Vigil woke up early that next morning, eager to go gardener hunting. She spotted Margaret setting fresh logs at the fireplace, and the maid jumped when she saw her watching her.

"You're up early," She said. "And I see you've refreshed the wallpaper."

Vigil sighed and collapsed back on the pillows. "Have you seen his eyes, Margaret? Have you seen how..." She searched for the right word. "Soft they are?"

Margaret laughed. "I'm assuming you're talking about Mr. Lancaster."

"James Lancaster," Vigil tested the words on her lips.

"I didn't know you carried such a torch for him," Margaret craned her neck out the door. "But please don't take this too far. Things get ugly when you combine the upper and lower class."

Vigil huffed. "Horsefeathers. All this bull about upper and lower."

"I reckon Mr. Lancaster would disagree with you. He has respect for your family, I can tell."

Vigil only sighed again. "Such a gentleman."

Margaret rolled her eyes and walked out the door. "James got a steady job here, which is something that's rare these days. Please don't ruin it for him."

~~~~~

Vigil spotted James working at the garden, raking leaves from the ground. It was chilly in the early morning, and she had sneaked a cup of tea outside.

"Tea, mister gardener?" She said, poking the back of his shoulder.

He turned around and sighed. "You're up early."

"So I've been told," Vigil said. "Tea?"

He smirked as she stuck the china right under his nose, the steam floating into his face. "It smells tasty. But I already had my cup for the morning."

"In your boat?" Vigil said, sipping the tea herself.

"Yes—how did you know that?" James questioned.

She shrugged. "I dunno, actually. News travels."

He nodded and pushed his hair from his face. He said nothing else for at least two minutes, which was just as fine for Vigil.

She studied his face for a long time before saying, "I'm going to the jazz club tonight. I could use a date."

James shook his head. "The master and mistress wouldn't want their daughter going to a place like that."

Vigil clicked her tongue. "You're not my father. And besides, I only go there for the music."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"Fine. And the men. But you really can't blame me. I never get to do things like that."

James returned to his gardening. "It wouldn't be my place to go with my master's daughter."

Vigil rolled her eyes. "That's what everyone keeps saying. Upper and lower. Rich and poor. It's nineteen twenty-three for pete's sake."

He chuckled and dug his rake into the damp soil. "That's just how things are, my lady. You had better get used to it."

"What if you showed me your boat?" She tried. "I've never seen one before."

James looked up at her incredulously. "What?"

"I told you I'm sheltered."

"You didn't tell me—" James knit his eyebrows. "What else haven't you seen?"

Vigil thought and counted them off with her fingers. "Mountains, the ocean, a castle..."

"You live in a castle." James muttered.

"A prison, a factory, a movie..."

"Wait," James inturrupted. "You have never seen a movie before?"

"No but I would like to." Vigil said eagerly.

Something glinted in his eyes, but he quickly returned to his work. "Maybe you should ask your father to take you."

Vigil huffed. "You're impossible."

~~~~~

Vigil thought twice about going out that night. The jazz club didn't seem to give her as much of a thrill as it used to, and she had an idea why.

Margaret had creeped into her bedroom after dinner, holding a handful of beads. "I found some of these lovely necklaces this morning. I thought you might want to wear them tonight."

She stopped when she saw Vigil in her nightgown. "I don't know if I want to go out tonight, Margaret." She said.

Margaret nodded. "Okay. That's fine."

"I just," Vigil pushed a curl from her face. "I don't know, maybe these joint days are just too childish."

The maid nodded again. "I see what you mean. Maybe it is time to grow up." She pulled out an envelope. "Oh, by the way, there's a letter for you from your brother."

Vigil took it curiously and ripped it open. The writing was crisp and concise, familiar.

She smiled. "Clarence says he's coming to visit in a couple days and that he's bringing his... fiance."

Margaret gasped. "I didn't know he was engaged."

"She's the daughter of a marquess," Vigil said. "Well, at least one Vanbric child has the marrige part of his mind in the right spot."

Margaret huffed. "Oh please. Don't try telling me you're thinking what I think you're thinking."

"If Clarence is marrying a marquess, surely mum and dad would be fine with my marrying a singer."