Feigning a headache had always been Irene's favorite way of avoiding things she did not want to—like receiving callers-because it was impossible to prove if she was faking or not. The only people she'd met at the party who'd interested her at all were Mary Morstan and Sally Donovan, but the former had a horrible younger sister who would likely accompany her and the latter, according to Molly, hardly ever made calls. Irene had even less interest in receiving any of the young men she'd danced with, though those would have been easier to refuse if she had been taking callers, as she hadn't been formally introduced to any of them.

Nevertheless, it was easier overall to delicately pinch the bridge of her nose, sigh, and sneak away for a nap, softly muttering apologies as she went. Luckily, Aunt Margaret had sent Molly upstairs as well with instructions that both of their luncheons should be brought upstairs and a warning that the doctor would be called if either of them still felt poorly by dinner.

That left her aunt to receive the ladies and their daughters and shoo away the men, one task she relished and one she performed with great regret. The doorbell rang so frequently that, had Irene been set on sleeping, it would have been impossible.

She passed the time reading, taking inventory of her jewelry and writing in her journal. There was also the matter of the small bundle of clothes shoved under her bed. Several times, she gave into temptation and took them out. Shortpants and jacket in a rich grey, a white shirt and black socks. She hadn't tried them on yet, not wanting to fuss with her corset, but they looked similar in size to what she wore in New York. Molly's suit was a chocolate brown and her socks camel colored. They would only need to knick a couple of Edmund's hats—a task best performed right after dinner when everyone was occupied- and they'd be set.

Not long after they'd settle din, she heard Molly quietly leave her room and go up to the nursery. She returned and left again in quite a hurry an hour or so after that. Later, Irene awoke from a doze by Molly clattering down the stairs to her room and slamming the door. A few seconds later her cousin began weeping, soft, hiccupping sobs that sounded more like choking the more the poor thing tried to suppress them.

Irene crept to the door that separated their rooms and gently knocked.

"Molly, don't tell me you've really fallen ill. It'll ruin our plans for tonight."

"Oh Irene please go away." Molly said. "I don't care about that."

"Darling you don't really mean that. May I come in?"

Silence, broken by a few shuddering sobs and a soft sound of assent.

She expected to find Molly prostrate on her bed, but she sat on her chaise, arms crossed in front of her and leaning forward. Irene hurried over to sit beside her.

"My dear what's the matter?" she asked, putting her arms around the miserable girl.

"I'm so stupid," Molly said.

"That's not a bit true and you know it."

They sat for a few more minutes while Molly gained control of herself. When her sobs subsided, she ended up lying with her head in Irene's lap as Irene petted her hair.

"It was all so splendid at first," she began.

"What, darling?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. I went upstairs to look at what had been delivered to the nursery, and there was a microscope already out, set on the table. I'd never seen one before up close so I took a look into it and I got so engrossed that I didn't notice when Mr. Holmes and Edmund came back.

"Oh dear. Was he cross with you?"

"No. Though when I came back after getting my apron, he did point out that I'd changed my hair. And I had but just to make sure it wasn't in my face. And he told me-he told me that the side part with the braid suited me better, that it looked less…plain." Molly squeezed her eyes shut. "But once they started working it was lovely. Edmund and he were dissecting a scleroma, that's a bit like a tumor, but not quite. And they let me watch. Mr. Holmes even cut off a bit and fixed it on a slide so I could look at it in the microscope. He stood over me while he showed me how to use it and when he came to check on me he praised my sketches of the cell structure."

"That's…nice."

"Yes, and he smelled like…like tobacco, and lavender and well, horses a bit but not really. And then I had to ruin it." She made a small sound like a kicked puppy and buried her face in Irene's skirt.

She nudged Molly to sit up so she could look at her. "Tell me what happened."

It had been glaringly obvious this morning that Molly fancied Mr. Holmes. Irene couldn't fathom how Aunt Margaret had remained oblivious to it. A real infatuation coupled with Molly's awkwardness with men in general meant the possibilities for Molly embarrassing herself were actually endless.

"Well, Edmund went to lie down and after we cleaned up I told Mr. Holmes I was thinking about having some tea in the garden since we don't have many fine days left. Ohhh." She hid her face in her hands.

"Go on."

Molly took a deep breath, exhaled and uncovered her face. "He just sort of smiled at me and said that if they were making some for me to have some sent up to him, too. Then he turned back to his work. I stood there for a while and then I said alright and left."

Irene waited for more. When her cousin didn't continue, she said "Is that all?"

"It's mortifying! I don't know what got into me, to be so bold! And I'm sure he only feigned ignorance to try to save me some embarrassment. I'm such a disaster!" With a groan, Molly dropped her head back into Irene's lap. A few more tears escaped but she didn't resume her sobbing.

"Molly, dearest," Irene said, rubbing her thin shoulders. "This is not the end of the world. Though, if you think you won't be able to face him again you can always have him sent away."

"No!" Molly said, popping up. "Edmund already adores him and Mr. Holmes was very kind to him, in his own way. I couldn't do that!"

"Then it's settled. The only thing you can do is tell yourself that he was being neither nice nor cruel; he merely misunderstood your invitation."

"Do you really think so?"

Irene retrieved her handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped the tears from Molly's cheeks before handing it to her to blow her nose. "It doesn't matter. What matters is how you behave."

Molly sniffed. "How should I behave?"

"As though it never happened. He won't bring it up. Despite being so blunt he's too well bred for that. And if he does bring it up, you act as though you have no idea what he's talking about. You were merely remarking on the weather."

"I'll try," Molly said, twisting the handkerchief in her hands. Her little knuckles were white from the effort.

Irene considered letting her in on her observations of Mr. Holmes' behavior at breakfast. Mr. Holmes had not been entirely able to hide the glances he cast on Molly from everyone. However, since she might be wrong about the reason behind those glances, she decided it would be best to not get Molly's hopes up, or make her more nervous than she already was.

Some delicate maneuvering was definitely in order, but first they had a city to explore.