She picked it up and went through the pages, empty. Mrs. Johnson probably left it here while Victoria was asleep.

She chuckled and hugged the journal to her chest. A light knock was heard, and the door opened slightly. "Oh. I see that you are awake," Mrs. Johnson says with a smile.

She was holding a fountain pen and some ink. "I came to give you this fountain pen and ink." She tells Victoria when she walks into the room and sets down the ink and fountain pen on a desk that was against the wall in front of the bed.

Victoria got out of bed and walked towards Mrs. Johnson and the desk. She looked down and stared at the fountain pen; it was old but in splendid condition. "Wait a second, is that your husband's pen? Mrs. Johnson, I possibly cannot take this."

Victoria shook her head and tried refusing the fountain pen. "My dear, this pen was made for writing. No one has used this pen for years; I implore you to take it as a gift."

"Edgar would have loved you just as much as I do," Mrs. Johnson spoke of her husband with such fondness. "My dear son, Desmond, would have been your age as well. Please, my dear Victoria, take this fountain pen as a gift from me and my late husband."

"Alright, Mrs. Johnson." Victoria agreed. I will take precious care of this fountain pen," she said as she picked it up and held it close to her. "Victoria, you are very dear to me. It is like fate that we met and became friends."

"I feel the same way, Mrs. Johnson." Victoria agreed with a smile, a smile so full of love and warmth. "You should try and write something down. I will go make some finger sandwiches for you," and with that, Mrs. Johnson left Victoria alone in the room.

Victoria sat down at the desk and opened the journal to the first page. She unscrewed the ink bottle and dipped the tip of her fountain pen in the ink.

Victoria set the fountain pen down on the desk, looked down at what she had written so far, and let out a short sigh.

She leaned back against the chair and looked up at the ceiling. Her heart felt lighter than it did hours ago; she was glad that she now had a journal to write in.

Now she just has to keep her journal hidden from that butler. Looking back down at the opened journal, she finally closes it once the ink has dried.

Victoria stood up from her seat, and at the same time, Mrs. Johnson walked in with a plate full of finger sandwiches in one hand and a black fountain pen case.

"I finished making the sandwiches, and I found a case for your fountain pen." Victoria smiled and took a sandwich and the case. She set the case down next to the fountain pen and began eating the sandwich.

"Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. Once I'm done eating, I will go back home." Victoria tells her with gratitude. "I will go find a coachman to take you home, my dear. Take your time to eat and relax until he comes."

"I do not want to make a mess in your room," Victoria says while looking at the finger sandwich she took one bite out of and looking up at Mrs. Johnson.

Mrs. Johnson shook her head. "Do not worry, my dear. They are only a few crumbs, after all." She tells Victoria with a smile and turns to leave the room. Victoria did feel a little awkward; she wasn't sure if she should keep eating. Mrs. Johnson said that it was okay, but Victoria never made messes before, so she felt a bit perplexed.

There was not much to think about when Victoria went to finish eating her finger sandwich. She then put the fountain pen in the case and picked it up along with her new journal.

She heard a thump coming from downstairs, and Victoria thought that Mrs. Johnson accidentally bumped into something when she got back. Victoria walked out of the room, still holding her items close to her, while calling out to Mrs. Johnson and asking if she was alright.

But there at the bottom of the stairs wasn't Mrs. Johnson; it was Oscar. The two stared at each other, and Oscar rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, embarrassed. “My bad. My knee hit the table,” he said.

He looked around and then looked back at her, “Is Mrs. Johnson not here?” He asked, and Victoria nodded. “Too bad, I was going to tell her that I'm ready to plant some primrose in the garden,” he says while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Primrose?” Victoria asks, “Yes. Primrose can grow in the winter, and since winter is approaching, I thought I would tell Mrs. Johnson that I would start planting them.” Oscar tells her.

“I see,” she mumbles to herself, but then another question comes to mind: “I think you told me this answer before, but why do you hate nobles but think that barons are alright?” She asked.

Oscar was silent for a few seconds before looking away. “I don't think that barons are exactly cruel or greedy. Anyone can be those things, but since barons are low-ranking nobles and they are like us commoners', just wish for slightly more money, and they are just looked down on by the other nobles.”

“Is that so?” She asked under her breath, and Oscar nodded his head. “Why?” Oscar asked in return, and Victoria looked at him, not expecting that question. “I am a curious girl. I have many questions in mind, and I cannot help but ask such questions.”

Oscar chuckled, “Most would call that being noisy.” He says, and Victoria looks away, “I wouldn't necessarily call it being noisy.” She says with narrowed eyes.

“What's with the book and pen case in your hands?” He decided to ask his question, and Victoria looked at him and said, “Now look who is being noisy.” Oscar just smiles, “I'm just being a curious man.”

“Mrs. Johnson, let me have this as a gift,” she answers his question. “Well, I'll see you next time. I'm going to start planting the primroses,” he said as he went back to the garden after the two said their goodbyes.

“Just as quick as he comes, he disappears. He truly is like a ghost,” she tells herself as she goes to sit down on the sofa, patiently waiting for Mrs. Johnson once again to welcome the silence with a kind smile.