Elara descended the stairs with Maria, dressed in a simple blue cotton gown that skimmed her slender frame. Her long black hair fell loose down her back, adorned only with a delicate lace headband—its intricate stitching her own handiwork. At fourteen, she carried the quiet confidence of someone who had already carved out a place for herself, youth and resolve blending seamlessly.
Jane was already in the parlor, her appearance neat and elegant. She wore a lemon-yellow high-waisted gown with square neckline, the cuffs and collar trimmed with ruffled lace, and her hair twisted into a soft chignon secured with a lace flower.
“Good morning, Jane,” Elara greeted.
Jane smiled in return. “You’re a touch late this morning.”
“Too much gin last night,” Elara admitted with a faint chuckle. Just t
