Official embroidery class.

The carriage pulls up to the imposing gates of Westminster Palace, and the noble young misses of different towns and villages in England, files out, each dresses in their finest embroidered gowns. They enters the palace through the grand entrance, and are leads to a large, ornate room where the official embroidery class is held. The room is filled with intricate tapestries and paintings, and the young misses takes their seats in front of a large display of embroidery supplies.

A stern-looking woman, the instructor, stands before them and begins to explain the rules of the class.

Before she begins, she stares at the empty seat and asks strictly:

"Who owns this seat?"

The other noble misses cowers in fear and none of them replies as they knows nothing about it.

She walks toward the seat and sees the tag on it which reads, 'Lady Beatrice of the Wallock family'.

She starts to give the lecture when Beatrice eventually enters.

As she enters the rooms, the instructor's eyes narrows and her lips curls into a sneer. "You're late," she says, her voice like ice.

Beatrice stammers an apology, but the instructor waves her away dismissively.

"Take your seat," she snaps.

Beatrice shuffles to her seat, her head lowers, her cheeks burning with shame. She has a sinking feeling that this is going to be a long and difficult class.

"Students of the embroidery class, you must follow these rules," the Instructor says. "You must arrive on time and be prepared with all the supplies you need. You must stay focused on your work, and refrain from talking to others while the lesson is in progress. You must respect the equipment and supplies, and be careful not to damage them. Finally, you must show respect to the teacher at all times."

The class is silent, taking in the rules and committing them to memory. It is clear that the teacher expects nothing less than perfection from her students.

The teacher begins the lesson by instructing the students to choose their fabric and thread. The students each selects a piece of linen, and a variety of colorful threads. "Now," the teacher says, "you must begin by cutting a length of thread and threading your needle. Once you have done so, you may begin to stitch." The students begins their work, slowly and carefully making their first stitches. The teacher walks around the room, observing each student's progress and offering advice and corrections as needed.

"Today's task is to embroider a handkerchief, using a complicated design," the teacher announces.

The ladies exchanges nervous glances, unsure if they are up to the challenge. But they knows that the teacher will not give them an impossible task, and they begin to concentrate on their work. One by one, they selects a design, and began to transfer it to their handkerchiefs. They carefully marked the outlines with a piece of chalk, then took up their needles and began to stitch.

"What kind of embroidery pattern would be appropriate for a handkerchief?" the instructor suddenly asks. "What kind of design would make a handkerchief both beautiful and useful?"

The young misses all thinks for a moment, considering the possibilities. One miss raises her hand.

"Yes , Lady Wellington?" The instructor asks.

Beatrice is taken aback that the popular Lady Wellington is beside her. Who doesn't know the lady of Wellington, the only daughter of the duke of City of London.

She says with a pretty smiles that stuns them all, "What about a delicate floral design, with small, intricate flowers?"

Another miss suggests, "Or perhaps a simple geometric pattern, like diamonds or triangles?"

The teacher nods, impresses by the students' ideas. "Lady Wellington and Lady Williams tried. Both of those designs would be lovely," she says.

As they works on their handkerchiefs, the teacher notices that some are struggling more than others. She approaches one, who is struggling to keep her stitches even and her design neat. "Don't worry, Lady Alice," the teacher says gently. "It takes time and practice to learn this skill. Just focus on one stitch at a time, and take your time. Slow and steady wins the race!" Alice smiles and nods, taking a deep breath and focusing on her task.

Everyone looks at her weirdly. Who doesn't know the lady of the Danbury. The illegitimate daughter of the Westminster Viscount.

The students has worked hard on their handkerchiefs, and they are all proud of their accomplishments.

One by one, they shows their work to the instructor, who examines each piece carefully.

The last student to approach is the Beatrice , who hold her handkerchief in trembling hands. The instructor examines it closely, and her eyes widens in surprise.

"This is exquisite!" she exclaims. "The design is intricate and beautiful, and your stitches are so precise. This is truly a work of art!" Beatrice blushes, but her pride is clear to see..

Her handkerchief is a true masterpiece. It is made of fine linen, and the design is intricate and elegant. Flowers, leaves, and vines are embroidered in exquisite detail, in shades of pale blue, pink, and green. The stitches are so precise that it is hard to believe they had been done by hand. The handkerchief is finished off with a delicate border of lace, adding the perfect finishing touch. It is a work of art, worthy of any noble lady's handbag.

She is the miss with lowest nobility as she is not a daughter of the Viscount, and she also comes from Southwark, a rural area, so other ladies looks at her in disgust and jealousy.

Beatrice and her maid steps out into the sunlit gardens of Westminster Palace, taking a break from their embroidery class. They strolls along the neatly trimmed hedges and flower beds, admiring the colorful blooms. The air is fragrant with the scent of roses and lavender, and the birds sings from the trees. It is a peaceful and beautiful place, a perfect retreat from the bustling city beyond the palace walls.

"How lovely this palace is," she says, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers. "I could walk here all day." Her maid nodsin agreement. "It's so refreshing to be surrounded by nature, away from the noise of Southwark," she says. "Let's take a moment to sit and enjoy the view." They sit down on a bench, and Beatrice leans back against the soft cushions, closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh air.

The ladies of Wellington enters the garden, their skirts rustling as they walks. The lady of Wellington is tall and fair, with golden hair and a regal bearing. She is accompanied by several other young women, each one as beautiful and refined as the next. Their maids follows behind them, carrying parasols and baskets of fruit. The party came upon Beatrice and her maid, and the lady of Wellington stops in her tracks.

"What a surprise to find you here, Miss Viscount!" she says.

Beatrice opens her eyes and quickly stands up, curtsying to the lady of Wellington. "I hope we're not disturbing you, Lady Wellington," she says.

"Not at all," the lady replies with a smile. "We are just taking a stroll through the gardens. Perhaps we can walk together for a while?"

Beatrice agrees, and the two groups of ladies begins to walk along the gravel path. Beatrice feels a little nervous, surrounds by such high society, but she tries to hide it behind a polite smile.

"I heard that the Viscountess married the Viscount when the real one died." Lady Marcus says with a Snickers.

"And she brought you from a former husband. How are you coping?" Another lady sneers, Lady Genevieve.

Beatrice cannot help but smiles bitterly, hiding her clenched fist in her dress.

"I think it's quite unfair to speak poorly of My lady," the Viscount's daughter's maid says, stepping forward. "We should be focusing on more important matters."

"Oh, and what could be more important than a young woman's reputation?" one of the other ladies asks.

"Her step brother, of course!" the maid replies.

The ladies all turns to look at her, surprises by her response.

"Why, her brother is the most foolish young man I've ever known!" the maid exclaims.

"Rebecca, stop it. He's changing." She tries to stop her maid, with a shu smile.

"No my lady. He's constantly making a mess of things, and causing trouble for everyone around him. You are always having to clean up after him!"

The other ladies looks at each other, unsure of what to make of the maid's words.

"Surely he can't be that bad," one of them says.

"Oh, but he is," a lady says as she walks closer to them.

"How do you know that, Lady Shakespeare?" Lady Wellington asks.

"Because he is in love with my brother." Lady Shakespeare says, the only daughter of Baron of the Southwark.

"What....? A gay?" Lady Wellington who has never lost her composure can't help but squeezed her face in disgust.

Marianne who has changed to a commoner clothes, ear stretches and she can't help but rubs her ear as she feels like she is being called too much.