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“You’re not a child anymore,” she murmured.

Heather smiled. “Not to you, at least. To Mama, I’ll be eleven forever.”

“Be grateful for that,” Anna said. “The world outside this house won’t offer the same kindness.”

Heather was quiet for a moment, then she hugged Anna briefly.

“Then I’ll stay here a little longer. Just like this.”

That made Anna smile– briefly. But it faded too quickly.

Heather glanced down at the fabric in Anna’s lap and gently tugged at the hem. “You haven’t sewn a stitch.”

Anna looked. The thread was still loose. Her hands had been still for so long they had gone cold.

“I just... needed to sit,” she said.

Heather watched her for a moment. Then, in a quieter voice, “Did something happen?”

Anna opened her mouth. Closed it. A pause.

“No,” she said at last. “Nothing happened."

Heather didn’t press. But her eyes said she didn’t believe it.

Instead, she shifted closer and leaned her head against Anna’s shoulder. Her weight was light, familiar. Comforting. Like when they were girls and Heather would sneak into her bed during thunderstorms.

Anna sat still beneath the warmth of her. Her eyes stung, but she didn’t let the tears fall.

Downstairs, somewhere, the housemaid was laying out the tea things.

Their mother entered a moment later, wrapped in a heavy shawl, and seated herself with care beside the fire. Her movements were delicate.

Her hand shook as she picked up a letter from her basket, peered at it for a moment, then folded it again.

“So,” she said, voice thin but composed, “Lady Vexley is hosting a ball next week. I’ve sent word that we’ll attend. It’s important we keep up appearances, even now. Especially now.”

Anna nodded, her gaze still fixed on the street outside.

“Julia will be there,” her mother added. “That’ll be nice, won’t it? You’ve always found comfort in her company. And you’ll help me with the introductions, won’t you? I grow so forgetful with names these days.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Her mother gave a faint smile. “You’ve always been so dependable. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Anna didn’t answer, but her fingers tightened slightly on the fabric in her lap.

“It’s all changing so quickly,” her mother murmured. “When your father was alive, I never had to think about these things. Now, every invitation feels like a test. And Heather’s still so young, she’ll need you to guide her through it all.”

A vendor passed below the window, calling about ribbons or radishes. She couldn’t tell which.

A knock came at the front door, echoing hollowly off the walls. They all turned.

A moment later, the housemaid entered, brushing her hands on her apron. “A caller, ma’am. Lord Vaun.”

Anna’s fingers went still around her mending.

Her mother brightened. “Lord Vaun? Oh, how prompt. How polite. I told you, didn’t I? He’s serious. Respectable. This is exactly what we need…”