The journey into London felt both unbearably long and impossibly short. Francesca spent the first ten minutes speaking without pause, the second ten worrying, and the third alternating between excitement and terror. By the fourth, she had nearly worn a path into the carriage floor with her pacing thoughts alone.
Penelope sat opposite her, watching with quiet amusement. But deep down, no one knew the quiet tension curling her stomach disguised naturally with a supportive smile for her younger sister who wouldn't stop worrying.
Lady Sophia sat beside Francesca, soothing her worries with words every mother would tell their daughters;
"You'd do exceptionally well, dear." She spoke in a motherly tone with a soft smile.
Outside the windows, London drifted past beneath the fading glow of evening. The streets remained busy despite the hour with carriages rolling across cobblestones, gentlemen hurrying along pavements, and ladies disappearing into brightly illuminated townhouses.
