Emma sat on the bench, nervously wringing her hands. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear it thundering in her ears. The voices of the other children and the murmuring of the audience, gathered in the hall, sounded like distant, confusing noise in her head. The reading competition was just minutes away, and fear crept relentlessly into her thoughts. What if she made a mistake? Or, worse still, what if she stammered? What if she made a fool of herself in front of all those people?

She had practised the story so many times, but now, when it really mattered, her mind felt completely blank. Her hands were trembling, and she felt a tight lump forming in her throat. Emma looked out of the window at the crowd. The chairs were nearly all filled, and everywhere she saw curious faces, eagerly awaiting the competition.

At that moment, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head and saw her father, who had crouched down beside her, now looking at her with a gentle smile.

"Are you alright, Emma?" he asked in a calm voice.

Emma swallowed hard and shook her head. "I don't think I can do it," she whispered. "What if I stammer, or can't get any words out? There are so many people!"

Thomas raised an eyebrow and looked at her thoughtfully. "I didn't think you'd get stage fright," Thomas said with a chuckle. "You've practised so much, Emma. You're a fantastic reader. If anyone can do it, you can."

"I don't know..." she said, her voice filled with doubt.

"Would you like some fatherly advice?" he asked.

Emma shrugged her shoulders.

"Believe in yourself."

Emma looked at her father, uncertain if those simple words could really help. 'Believe in yourself,' he had said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"But what if I make a mistake?" she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't want to embarrass myself."

Thomas smiled softly and sat down beside her on the bench. "Emma, everyone makes mistakes. It's nothing to worry about."

Emma nodded slightly, but the nervous feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away. Her father put his arm around her and gently pulled her close. "You've got this, my little dwarf. And now, let's get going, or you'll miss your competition."

Why did Barrow have to start with a B? Her name was right at the top of the list, which meant Emma barely had a chance to listen to her classmates and see how they handled the spotlight. Only Daphne Atkins had gone before her.

Emma's heart started racing again, and the nervousness crept back as her name was called. This time, though, she didn't let it overwhelm her. She took a deep breath before standing up and walking to the stage.

As she stood before the microphone and looked out into the crowd, her eyes instinctively searched for her father. There he was, sitting in the middle with a proud and encouraging smile on his face. Beside him sat Phyllis, Mr. Molesley, Mrs. Hughes, and Anna.

In front of her sat the judges, consisting of two teachers, the headmaster, and to Emma's surprise, the Dowager Countess herself. The old lady surveyed the room with a scrutinising gaze.

Emma took a deep breath and began to read. The first words came out hesitantly, but as she realised the world wasn't ending and no one was laughing at her, her voice became clearer and more confident. The story she had practised so many times now flowed easily from her lips, and soon she was fully immersed in her role. The words filled the room, and the audience's attention was solely on her.

When she finally read the last line and finished, it felt as though a heavy weight had lifted from her shoulders. For a moment, there was silence, and then the audience erupted into applause. Emma stood there, her face flushed, hardly able to believe she had done it.

After all the students had finished reading, the judges withdrew to deliberate. The minutes dragged on, but Emma was already so filled with pride that she didn't even worry about whether she would win. When the headmaster finally stepped up to the microphone, a hush fell over the room.

"The third place goes to… Beatrice Douglas!"

"The second place goes to… Edward Wilson!"

"And the first place goes to… Emma Grace Barrow!"

For a moment, Emma couldn't believe it. She blinked, unsure if she had heard correctly. Then, a smile broke across her face, so wide and bright that she could barely contain it. She practically leapt from her seat, ran to the stage, and accepted her certificate. The crowd applauded, and Emma felt as though she were walking on air.

The headmaster warmly congratulated her and handed her a small trophy. "Well done, Emma," he said with a kind smile as he shook her hand. "Your reading impressed both the judges and the audience alike."

Thomas was the first to catch her after the award ceremony. Without hesitation, he lifted her into the air, spun her around, and set her back down. "I knew you could do it, my little dwarf. You were brilliant," he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

Emma hugged him back, burying her nose in his shirt. "Thank you, Dad," she whispered.

Soon after, Mrs. Hughes and Anna approached her, both beaming. "Emma, you were absolutely fantastic," said Mrs. Hughes, nodding proudly.

"Congratulations," Phyllis smiled. "You were truly amazing!"

"We're all so incredibly proud of you," added Anna. Even Mr. Molesley gave her an approving pat on the shoulder. "You didn't just wow the audience; you even impressed the Dowager Countess," he said with a grin. "That's an achievement in itself."

As the people around her continued to congratulate and chat, Emma looked down once more at her certificate and the shiny trophy in her hand. The words "First Place" were emblazoned in golden letters, and she could hardly believe she had really done it. She had faced her fear, found the courage to speak in front of all those people, and now she held the reward for all her hard work in her hands.

As they entered the servants' hall, the staff were, as usual at this time, gathered for their late afternoon tea. Mr. Carson had already set his cup down and was watching them expectantly as they came into the room. Mrs. Patmore was serving a plate of pastries, and Daisy was darting around the table, handing out plates. The chatter ceased immediately as the little group walked in.

"And how did it go?" asked Mr. Carson, his gaze fixed on Emma with keen interest. His tone was as stern as ever, but Emma could see the genuine concern behind his formal exterior.

Mrs. Hughes let out an exaggerated sigh and raised an eyebrow. "Quite unexpectedly…"

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Patmore exchanged worried glances.

"Oh no, my dear!" Mrs. Patmore exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and hurrying over to Emma, patting her comfortingly on the back. "Don't worry, love! I'll make your favourite pancakes for dinner tonight. That'll surely cheer you up!"

Emma could barely stifle a laugh. What was Mrs. Hughes up to, and why were Mr. Carson and Mrs. Patmore not letting her finish?

Mr. Carson cleared his throat, trying to offer comfort in his usual serious manner. "Winning isn't everything, Emma Grace," he said in his deep, grandfatherly voice. "You were there, and you gave it a go. That's what counts."

At that moment, Anna and Mrs. Hughes couldn't contain themselves any longer and burst into quiet giggles. Mr. Carson, who hadn't yet caught on to the joke, looked at them in confusion.

Emma finally couldn't hold it in any longer and erupted into hearty laughter. "I won!" she exclaimed cheerfully, taking her certificate and trophy from her father and holding them proudly aloft. "I came first!"

The staff's reaction was priceless. Mrs. Patmore, who had been in the middle of comforting Emma, nearly dropped her apron. "Emma!" she cried, hands on her hips, though her face was lit up with a wide smile. "You can't just trick us like that!"

Mr. Carson stood up and raised his eyebrows as he realised he'd been taken in by the prank. But then he shook his head with an amused smile. "Congratulations, Emma Grace."

The whole servants' hall erupted in laughter and applause. Daisy jumped up in joy and clapped loudly. "I knew you could do it, Emma!" she cheered enthusiastically.

"Will I still get pancakes?" Emma asked sweetly.

"Yes, but only because you won," Mrs. Patmore winked.

AN: I know it's a short chapter, but you won't have to wait long. I'll see you again in 1923!