As evening comes and we all retire to our rooms, I expectedly repeat the conversation between myself and Ladies Challock and Ashford. I try to reason out what they meant and how they feel, and I think of better replies I could have given, chide myself for being meek and cautious. It’s easy to say I would rather regret standing up for myself than regret bowing my head, yet it’s hard to be brave in the moment.

Recently, I’ve been thinking a fair bit about habits, how I don’t want to make a habit of being anxious and overly worrisome. With that in mind, I make an effort to push away thoughts of this afternoon that are unpleasant. I focus on the positives. Since I’d somewhat expected to be asked about the sleepy prince, I think the answer I gave when asked about him was a good one, simple and gracious. Even when pushed and asked about Evan, I think that answer wasn’t bad. Not great, but not bad.

Such careful talking, though, it makes me miss Violet. Gossiping isn’t something our group of friends does and I’m sure it’s her influence. Thinking back to the start of this term, she told me clearly what she’d told the others over the holidays, so I never had to worry about how much they know, what I could and couldn’t say.

Besides that, I like that she scolds me. She truly believes that our noble birth brings with it a responsibility to be better than commonfolk. While she may mindlessly follow etiquette in some ways, our childhood misadventures showed me that she was willing to change her mind on some things, in particular that friends could have their own little rules between them. So when she does criticise my actions, I know she’s not doing it lightly and only because she wants the best for me.

Ah, I’m feeling too sentimental. Fretting for only a moment, I give in and shuffle off to her room. We never spend time alone these days, so it’s only natural to grow lonely, right? Thinking that, I’m reminded of my sister’s teasing over the winter break. What a troublesome wife I am, always missing my beloved.

Well, I knock on Violet’s door, and we have that little back and forth. She doesn’t rush this time, my voice normal, but she still has a worried look when she opens the door.

“Is anything the matter?” she asks.

I shake my head, her expression softening. “No, I just missed you a bit,” I say.

She settles into a tender look, her eyes warm and smile gentle. “Of course, do come in,” she says, tugging me inside by the hand.

In less of a distress this time, I pay better attention to the look of her room. The layout is obviously the same as mine: a desk and bed against one wall, window, chest of drawers and wardrobe, and then a door to a bathroom. The teddy bear I made for her sits on the bedside table. It was on the desk last time? I thought it funny, because it looked like it was drinking tea….

There’s not much decoration besides books. The school textbooks piled up neatly, as well as several notebooks. All else that I notice is a small blanket—the sort that covers the lap while sitting—with her father’s coat of arms on it, minorly adjusted to reflect that she’s his daughter.

Violet leads me to her desk, pulling out the chair for me, and she then perches on the edge of her bed, sitting so neatly you would think her seat made of wood rather than, well, whatever mattresses were stuffed with. It’s a bit funny, this a mirror of the times she visited my room. (That said, I sat on the bed so I could lounge around, while she’s simply being a good host.)

“Is there something in particular you wanted to talk about?” she asks.

Pulled out of my thoughts, I softly shake my head, and then slouch forwards to rest on her desk.

She narrows her eyes, but says nothing.

I giggle, leaving my mouth uncovered, and think of something that has been troubling me a bit recently. The matter of Leo felt too much like gossip, so I didn’t want to ask her for advice. However, that Lady Challock brought Evan up is making me wonder how others see the two of us. “Say, you’ve never told me what you think of my friendship with Lord Sussex.”

Violet rather pouts, an unguarded look of deep thought overcoming her, which lasts a good ten or so seconds. “To be frank, it would be better not to be familiar with any men outside your immediate family, yet I know it’s useless to say such to you.”

It’s not entirely clear if that includes Cyril, but that’s not important now. Adjusting my question to get the answer I’m looking for, I ask, “What of you, though? What do you think of me and Lord Sussex acting as we do?”

She bows her head, uncomfortable. “Well, given where I sit in class, I don’t see much of what goes on. However, I could be easily persuaded that you two are sweet on each other.”

I always knew that would be the case. Honestly, Ladies Challock and Ashford probably think poorly of me, sweet on one lord and then talking sweetly with another. The ladies in earth magic class likely think there’s something between me and Julian as well.

But that’s fine. So long as there’s the proper distance between us, such rumours will only become worn out. How can a scandal come out when there’s nothing scandalous going on? Who knows, maybe the other ladies will think better of me for breaking away from Leo. Like, “I thought she was a flirt, but she must have pushed away that playboy because he was shameless, so maybe she’s actually pure and innocent at heart?”

As if I’d be that lucky.

An impatience coming to Violet’s expression, I reach over, trying to pat her knee, but can’t reach without moving; she saves me from such effort, stretching out her hand to me. I squeeze her hand before letting it go. “Why would I make do with some lord like him when I already have you?” I whisper.

She snorts before she can catch herself, turning red with embarrassment as she then has to fight off the laughter that overwhelms her. It’s a handful of seconds until her breaths settle, a handful more to get her words in order.

“It’s lucky for us ladies you weren’t born a man,” she says, her tone dry and smile wry.

Well, the thing about Eleanor’s situation was that, at the least, only she herself could get pregnant. If the genders were flipped, that would be quite the predicament to end up in. Ignoring the legality (or lack thereof), I’m not sure if even a duke’s son could afford to house so many noble mistresses—especially considering one would be an actual royal princess. And then the children! My goodness, seven little rascals eating him out of house and home. Would it be worse to feed the boys or the girls? A ton of food versus a pound of jewellery, what costs more?

As if Violet can tell my thoughts are silly, she softly laughs again and calls my name: “Nora.”

The focus returning to my eyes, I look over to see her gentle expression. “Lettie.”

And she frowns. “What?” she asks, a mix of confused and annoyed.

“Ah, well, if Charlotte becomes Lottie, couldn’t Violet become Lettie?” I say, not all that convinced myself.

She scowls, shaking her head. “No, I wouldn’t want such a vulgar name,” she says.

“Vio sounds wrong, though, since there’s not really an ‘o’ when you say your name. But Vie, it has ugly connotations, and Viol just sounds vile.”

Her exasperation clear to see, she says, “Just call me Violet. You are already the only one but my mother who calls me that.”

“And my mother,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, and Aunty Leena.”

I should ask my mother to give Violet a nickname; she’s a very hard woman to turn down.

While I have that silly thought, Violet’s humour cools to her usual blank expression. “You… aren’t getting on with the others, are you?” she softly says.

I think for a moment. She probably means Helena, Jemima and Mabel. “No, no, I really am enjoying having friends,” I say sincerely.

“Yet you hardly speak, always have an intense look to your eye,” she says, her hands coming together to fidget. “I know I can’t force you to feel friendly towards them, but it pains me that you are suffering for my sake. If you’d rather not, please just say and I’ll, I’ll….”

Running out of steam, she bows her head, letting out a single sob.

I lunge forwards, engulfing her in a hug. She feels as weak as that first night we made up. I rub small circles on her back, my own heart clenching painfully with every hitch of her breath. “Hey, have you been reading my diary?” I ask. “Who told you how I feel?”

Her voice strained, she says, “You spoke so well at the tea party, and you were so charming even when we first met. To have Lord Sussex care for you, and your cousin, and Lord Hastings… but when it comes to my friends, you can only manage niceties? I’m not so stupid as to be blind.”

That last sentence has some heat to it, accusative, and I hear a question hidden behind it: “Why have you not said anything to me?”

I… really do feel bad. So focused on my own acting that I haven’t been properly watching Violet. I squeeze her tightly, but not so tight she squeaks. “Violet,” I whisper, slowly pulling back.

The makeup around her eyes smudged, the worry shown there is probably my fault. I smile softly, brush her fringe aside and leave a light kiss on her forehead—like my mother always would to calm me down when I was troubled by a nightmare.

“I’m not really good at talking about complicated feelings, but I’ll try to be honest with you. For keeping things to myself and making you worry, I really am sorry,” I say.

She gently nods, and for once she is the one to hug me. It’s a very different feeling from being the one hugging, almost awkward as I don’t know quite what to do, but I give in and just hug her back.

Speaking quiet and slow, I say, “It has been hard for me to adjust. At the tea party, I was the host, so I felt like I had to make them comfortable, and I sort of took them on one at a time, didn’t I? I made Ellen my ally, and then forced Florence to be my friend. You see, I’m only really good when I’m speaking to one person. Two people, I can manage. Three is getting difficult, and by four I’m really at the point where I can’t speak.”

It goes without saying that, when we’re all together, there’s me and four others. Likely thinking the same thing, Violet nods into my shoulder.

“I know it seems like I have nothing to worry about, but I really do worry too much. If someone is going to be bothered by what I do, I’ll give it little thought, yet I would hate to offend someone by accident. To come across as rude or boring. Trying to imagine what everyone will think of what I say makes it hard to speak.

“After saying all this, it might well sound hollow, but I’ll still say it: I really am happy these days. I’m gradually getting used to talking in a group. I mean, I could barely last an hour at first, and these days I can sit with everyone all afternoon, can’t I? Won’t you praise me? I’ve been working so hard and I worry I’ll never fix myself entirely, but I… am trying my best.”

By the end, I’m the one in tears. I can’t help remembering this afternoon and what a fool I made of myself in front of Ladies Challock and Ashford. Confessing my own insecurity, it’s only natural for the wound to open up, right?

“You should apologise to me again,” she says.

I’m broken from my dark feelings in surprise. Of all the things for her to say, I wasn’t expecting that. “Why’s that?”

“We are best friends, aren’t we? Why didn’t you say sooner?” she replies.

A flicker of a memory comes to me, of the two us in my room (or was it the guest room?) over the winter break, when she, she told me about her jealousy, her worry of being replaced by Evan.

Smiling to myself, I say, “Shouldn’t you apologise to me, then? You’re the one who kept her worrying to herself again.”

Seconds trickle past, and then she says, “I love you.”

Snorting, I ease back until I can see her eyes. “I’m not some infatuated husband, okay? You can’t gloss over things like that.”

Her eyebrows bunch together, her expression becoming imploring, and I have no idea where she would have learnt such a thing. Is her mother teaching her to become a cunning wife? It’s almost funny enough to make me laugh, seeing the serious and proper Violet making a cute appeal.

“You are doing really well; I’m proud of you,” she says, changing tactics.

“That’s better,” I say, and follow up by poking her nose.

She ducks her head, laughter softly spilling out. So quiet I can barely make out the words, she mutters, “Is this what it’s like to have a sister?”

It’s touching to hear. Yet, as close as Clarice and I are, it’s still not like this. Truth be told, I don’t really know how close Violet and I are. Since we’re both happy, I guess it doesn’t matter. We’ll only have these couple of years before we’re separated, maybe never to see each other again.

A thought that has been drifting around my head for a while, I really should make the most of this precious time.