viewing the exhibition.) I’ll keep Gwen company, but there’s only one chair in front of the desk, so I bring out another chair from the back.

I barely get to sit down before Iris talks to me. “Ah, um, miss, did you really make these dresses?”

Giggling behind my hand, I tilt my head. It’s reassuring to fall into a teasing role. “No, a faerie made them for me in exchange for my first-born son.”

She laughs at that, and gets ready to say something else only to be silenced by the distant bell.

“The exhibition has begun,” Ms Berks says, walking over to open the door.

I guess that means no more chatting.

A minute passes before our first visitors arrive, and they are none other than my friends. I stand up to greet them and the models quickly stand as well. “What are you doing here?” I ask, smiling happily.

“We would hardly miss your big debut,” Belle says; there’s a certain teasing to her words, but a kindness too.

Jemima approaches the dresses first; the other three pause to greet me, and then we catch up with her. “These are your designs, and you sewed them?” Jemima asks, inspecting Len’s seascape.

“Indeed,” I reply.

“Are you thinking of opening a boutique or something like that?” Helena asks.

I shake my head. “This is… a hobby taken a little too far.”

We fall into silence, loosely circling the models and looking at the dresses. As we come to Lizzy’s blossoms, Belle softly says, “They are quite beautiful. I wouldn’t want to wear one, but for decoration…. Have you considered making tapestries?”

I hum in thought. “Well, if you would like one, I certainly could make one.”

Our conversation is stopped there by the arrival of more visitors—a mother, father, and son. I guess my friends take this is their cue to leave, passing me and whispering me some words of luck. At least, the first three do, Violet lingering behind.

I noticed she didn’t say anything. This menial work is definitely something she disagrees with, I’ve always known that, always known she wouldn’t support me beyond shallow words. But I still hoped that I could maybe move her heart a little. Not much, just a little.

“Thank you for coming,” I say. It really means a lot to me that she did come at all.

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s… an unfamiliar emotion swirling in them. Before I can think on it too much, she whispers, “You worked hard. Well done.”

More than Cyril, more than Evan, she really knows exactly what I want to hear.