Wednesdays are always a bit boring. No embroidery club, no magic lessons, and I only talk to Evan. It’s nice having a sort of breather in the middle of the week, though, time to catch up on homework. I mean, I don’t have homework this week, but I can do some sewing. It’s my last weekend this term, so I want to give gifts for the Thatchers and waitresses at the café. (I can send Gwen’s presents by courier.)

There’s not exactly wrapping paper as Ellie knew it. For most things, a single-coloured sheet of thin paper or tissue paper is used. That said, my plan is to buy some biscuits and wrap them into portions with handkerchiefs that have the person’s name on them. In Len’s case, it’ll be a pair for her and her fiancé—the wedding gift that I promised.

Anyway, that’s what I plan to do with my afternoon today. I’m not stressed over it because I can always send them to Lottie and ask her to hand them over, but I’d like to do it in person if I have the chance.

My mind busy, the day passes quickly until there’s just one lesson left. As always in the short gap between classes, the room comes alive, people chatting to their friends or leaving to “stretch their legs” (go to the toilet). Evan’s in the latter group, but I do think he actually is just going for a walk. Though he’s not really taller than average, he looks uncomfortable at the desk. Well, to be fair, that might be more to do with schoolwork than his build.

I pass the time either staring out the window or sliding my gaze across the room. It’s interesting to see how the various groups are doing, right? Naturally, I tend to linger on Violet and her friends for a moment, happy to see her well.

She and Gerald sit near to each other, him at the front of the room and her two spaces back and one to the right. I mean, she’s pretty much in the middle of the room, so I guess she’s near everyone. Anyway, I wonder if she’s managed to speak to him much. In the book, she was very noticeable in her interest, often coming up with strange reasons to approach him and ignoring his attempts to deflect her. I haven’t seen anything like that. If anything, I’m not sure if they’ve even spoken beyond that time he came to interrupt my conversation with her.

Ah, but that might be changing! Her school diary dropped on the floor and he happened to be looking over. You’re going to tell her, right? Come on, Gerald, I believe in you.

Yes, that’s it. He walks over, his long legs only needing a couple of strides, and he bends down to pick it up. As he does, a piece of paper falls out? His attention shifts to it, and I see Violet’s face stiffen, the polite smile she has on frozen solid.

What’s on that paper? She hasn’t written him a love note and not yet found the courage to leave it at his desk, has she? No, she’d be red with embarrassment, not pale as a sheet. That paper… it looks quite old? I can’t see well, but the edges seem frayed or crumpled, the colour not so much white with a touch of yellow as white-yellow.

Though he’s facing away from me, I can hear the disgust in his voice when he speaks. “What is this?”

She can’t say a word, dumbly holding out her hand for him to give it back, but he doesn’t.

“Did you have her write this in case the headmaster calls you into his office? It’s not enough to bully her, you had to humiliate her as well?”

It’s, no, it can’t be.

He tears the paper into pieces, and I see Violet’s heart break with it. Her eyes wide and watery, mouth pressed thin lest her lips tremble, hands squeezed tight, shaking ever so slightly.

And my blood boils. Who does he think he is? You can’t talk to her like that, can’t talk to my friend like that. Crude words try to force their way out of my throat, palms itch for the sting of a good slap. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone before like I do right now. I didn’t understand it when people said they saw red or anything like that, but now I do, my body ready to move if not for me consciously stopping it.

Focus. What can I do? I don’t lash out or act without thinking, that’s not who I am. I’m not thoughtless like him. If I involve myself, does that change anything? I don’t think so. By what he said, he’s already decided he knows “best”. Yet it’s killing me that I have to see Violet make that face and there’s nothing I can do.

I dig my nails into my palms, the pain clearing my head somewhat. Nothing else.

I just watch.

“Well?” he says, his loud voice carrying across the silent room.

Come on, Violet, I believe in you.

A long and tense few seconds pass, and then she simply takes her school diary from his hand and walks out the room. Head held high, no tears staining her face, no stumbling. That’s good. I knew she’s strong.

As if he didn’t expect her to do that, he said nothing as she left and just stands there for a moment after. When he turns around, his eyes catch mine and he dares to smile at me. I hold back the glare, just look away.

Before he gets any ideas about coming over, Evan returns and Monsieur Valognes (the teacher for our last lesson) is behind him—that’s the usual signal to return to our seats since the class begins once the teacher is ready. In that little time, though, Evan notices something is amiss.

“Did something happen?” he whispers.

“A misunderstanding I’ll explain another time.”

Violet doesn’t come back.

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None of the French makes it to me in the next hour, my brain whirring as I try to put together what I need to do. I mean, I can’t leave things like this for poor Violet. I have to think things through carefully and decide on the best way to make her happy.

My afternoon ends up different than I planned this morning, interrupted by the turn of events. I work hard through to the night and fall quickly into an exhausted sleep. When the wakeup call comes, I hardly feel refreshed, but I get back to work.

Before breakfast, I head to the classroom and luckily find it unlocked. I leave a note on Gerald’s seat (chair tucked in so no one else should notice).

Then it’s a day like any other. Violet comes to morning registration at the last minute, no sign of hesitation on her face. Of course not, she’s done nothing wrong and she knows it, so why would she worry about coming to class? While there were some whispers before she arrived, it seems no one quite knows the truth. He tore up the note and threw away the pieces—I guess picking paper out the rubbish is a bit much for these gossips. Since he hasn’t said anything yet, there’s just speculation on what was actually written down.

As for my note, I saw him read it.

Evan senses my bad mood and leaves me alone. Well, he’s not that chatty to begin with, so it’s more that I’m leaving him alone. Seconds drag and minutes lag, the hours taking forever to roll over. Violet quickly goes out at the end of every lesson, returns at the last moment for the next one.

I end up skipping earth magic class and head back to my room, working until near dinnertime before taking my work with me back to our classroom. Like in the morning, it’s luckily still open.

In my seat, I finish the sewing, add little details and otherwise fiddle. When Gerald quietly enters the room, I ignore him and continue what I’m doing. However, he sees no need for silence and quickly opens that big mouth of his, perching himself on the edge of Evan’s desk.

“There is no need to thank me,” he says.

I wasn’t going to.

“I was always put off by the behaviour of the girls in our class, yet I held my tongue since you looked fine and they didn’t go too far.”

Don’t lie to my face. Like you cared about me at all.

“However, to have you write out such a demeaning note while treating you like that—I can’t believe the sheer audacity of Lady Dover.”

You mean the note I wrote of my own freewill for my first real friend?

Noticing his tone growing hot, he shakes his head and then speaks much calmer, leaning forwards a touch. “There is no need to worry. If she tries to pull any kind of retribution, I shall protect you.”

You’re the one who’ll need protection if you don’t shut up.

And he finally crosses the line, reaching out as if to pat me. “Don’t,” I say sharply, that word stopping his hand where it is. He slowly takes it back.

Eleanor, what did you see in him?

I turn all my focus back on the teddy bear in my hands and finish the last touches. It’s, well, the right shape, and the paleness of the pink scraps of fabric make it look like one of her parents was a polar bear. Buttons from one of my school jackets for eyes. Cut up bits of a handkerchief for the paw pads, and another bit for the mouth area (a smile sewn on, nose made of neat stitches). I snipped off a red slip from a school vest to make a bow and tore open my pillow for stuffing. (Incidentally, it does seem that feather-like leaves are used for pillows and duvets.)

I hold the teddy and an envelope out to Gerald.

“Really, I can’t accept such a gift for doing what any decent person would have done,” he says.

I breathe in deep, quelling the surge of anger. In a measure tone, I say to him, “Give these to Lady Dover and apologise. I won’t tell you to do it in front of everyone, but the sooner the better.”

“What? I already told you I would protect you—you don’t have to grovel to her.”

I hate him so much. Really, really hate him. Even Ellie never felt like this and she had to deal with her friend turning on her.

Speaking slowly lest my tongue let slip my feelings, I say, “You humiliated her in front of the class, so you owe her at least an apology.”

His face sours. “I did nothing wrong by putting her in her place,” he says, his voice heating up.

“And what place is it she belongs?” I ask.

“For what she did, I would—”

“And what did she do?”

My tone so cold, he freezes for a moment before answering. “Why, she had you write that note out,” he says.

“No, that’s what you believe she did,” I say, my control over my emotions slipping. “Never mind that you have no proof she forced me to write it, or even that it is my handwriting.”

Though my words force their way into his thoughts, his ego quickly reasserts itself. “So? Even if that note is false, that doesn’t excuse the way she treats you now.”

My palms itch, his face so close, and it’s all I can do to not give in. A shaky breath resets that urge enough for me to try another appeal.

“It’s no business of yours the relationship between me and Lady Dover.”

“I have a strong sense of justice, so of course—”

I snap.

“Justice?” I say, rising to my feet. “What single moment of that crude display was justice? To so readily assert your own feelings as facts and give her no room to defend herself, is that justice? To do so in front of her peers? Did it even occur to you that a baron’s daughter wouldn’t dare speak back to a prince? And still, take whatever liberties you wish, did you for a second think of what I would want? Justice, you say. No, that was just spite, cruel and unusual. I would never ask for such a punishment and that you dare say you did that for my sake only makes me feel sick to my stomach for how little you think of me.”

I’m breathless by the end, my narrowed eyes watering from anger and my heart pounding. But I’m not done.

“You don’t get to tear up seven years of friendship and act like it meant nothing.”

My first real friend in so long, my precious friend. We shared snacks and played dolls and read stories and looked at the flowers and brushed each other’s hair.

And he just tore it up.

It breaks my heart, and I can’t imagine how much Violet is hurting. No one else can possibly understand her situation. Alone.

My tone is tinged by that sadness as I continue. “If I thought she would be the slightest bit happy to see me, I would give her these myself. However, the past is in the past, so you give her these things and you apologise or I swear to God I’ll never speak to you again.”

A moment, and then he asks, “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“It is the only threat I have,” I say.

My emotions settling now I’ve given him a rather large piece of my mind, I pick up the tact that snapped earlier and stick it back together, my tone softening.

“Look, I am only telling you to do this because I know you to be a good person deep down. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t want you anywhere near Lady Dover. An apology… is not a show of weakness, but an admission that you did not reach the standards you hold yourself to, and a promise to try better in the future. If you remember that, the words you need to say should come easily.”

My words settle into another moment of silence, the two of us staring at each other. I can’t well say how long it lasts, but surely no longer than a minute even if it feels like an eternity.

With nothing else to say, I decide to leave behind the teddy bear and envelope on my desk for him to take himself. Perhaps his ego shrinks when no one else is present. Though my steps are quick, my heart has been racing for so long that I’m lightheaded, desperate to get outside the room so I can lean against the wall.

Only, the moment I leave the room, I’m met by someone standing just around the corner.

“Violet,” I whisper.