Before the others arrive and Jemima finishes changing, I bring Violet to my bed and drape a shawl over her shoulders. While not big, it gives her something to hide behind, enough to cover her whole front if she curls up. It’s not the one Lottie gave me, but one from my home.

Taking a step back, I look at her clothes. Her nightgown is much like my own (that I will wear later), a simple white dress made of a (high quality) muslin fabric; it’s very breathable and good for hotter weather or, in our case, a stuffy room. I know Clarice and my mother prefer robes, but I think that’s something of a reaction to the impractical clothes they have to wear during the day. (Or maybe it’s to do with certain things I shouldn’t be thinking about until I’m wed.) Then there’s some silk (or a similar-looking satin fabric) sewn along the neckline and the hem of the sleeves; the muslin can otherwise rub there and cause some irritation.

As for what she’s wearing underneath, well, that’s none of my business. In general, I’m not sure how much is true to Victorian fashion and how much is influenced by the author of Snowdrop and the Seven Princes. I think it’s probably closer to Ellie’s world than history. There’s bras and knickers rather than bodices and drawers, but they are still rather generous with their coverage. Not exactly like I can walk into a shop and buy the ones I like, though, and the fit is usually not great either.

Moving on.

Helena arrives next, Belle a handful of seconds behind her. Jemima finished changing, she comes out in a similar nightgown that is a mildly different style. Helena goes next to change.

This being Jemima’s and Belle’s first time in my room, they naturally look around as they sit, trying to hide their curiosity. “I’ll give a tour once everyone is present,” I say. They giggle at that.

While we wait for everyone else (including me) to change, Jemima and Belle try out the floor-couch I made. They mention a chill (my room not yet warmed up), so I use magic to warm a few pillows, distributing them for cuddling.

I go to get changed last and I notice how my heart is racing. I’m filled with all this nervous excitement, no clue what will happen, yet sure it will be fun, and they seem to feel the same way.

With the emphasis on maintaining appearances, it’s easy to forget that I’m surrounded by teenagers. Just like me, I’m sure my friends want to have this close kind of friendship, right? People I can be honest with, a place where I don’t have to worry over every word I say. We all want to belong.

Now in my summer nightgown, I can certainly feel the cold as well. I really do take the (posh) flannel of my winter nightwear for granted. Mumbling the chant, magic helps take the edge off.

Coming back into my bedroom, Violet is snuggled into the corner of my room on the bed, and Helena is at the other end, while Jemima and Belle are sitting neatly on the duvet-couch, a gap between them. “Shall we have the tour?” I ask.

Once again, they lightly giggle, covering their mouths. Belle says, “If you would.”

“Well, this is where I keep my unmentionables,” I say, starting with the chest of drawers. They sort of cringe, my shamelessness still too much for them at times.

“You aren’t going to ask us where we keep ours now, are you?” Violet asks.

I shake my head. “No, don’t be silly.”

The way they all laugh at me makes me think they might have really expected me to ask them that.

Going through the rest of the drawers, there’s my makeup stuff in the middle, the bottom drawer for accessories (ribbons, hair things, no jewellery) and spare clothes, and (moving Belle out the way) I open my wardrobe and show some of the dresses I’ve brought with me and the three I’ve embroidered myself. The only interesting part of my desk is the handkerchiefs I keep in a small drawer. To my surprise, everyone is rather interested to see them after seeing my dresses.

“Oh this one is cute,” Jemima says, showing a mouse to Belle.

“Is this… a hummingbird?” Belle asks, and I nod.

At the other side, Helena is admiring the flowers, Violet able to identify them all with ease. It’s… nice. I thought they didn’t care for embroidery, and Violet didn’t seem to think much of my dresses when I made her dress up…. I guess it’s one thing to appreciate them, another to join an embroidery club.

Since we’re on the topic, I show them my designs for the exhibition dresses as well, thankful my drawing skills aren’t as abysmal as they were to begin with.

“Oh, is this one stars?” Helena asks.

I smile, nodding. “The fabric is really pretty, just like the night sky,” I say.

“And what’s this one?” Jemima asks, pointing at the last dress.

“I liked how my green dress came out,” I say, gesturing back at my wardrobe, “so I wanted to sew petals falling from a blossoming tree.”

This time it’s Belle who finds another page. “Is this one part of the exhibition as well?” she asks.

My heart skips a beat as she shows me the design for Gwen’s dress. “No, a personal project. There’s a friend of my family—it’s for her daughter,” I say.

“How old is she?” Jemima asks.

“About six or seven,” I say.

Jemima coos. “Oh bless, she will look cute in something so pretty.”

I would offer to show it to them, but it’s not impossible that they might see Gwen in town. With that in mind, I say, “It’s in a lovely shade of pink as well.” A little white lie, but how many more are to come?

Jemima practically squeals. I haven’t heard her mention any siblings, but I haven’t asked either. Still, I wonder if she has younger cousins—or is she just prone to fussing over children? Not that I’m one to talk….

No other questions coming up, the last thing to show them is my collection of books. I didn’t bring many back after winter break, thinking that I would spend more time with Violet, so it’s only a few romances that I’ve read over the term and a couple of my favourites. Of the new ones, A Love By Another Name stands out, and I waste no time gushing about the intricate and well-developed story to them, highly recommending it.

Taking a brief look around, I don’t think there’s anything else. I put away my Valentine’s card from Gwen yesterday to avoid that coming up, the two miniature portraits of my family speak for themselves, schoolbooks and such unimportant.

So I say, “And that’s my room.” Then I clap my hands together. “What shall we do first? A game, or talk, or we can do makeovers.”

Helena noticeably brightens up at the mention of a makeover, but Jemima is focused on something else. “A game? What sort of games?” she asks.

“There’s truth or dare,” I say, lowering my voice to a suitably discreet level. “But I have a set of cards as well and know a few games we can play with them.”

I glance around to check their reactions and see Belle looking at the curtains. “Should we play while it’s still somewhat light?” she says.

“It shouldn’t matter much,” Violet says, idly pointing at the magic light bulb above.

We have a back and forth for a minute or so, the consensus settling on talking for now. Thus we arrange ourselves comfortably, three (Violet, me, and Helena) on the bed and two (Jemima and Belle) on the floor.

And silence falls.

Well, this is a sleepover, so there’s one thing we have to talk about. I clear my throat, and ask, “So, who does everyone think the most handsome lord is at our school?”

Not even Violet can keep from blushing, and nervous giggles escape from them all at odd intervals.

No one quite willing to answer, I say, “Should I go first, then? Even if our personalities disagree, Ventser does have a pretty face, wouldn’t you say?”

It takes some more prodding, and a few more scandalised looks from them, but it eventually starts to feel like a real sleepover. Hushed whispers and flushed faces, both embarrassment and laughter flowing freely. Despite my brashness, even I have my limits—talking about boys is something I’ve not really done before—so I’m very much included, my cheeks prickling hot and a slight lightheadedness coming to me when I forget to take a moment to breathe.

I’m sure we make quite the sight for the pair of maids who bring tea and snacks around nine o’clock.

“Thank you,” I say as they leave. (Strictly speaking, we aren’t permitted to eat in our rooms, so I do appreciate the cooperation.)

After I close the door, I turn around just in time to catch Belle about to touch a biscuit. “Stop!” I say.

She freezes.

“We have to do our calisthenics first,” I say, as if it’s entirely common sense.

“You’re joking,” Violet says. Her piercing eyes stare me down, and I ignore her, looking around.

I might not have thought this through enough, barely space for us all to stand. “Make sure you take extra care of your surroundings.”

Oh they grumble, but still follow my instructions. I didn’t plan on doing anything strenuous anyway—considering what we’re wearing. As for why I’m doing this, I’d like to do dancing next time. That’s what always happened in the movies Ellie watched, right? They’d put on their favourite CD and…. Uh, I might have a problem there, not even vinyls around yet. Would my father buy me a music box? Probably?

Anyway, exercise is good, no need to worry about the why. All lined up in the little space there is, we go through a handful of gentle stretches (don’t want us all sweating) and then sit down for tea and snacks. I requested anything sweet which isn’t too crumbly, so there’s fluffy scotch pancakes and crumpets (with a pot of jam) as well as some bite-sized biscuits.

It really makes me wonder if my mother arranged things with more than just Len back when she visited Lottie.

Like with my handkerchiefs, our conversations start to fracture at this point. I’m not sure how it began, but Belle and Helena are talking nature, their families involved in forestry and horse husbandry respectively. Jemima, confirming that she’s an only child, then question me about the merits of an older sister and younger brother, Violet listening and asking something now and then as well. I mean, I’m happy to talk about it, but I hoped to get to know the others better and Jemima doesn’t give me the chance to ask her anything.

That’s okay, though. The most important thing for me is that we’re all having fun.

Now, what is less fun for one person is when that one person needs to use the toilet. We’re in a small room, the bathroom is right there, you can’t exactly slip away unnoticed.

“If you would, um, excuse me,” Helena mumbles, stepping around Belle and then scurrying to the door.

“You can run the tap, or would you like us to whistle?” I ask.

Although she’s facing away from us, her ears are noticeably reddened. I don’t want it to become an issue, though, so I turn and ask, “Ah, Belle, when did your sister debut? Mine will next month, so I’m curious what it’s like.”

It’s a topic that Violet and Jemima (as ladies near the age) are very much interested in, and I certainly am too. Thus we listen closely and ask more questions with every answer Belle gives. When Helena returns, her embarrassment quickly fades, too busy listening as I catch her up on what she missed.

In the end, we’re too busy talking for truth or dare, or any card game. I learn the names of Helena’s siblings and Belle’s older sister (and fiancé); I learn that Jemima’s family are primarily landowners rather than involved in commerce; I hear about all of their estates and (with Violet’s help) tell them about the Kent estate. A lot of these little details are filled in, taking us deep into the night.

I mean, it was fun gossiping about boys earlier, and I think truth or dare would be fun too, but this is… fitting. Being asked questions and seeing them genuinely listen to my answers is an incredible feeling, and the sense of closeness from squashing up on my bed is far different to the usual carefully-spaced-around-a-table. Even Helena and Belle on the floor eventually end up shoulder-to-shoulder, sharing a blanket.

(Now that I think about it, would truth or dare be fun? There’s no boys here and no mobile phones, so what dares could we actually do…. Never mind.)

Really, I meant what I told them earlier. Those three years were hard for me, but memories like tonight are what I’m going to cherish for the rest of my life. I’m so grateful I have the chance to experience this. Once we graduate, it may well be impossible for us to meet up so casually.

Maybe eleven o’clock, maybe midnight—time an elusive thing when having fun—Helena and Belle start nodding off, and Jemima becomes quiet as her eyes glaze over, barely responding even when I ask her something. Violet and I share a giggle between us and then she suggests we ready for bed.

Helena and Belle are first and second to brush their teeth; as the shortest of us, they’ll be sharing my bed. While they take it in turns with that, the rest of us rearrange the duvets into sleeping arrangements, just leaving a gap for the bathroom door to open. Jemima goes to brush her teeth next, and I make sure Helena and Belle are snuggled up nicely. Last of all, Violet and I go together to the bathroom, a tight squeeze but enough room for us to brush. I had a wee not long ago, so I leave first in case she needs to powder her nose.

Already, the other three are asleep. I smile to myself. It’s calming looking over them, something so peaceful about the scene. The unguarded faces they’re showing me. It’s something like a privilege that they trust me (and each other) enough to sleep in the same room. I’ve only known them for a few months, yet, after tonight, I will definitely hold them dear to my heart.

“Are you okay?” Violet whispers.

I blink a couple of times, realising I’m tearing up. I take in a shaky breath and dry my eyes. “Yes, I am just… really happy right now.”

She smiles softly, and her eyes seem to glitter in the dim light of my bedside lamp. (We decided to leave it on—for any trips to the bathroom.) Then a shyness comes over her, and I wonder why until she steps closer and gently hugs me.

“Thank you, I had a lot of fun tonight,” she says, her quiet voice loud to my ear right beside her mouth.

Hugging her back, I say, “Me too.”

With that, we carefully take our places on the floor, the springy duvet making an acceptable mattress. Lying down side-by-side, I feel a sense of peace knowing she’s there. The loneliness of two (short) lifetimes melting away. I’m constantly surprised to find that I can love her more, and it feels like even calling her my sister wouldn’t do justice to the sense of comfort she gives me.

I guess I don’t need to put a name on it, though, so I’ll stick to calling her my best friend. There really is no better way to put it.