The maid walked ahead of Lavender, leading her through the long corridor toward the garden. She had never seen a child with such a complexion before and made no attempt to walk beside her.
Lavender knew why the woman kept her distance, but she didn't care. The people in Lady Bridget's house were not her concern.
The maid stopped at the edge of the garden, where the other children were already laughing and drinking tea beneath a white silk canopy. The garden was lovely complete with trimmed hedges, blooming roses, and the scent of honey in the air. The maid frowned. She wished this strange girl hadn't come to ruin the pleasant picture.
"What a pretty garden," Lavender said softly, her eyes wide with wonder.
The maid blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected the girl to speak so well.
Without waiting for a response, Lavender stepped into the garden. The chatter around the table faded instantly. Every child turned to look at her as though she were something they'd never seen before.
A girl with golden curlss walked up to her and touched her arm. "You're so black," she said bluntly. "Were you born like this?"
Lavender gently removed the girl's hand. "You're so pale," she replied calmly. "Were you born like that?"
The girl's mouth dropped open. "I'm not pale! My mother says I'm beautiful!"
"My mother says the same thing," Lavender answered, and the girl's cheeks flushed with anger.
Another girl approached, taller and older, her chin lifted high. "Don't speak to Sarah like that," she said. "She's better than you."
"I don't care," Lavender replied simply, brushing past her and walking straight to the table.
The other girls immediately shifted away from her seat, as though she carried a disease.
"My name is Ella," the proud girl announced, folding her arms. "I'm in charge here. This is my house."
"My name is Lavender," the child replied evenly, "and I'm more important than you."
Ella's brows shot up. "More important? You? You look like dirt!"
Lavender ignorred her and waited for one of the maids to pour her tea. None came. The maidss glanced her way but looked quickly aside, their lips tight with disapproval.
"Ella, don't start," Sarah whispered nervously.
Ella shoved her aside. "Don't tell me what to do. You're nothing but my assistant!"
Lavender didn't feel sorry for Sarah; not yet. The girl had called her black as though it were a crime. Still, she couldn't help smiling when Ella turned on her friend.
"Stop smiling, you little dirt!" Ella shouted. "You should be nice to me!"
Lavender rose from her chair, her eyes flashing. "Why must I be nice to someone who looks like blood?"
The children gasped, then laughed, Ella's red hair suddenly not so charming anymore.
"You're dirt, and you look like manure!" Ella snapped, and the laughter grew crueler. The other children laughed because it was safer than being next.
Sarah stayed back, silent and pale. She didn't like what Ella was saying, not to Lavender and not to her either.
"Sarah!" Ella barked. "Why are you just standing there? Can't you see this dirt is ruining our tea party?"
"She isn't ruining anything," Sarah murmured, tears gathering in her eyes.
"She is! And so are you!"
Sarah began to cry. Ella marched up to her, glaring. "You always cry like a baby! You never support me!"
Lavender, who had been holding herself still, stepped forward and took Ella's arm. "Stop it," she said sharply.
"Ew! Dirt! Don't touch me!" Ella screamed, twisting her hand free.
Lavender didn't let go. She tightened her grip. "Apologize," she said quietly.
"Let me go!" Ella shrieked.
One of the other girls pushed Lavender hard, and she fell to the ground.
"You filthy thing!" Ella yelled, grabbing a handful of Lavender's curls. Lavender, furious now, pulled back.
Screams filled the garden. A maid came running. "Fetch the mothers!" she cried.
Sarah stood frozen, trembling. Lavender had only wanted to help her, and now everything was a mess.
By the time the women arrived, Ella was on top of Lavender, pulling her hair, while Sarah knelt beside them, sobbing.
Lady Beatrice rushed forward and lifted her daughter into her arms. She expected tears, but Lavender only stared back calmly, her little chin raised.
Across the garden, Ella buried her face in her mother's gown and wailed. "Mother! That girl hurt me! She held my hand and wouldn't let go!"
Lady Bridget's expression hardened. "Lady Beatrice, you must teach your daughter manners," she said coldly. "She owes mine an apology."
Lavender blinked at the sudden shift, how everyone believed Ella's tears. So she cried too. "Mother!" she sobbed. "She called me dirt! She called me manure!"
Gasps echoed. Lady Beatrice's hands clenched. She turned to Lady Bridget, her voice icy. "Your daughter should be the one to apologize."
"Never," Lady Bridget snapped.
Beatrice's eyes narrowed. "Do not forget, Lady Bridget, that you are only a viscountess. You have no right to raise your voice to me or my child."
The words struck like thunder. The garden fell silent.
"Apologize, Viscountess," Beatrice said, the title rolling off her tongue like a blade.
Lady Bridget hesitated, then turned sharply to her daughter. "Ella."
"I won't, Mother!"
"Now."
Ella swallowed her pride and muttered, "I'm sorry, Lavender."
Lavender smiled faintly. "I'm sorry too."
It stunned everyone. Even Lady Beatrice blinked in surprise.
Off to the side, Lady Clarissa ignored her own daughter's sobs. When Lavender bent to help Sarah to her feet, Lady Clarissa quickly pulled her child away.
"Don't touch her," she hissed under her breath, and swept out of the garden.
The tea party ended soon after.
Later, in the carriage, Lavender sat by the window, her chin resting on her hand as the countryside rolled past. Lady Beatrice watched her daughter quietly. She wanted to speak, to comfort her,but Lavender's face was calm, unreadable.
And that, more than anything, broke her heart.