Monday morning starts in a light darkness. While it’s certainly not bright by any means, there’s a sort of promise that, given a minute to adjust, I’ll be able to see. Still, I turn on my bedside lamp, not exactly going to wobble around in the dark for no reason. So I fall into my routine, getting dressed in my uniform and all that before heading to breakfast. Hastened by the lingering chill in the dining hall (fires don’t heat up a whole room in a few minutes), I’m back in my room soon. The timetable for this term not given out yet, I don’t need to pack anything more than my notebook and pencil case.

I pass the time until registration flicking through a book, seeing each word but not really reading them. There’s a sense of my mind reorganising itself for school, a disassociation between me and my senses, floating. That feeling is brushed aside when the first bell finally rings, my focus coming back to reality.

Scurrying through the cold, I head straight to the classroom. Just like always, Gerald is here early with one of his friends, Lord Pluckley. My brain took a second to recall that name, apparently having archived it right at the back.

While we don’t catch each other’s eye or anything, I do feel an awkwardness brewing. I didn’t have much of a reason to think about Gerald after talking with my sister. What she said certainly had some merit to it (not the bit about me fancying him), but… it’s not like we have to be friends. Whether or not I’m holding him to too high a standard, it doesn’t change that we don’t seem to get on. There’s no reason for me to, like, reach out to him. He has his friends and he seems happy, and I have my friends and I’m happy.

Before I think in circles too much, I catch Evan tiptoeing in. Not actually tiptoeing, but, you know, walking quietly. Oh I have just the thing to ask him, but not yet.

Catching my expression, he asks, “Is, er, there something… funny?”

“Yes,” I say, and offer nothing more.

When his patience wears thin, he looks away. There’s something of a redness to him, yet I’ll charitably pin that on the cold weather, far from the only one with rosy cheeks.

Other than the question I’m saving for later, I have a lot more to ask him. (I can’t exactly be sending letters to men outside my family too easily, and didn’t get to ask anything when he visited with his sister.) However, he beats me to it.

“Thank you, for having my sister over,” he says, his gaze on the floor between us.

“Oh it was no trouble, and I rather enjoyed her company,” I say.

He smiles. “No, I really mean it. She… is a bit peculiar, I know. Even when we have guests her age over, she is all too happy to sit there and say nothing. Yet, when we left that day, she told me how she talked with you about the book she was reading. I have never seen her look so happy.”

His voice is a little strained by the end, but he maintains his composure.

“Well, I just took an interest like a good host should, and she is rather interesting,” I say, off-balance. I mean, I never thought much of it. Shy people like to talk too and so I tried to make her comfortable enough to talk.

“If there is anything I can do as thanks, anything at all, please just say,” he says, and he sounds like he means it.

But I’m not that kind of lady. “Why should I be rewarded for being a decent person, huh?” I ask, leaning over to flick his knee. “Or do you think so little of your sister that I have to be bribed to treat her like I would any other guest?”

For the first time ever, I see a flash of something like anger cross his face, the muscles around his jaw tensing and drawing his mouth into a flat expression, an intensity to his eyes. It’s a far sight different to that time Gerald took me aside, the difference between anger and worry. But he’s not so impulsive to miss what I said.

“My apologies, it was thoughtless of me to say that,” he mumbles.

Some remorse coming to me as I get the chance to think over what I said, I say, “No, I went too far, but I’m glad to see how deeply you care for her.”

A deep breath clears the air around him, returning to his sort of gentle natural state. What’s that clichéd saying… never test the patience of a good man?

I don’t let the silence go for too long, pick up the questions I wanted to ask before and go with them. I have a general idea of what he did over the holidays because of Ellen, but it’s good to hear it from him as well, so I ask him if he did anything interesting, if he visited family, if he received a particularly unusual or beloved gift for Yule, and a few more.

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Violet and her friends come in shortly before registration starts, only giving me time to greet them, and they return my greeting. I catch Evan giving me a look after that, a little smile.

Well, go on, then, have a smile back. I’m in a good mood, so I’ll give them away.

The bell goes, and Mr Milton shuffles from his desk to the front of the room, a pile of papers in hand. While he moves on to rattling off our names, the timetables get passed back. It’s a little annoying having the classes change around like this, but it doesn’t usually take me long to memorise the new schedule, and it’s not like I have to go anywhere.

First period is an assembly, all of us walking through the cold to the refurbished ballroom. A rather grand hall, at least it’s warm—enchanted heaters, I notice, very much looking like old-fashioned radiators from Ellie’s world. Packed as we are, I can’t see much but the ceiling once I sit down, but it’s an ornate ceiling, gorgeous chandeliers casting warm light and there’s plasterwork detailing (flowery bits above the chandeliers and along the room’s edges). Otherwise, the floor is a dark wood and somewhat springy (for dancing), while the walls are an off white, almost cream, and the wainscotting is a bright white with highlights in a copper-bronze shade that nicely ties the floor and walls together. There’s also a lot of windows letting in not so much light, the barely risen sun hiding behind the main building still.

My observations are, of course, much more interesting than whatever Headmaster Buckingham has to say. The little I listen to is him telling us that we have to “maintain our dignity” and that’s more than enough for me.

When that finishes, we get to shuffle back to our classrooms for another hour of sitting around in a tutor period. Not that Mr Milton has anything to say, leaving us to our own devices, most taking the opportunity to catch up with friends. Since I already talked to Evan (and Violet), I’m already all caught up. Well, Julian, but he’s not in this class. Cyril, we’ve exchanged a few letters. So I fall back to sketching ideas, taking notes. I should have known to bring a reading book with me today, but never mind—I don’t hate doing this.

Come break, we’re told to go get what books we need as the rest of the day will be actual lessons. Overall, the classes I have haven’t changed much, Accounting replaced by Contract Law. I don’t expect it to be all that thorough, the first lesson probably: “Don’t sign random contracts,” and the second: “Seriously, you have a lawyer, use him.” That’s Friday morning, so I have to wait until then to see what it’s like.

I feel like I’ve complained all day already, but the lessons today are hard, not because they’re hard, but because I can’t bring myself to care. It takes twice as much effort to listen, thrice as much to take notes. I manage, but it’s exhausting. Never before have I looked forward to lunchtime so much. Okay, once before, but that was my first real tea party, so it’s hard to top that.

As soon as the bell rings, the clanging cutting off Mr Willand mid-sentence, I collapse onto my desk. Finally. More looking forward to the break than the food, I’m not in a rush to head out, waiting for the rush to subside before I go.

Except my lazing about is interrupted. “Lady Kent,” Violet says.

Though tempted to just turn my head to the side, this is Violet talking to me, so I sit up nicely and neaten out the front of my uniform. Only then do I turn to her. “Lady Dover, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her friends are behind her, and it’s almost surprising to see them not scowling at me in some manner, but their expressions are hardly friendly (neutral, flat), and their eyes are still adverse to looking directly at me.

“Would you care to join us for lunch?” Violet asks.

I can’t help the childish smile that flourishes, such words like sweets to my naïve self. “If you would have me, I’d be delighted,” I say, quickly tidying my things—it would reflect poorly of me to leave a messy table behind. That said, I only tidy, not tidy up, doubting anyone wants to steal my notebook of rubbish sketches if I leave it here.

All in all, it only takes a few seconds and then I’m on my feet, ready to follow. Of course, the walk to the dining hall is awkwardly silent, and it gets no better when we sit down, our food served to us.

“That is what you chose?” Violet asks.

No, the maid gave me the wrong tray by mistake. Ah, I shouldn’t think these jokes any more, a chance my tongue might slip. “Yes,” I eventually say, taking far too long for such a simple reply.

As awkward as the mood is, I don’t hate it. Considering I’m used to silence, it’s probably a lot worse for them, especially if you also consider why it’s awkward. But this is fine. One of the things I know is that life isn’t like books (or movies), that conflict doesn’t really get resolved at all often, a sort of mutual understanding to forget it instead. You have a fight with your sister and then everything’s back to normal tomorrow. Obviously, some fights are big enough that someone has to do something, but most aren’t.

And in this case, we haven’t even fought. This is all about uncomfortable feelings, but even feelings have a way of burning themselves out, and I’m sure everything will, little by little, return to normal.

Well, to a new normal that includes me to some extent. I didn’t really expect this, so I’ve not thought how I would fit in to Violet’s world. Will we eat lunch together, maybe all our meals? Will I sit with them in the mornings and evenings? Study with them? Am I going to be invited to tea parties with all of them in the holidays?

I don’t know. The answer to most of those, I feel, is no. Despite how well my tea party went, I know I’m difficult to get on with. While I can sit here quietly and cause no fuss, there’s a difference between being part of a group and belonging to a group, and I almost certainly won’t ever belong. Even with Violet, I know our friendship only exists now because it was started when she was more open-minded.

However, even if it’s not the perfect situation, it is a step in the right direction. An opportunity for me to practise actually talking with ladies my age. Who knows, maybe everything will work out. I do think Lady Horsham likes me despite my eccentricities. At the least, I doubt she hates me or else she’d hardly keep coming back to the embroidery club.

A lunch eaten in awkward silence, but I don’t hate it.