In such a beautiful city, she was earning an amount of money unimaginable in her past life, living each day with purpose and fulfillment.

That wasn’t all. She was writing a novel.

Back in the days when she lived in a cramped townhouse, treated as a burden by her family, all she could manage was scribbling in a diary. Her mind was imprisoned, and free creation was an impossible task for a captive soul.

Then, after finding a job and starting to live on her own, she slowly began to jot down ideas that sparked in her mind, beyond just diary entries. They were ideas that, with some fleshing out, could become compelling stories.

And on the day she met Ms. Rotis, she began writing the first page of her novel.

Three months after arriving in Bath, Jane Hyde wrote “THE END” at the close of her novel. It was last night’s work.

If she showed it to Ms. Rotis, she might arrange for a publisher. If she showed it to Laura Pendleton, she could gain valuable advice.

But Jane Hyde hesitated to share her novel with anyone. Honestly, she wanted to dig a hole and bury it forever. The novel contained too much of her inner self.

Recalling the novel’s contents, Jane Hyde blushed. She fanned herself with her hand and quickened her pace.

“Jane.”

After walking about 100 meters from the café, a voice called her from the carriageway. Jane Hyde turned her head.

Ms. Rotis, riding in a hired carriage, was looking at her through the window.

“Ms. Rotis. How…?”

“It’s raining, and the ground is muddy. I came to pick you up.”

Jane Hyde smiled broadly and climbed into the carriage.

“What about Laura Pendleton?”

“She’s drinking warmed wine and sleeping like an angel. Poor thing. How did she manage to lose her coat…?”

“Indeed.”

Unlike when she spoke with Ian Dalton, Jane Hyde smiled brightly. Every time Ms. Rotis showed her kindness, Jane Hyde felt as if she were floating on clouds.

In contrast, Ms. Rotis seemed in a foul mood. She took a cigarette case from her coat pocket and lit a cigar.

“You said you were going for a coffee alone. Was it actually a prior engagement?”

“Oh…”

It seemed Ms. Rotis had seen her leaving the café with Ian Dalton. Jane Hyde scratched the back of her neck.

“It’s something I didn’t want to be caught doing. That was Ian Dalton. You know, the gentleman who’s smitten with Laura Pendleton.”

Ms. Rotis struck a match against the rough edge of the matchbox.

“Why was he looking for you?”

“To ask about Laura Pendleton’s recent affairs.”

“I see.”

Ms. Rotis drew on her lit cigar. A faint wisp of smoke soon curled from her red lips.

“Asking about Laura Pendleton’s affairs? Hmm, I see.”

Ms. Rotis nodded, but her expression showed more displeasure than understanding.

“Is something wrong?”

Ms. Rotis shook her head.

“So, how was he? Is his ardent love for Laura Pendleton still alive?”

“Well, yes. It seems so. He’s worried sick every day that she might marry Mr. Ashton.”

“You should be careful, Jane. He might propose to you in a fit of passion.”

Jane Hyde jumped in surprise.

“What an absurd thing to say…!”

“Men, when rejected by a woman, sometimes propose to the nearest woman to salvage their pride.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Why?”

“How could someone who loves a perfect woman like Laura Pendleton ever love me? I can’t even compare to her.”

“So, if he proposed, you might accept?”

Jane Hyde’s eyes widened.

“Why is the conversation going there?”

“You’re not saying you dislike him, are you?”

“Whether I like him or not isn’t the point! He’s not going to propose to me, so what does my opinion matter?”

Ms. Rotis frowned and smoked her cigar in silence.

Jane Hyde was dumbfounded. Ms. Rotis sometimes acted in ways that were impossible to understand.

It had happened before. Back in London, when she learned a gentleman had proposed to Jane Hyde, Ms. Rotis interrogated her endlessly: what kind of man he was, why she refused, how she felt about him now. Then, displeased for some reason, she didn’t speak to Jane for half a day.

‘She’s an incomprehensible person.’

Jane Hyde admired her, but this unpredictable temperament kept her on edge.

Jane Hyde sat close to her left side and gently massaged her left shoulder and arm. Ms. Rotis’s left arm and shoulder were always slightly tense from using a cane.

At first, Ms. Rotis tried to push Jane Hyde away. Undeterred, Jane Hyde continued massaging. Gradually, Ms. Rotis’s expression softened.

When Jane Hyde linked arms with her and playfully rubbed her cheek against her shoulder, Ms. Rotis laughed, her mood entirely lifted.

She lightly pinched Jane Hyde’s cheek, as one might do to a cute younger relative.

Jane Hyde enjoyed her touch but also felt a pang of bitterness.

‘She likes me. Like a cute puppy.’

She couldn’t find any deeper meaning in Ms. Rotis’s actions. To her, Jane Hyde was probably just an adorable pet who wagged its tail eagerly.

This made Jane Hyde even less inclined to show her manuscript.

‘Would she take a novel written by her pet seriously? No, she’d probably find it laughable.’

The thought alone disheartened Jane Hyde.

‘If not Ms. Rotis, there’s only one other person I could show my manuscript to.’

Smelling the pleasant aroma of Ms. Rotis’s cigar, Jane Hyde pondered deeply and then made up her mind.

‘Yes, I’ll show my manuscript to Laura Pendleton.’

On the second day of being bedridden with a cold, Laura Pendleton was finally able to get up.

After a foolish mistake at the Farnese Hotel, walking back without a coat, Laura had caught a bad cold and taken to her bed. Ms. Rotis quickly arranged for a doctor and nurse, and Jane Hyde brought chicken ginger soup and herbal tea, good for colds, and spoon-fed her.

Despite the nurse’s constant presence, they frequently visited her room. They read books to Laura, added wood to the fireplace, brought snacks, and helped with her recovery.

“You’re almost recovered,” said Nurse Rover, nodding after checking Laura’s temperature.

“No chills, no headaches. Hmm, there’s still a slight fever, but a few more days of rest should bring it down.”

“Thank you, Nurse Rover.”

Laura, her cheeks flushed from the warm fireplace, expressed her gratitude.

“What did I do? Your friends fussed so much that the cold decided it didn’t belong here and fled.”

Nurse Rover chuckled, putting on her coat. The sun had already set, and it was time for her to leave.

“Take the medicine I left for you. Don’t go out in the cold or overexert yourself. Go to bed early. For someone with a constitution as sensitive to cold as yours, neglecting care just because you feel better can prolong the illness. It could even turn into something serious like pneumonia or a fever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Nurse.”

Nurse Rover left the room.

Laura leaned back against the headboard. She took a lemon macaron from a box Jane Hyde had bought from a bakery across from the mineral water hall.

Over the past two days, Laura had received devoted care. It was a refreshing experience.

She had always been the one helping others. In boarding school, she helped friends struggling with studies; living with Lady Abigail, she cared for her grandmother’s health; in society, she helped friends with marriages or supported neighbors at charity events.

By helping others, she tried to prove her worth, to cover the stigma of her birth with the label of a “good person.” So, whenever she received help, she felt grateful but also uneasy.

But receiving help wasn’t a bad thing. It was joyful and something to be thankful for. The mindset of treating help as a debt melted away under Ms. Rotis and Jane Hyde’s care. In its place grew a deep affection for her friends.

‘Having such friends is a blessing.’

Laura thought, eating another raspberry macaron.

Then, a knock came at the door.

“Laura Pendleton, are you asleep?”

Laura quickly wiped her mouth, in case macaron crumbs lingered.

“No. Come in.”

Jane Hyde entered, wearing a neat white lace dress.

Since arriving in Bath, Jane Hyde’s style had become quite refined. She must have learned to dress herself in the city’s sophisticated atmosphere.

Tall and slender, she looked like a model from a catalog in that beautiful dress.

With a mix of shyness and nervousness, she approached Laura, clutching a stack of papers as if it were a precious child.

Laura looked at the papers with curiosity.

“Would you like me to read to you before bed?”

“Your readings are always welcome, Jane Hyde. But what’s that in your arms…?”

Jane Hyde blushed and mumbled softly.

“It’s… my manuscript. I wanted Laura Pendleton to read it first, before Ms. Rotis.”

Laura’s eyes sparkled with surprise, then she smiled broadly.

“You’re finally letting me read it. Is it completely finished?”

“Yes.”

Laura’s heart raced with anticipation as she gestured for Jane Hyde to sit on the stool beside the bed. Jane Hyde sat, her expression like that of a convict facing the gallows.

“Why so nervous, Jane Hyde? I’m absolutely on your side as a reader.”

Jane Hyde sighed.

“But Laura Pendleton, you’re so knowledgeable about books. My story will probably sound like something a twelve-year-old wrote.”

“Not true. And even if it were, so what? You enjoyed writing this novel, didn’t you? Those who find joy in writing will improve with their next book, and even more with the one after that. Eventually, you’ll write a perfect novel. So, don’t worry and read it to me.”

Encouraged, Jane Hyde seemed to relax a bit, though still shy, and opened the first page.

Her reading began.

The novel, a novella in length, took nearly two hours to read. Laura Pendleton leaned back in bed, listening intently to Jane Hyde’s story.

As time passed, Jane Hyde’s voice grew hoarse, but Laura barely noticed. The story surpassed all imagination.