The weeks leading up to the Spring Festival passed much easier for Olive than the previous weeks in Wulfbauer Keep. Not just because she could move about the manor, but because she had something to do. With Erwin's 'blessing,' she'd taken the initiative to work with Lord Burrows on the management of the Carwick money. If Erwin had expected this to be a joyful event for the poor old money-counter, he'd been woefully incorrect. Lord Burrows had never imagined that not only would the Duke not talk the girl out of the money, but actually granted her license to use it! Unprecedented!
Constance had come nearly every day to go over some detail or the other with him. At first, she just wanted to gain a fuller understanding of just what the funds were and how they could be spent. But once she had that, she was full of ideas! Some were easier to get by Lord Burrows than others. He'd agreed to implement a relief fund that single mothers could apply to. Though they'd had quite the argument about whether Olive meant 'widows' (Lord Burrows was sure she must!) or if she meant mothers-of-children-without-fathers... including even the bastards of camp girls! But, as this was otherwise an appropriately ladylike cause, she'd eventually pushed it through. When she tried to talk to him about larger-scale issues like infrastructure improvements, Olive always hit a brick wall of, "Well, that's an issue for the Duke's council." The implied second-half of the sentence was, "And not for a young lady." But as confident as Olive was working with Lord Burrows on these things (or pestering Lord Burrows, to hear his side of the story), she was hesitant so far to bring up the issues with the duke. Somehow even she knew that telling the Duke himself what he should be doing with the duchy was pushing things a bit too far.
That didn't mean that Lord Burrows didn't tell Duke Therrien what he thought about the girl's heavy involvement in the management of the Carwick funds every chance he got! But in truth, Lord Burrows never complained as loudly as he might. Lady Constance, after all, had more patience for monetary details than the duke did. And while he would never admit it, even to himself, he enjoyed having someone to talk to whose attention lasted longer than thirty seconds.
But as the days drew closer to the Spring Festival, Constance felt increasingly anxious. Her thoughts straying from the details of business management to worrying about the Festival. Olive had never been so nervous on days leading up to guerrilla attacks when she was still free and fighting. But she had a growing list of worries about the Festival. Foremost, was the simple act of being shown in public when she represented the Hated Enemy of the War. It was stitched right there on her dress for all to see. What if Erwin was wrong? He'd been wrong about the guard. And even if no one tried to harm her directly, part of her still quelled to think of having all that negative attention cast onto her.
And beyond that... what would she say to people? Not the common people at the Festival; she was less worried about that, more used to interacting with them in the last years. But all the nobles who had known her as a girl. They'd be there, too. What would they say to her? What would they ask her? What would she say to them, if they asked... well, anything? It seemed like a stupid thing to worry about, but Olive couldn't push it out of her mind. She'd never been the most socially graceful noble lady as it was.
"Grace, I'm scared."
"You'll be fine." And here she was, the day of the Festival, listening to Grace's reassurances as she dressed her. "You can always focus your attention on children. That always looks very good for a lady, and children are sweeter than adults, anyway. Your mother was always very good at that."
Olive nodded numbly. Her mother, unlike her, had been the epitome of understated grace. Olive had always just been a mess. Now she was a mess, and a target, and even more of an oddity than she'd been five years ago. At least, she tried to tell herself, it was the Spring Festival, not a ball or anything so garish. There would be folk dances and contests and lots of things happening. It'd be over before she knew it.
"You might even enjoy yourself, Constance."
Olive bit her lip, peering into the mirror. Unlike for a proper ball, Olive wore a folk dress not unlike a dirndl. All the women, peasants to ladies, would be wearing something similar. And like all unmarried women, Grace was braiding spring flowers through Olive's hair. At least, she thought, it'd be easier to fit in. Stand out less. Still, Olive brushed her fingers over the embroidered sign of the Church. However artfully it had been sewn into the dress, there it was.
"I've never even been to a Festival unescorted. I always went with Caspian or Avery," she fretted. Olive was beyond embarrassed to even be thinking about these things. She'd never been so anxious about it as a teenager. And they seemed so trivial now, but she couldn't help it. If given the chance to swap places with a soldier going into battle, she'd do it in a heartbeat. "I asked Lord Burrows to take me," she added with a self-deprecating frown, "since his wife is too ill and his daughters are all married. But he said he spent far too much time with me as it is and was glad for the opportunity to be rid of me for a day."
