The next morning, Elara set off for the town’s general store with Miss Temple, the lace collar carefully tucked in her basket.
As they walked, Miss Temple examined the piece, her fingers brushing the delicate rose patterns. “In London, this would fetch thirty pounds easily,” she said, a note of regret in her voice. “But in a small town like this? I fear you’ll be lucky to get fifteen to eighteen.”
Elara smiled calmly. “Merchants need their profit—I understand that. If I can get twenty pounds for it, I’ll be more than satisfied.”
The walk was long, the cobblestones rough beneath their shoes, but they chatted softly as they went, the morning air crisp and cool.
When they reached the store, the shopkeeper greeted them warmly—first exchanging pleasantries with Miss Temple, then turning to
