Lady Horsham tenses up at my hug, but only for a second and then she melts into it, her arms coming up to tightly squeeze me back. Once it feels like she’s been properly hugged, I let go and she does too and we both take half a step back, a little distance between us.

There’s no tears in her eyes, but she sniffles.

“Thank you for caring about me,” I say, smiling.

“No, um, I…” she starts to say, but she has no words to finish, her gaze dropping to her fiddling hands.

Oh I just want to hug her again. She really is like Evan, isn’t she? “Won’t you be my friend? Ah, but, if you’re my friend, then you can’t think poorly of yourself because of me, because that would make me sad, you know,” I say, mouth running.

She’s overwhelmed by my nonsense, taking a long second before she gently nods.

“Wonderful. Shall we promise, then?” I ask, holding out a pinky.

A second, and then her own pinky comes up.

“To friendship,” I say, hooking my pinky around hers and giving a light shake.

“To, to friendship,” she says.

I don’t want to give her the chance to think too much, worried she’ll start apologising or otherwise doubt the sincerity of what I said, so I move on. “Will you be joining us now?” I ask, gesturing towards the clubroom.

“No,” she mumbles.

Well, I can’t blame her, probably drained from thinking about this all day. When exactly did Violet tell them? She said she had a tea party five days ago, so Lady Horsham has probably been kicking herself since then.

Wait. “Say, since we’re friends, won’t you call me Nora when it’s just us?”

She looks to the side, her lips trembling, and then she seems to gather her determination and looks at me confidently. “Lady Nora.”

“Oh even just Nora is fine. Do we really need to be so formal?” I ask.

I almost her to expect to tell me we do, but instead she asks me something unexpected. “Then, would you call me Helena?”

With a smile, I lean closer to her and whisper, “Helena.”

As if magic, that word summons a soft smile to her face. “Nora,” she says, speaking even more quietly than I did. It makes me think of children saying naughty words to each other and giggling.

Too cute.

Resisting the urge to hug her again, I sandwich her hand between mine. “Do come see me this evening and we can have a proper chat. You can show me you how your braiding is coming along, yes?”

She nods.

“Good,” I say, letting go of her hand. “Then, if you would excuse me, I imagine Lord Sussex is rather uncomfortable by himself right now.”

“Good day,” she says, bowing her head.

“And very much to you too,” I say.

A last smile for her, and I turn around, walk back to the clubroom. While I sit down again, my heart beats quick in my chest. The adrenaline fades and leaves me anxious. When I lose myself, I just do whatever comes to mind and that can so easily go wrong. If she hated me casually hugging her like that, or how I pushed her to be my friend, or insisting on using our first names. It worked out this time, but… I’m not unaware that I got lucky.

I mean, the whole reason I try to be careful is because I will do the wrong thing if I act on impulse. Just like now, I act overly close and try to force the mood, saying dumb things. Stuck between two extremes, I’m either too friendly or too quiet. If it’s just talking with one other person, I can (usually) control myself and properly think about what I’m saying.

“Is everything okay?” Evan quietly asks.

Looking up at him, I smile and nod my head. Clear away those angsty thoughts. “Yes, more than okay,” I say.

It’s not long before the bell tolls, telling us to pack up and go. Since the school’s usually empty around this time, I planned to remind Evan of our childhood meeting now, but I’m a bit tired from my little talk with Helena. Sun setting, it’s a bit dark too. I forgot there’s not really any daylight after club. How am I supposed to enjoy his embarrassment if I can’t see him clearly? Should I ask him to stand beneath one of the lights?

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Well, there’s a year and a half or so until we graduate, no need to rush.

Even without that bit of entertainment, there is something nice about going for a walk with a friend. Silence never feels awkward when the scenery is changing, always something to look at or listen to, and a gentle pace is enough to keep me warm.

Near the girls’ dormitories, I thank him for walking me back and leave him with a, “See you tomorrow.”

He stumbles over my unusual goodbye, and he awkwardly says, “And you,” sounding awfully unsure that that’s the right response.

I giggle a little on the way back to my room.

Although I told Helena to come see me, I don’t know when she will (or if she will, maybe her head clearing and she now realises how strange I am). Violet might also come to see me, maybe even invite me to join them all for supper. It makes me nervous. Like, I’m waiting for things that might never happen. If I’m being practical, then no one will come before suppertime. I said evening to Helena and this is afternoon, and Violet only ever visited me in the evenings last term.

Rather than stare at the door, then, I should do something practical. Ms Berks wants to order fabrics for me to use, but I already have some of my own, so I should decide if I want to use my blue one with any of my rough designs. Yes, that’ll keep me busy.

I start by taking out the fabric, a pale blue that reminds me of the summer sky. Well, I say pale, but it’s more of a baby blue, but I’m not sure if that term has been “invented” yet, most of the maids not knowing it when I used to ask for it (and I think the rest just guessed, bringing me tints of blue). What I’m getting at is that this isn’t really a pastel colour, still vibrant but far from a navy blue.

The fabric is cotton and the weave is nothing special. A little thinner than what I used for my other dresses, in my mind (when I bought it) this going to be a spring dress. Still warm, though, and I’ll be fine if I wear thicker stockings and my coat.

Flicking through my sketches, none jump out at me. I have noted a couple of them as blue, but, thinking about it, I imagine the one made of satin, smooth to the touch and almost shiny, and the other one a shade that’s like the night sky (maybe a velvet weave).

So I end up working backwards and start on a new idea that fits this fabric. A little boyish—a straighter silhouette, hiding or lessening some curves. Maybe a fit that’s like a suit? Or, a loose top that then hugs the legs, sort of a blouse that transitions into a (long) pencil skirt. Hide the chest and waist, but show off the arms and legs.

I manage to distract myself with those thoughts for a while, and then I move on to ideas for what to embroider. White thread has its charm, adding subtle detailing, otherwise a darker blue for more emphasis. Something like waves would like nice, yet this light blue makes me think of clouds instead. If I’m going for a tomboy’s dress, though, I might want a pattern that’s more rigid or blocky rather than soft and flowing. Kites flying in the sky? A row of kite shapes at the bottom, and I could even have tassels as the kite strings.

Those little scribbles take me to suppertime, and I’m thankful for the bell as I otherwise would have happily kept going until midnight. I neaten up the few sheets of paper I’ve been working on and fold the fabric back up, tidiness a habit I try to keep. It only takes a handful of seconds anyway.

When I’m done, I rub some warmth into my arms. The cold really seeps in, huh? That’s right, I was going to ask the housekeeper if I could have warmed linens, but I guess I should be fine with a bit of magic. Cyril, you’re going to make a woman happy—who wouldn’t want a husband that can warm up the sheets? Though, I should be careful not to call him a bed warmer….

I’m pulled from my thoughts by a knock on the door. Now?

“Who is it?” I ask, shuffling over.

I start to open the door as the answer comes. “It is Lady Dover.”

Ah! I pull a little harder than I would otherwise, the door swinging open. However, it is not just Violet, her friends accompanying her. Though Ladies Hythe and Minster don’t look overly pleased by this turn of events, Helena, bless her, tries to smile and looks rather awkward.

“We are enquiring if you would care to accompany us for supper,” Violet says.

My impulse is to say no, and that’s so strange it gives me pause. Half-welcomed is more than enough to make me happy. Yet there’s a feeling of not being ready, not wanting to ask them to wait for me, even if I can’t say what I’m forgetting. I think for a second longer, but that alone makes me all the more anxious from the silence I’m making.

Shutting that all away, I put on a smile and bow my head. “Of course, I would be happy to,” I say.

“Wonderful. Do you need a moment to ready yourself?” Violet asks.

And when I look her in the eye, I see… her concern. It’s hard to describe, but it’s the look she has when she’s worried about me. I guess it’s silly of me to think I can hide anything from her. Our relationship goes both ways, doesn’t it?

That’s enough to settle my emotions. “No, I am ready already,” I say, my voice lighter.

“Then let us not dally.”

No, let’s not. Or actually, maybe we should so I can spend a little more time with you, but I’ll keep such selfishness to myself.

I’d like to say the mood is better, but we still walk to the dining hall in near silence, Violet asking me a couple of cursory questions about embroidery club. While I try to give enthusiastic answers, she has no interest in sewing, and no one else speaks up. I’m not calling Helena out with that; I know she’s a quiet person.

During the meal, it’s, well, the temperature goes from cold to tepid. I think Violet understands the situation better now as she’s getting the other three talking, and they’re happy to talk with each other. It’s very much like at the end of the last term. But, really, I don’t mind. It’s nice that I can look at them and they don’t scowl back. Well, Ladies Hythe and Minster just look away, but Violet returns my gaze with a smile, and Helena tries to smile.

Progress.

Much like at lunchtime, I have no desire to overstay my welcome and eat quickly (but not too quickly) and then tidily place my cutlery, dab at my mouth.

Violet picks up on my cues, and she says, “You are finished?”

“Yes. I am rather tired, so I hope you don’t mind if I leave first,” I say.

“Of course not,” she says, and the other three offer similar sentiments.

I carefully get to my feet, my tiredness very much half an excuse and half real. “Good evening to you all,” I say, and then I smile and bow my head to each in turn.

“And to you,” they all say, not quite a harmony. We nobility are very much dogs trained to give that reply.

Just as I’m turning away, a timid Helena says, “Wait.”

So I do, looking back over at her. She quickly sets her knife and fork neatly, and then gets to her feet as well.

“It is… quite dark already—shall we walk back together?” she asks.

I wasn’t expecting that.