Laura smiled and gently stroked Olivia’s back.

“Seeing you arrive in time for tea, you must be planning to have some with your aunt.”

“Yes. On the rose garden terrace.”

“Let’s go down. I’ll have them bring out your favorite fig jam.”

Olivia, as if proving she was still a girl despite her height, squealed and hopped about excitedly.

The two held hands and walked to the terrace by the rose garden. As requested, muffins and toast with fig jam were served. While Olivia spread a napkin on her lap, Laura poured tea into Olivia’s cup. Olivia expressed her thanks in French. Her pronunciation was not only precise but carried an air of elegance.

“My dear niece, when you debut in society, they’ll think you’re royalty from France.”

Olivia, who had been fidgeting with the fig jam jar, blushed a soft pink.

“Really?”

“Bien sûr (of course).”

Olivia pressed both hands to her cheeks and let out a squeal. Laura burst into laughter.

As Laura poured tea into her own cup, Olivia added milk to Laura’s. Laura thanked her in French, mimicking Olivia’s tone and pronunciation. Or rather, Olivia mimicked Laura. Olivia’s precise and elegant French was learned from Laura herself.

Laura offered Olivia some jam and toast. Olivia took a tiny dab of jam with the spoon’s tip and spread it thinly on the toast.

“Isn’t that too little?”

“I mustn’t gain weight.”

“You’re already quite slim, Olivia.”

Olivia shook her head.

“I plan to slim my waist by two inches before my debutante ball. If I succeed, with a corset’s help, I can wear an 18-inch dress.”

Laura gave a wry smile.

Olivia had received her mother’s permission to debut next spring. In just one year, she could become the London lady she longed to be.

All preparations were complete. Dance, French, grooming, and etiquette. Olivia was a refined lady, flawless in any setting.

“Mother allowed me to take the dresses she inherited from Grandmother. She’ll formally pass them down. Those dresses all have 18-inch waists.”

Laura sighed and sliced a muffin with a knife.

“They’re truly beautiful dresses. But you don’t need to force your body to fit them. A tailor can adjust the size.”

Olivia shook her head.

“I’ll wear them as they are. Absolutely.”

“Is there a reason for your insistence?”

“When you wore that dress at the hunting party in Whitefield, I can still picture it vividly. You looked like a goddess from Greek mythology. As elegant as Hera, as radiant as Venus, as dignified as Athena. If Paris had passed through Dunville Park and seen you, he would have knelt and offered you the golden apple.”

“You sound like an Italian suitor trying to charm me.”

Laura laughed heartily.

Olivia often showered Laura with such extravagant praise. Laura saw it as her niece’s playful teasing, though Olivia meant every word.

After the couple themselves, Olivia was the most overjoyed at Laura and Ian’s marriage. Upon hearing Laura had accepted the proposal (Mrs. Fairfax adjusted some details to preserve Laura’s dignity), Olivia screamed so loudly that birds in Dunville Park’s woods took flight in alarm.

During the brief engagement, Olivia danced even in her dreams. At the wedding, she wept as if she were Laura’s own mother. Over the past year, she had visited Whitefield so often the threshold was nearly worn out.

The more time she spent with her aunt, the deeper Olivia’s affection grew. Admiration, adoration, and familial love combined, her heart was brimming with love for Laura.

At times, Olivia wished to steal her aunt from her uncle. She dreamed of living together, chatting all day, sharing three meals, and sleeping in the same room.

Girls cherished friendships with the same fervor as love. Though nearing the age society allowed marriage, Olivia, still far from true adulthood, loved Laura like a girl with her first crush.

Olivia ate only half her toast and set it down. She wiped her mouth and hands with a napkin, signaling she was finished.

“When you wore that dress, your grace surpassed the beauty of all three goddesses combined. If I can emulate that beauty, I can forgo my favorite foods.”

“Your mother must be concerned.”

“Not at all. She just tells me not to sneak into the pantry at night. Crumbs attract mice, she says.”

“That’s true enough.”

Laura didn’t press Olivia too hard. Girls her age, when barred from beauty rituals, often rebelled with worse behavior. If urged to eat, they might refuse meals entirely.

Instead, Laura asked a servant to bring walnuts, almonds, and dried figs. The servant promptly brought the mistress’s order.

“Maintaining your figure is important, but so is your skin. Without enough nutrients, your skin grows dull, and your face loses its glow.”

Olivia blinked.

“Is that so?”

“Of course. Here, have some.”

Olivia glanced at the plate with unease.

“It’ll make me gain weight.”

Laura shook her head.

“When I wore that dress you admire, I relied on a corset only slightly. It was thanks to eating fruits and nuts.”

Olivia’s eyes sparkled with intrigue.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She whispered as if sharing a secret.

“It’s my personal routine, so only you must know, Olivia.”

Olivia nodded eagerly. She nibbled on walnuts and dried fruit. Her strict diet must have left her hungry, as her hands moved swiftly.

Of course, it was Laura’s little white lie. She had never dieted in her life. Her days had been too hectic to allow weight gain.

Laura thought back to the dress she wore at the hunting event.

‘Could I wear it now?’

Likely, if she fasted for a day and cinched a corset to its limit. But why bother? Clothes were merely clothes. Beauty could be achieved without suffering. Olivia wouldn’t agree, though.

Tea time concluded. The two linked arms and strolled through the garden.

“Aunt, is something wrong with Uncle?”

Olivia, who had been fondling Laura’s hand like a lover’s, asked suddenly. Laura was startled but hid it well.

“Why?”

“Before coming to your study, I stopped by Uncle’s office. His complexion looked poor. He barely responded when I asked after him, and even when I shared good news, he didn’t seem pleased.”

Laura lowered her gaze to the ground.

“Does he have some worry?”

“No. Nothing of the sort.”

“Then why? He seemed distracted. His complexion was bad, too.”

“…His complexion was bad?”

“Yes. Like someone who hasn’t eaten or slept in days. Could he be unwell? He had tuberculosis before, so he’s not exactly robust, our uncle.”

As Olivia spoke, Laura’s face grew pale. Her eyes wavered, and her lips trembled slightly.

‘Ian’s face looked that bad?’

She forced her troubled heart to calm. She needed an excuse. If Olivia returned to Dunville Park with doubts, she’d tell the family, and they’d worry about Ian.

Laura offered a reasonable excuse to Olivia, who was tilting her head curiously.

“He recently started quitting smoking. It’s likely withdrawal symptoms.”

“Oh! Yes, yes! Mother said to avoid Uncle because he’s quitting smoking. How did I forget? I’m such a fool.”

Olivia gave herself a playful tap on the head.

Laura searched for a way to shift the topic. Continuing to discuss Ian’s condition risked losing her composure in front of Olivia.

“By the way, what was that good news you mentioned?”

Olivia gasped.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Aunt, you know our eldest brother, Henry, right? You know him, don’t you?”

Laura nodded. Of course she knew him well.

Ian’s dear first nephew, born when Ian was eight. Even before their marriage, Ian always spoke of Henry first when mentioning his nephews. Unlike his habit of teasing those he liked, Ian’s words about Henry were full of praise.

According to Mrs. Fairfax, Henry Fairfax closely resembled Ian. Not only in appearance but in temperament. Reserved, romantic, with a keen, intelligent mind. He was also a skilled painter, with exceptional taste and sensitivity—a natural artist.

First nephews are always special, and with Henry so like him, it was no surprise Ian held him dear.

He was currently on leave from Cambridge, studying art in France.

Though he had been away from England for nearly a year and a half, the Fairfax parents didn’t hasten to recall him. As the eldest son destined to inherit Dunville Park, this was his time to wander while his father was still healthy.

“Yes. What about him?”

“He’s finally returning! Around autumn.”

Laura gasped.

“My, that’s wonderful news. Your parents must be delighted?”

“Yes. Mother’s more worried he might have caught some illness from a French lady, though. She says it can cause terrible sores.”

“Olivia.”

Realizing her mistake, Olivia quickly changed tack.

“Anyway, it’s strange. I thought Uncle would be thrilled, but he just nodded. He sat slumped in his chair, as if all his energy was drained. Like a paper doll. Does he really have to quit smoking? If he keeps this up, he might float off into the woods.”