With the heat carrying into Sunday, I don’t accomplish much of anything visiting Lottie and Gwen (and Iris comes to visit too). No way am I going to ask them to go on a walkabout again. So we sew and chat, Iris excited about the exhibition, Gwen trying her best to speak French while mispronouncing all the soft j’s as hard ones. (Rather than je m’appelle Gwen, it’s more Gemma’s pal Gwen.)

Ah, and I do remember to ask Lottie for some rough measurements today. Gwen ambushed me yesterday with her handwriting practice, so it entirely slipped my mind.

Fortunately, the walk back to school happens before the midday heat ramps up, and there’s chilled food and frozen desserts for lunch. However, the lack of wind today makes the lounge unbearably stuffy. My friends and I find a patch of shaded grass to relax on instead.

Come the evening, I cheat the heat with a cold foot bath. Well, several foot baths, a short one every half an hour or so. I’m working on Iris’s dress and the small movements quickly add up.

Then, I go to bed. This is very different from going to sleep. I toss and turn, feel grimy, damp clothes rubbing on my skin. Somehow, I put up with it for maybe an hour, but, especially after last night, my patience is thin.

Giving in, I check my curtains are properly closed and then take off my nightgown. That already feels a lot better. I go to the bathroom for a quick wipe down, the cold cloth oh so wonderful. Back in my bedroom, I take the duvet out of its covers and just snuggle myself under those thin covers, the temperature finally bearable. Not exactly the most elegant solution, but few people who know me well would ever compliment me for being elegant.

Now all I need is for my father to have a shipment of ice cream sent here.

Sleeping much better, I wake up fairly early on my own and properly dress myself before any maids come knocking. Well, they won’t enter without permission, so it’s not like I’m taking a risk. While the early morning temperature is pleasant, I unfortunately can’t sit back and enjoy it. Sketchbook in hand, I go sit out the front of the main school building, doing my art homework.

At the breakfast bell, I return to the dormitory to meet up with my friends. Only….

“Didn’t sleep well?” I say.

The faces they’re making are all rather gloomy. With lighter makeup on, Violet and Jemima show how little they slept; while Helena and Belle have covered up that tell, they have the same vacantness to their gaze.

“Rather, how on earth did you?” Belle asks, an edge to her tone as if offended that I haven’t also suffered.

I smile, putting a finger on my lips. “Though I would tell you, I fear the consequences,” I say.

Unsurprisingly, they’re not happy with that answer. But, if I told them the truth, what would they think? A woman sleeping in nothing but her undergarments—either she’s in a painting or a brothel. Or maybe they’d be fine with it. This society is distorted by a prim and proper appearance, but is still made up of humans. The sleepover is just one example of how my expectations were broken by their willingness to go against what is “normal”.

I do think this would be too far for them, though. As a compromise, I tell them about taking the duvet out and just using the covers. That settles them.

A refreshing breakfast of fruits and cold milk helps to wake them up and washes away some of the lethargy. That said, there’s no air-conditioning in the classrooms, so it’s a slow and relaxed day, even the teachers struggling.

When it comes to embroidery club, I’m glad I don’t have to rush or hurry. I finish sewing the pieces of Lizzy’s dress together and, in the little time left, start making adjustments to Lottie’s dress (her height is more different to mine than Len’s is).

Oh, right, I chose the brown dress with an overhead view of fields on it for Lottie. I think it suits her. While Gwen’s hair is mainly a pale blonde, rather like hay, Lottie’s is more of a dirty blonde, her highlights a murky brown-green. Not to mention, she often ended up muddied when looking after me (as did I). It’s also that Len seemed to want a pretty dress, so I thought the seascape would be more to her taste. I don’t think Lottie’s the type to fuss over such a thing.

In the evening, a bit of a breeze thankfully comes in to brush away the lingering heat. I still have to cool off while working on Iris’s dress, but it’s not so bad that I have to sleep sans nightgown.

Tuesday starts off with a thunderstorm; I’m glad I did my sketch yesterday. Once I go through my morning routine, I sit by the window and watch the rain pelt the glass, heavy rumbles and distant flashes giving me a small fright from time to time. Though I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of thunder or lightning, I’m a bit easily startled, something which only Clarice knows (and so sometimes takes advantage of).

The torrential rain continues through breakfast, leaving us all a touch damp for the first lesson. Not uncomfortably damp, just a little rain blown under the covered paths, but there’s a wet smell in the air and a slight chill. A relief, it dies down to the odd drizzle by lunchtime.

Art class to end the day, I work on painting what Ms Berks asked me to: the main school building in morning light. I mean, the timing makes sense since that’s when the sunlight falls on the front of the building. And I try to incorporate the many little lessons she’s taught me into the painting.

Carefully choose the colours, emphasise highlights and shadows, use broad strokes to set the general shape of a scene, don’t be afraid to make mistakes. And most importantly of all: make something that only I can make.

So I end up with this mismatch of detail. There’s a general unfocused look to the building itself and the surrounding scenery, contrasted by an intricately carved emblem above the doors. (I painted a layer of gold paint, then went over in a thin layer of brown, and finally used the wrong end of a small brush to scrape out the emblem so it looks like gold on wood). I also painted small scenes in each window—the top halves of students sitting in class—and then added the bars of the windows on top. A patch on the roof where it was recently (by a building’s standards) repaired; similarly, I highlighted a handful of bricks that stood out as either noticeably lighter or darker than their neighbours.

I don’t know if the mix of blurry and sharp is good. For me, it sort of gives the effect of movement, or maybe depth? Not realistic depth, but, um, focus…. I don’t really know what I’m trying to say.

Anyway, I painted it and, when Ms Berks comes over near the end of the lesson, she says, “Very good,” before assigning me homework. This time, I can do whatever I want—carry on with the still life, a landscape of the school grounds or the town, anything.

Of course, I know exactly what I want to do.

Water magic class is then another episode in being ignored by Lady Ashford and humoured by Lady Challock. I’m more sure of my impression of Lady Challock now, that she wants to keep me at this cordial distance. The questions she asks and the answers she gives are very much not the sort to bring us closer. That’s fine. The important part is I know, which means I won’t overstep.

While the weather stays wet and miserable, I enjoy watching the rain. Soothing. (Far better than that awful heatwave, even if it is a bit muggy.) Violet is moving into studying mode, though, so I don’t get to enjoy it as much as I want to.

That studying carries over to Wednesday afternoon. Cyril and Julian on one side, my friends on the other, Evan and I off by ourselves. Well, Evan and I soon get distracted. You see, I forgot, for all these years, of the existence of paper planes.

“A what?” he asks.

“A paper aeroplane,” I say, neatly folding a torn-out page of algebra. “It flies. Or rather, glides.”

He’s too engrossed in what I’m doing to say anything else. Oh he’s cute, just a big kid at heart. I finish up the simple design and fiddle with the wings. Really, I don’t know how this will go. I’m relying on Ellie’s memories and her paper was obviously a lot different to what I’m using, mass-produced to a specific weight and thickness versus… how do they make paper here?

Anyway, fortune favours the bold. I shuffle my chair around a touch so I don’t throw it in his face, and then pull back my hand and, holding my breath, launch it forwards.

“Wow!” he says.

It keeps pretty level, the arc staying shallow right up until—

“Ow!”

I freeze, unable to think of what to say or do as Violet turns around, a scowl on her face.

“Could you please explain why you saw fit to throw something at me? If you require my attention, I do have a name,” she says, her tone level, and yet I can tell she’s seething inside. Oh she hated when I threw things at her as children. (In my defence, that was before I knew she couldn’t catch.)

“I, um, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I mumble, hopefully loud enough for her to hear.

“You expect me of all people to believe you threw something and it landed where it shouldn’t?” she says, an eyebrow raised.

Ah, she’s not wrong, but….

Ready to burst, Cyril says, “Lady Dover, if I may.”

“What may you may?” she says, snapping at him.

Oops, I really pissed her off.

That nearly gets him laughing, but he manages to hold on in a rather impressive show of self-restraint. “If you could check the floor behind you, I think you will see something interesting,” he says.

I can only imagine the look she’s giving him, but she does as he asked. Turned around like that, I see her expression become puzzled, and she carefully plucks the paper plane up off the floor. “What on earth?” she mutters.

“It seemed to glide. I dare say Lady Kent didn’t expect it to travel so far,” Cyril says, his tone maybe a bit wry.

To test what he said, she holds it at the front and, aiming loosely towards me, jerks her hand forward and—splat.

“That was too hard,” I helpfully say.

She replies with a mild glare.

And so a group of aristocrats—who, between them all, will one day hold seats in parliament and command vast riches and indirectly employ hundreds (if not thousands) of people—sit around folding paper planes. It’s easy to forget we’re just a bunch of teenagers. Yet, I feel it’s a rather perfect way to spend an afternoon.