1️0. Ophelia's school for young marriageable girls.

Oxford street, London.

"Camila, sit straight. Yes, that's it, lower your lashes and then slowly open your eyes. Perfect!" Ophelia exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Turning towards Ophelia, Camila said."

Do you think I might do it again with no mistake?"

"Why not," Ophelia said. "But try it one more time, let's be sure you have properly mastered it."

Julia watched as her sister lowered her lashes and slowly raised them. There was even a hint of a smile playing about her lips.

"Perfect!" Ophelia cried. "Now that the both of you have perfected the look, we are going over to the next step." she turned, so she faced both her children and paced back and forth in the blue room. "The next thing is how to hold up your own conversation. First, never give the impression that you have more hair than wit, and don't say too much as to appear as a bluestocking. Gentlemen hate it when a woman knows more about a topic than they do. It makes them feel ah — "

"Less of a man," Julia supplied.

"yes." Ophelia agreed. "And if there is a gentleman you are trying to catch his attention. If perhaps you were sitting down, lean forward so he might have a spectacular view of your bosom

and—"

"Mother!" Both Camila and Julia cried. Blushing profusely.

"My, haven't I been bestowed with a pair of green girls," Ophelia said as she fanned herself. "You are so lucky you have someone to teach you all these things, I had nobody. My mother didn't even teach me anything! I had to find my way, my path, " she closed her fan and used its end to point at them. Through clenched teeth; "so next time you scream mother, let it be a grateful one."

Taking in a deep breath. "Next is your posture and how you walk." She continued as if she had not just been interrupted. Moving over to the small table by the window. She picked up what possibly looked like a book, except it looked big and heavy, and dropped it on Camila's head. The book fell down immediately.

"Pick it up and place it on your head," Ophelia barked out. "Walk back and forth with it. I want to see how well you can balance it."

"But mother! Camila cried. "This book is heavy."

"I know that already. It is meant to be, that way you won't have any need to rush your steps. It would keep you at an even pace." Ophelia said. "Julia, you do the same with the other book on the table."

Julia knew there was no need to argue with her mother, anytime she was determined to do something, nobody could stop her, there wasn't even any chance to ride roughshod over her. Her mouth was set in that firm way of hers, tightened into a straight line.

Julia sighed and walked over to the table to do as she was bid.

Ophelia observed them, satisfied that they were doing as she bid.

"Now you stay here and practice, I will soon be back to check on you." As soon as Ophelia's footsteps receded, Camila turned and scowled at her sister. She wrinkled her nose and said; "Do you think mother will come back on time, or perhaps she might even forget that she left us here with books! as heavy as, as heavy as —" Camila repeated looking around the blue room to find something that could help her quantify how heavy the book was.

The book in question fell from her head with a loud thud on the floor. Julia saw her sister's expression and was moved to laughter. She bent and forgot that she too carried a heavy set of a book on her head. It fell almost in the same fashion that Camila's own had.

They both giggled as they sat down on the nearest chair and tried to catch their breath. Julia looked about the room. They were in her mother's blue room.

Like the name, it was coated with blue paint all over, blue drapes, even the chairs had a hint of blue on them.

Ophelia liked to receive her own visitors here. Nobody knew why. They were sitting down on the chair by the left, which faced the door. It was better like that, that way they would know when their mother was coming back. Behind them was a medium-sized round table with five chairs where Ophelia liked to take tea with her friends.

Julia crossed her arm over her chest and placed her left index finger on her temples as if thinking. "I think mother ought to open a school." She smiled. "She would call it Ophelia's school for debutantes. No Ophelia's school for young marriageable girls."

Camila giggled. "I think it would be more like Countess Ophelia's school. She would like to be called a countess, don't you think? Countess Ophelia's school for young marriageable ladies."

"Isn't that the same thing I said?" Julia asked.

"No, it is not quite the same, you didn't put countess, and also, ladies," Camila commented.

Julia rolled her eyes. "Almost all eligible bachelors, if not all of them, would avoid any student from mother's school."

"Why ever will they?"

"I believe any gentleman that doesn't want to get leg shackled would avoid her students at all costs," Julia muttered.

"Oh," Camila said, as if she suddenly just understood. After a few seconds, Camila tapped Julia on her lap urgently before she quickly sprang up from her chair with a speed that surprised Julia. "I think mother is coming," she whispered.

Julia quickly sprang up and placed her book back on her head. She resumed her walk, trying to balance the book on her head.

"Good, Julia, now try walking faster. No, leave the book, you still need it. Now when you get to the end, pause and turn slowly, slowly. Yes, that's it. Camila? You are up next, ready yourself." Ophelia said.

~~~

THE NEXT MORNING, Julia woke up early. She wanted to don her breeches, but she couldn't, not here in the city. She was forced to abandon her breeches, but contented herself with the fact that the fashionable society was still abed. At least she could ride astride.

On top of her favourite mare, Julia galloped at Hyde park, limiting herself to certain remote parts.

The wind whipped her hair from its coiffure and stung her eyes, and her hair slapped at her face.

She felt free and happy. Julia slowed her mare to a trot when she heard something that sounded like another rider approaching. She tried to catch her breath. Breathing heavily.

But the rider was riding towards her at a quick pace. Julia panicked. Maybe the rider was drunk or at worst a thief! She mistakenly pressed her heels at her mare, and she galloped out fast. Julia launched forward, unprepared.

She tried to raise her head, but the mare was galloping at very top speed. Worst still the rider was still on her heels.

Julia turned her head to confirm her suspicion.

The rider was riding furiously behind her! Quickly, Julia turned right back.

Smack!

Julia felt every bit of air violently forced from her body, as a branch hit her squarely on the chest. A strangled groan escaped from her lips as she felt her mare move forward, her skirt catching on one of the lower branches.

She was falling.