Waking up on Monday feels twice as hard as yesterday. It’s not that I wore myself out or anything, classes and the people here really are just twice as boring to deal with. Well, I did have to stay up to do homework, so, um, moving on.

I make myself up in my plain disguise. The ladies who went to the café yesterday, even though they looked at me then, it didn’t seem that they recognised me and that makes me think of superheroes. Here I am, Nora, the dull girl without a friend to her name. There, I am Ellie, confident and beautiful waitress full of charm and beloved by everyone she meets.

Okay, that’s a bit much. I… do think “Ellie” left a good impression, though. Iris seems nice, and the other waitresses too. I don’t know what to think of Neville, but I guess he’s also nice? I wouldn’t call any of the girls friends yet, but I would like to. I think I can get to there.

Smiling to myself as I walk to the classroom, I think I should thank Pete. It was kind of him to pay me to stand around, and he gave me such a good reference and pushed me forward. I might change my mind later, but, for now, I think this job is… perfect. Everything I want.

As usual, I’m one of the first to arrive. Clever prince, ahem, Gerald is here along with his group of friends, and of course our tutor, Mr Milton. By the second bell, everyone else arrives.

Illness is pretty rare. I think a lot of the flu and colds going around in Ellie’s world were from animals? Cows and stuff. So I guess, not raising animals for meat, those diseases don’t come up much. I mean, there’s sheep for wool, but they’re not super fluffy and are always left to wander across the whole farm, eating whatever isn’t fenced off.

Registration starts, Mr Milton calling out our names one by one and we each respond, “Present.” I joked before about forgetting Gerald’s friend’s name, but I’m actually good with names so long as I have a face to go with them. I think having so many maids and manservants around the manor helped. Whether Ellie’s influence or my little brain thinking so, I always tried to know all the servants I saw, something I know isn’t exactly normal. At least, not with an estate as big as my family’s. Ladies usually just know the maids that attend to them rather than, say, bedchamber maids and cooks, and usually only know the butler on the male side.

When the register has been taken, Mr Milton moves on to the announcements. They’re never interesting or important. He reads them from a diary, his tone monotonous. “Due to the likely outlook of rain, no classes will be held outdoors until further notice.” He carries on, another couple announcements announced.

And then he says, “Lastly, an embroidery club will be run by Ms Berks in the reference building, room B. It will run for one hour at three o’clock on Mondays and Fridays, including today.”

I stare blankly at him for a moment. Wow, she works quick.

Registration period shortly finishes, Mr Milton leaving us. It’s geography from eight to nine, and then geometry nine to ten. All we’re missing is geology. I manage to take the odd note while wholeheartedly thinking of sewing club. Sorry, embroidery club.

Needles, threads, fabrics—it will be nice to use new things for a change. I mean, there’s not much difference from one needle to another, but having more than the two shades of green, and working with something that isn’t a handkerchief or cheap linen, that is going to be fun.

My pleasant thoughts are interrupted by a noticed quiet spreading, the room usually lively throughout morning break. It probably has nothing to do with me.

“Lady Kent.”

Ah, it might have something to do with me. I turn to the side happily, the voice familiar. “Lady Dover, it is good to speak with you,” I say.

Violet has her usual expression. It’s not quite disdain, but it’s understandable that someone less familiar with her wouldn’t know that. Rather, I think of it as what she thinks is a neutral expression, you know? Like she’s trying not to show any emotion and so looks a bit grumpy.

She has two ladies behind her, one at her side. Ladies Horsham, Hythe, and Minster. The last two have been her friends since the old school, Lady Horsham joining them since starting here (she didn’t go to the same finishing school). And those ladies are looking at me with narrowed eyes, crossed arms. It’s not that intimidating, on the shorter side and with some chubbiness to their cheeks. If it was Violet, that would be another question entirely. Some people are born to look down on others and Violet is one of them.

Wait, I just mean she’s tall, okay?

“I heard you asking about whether this school had a handicrafts club—don’t tell me that this ‘embroidery club’ is something you requested?” Violet asks.

“Ah, yes it is! If you ever have something you would like sewn, do come by,” I say.

She harrumphs, turning away from me. “As if I would.”

“It was good to speak with you,” I say to her back as she walks back to her seat.

The other ladies glare at me before following her.

Settling back into my seat, I can’t help but think that she really hasn’t changed in all these years. It’s nice to talk to someone. I can get through the day daydreaming, yet a little chat really adds some welcome variety to it.

Break, late morning lessons, lunch, afternoon lessons. We finish at ten to three. For a change, I want to hurry out and get to the club room.

But, you know, I stand up and turn to the door, and someone’s there.

Taking half a step forward, I softly say, “Lord Sussex?”

Bashful prince, sorry, Evan tenses up. He’s standing behind his desk, books in his bag (a shoulder bag a bit like a briefcase and a handbag mixed together). Very slowly, he look around until he meets my sweet gaze. “Yes?” he quietly asks.

A magnificent plan came to me the moment I saw him. “You have some talent with spirit magic, yes? Do come to the embroidery club.”

“Oh, um, I do, but, you see….”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He freezes, his wide eyes adorable. I just want to tease him more, you know? For now, this will have to do.

“Come along, then. We wouldn’t want to be late.”

Honestly, I didn’t expect him to listen to me so easily, but he hurriedly stuffs his pencil case (made of tinny metal) into his bag and slings it onto his shoulder.

I gesture for him to go.

He hesitates. “Aren’t you leading the way?” he asks.

“I would have to check behind me the entire time to make sure you haven’t wandered off,” I say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Then, I can’t help myself. “Though, I suppose I could lead you by the hand; however, that will have to wait until after you propose an engagement to my parents.”

A blush pops up in splotches on his cheeks, ears red.

Meanwhile, I repeat the words back to myself. That was maybe too flirty… but, I mean, he’s adorable, you know? A big cuddly teddy bear. I bet if I told him that, he’d….

“Shall we head off?”

It’s for the best, Evan, I promise. He understands that well, nodding. In a second, he turns around and takes the first step, and his legs go at quite the pace; I’m nearly left jogging to keep up, but thankfully it’s just within my walking speed.

However, halfway there, I ask, “Ah, could you wait a moment?”

“Yes,” he says, stopping. He turns back to me with a confused look.

“I shan’t be long.”

A quick bathroom break later, I come out and see him still stood there, now looking rather red.

“Is anything the matter?” I ask.

“It’s…” he mumbles.

“Speak up.”

He gulps, his eyes still refusing to meet mine. “This is… an embarrassing place to wait.”

Ah, I suppose it is? Never mind. At least he didn’t run off on me. No more unintentional flirting, I remind myself, before I reply. “Shall we?” I ask, gesturing down the corridor.

“Please.”

He whispers that word, probably not intending me to hear.

Maybe I’m teasing him too much. Just a little bit, though. I’m also becoming a lot more sympathetic to Eleanor these days with how easy it is to go too far. If I had less self-restraint, I’d probably have to take responsibility for scaring him off women.

Despite the detour, we still make it in time for the three o’clock bell. It’s the other party that’s late. So we stand there waiting, him lined up against the wall and me peeking through the window in the door. Most doors in the school have these windows (like eye-level letterboxes). Convenient, but not distracting.

From what I can see, the room has been mostly emptied with only a shelving unit thing at the back still used for storage. Otherwise, four tables are arranged in two pairs, making a square, each pair surrounded by eight chairs.

About five minutes pass before the door to the outside opens, Ms Berks appearing, a box under her arm. I say box, but it’s a wooden tray with fairly high sides.

“Lady Kent, you even brought a friend.”

“Yes, miss. I thought he would make a good mascot.”

She frowns at me as she walks up, then hands over the box to Evan while she opens the door. “Mascot? What on earth is that?” Before I can answer, she says the word to herself with something of a French accent to it: “Mascotte. Something to do with faeries….”

“Um, a good luck charm?” I say—as if I don’t know the answer.

“That’s it!” After a beat, she adds, “A few years of luck, then.”

I’m not sure what she means, and ask, “Pardon, miss?”

“Nothing. Come in, bring the box,” she says, beckoning us inside. Evan puts the box on the table while I sit down. Looking around again, there’s another shelving unit against the wall that I couldn’t see from outside, but it’s empty. A piece of card hangs off it, which reads “RESERVED FOR EMBROIDERY CLUB” in a neat and feminine handwriting. Emptying the box, she takes the smaller boxes (these ones like jewellery boxes) and arranges them on the one shelf.

When Ms Berks finishes doing that, she carries one of the chairs to the corner and sits down, a slim book appearing from nowhere.

I give it a few seconds before I hesitantly ask, “Miss?”

She looks up. “Yes?”

“Um, are you going to… say anything?”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you going to make a request of me?”

I don’t know what to say to that, a blank look my reply.

She sighs, shutting her book with a clap, and then gets to her feet. “I suppose I could give a few words,” she half-heartedly says. After clearing her throat, she continues. “Since our last meeting, I have somewhat thought of what this club means, needing to do as much to convince the headmaster to let me skip the staff meeting.”

I press my lips tightly together, not wanting to show amusement at those carelessly said words.

“What I settled on is expression. That is, as with poetry, piano, and painting, this club seeks to use sewing to convey beauty. In short, embroidery.”

Oh, her speech—how moving. I eagerly await the next line.

She sits down, opening up her book again.

“Miss?” I ask, coming out more like a whine than intended.

“There is everything you need in the boxes. Do help yourselves,” she says, gaze flickering across the page and not anywhere close to me or Evan.

My head drops down, nearly so far as the table before I stop myself. Turning my head to the side, I catch Evan’s eye, giving him a crooked smile. “Well, I guess I’ll show you how to sew today.” He obediently follows my instructions for the rest of the hour and then we go our separate ways, Ms Berks ushering us out in a hurry.

What a wonderful first club meeting.