After everyone suitably fawns over Iris (oh she blushes so hard, I’m worried she might burst), she goes back through to change; I say my thanks to Ms Berks as she changes. And when Iris comes back, Ms Berks discretely hands her her a slip of paper. A cheque, I would say, as Ms Berks would hardly carry money on her. (Even if you only count the working hours as one to five, twelve hours of pay isn’t something to turn down, and Iris certainly could have been working at the café instead of being here.)

Everything sorted, Ms Berks stays and the rest of us leave. Since Len and Lizzy went off first, I take it on myself to walk my town friends to the side gate, sending them off with a polite goodbye in the presence of the manservant in charge of the gate.

Finally, it’s over. As tempting as it is to sit on the grass right here and just let the day go by, I should get back—if only because it’s nearly supper.

So I return to the dormitory, pop my bags back in my room, and go see my friends. They ask about the exhibition, but all there is to say is that my parents visited. The bell rings soon enough. We eat, go for a walk, come back and study, and retire to our rooms.

I’m exhausted, the last few days finally catching up to me. I would say it’s unfair I have exams tomorrow, but I brought this upon myself… sort of. Pushing through it, I at least put Iris’s dress away nicely. It would be terrible if it wrinkled. Then I settle myself by brushing out my hair, losing myself in the gentle and repetitive work.

The exhibition…. Working backwards, my parents didn’t really care, did they? Even to my mother, they were just bits of cloth and thread. They came to support me, and I appreciate that (especially with how busy my father is), but it’s not the kind of support that makes me feel like what I did has meaning, that it was worthwhile.

My school friends were a little better in that regard. They showed some enthusiasm, some genuine interest. I don’t think Belle would have said she liked it and mentioned tapestries just to be polite.

Florence and Ellen, they’re the ones who really made it worth it. I mean, I think the experience as a whole was good for me—expanding my comfort zone, expressing my skills in different ways—but I didn’t need to present the dresses. I could have just made them and then shown them to Florence and Ellen in the holidays.

Anyway, what I’m really thinking about is the different roles that the people in my life have. I probably will start growing away from my family. There’ll be different things I do or say with different friends. Some will stay close, others will slowly slip away, maybe talk to them in occasional letters if at all. Another year and I’ll be working towards my debut. It won’t be as easy to meet up with my school friends then, even if we do attend a lot of the same events. And when we’re all married, who knows what will happen.

Who knows….

When I think about the future, I miss Ellie’s world. Although she had her own fears of what her life would be after university, it seemed like a problem of too many possibilities, something she still had control over.

How much I can influence my own future, I don’t know. All I can do is wait and see and, along the way, try to make it a future I’m happy with. Embroidery, painting, I guess writing—hobbies that I can take with me anywhere. I’m enjoying the oil painting more than watercolours, and Ellie put a lot of work in, so it wouldn’t be difficult for me to try my hand at writing short stories, or children’s stories.

My hair thoroughly brushed, I stop. To distract myself from any more of those thoughts, I go back to looking at the design for Violet’s silk scarf, smiling to myself. If Violet is even a tenth as happy as Iris was….

Despite my heavy thoughts, I’m tired enough that sleep comes easily when it’s time.

The next morning, I wake up and get ready, shuffling through to the lounge. Violet and Helena are already there, Belle arriving next and Jemima not long after. We’re all a bit quiet, maybe nervous, the exams finally upon us.

Breakfast, a walk around the school buildings, then to the ballroom. From now on, the exams will be held in the ballroom—alternating between junior and senior exams. Gives us a break between each one.

So it begins.

We go in for an hour, an hour break, back for another exam, then another hour break (including lunch), and a last exam. At the least, we get to finish early. Rather than study, we make the most of the warm weather and relax in the shade of the trees, sometimes talking about the exams we sat, sometimes just enjoying the fresh air. After supper, we study for tomorrow’s exams.

The next day, the routine repeats except for a certain delivery of a small package in the morning. I get through the day and then return to my room, a giddiness I’ve suppressed all day finally coming out, my steps quick.

At my desk, I carefully unwrap the package and reveal the slip of silk. It’s beautiful, a deep, glossy black, smooth to the touch, and it feels comfortable when I try wearing it as a pussycat bow.

Eager to start, I get out my needles and fish out a spool of black thread. It would be easy to rush, indulge in my enthusiasm, but I keep myself calm and steady. This is a much simpler design than for Iris’s dress, yet that also means any mistake is much more noticeable. So I slowly sew, one stitch at a time, neat, tidy, keeping thoughts of Violet in mind the whole time.

A maid brings some tea after an hour, and I continue after drinking it. For another hour, my mind stays sharp, but I stop once the tiredness starts to creep up on me.

Wednesday is more of the same, the routine of exams and relaxing and a light studying, followed by intense sewing. I make good progress, but it doesn’t look like I’ll finish for Friday. Because of the sleepover, I can’t work on it on Friday night, and she isn’t sure if she’ll be leaving on Saturday or Sunday. It would be a bit of a shame if I can’t give it to her before the holidays, but I’m sure I’ll see her soon enough anyway. Not the end of the world.

Thursday, a note from Ms Berks is passed on to me in the morning: she wants me to see her in the clubroom at the end of the day. I guess it’s about the dresses? She did say I could take them home, and I was planning to.

Whatever the reason, the rest of my day is the same: sitting for exams and breaks. However, since the junior exam is fifth period, I have to wait for sixth period to end before I go see her, hanging out with my friends until the bell rings.

It’s not a long walk from the ballroom, so (if that’s where she was) she gets here quickly. “Hullo, miss,” I say when she comes into the old reference building.

She strides down the corridor. “Exams going well?” she asks, unlocking the door.

“Ah, they are at least going past, but being passed is another matter,” I reply, not really intending to make a joke.

Regardless of my intentions, she softly chuckles. “Come in,” she says, stepping inside first.

My guess being correct, she asks me what I want to do with the dresses. We go through a few lines to get to the point where she unlocks the box for me and I take them out. With that done, I prepare to say my goodbye, only to be stopped by her next words.

“About the other dress,” she says.

I still for a moment, and then ease down the dresses onto the table, feeling this won’t be just a few seconds. “Yes, miss?”

Rather than sitting in the corner, she’s standing, looking at me with a neutral expression. Not everyone is easier to read the better I know them. But there is a sense of distance, as if she’s looking beyond me, her eyes not entirely focused.

“You made that dress yourself?” she asks.

“I did, miss,” I say.

A second passes, and then she asks, “And the design as well?”

“Yes, miss.”

She gently nods, her gaze sliding to the side, ending up looking at the window. “I will assume there is a reason you chose not to include it in the exhibition; however, what do you intend to do with it now?”

I’m surprised by the question, but the answer is straight-forward enough that I reply after a moment. “It is a gift for my friend.”

“Lady Dover?” she asks.

How easy it would be to say yes. “No, for the young woman who wore it that day.”

There’s a long second of silence, and then she says, “Is she not a commoner?”

I smile to myself, heart aching with every beat. “She is. She also likes the embroidery I do on dresses, and she is willing to wear a dress I have embroidered. If the same was true for Lady Dover, I would make something for her, but she wouldn’t be willing to wear it and she even disapproves of me making dresses at all. So, I work to the friends I have.”

Though my words were somewhat heated by the end, I tried to keep control, keep my tone level. Still, they bring about another short stretch of silence before Ms Berks finally speaks.

“What company you keep is obviously no business of mine,” she says, nonchalant.

Well, it’s probably the best response I can ask for. “Is there anything else, miss?” I say.

“We shall be having another exhibition next year. I expect it to be even greater, yes?”

I put aside my tumultuous feelings from before and smile, bowing my head as I say, “Yes, miss.”

“That is all,” she says.

So I pick up the dresses and thank her for this last year and politely leave. I get a few looks carrying the dresses across the school, but it is only a few, not many students around here at this time. Back at the dormitory, I take them up to my room and hang them up with my other handmade dresses. Quite the little collection I have.

Next year, I think I’ll focus on making dresses to wear. Oh and I’ll probably have to “befriend” a couple more maids.

With that out of the way, I go find my friends out on the grounds. Well, they’re in the same spot we’ve been in the last few days, so it’s not hard.

“Is everything okay?” Violet asks.

I lower myself onto the blanket, neatly folding my dress under my legs as I do. “Yes. A little chat about the exhibition and the club, nothing important,” I say.

So another afternoon passes in the tolerable heat of the shade. Supper, studying, then back to my room for embroidery, and later sleep.

Finally, it’s Friday. The day starts the same as the rest of the week: breakfast, exams, lunch, and an exam. Once we walk out of that last exam, though, we’re free. No more schooling until September. (I mean, not counting whatever Violet ropes me into over the holidays.)

All that’s left for this school year now is our sleepover tonight.