Her relationship with Gretchen had always been unconventional. Usually the eldest sister took on a certain responsibility, one to help bring her younger sisters into womanhood with grace and guidance, a gentle hand and encouraging words. She led by example and provided comfort when her younger sisters failed to meet the expectations created by her own example. Being the elder sister was supposed to come with a set of responsibilities, and Frida had met none of them by the day of her debut.

Perhaps it was because their situation had been so different from most girls'. First and foremost they were orphans, having lost their mother at a young age and then their father, and after that they had been bounced to the home of their uncle whose wife was almost too eager to fill the role of mother. It was easy to delegate most things to her—on one occasion she had even asked if they desired to have their marriages arranged for them, a task that she would never even think to grant herself if one day Gretchen died and left her a handful of daughters to manage. Nephele made things too easy, and it made it all the more easy for Frida to ignore her role as the eldest sister.

There was also the matter of their differences—personality, interests, social groups. Nobody looked at her and Gretchen and commented on how similar they were. The deeper she thought about it the easier it was to admit to herself that it wasn't Nephele or their dead parents or their living situation that made it easy to abandon her duties as the eldest sister, but the fact that Gretchen never seemed like she needed the guidance of an older sister—and if she had, Frida doubted she would have ever come to her. They were too different.

"I don't know about the dress," Frida commented, smoothing down the skirt of her white gown that Aunt Nephele had picked by hand. It was a bit too extravagant for her tastes, but Aunt Nephele had not gone too overboard thankfully. Still, she could not help but feel self-conscious seeing the gentle curve of her cleavage and her bare shoulders in her reflection. It was another one of her failures: she did not have the confidence to be a guiding hand. "It does go well with the pearls, though." They were mother's pearls, and she'd always knew she would walk down the staircase with them around her neck.

Gretchen had some of mother's jewelry, too, but none as nice as the pearls. But, once again, they were different and Gretchen likely did not concern herself with matters such as their deceased mother's belonging. She wouldn't know, though; she'd never asked. There were apparently plenty of things she did not know about Gretchen—namely the letters addressed to her from a Mr. Prewett.

"I hope I attract at least one good potential suitor tonight. It would do well for you and Meta for me to marry this year." Before Gretchen debuted the next year. Before her younger sister became competition. Perhaps it would be better that way, for Frida just as well. "With Aunt Nephele here I doubt she will let me go unnoticed."

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