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MidReal Story
A Love Forbidden Between Two Perfect Ladies
Scenario:Back in the regency era, 24-year-old Aurelia Winchester, known as the 'perfect girl,' struggles to find a suitor in her second season, while Josephine Lockhart, affectionately known as Jodie, also 24, effortlessly attracts suitors but lacks interest in them. Jodie decides to help her find a suitor but once Aurelia's found a suitably 'perfect match' Jodie can't help but feel something she can't quite understand, hinting at something a bit more lingering under the surface of their friendship. Jodie and Aurelia struggle to work with their forbidden tension as Aurelia is forced to get courted to her new suitor and Jodie is pressured to find one as well, her parents not taking the idea too lightly that their daughter is purposely rejecting possible matches for herself.
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Aurelia Winchester
first_person_protagonist, female. She is a young woman participating in her second season of marriage prospecting. She is selfconscious, hopeful, and sensitive. Despite being considered the 'perfect girl' in appearance, she struggles to attract a suitor. Her friendship with Josephine Lockhart deepens as they both face marriage prospects. Aurelia is drawn to Josephine's confidence and inner beauty. She ultimately finds a suitor but is torn between her new relationship and lingering feelings for Josephine.
Josephine Lockhart
protagonist, female. She is Aurelia's childhood friend and confidante. She is charming, independent, and caring. Known as Jodie, she effortlessly attracts suitors but shows no interest in them for their sake. Instead, she seeks a partner who truly values her. She helps Aurelia find a suitor to appease her family but struggles with her own feelings for Aurelia. Their friendship becomes complicated as they both navigate societal pressures and personal desires.
I was beginning to think I was cursed.
No matter how many ball gowns I wore, how many parties I attended, or how many young men I smiled at, none of them seemed to stick around for long.
This was my second season, and though I'd been told that a girl's first season was always the most magical, I couldn't help but feel as though I was doing something wrong.
Was it me?
Was I not pretty enough, charming enough, witty enough?
I'd always been told that I was the perfect girl—looks-wise, at least.
So why couldn't I find a suitor?
"Aurelia," my mother called, her voice floating down the stairs.
I sighed and pushed away from the window.
I'd been staring out at the moon, wondering what the hell I was going to do.
My parents were beginning to lose their patience with me.
Though they loved me, they also wanted me to be settled and happy—and they knew as well as I did that a girl's best chance at marriage was between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.
After that, she was considered an old maid—and no one wanted to be an old maid.
"Come down and have some breakfast," my mother called again.
I made my way to the stairs and started down.
As I reached the bottom step, I saw Josephine Lockhart walking through the front door.
She was pulling her bonnet off as she came, and her dark curls were slightly mussed from the morning wind.
She was wearing her favorite blue morning dress—the one that made her eyes sparkle like sapphires.
"Josephine!" my mother exclaimed.
"You didn't tell me you were coming over!"
"I thought I'd surprise you," Jodie said, smiling.
She leaned in to kiss my mother on the cheek, then turned to me.
"Aurelia," she said, her smile widening.
"It's so good to see you."
"You too," I said, smiling back at her.
"Come into the dining room. We're just having breakfast."
Jodie followed us into the dining room, and my mother motioned for her to take a seat at the table.
I sat down beside her, and my mother sat across from us.
The maid brought out a fresh pot of tea and some scones, and we began to eat. "So," Jodie said, taking a bite of her scone.
"I have some good news."
"Oh?" my mother asked.
"What is it?"
"I managed to get us invitations to Lady Pembroke's garden party tomorrow afternoon," Jodie said, grinning mischievously.
"I heard there will be several eligible bachelors in attendance."
My mother's eyes lit up with excitement.
"That sounds wonderful," she said.
"Aurelia could certainly use a few more suitors."
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly.
"I'm sure I'll be fine," I said.
"But thank you for trying, Jodie."
"No problem," Jodie said, winking at me.
"And who knows? Maybe you'll meet someone special tomorrow afternoon."
I smiled back at her, feeling a surge of gratitude toward my friend.
Jodie had always been there for me, even when things seemed darkest. As we finished our breakfast, Jodie leaned over and whispered something in my ear.
"I heard that the Earl of Blackwood will be attending the garden party tomorrow afternoon," she whispered.
"He just returned from abroad last week."
I felt a shiver run down my spine at her words.
The Earl of Blackwood was one of the most eligible bachelors in all of England—and he was also one of the most handsome men I had ever laid eyes on. "Really?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Yes," Jodie whispered back.
"And I heard that he is looking for a wife."
I nodded, a determined resolve settling within me as I realized tomorrow might just change everything.
After breakfast, Jodie and I retreated to the library.
She sat down on the couch and began to tell me more about the Earl.
"He's very intelligent," she said.
"He spent several years studying in France."
She got up and walked over to my father's bookshelf.
"He's particularly interested in French literature and philosophy," she said, pulling out a few books.
"He's also very interested in recent scientific discoveries."
I pulled out my notebook and began to take notes as Jodie told me more about the Earl.
She showed me some of the books he had written and pointed out passages that were particularly meaningful to him.
As she pointed to the passages, her fingers brushed against mine, sending a shiver down my spine.
I tried to focus on what she was saying, but it was hard not to get distracted by her touch. "He's also very interested in music," Jodie said, pulling out a book of sheet music.
"He plays the piano and violin."
She sat down next to me on the couch and began to play a few notes on the piano.
"It's beautiful," I said, mesmerized by her talent.
"Yes," Jodie said, smiling.
"He's a very talented man."
She closed the book of sheet music and turned to me.
"Now, let's practice your French pronunciation," she said.
"I want you to be able to speak fluently with him tomorrow afternoon."
I nodded, feeling a surge of determination within me.
I was going to make a good impression on the Earl tomorrow afternoon, no matter what it took.
Jodie stood up and walked over to me.
"Let's start with some basic phrases," she said, standing behind me and placing her hands on my shoulders.
"Repeat after me," she said, her breath hot against my ear. I felt a shiver run down my spine as she spoke into my ear.
I tried to focus on what she was saying, but it was hard not to get distracted by her closeness.
"Repeat after me," she said again, her voice low and husky.
"Oui," I said, stumbling over the word.
Jodie chuckled softly behind me.
"It's okay," she said, her breath tickling my ear.
"Just relax and try again."
I took a deep breath and tried again.
"Oui," I said, feeling more confident this time.
Jodie smiled behind me.
"That's better," she said, her voice filled with approval.
"Now let's try another phrase."
I froze at the sensation of her lips against my ear.
My heart was pounding so loudly that I was sure she could hear it.
The French phrase I'd been practicing died on my tongue as warmth spread across my cheeks.
Her hands remained steady on my shoulders, but I could feel her fingers trembling slightly against the fabric of my dress.
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room seemed deafening in the sudden silence.
I gripped the book tightly, my knuckles turning white as I struggled to maintain my composure.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.
The library door creaked open and we sprang apart.
My mother stood in the doorway, a smile on her face.
"Tea is served," she announced, oblivious to the charged moment she had just interrupted.
Walking to the dining room, I kept my eyes fixed on the floor.
I was acutely aware of Jodie's presence behind me, but I didn't dare look back.
The short journey felt like an eternity as my mind replayed the events in the library.
My mother chattered on about tea cakes and the latest gossip as she arranged herself at the head of the table.
I took my usual seat to her right, and Jodie took the chair opposite me, rather than sitting beside me as she usually did.
The maid poured Earl Grey into Mother's best china cups, and I lifted mine to my lips without really tasting it.
"And how is your French practice coming along?" my mother asked, breaking the silence.
I grip my teacup tighter, watching the steam curl up into the air as I wait for her to continue.
Jodie's eyes bore into me from across the table, but her face is carefully composed.
Normally, she would be grinning at me, but now her expression is serious.
When I finally speak, my voice comes out scratchy and uncertain.
"I'm learning proper pronunciation," I mumble, quickly lifting my cup to my lips.
The hot tea scalds my tongue, but it gives me an excuse to stay silent.
My mother prattles on about the importance of proper French, while Jodie methodically spreads jam on her scone.
Her movements are precise and controlled, a stark contrast to the usual fluidity of her gestures.
I stare at my plate, pushing crumbs around with my fork while Mother chatters on about the Earl's expected attendance tomorrow.
The toast feels dry in my mouth as I force myself to take small, proper bites.
Across the table, Jodie's knife scrapes against her plate with unusual force as she cuts her scone into precise quarters.
When our eyes accidentally meet, she quickly looks away, a faint pink tinting her cheeks.
"Would you like more tea, dear?"
Mother asks, breaking the silence.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
Jodie clears her throat, her voice soft but steady.
"I think we should talk about what happened in the library," she says, her eyes flicking to my mother and then back to me.
My heart skips a beat as I nod, trying to ignore the curious glance my mother throws our way.
I stare at my plate, pushing eggs around with my fork while Mother chatters on about Lady Pembroke's garden party.
My appetite is gone, but I know better than to leave the table without eating something.
The maid pours more tea, and I take a sip, hoping the warmth will ease the knot in my stomach.
Jodie glances at me, her eyes serious.
"We should talk about what happened in the library," she says quietly, her voice barely audible over Mother's monologue about the Earl's accomplishments.
My fork clatters against the china plate as I look up.
Mother pauses mid-sentence, her eyes darting between Jodie and me with raised eyebrows.
I shoot Jodie a warning glare, but she just keeps gazing at me with a determined expression.
Under the table, my hands clench into fists, my nails digging into my palms.
"The French lessons," I say quickly, my voice higher than usual.
"We should discuss continuing them before tomorrow's party."
Mother's eyes narrow, her gaze flicking between Jodie and me with growing suspicion.
She sets her teacup down, the delicate china clinking against the saucer.
The sound seems deafening in the sudden silence.
Jodie shifts uncomfortably in her chair, her eyes darting to the side.
Under the table, I grip the tablecloth, my knuckles turning white.
Mother's brow furrows as she watches Jodie avoid my gaze.
Normally, Jodie would be grinning at me, but now her posture is stiff and unnatural.
"Is everything alright between you two?"
Mother asks, her voice measured.
I force a smile, my voice coming out too high.
"We're just nervous about meeting the Earl tomorrow."
Mother stares at us, her eyes searching our faces for any sign of deception.
I stare at my half-eaten breakfast, the eggs congealing on my plate.
The silence stretches painfully, until Jodie suddenly pushes her chair back with a scrape.
Everyone freezes as she stands, smoothing her skirts with trembling hands.
My heart pounds in my chest as she opens her mouth to speak, but instead she gives a sharp exhale and nods slowly, as if coming to some private decision.
The simple gesture feels like a weight has been dropped on my shoulders.
I grip my fork tighter, bracing myself for whatever she's about to say next.
"I think we should focus on helping Miss Elizabeth catch the Earl's attention," she says, her voice sounding hollow.
Her words hang in the air like a challenge.
Mother sets her teacup down, her eyes fixed intently on Jodie.
The maid hovers near the door, her face carefully blank.
I hold my breath, waiting for Jodie to continue.
"We can position her near the roses," she says finally, her voice steady now.
"The Earl will surely walk that way. If she's reading a French novel, it will give them something to talk about."
She pauses, glancing at me briefly before looking away again.
"And she should wear that blue silk dress. The one that matches her eyes."
Her words sound rehearsed, like she's reciting a script.
The knot in my stomach tightens as I realize what she's doing.
She's creating distance between us, deliberately pushing me away.
I nod along mechanically, my chest feeling heavy.
Mother's gaze softens slightly, her suspicion momentarily replaced by intrigue.
"That does sound like a splendid plan," she says, her voice laced with approval.
Jodie gives a tight smile, but her eyes flicker with something I can't quite place—regret, perhaps.
She glances at my half-eaten breakfast, then back at Mother.
"I also think we should bring some of those new French dresses for her to change into," she says, her voice taking on a note of forced cheeriness.
"The ones with the ribbons and lace."
Her words sound hollow, but Mother doesn't seem to notice.
"That's an excellent idea," Mother says, her eyes lighting up.
"And what about accessories? Do you think a hat would be fitting?"
Jodie hesitates, her eyes darting around the room before coming to rest on the napkin in her lap.
She begins to fold it meticulously, her fingers moving with precision.
"A simple fan would be more elegant," she says finally, her voice low.
"Something that complements the blue silk."
I watch her hands as she arranges the napkin on the table, smoothing out any wrinkles.
Her movements are deliberate, calculated.
The knot in my stomach tightens as I realize what she's doing.
She's putting on a show for Mother, creating a facade of normalcy. The air in the dining room feels suffocating as I watch them discuss dress selections and accessories.
My throat feels tight, like I'm struggling to breathe.
I glance at Jodie, who's still smoothing out the napkin with precise movements.
Her eyes flicker briefly to mine before darting away again.
She clears her throat softly, drawing Mother's attention once more.
"If Miss Elizabeth is going to read a French novel, perhaps I can teach her some basic phrases," she says, her voice steady now.
"Just in case the Earl tries to speak with her in French."
My chest tightens as I listen to her suggest teaching Elizabeth the same phrases she whispered in my ear yesterday morning.
The same phrases that still echo in my mind whenever I close my eyes. "That's an excellent idea," Mother says, her voice filled with approval.
"You can teach her during our carriage ride tomorrow."
Jodie gives a small nod, her gaze fixed on the napkin once more.
"Yes, of course," she says softly.
I pick up my toast and take a mechanical bite, unable to bear listening to them discuss their plans any longer.
The dry bread sticks in my throat as I swallow.
Mother glances at me, a hint of concern crossing her face before she turns back to Jodie once more.
"Do you agree with our plan?" she asks me gently.
I give a curt nod, my voice barely above a whisper.
