Thursday sees the weather return to normalcy, a sunny yet not too hot morning warming up to a bit of an uncomfortable midday, a steady breeze making the afternoon tolerable. I walk over to the earth magic classroom in a sleepy mood. It really is wonderful weather for a nap, so very relaxing.

However, I only have a few minutes to talk to Julian, so, once he arrives, I bring up Evan’s birthday. No time to waste.

“Have my lords decided on a present for him yet?” I ask.

Julian sighs. “We are thinking of getting a new pair of sports boots,” he says.

I nod, that sounding like a good idea, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “Is there a problem with that?” I ask.

He gently shakes his head. “I just wonder if it is the sort of thing to be gifted,” he says.

“Why wouldn’t it be? Have you forgotten your own birthday?” I say a bit lightly.

Though he chuckles, it’s half-hearted, and he takes a moment to dab his nose with a handkerchief before speaking. “It is… the aesthetic. To make something sturdy, they rather put together whatever works and the end result is somewhat unsightly,” he says.

Ah. I haven’t though much about shoes in a while, but, for sports, it really wouldn’t do to wear a pair that will fall apart in the middle of a match. Ladies don’t do sport, so I haven’t even seen a pair of football or rugby boots. (Now that I think about it, when was rugby actually invented in Ellie’s world? Was it around in Victorian times?)

“Lord Sussex is hardly the type to value a gift by appearance,” I say before I distract myself.

“Good for him, but what of my feelings at having to hand over such a gift?” Julian says, putting it on just enough to make it unclear if he’s joking or not. My moment of hesitation is apparently what he wanted, breaking into a long chuckle. “I am joking, of course. You are correct in what you said.”

While that ties up our conversation, it unfortunately doesn’t give me any ideas for what to get Evan. And unlike Florence, Ellen isn’t organised enough to have me hand over a present on her family’s behalf, so it’s looking like poor Evan will only have the one gift.

At the very least, I’ll have to get him a giant cake.

After the lesson, Julian just asks me a bit more about paper planes before we split up, and I return to the dormitory for studying. In the evening, I start work on Gwen’s lesson and later embroider some more of Iris’s dress.

While I’m sewing, I think back to my feeling of wanting to make something for Violet. That’s not something I’ve made a priority, but I’ve thought about it now and then, not coming up with something that warrants my focus just yet.

So I put my idle mind to work.

Since I can’t make a dress she would want to wear, I put that idea down, but what of other clothing? With the recent heatwave, I could make myself some cooler nightwear. Would she be happy with that? Wouldn’t she be happier if it was sewn by a maid? I mean, I’m sure part of why she doesn’t want me to make her a dress is that a Lady shouldn’t be making clothes. Embroidery is acceptable as a hobby; not very fashionable at the moment, but acceptable nonetheless.

My focus slipping, I centre myself back on the problem. So I could give her nightclothes that I design and have a maid make, but… it still doesn’t feel quite right. It’s not the sort of thing to gift others. Rather, I should make the design and then give that to her, and she can ask the maids to make it.

Back to square one.

If not a dress or nightclothes, and certainly not underwear, what else? Socks are best knitted to resist all the stretching that happens when walking. Hats, I can only make something like a maid’s cap—not exactly her style. Accessories… I guess a bracelet could work? A strip of fabric with a clasp attached.

Or, no, yes: a scarf. Well, a necktie, but also a scarf. That is, a silk scarf tied like a necktie.

It seems so obvious now I’ve thought of it, but she gives such a strong impression that it would really suit her: a loose bow with the two ends trailing down. Feminine and professional. It was something in and out of fashion in Ellie’s world, either paired with a blouse or in black with a white shirt. Given that she’s aspiring towards being a politician—as her father’s seat in the Chamber of Lords will pass to her, it’s a very realistic aspiration—a good lavallière (pussycat bow) will be an invaluable asset when it comes to giving the right impression.

Ah, I’ll have to think of what design to embroider on, and what colour the scarf should be. This is for Violet, so I can ask my parents to send me one made of proper silk. It’ll probably be black, though, not sure what colour thread….

These thoughts keep me occupied until bedtime.

Come the morning, I quickly pick them up again. It’s a good thing I don’t have to pay much attention to classes (as long as I’m willing to read the books later), each one passing by quickly.

After the dance lesson, I hurry over to the clubroom. The resources Ms Berks bought for us are good quality, maybe not good enough for Violet, but there’s a wide range to help me test my thoughts. So I hold up different threads up against satin (cotton) fabrics, getting a rough idea of how different colours look together. Though I don’t want to waste fabric, I take a small piece and use it to see how the threads look when sewn on as well.

The key takeaway for me is that it creates a very noticeable texture. Usually, the fabric feels similar to the thread, but the satin weave is so smooth that the stitching is easily felt.

Rather than head straight back to the dormitory when club finishes, I go to the flower garden. It’s unfortunately no longer the season for violets (especially with the heat), but I know well how they look, simply taking a moment to immerse myself in flowers to better remind me. A flower is a lot more than a sight. There is a subtle scent in the air, a softness to the petals, a contrast to the earthy browns and greens, and even the sound of buzzing bees and other pollinating bugs can be said to be a flower’s song. It is also a notion of beauty coming from hard work, turning dirt and rain and sunshine into vibrant colours.

Really, I wonder if poetry would even exist without flowers.

I hang around for a few minutes and then continue to the dormitory for an afternoon of revision. How fun. When we retire to our rooms, I look over my lesson plan for tomorrow; satisfied, I start sketching ideas for Violet’s scarf.

It’s a bit of a shame that I can’t do the same thing for Evan. I mean, I want this to be special for Violet, so I won’t ever embroider another scarf for anyone else. But it would also just be a bit weird to give a man clothing. Handkerchiefs with embroidery on are like artwork, so it’s sort of fine. Something he would wear, though… not really fine.

Complicated doesn’t begin to describe things.

Anyway, Violet’s scarf. It should be small enough that a repeating pattern is feasible and that’s probably the best way to design it. If there is, say, a single violet, it would get distorted when tied. My intuition pulls me towards something like Iris’s dress. That is, a bunch of violets arranged in such a way that the negative space is snowdrops.

However, it isn’t that simple. If it’s a black scarf, then adding a bunch of white (for snowdrops) will make it busy. As an accessory, it should be subdued, accentuate rather than dominate. I mean, it shouldn’t pull people’s attention down from her face.

That said, I draw out a few attempts at the pattern. It took me quite a while to work out the one for Iris’s dress, so better to start early, right?

After my evening tea comes, I switch to working on Iris’s dress. Slow and steady.

My Saturday morning goes smoothly, the routine becoming so very comfortable. Len walks me down, I tutor Gwen, Lottie teaches me, and (the heat hovering between pleasant and bearable) we go check a few shops. Pens, cufflinks, sand timers (there’s a rather beautiful one that uses crushed glass, shimmering as it falls), hand mirrors, bookmarks and book holders, spyglasses—I find many things which could be a nice gift, but none which are nice enough.

So I am in a bit of a down mood when I go back to school. Nothing serious, but time is running out; tomorrow is my last chance to buy something as his birthday is on Tuesday.

Fortunately, my friends are here to distract me. We’ve been studying during the week, which means we haven’t done all the homework set, and so we catch up on that. When we finish, Helena suggests we go for a walk. (Even if I don’t bring up going for a walk, one of my friends usually does, and I’m feeling quite happy about that. A small-but-good influence.)

At first, we don’t talk much. We’re just stretching our legs and breathing the fresh air. After we do a lap of the main school building, we drift towards the flower garden. The ground is not quite dried out enough to walk on, so we stick to the paths, and this is the most beautiful place that you can get to while staying on the path.

It’s surprisingly quiet. Since coming back from break, there’s usually other people wandering around, but not today.

“Nora, I have been wondering,” Belle says, pulling my focus away from the flowers.

“What have you been wondering?” I ask.

She has a peculiar smile on her face. “It has been a while since our last girl talk. How are things between you and Lord Sussex?” she asks.

I purse my lips. This… doesn’t sound good. “We are much the same as before: good friends,” I say.

Jemima cuts in, stepping closer and speaking in a quiet voice. “But you know how timid he is. If you wait for him to make the first move, why, it could be a decade before the wedding.”

I know they mean no harm, yet that doesn’t stop my heart from dropping. “While he is a lovely gentleman, I have no such intentions,” I say.

“And what intentions does he have? Would it be so terrible to take the lead?” Belle says.

Her words cut deeper than they should. I have long held that his feelings are his responsibility, but I haven’t felt like he has betrayed the promise we made either. However, am I looking at him honestly, or have I been seeing what I want to see? Are they seeing the truth or are they seeing what they want to see?

I guess my discomfort shows, Violet stepping in with a curtly said, “This young? Yes, it would.”

Belle is suitably chided, wringing her hands. “Ah, well, not necessarily so soon, but it is something to keep in mind.”

“You know, Nora is rather good at learning by example, so you could always show her,” Violet says, her words somewhat harsh but tone soft.

Jemima giggles at the jab, Helena smiling, and Belle is overcome by a thorough blush. Hmm, have I missed her crushing on someone?

The mood settled down again, Helena brings up her art class homework (sketching a flower) and bemoans that she hasn’t brought her sketchbook along. So the topic changes.

Still, what Belle and Jemima said isn’t so easy to forget. If they knew this hair clip I always wear came from him, what would they say? If I buy him a birthday present and they find out…. I know better than to live my life by what others think, but these are my friends I’m talking about.

It’s… difficult.