It shouldn’t have been this difficult to get settled down for the night. Olympia lifted herself from her window seat and perused her small bookshelf for what felt like the thousandth time that night. She had found out quite quickly that, through some quirk of her rebirth, she no longer needed to sleep. At first, she had tried to content herself with her old books. But whenever she opened the familiar covers, instead of meeting old welcoming friends, she found herself annoyed by the sanctimonious morality tales that packed her shelves. The clock struck one, a resonant chime that echoed through the empty halls. Briefly distracted by the noise, Olympia felt the cover thump close on yet another tome that she could only bring herself to flick through. That seemed as much of a sign as she needed for one night. Pulling a robe over her nightdress for modesty, she cracked her door open. A cautious peer down the corridor showed two light sources. To her left, the dim library lamp most likely left on from where her father had fallen asleep over his books. She could venture down there to try and find less irritating reading material, but her last foray into that room had ended… strangely. 

Her father had started from his seat by the fire and asked, “Is it morning already?” 

“No, Papa. It’s still late. I… couldn’t sleep,” she had answered. “I was hoping to find something that I could read until I was tired.” 

“What about the books in your room?” 

“Oh, them. I was just hoping to find something new,” she said, unable to admit that her previous incarnation’s reading taste now proved infuriating. “I could probably quote some of them by memory, I’ve re-read them so much.” 

Her father had straightened slightly, and had fixed her with a searching look. It had taken all her resolve to stay where she was standing, gaze still meeting his. 

“I suppose that collection would tire you at some point,” he had said, “and I suppose I should congratulate your efforts to continue your moral education. At least, I presume that is your purpose here?” 

“Of course,” Olympia had replied. 

Her relief that he had accepted her lie at face value was balanced by the annoyance that her options were now so constrained. This was something that she could work on as she settled back into her old life. Once she had picked out some more morality tales, with reluctance that she hoped would look like thoughtfulness from a distance, she wandered back to wish her father goodnight. Looking down, she caught a glimpse of her father’s open book, and something about the Latin phrases resonated somewhere in her mind. They must have something to do with her resurrection, she had reasoned, since the feeling of familiarity was enough to make her aware of every minute movement of machinery in her torso. 

“Could I take a look at that once you have finished with it?” she found herself asking, the words surprising her even as they left her mouth. 

She didn’t have to look up to know that Doctor Spallanzani was glaring at her, an expression that used to send her running to hide in the nanny’s voluminous skirts as a child. 

“A young lady’s education is paramount,” he said, reaching over to close the book, “but this covers a topic unsuitable for such delicate inclinations. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, Papa. I was just hoping to find some common ground for us to discuss. I don’t want my recovered health to be spent providing poor company.” 

He sighed, rubbing at his eyes as he said, “I’m sure you didn’t mean it. Now, head up and I will see you in the morning. Feel free to swap out more books as you need to, within suitable limits of course.” 

That had been nearly a week before, but Olympia hadn’t been able to bring herself to venture back. While her father had given her a sort of permission to come back, there had been an obvious reluctance in his voice that she was loathe to ignore. She turned her head and considered the light to her right. She wasn’t completely sure, but she had an idea that Klara’s workrooms took up most of the space in that end of the wing. What she could be up to at this hour Olympia wasn’t sure, but it would be more interesting than the drivel occupying her shelves. She padded out of her room and made her way up to the unexplored light source. Peering around the unlatched door, Olympia considered the scene before her. As she had surmised, this was one of the rooms that Klara had set up as a workshop. Leaning over the desk immediately behind the door, Klara appeared to be adding glass eyes to a disembodied porcelain head. The desk itself was uncluttered, but behind it loomed shelves groaning under the mass of doll parts, cogs and painting equipment. 

“Please, if you’re going to watch me, could you come in instead of lurking by the door?” Klara said, turning her head just enough to spy Olympia around the jeweller’s glasses balanced on the bridge of her nose. 

“How did you know I was here?” Olympia asked. 

“You stepped on the creaky floorboard outside the door.” 

“I’m sure that Papa could get that fixed if you asked.” 

Klara’s mouth twisted into an expression of distaste. 

“I’m sure that Nathaniel has better things to be worrying about than my comfort,” she said, laying aside her tools with more sharpness than she would normally treat her work with. “In any case, it can be useful to know if someone intends to come in and interrupt my work.” 

“I wouldn’t wish to stop you. I can always leave if you want me to,” Olympia said. 

Klara turned and smiled at her. 

“I didn’t mean my words like that, and you know that. I am always happy to have your company. I presume that you still feel no need to sleep?” 

“I would hardly be wandering the house at this hour if I could sleep.” 

“So what would you like to do instead of sleeping then?” Klara asked. “I should have turned in some time ago, but I’m sure I can provide you with some company for at least another hour or so.” 

Olympia considered for a moment. She could put forward one of the subjects that she had grown up knowing to be proper and polite. Klara had responded with grace and eloquence during their last conversation over afternoon tea that neither had touched. There was something about her responses that made Olympia reluctant to fall back on them again. It had almost felt like the older woman was disappointed at the turn of conversation. 

“What is it like at a ball? I never got to debut before I fell ill and we will be attending one soon,” she asked. 

Klara frowned and replied, “Well, you’re hardly going to get a decent answer from me. I’m afraid that I always found them frightfully boring. I only attended because I had to. The only thing that saved them was your mother’s company and the dancing.” 

“You like to dance?” Olympia asked, looking over the older woman’s clothing. 

Klara had changed into a nightdress as was appropriate at this hour, but had slipped her work-boots back on in lieu of slippers. Also, her dressing gown appeared to be more patch and darning than original cloth. Hardly the sort that she had always imagined enjoying dancing. 

“Expecting something a bit more risqué-looking?” Klara asked, grinning. “I have heard that some of the dances nowadays excite more than a few outraged objections. Your father among them I would imagine.” 

Olympia frowned and said, “You shouldn’t talk about my father like that.” 

Klara didn’t look especially repentant as she replied, “My apologies. I shouldn’t air my grievances with your father in front of you. Regardless, I think you’ll find him confirming my prior statement.” 

“Can I get away with not dancing?” 

“Not easily. Besides, you may find yourself enjoying it.” 

Klara considered for a moment, then sprang to her feet, a smile pulling at her lips. 

“May I teach you?” she said, offering a hand. 

Olympia accepted the hand and stood, almost before she knew that she’d made a decision. Doing what she had always done wasn’t working anymore, so why not be completely out of character and do something that could get her in trouble. Klara lead her through an inner door, to what must have been a sitting room some years before. The only sign of it left were some darker patches on the faded carpet and the slightest hint of dried flowers in the still air. The only piece of furniture left was an old-fashioned side-table, now displaying a gramophone. Stood in the middle of the floor, Olympia watched her self-appointed teacher set up a wax cylinder to play. 

“Now, to start with, proper posture,” Klara said. “Place your left hand on my waist.” 

Olympia’s right hand was caught in a gentle but firm grip and lifted to shoulder height, as the music started on the gramophone. The sound of strings filled the air, the new sound somehow fragile in this long-unloved space. 

“Are you ready?” Klara asked. 

Olympia was sure that she had been ready before, but now she wasn’t so sure. Despite Klara’s height adding a little distance, it was the closest that the two of them had ever been. Olympia only had to turn her head a little to the right and they would be cheek-to-cheek. She took a breath, the function redundant but reassuring, and nodded. 

“Just follow my lead,” Klara said, smiling down at her. 

It was awkward at first. Olympia moved more out of the desire to not be stepped on than in any true understanding of the steps that she made, despite Klara’s ongoing instructions. After a while though, the pattern of steps started feeling familiar almost. She stopped stumbling and placed her feet with increasing surety. By the time the gramophone hissed to a stop, they could complete a circuit of the room without major misstep. Klara brought them to a stop, a slight flush across her cheeks. 

“Not bad for your first time,” she said. “You should be fine for socialising standards. So long as you don’t step on your partner’s toes or get too familiar with them anyway.” 

“But I want to be better than this!” Olympia blurted. “Will you teach me some more?” 

Klara seemed surprised, but not displeased by the outburst. 

“Of course, I should be delighted. Not tonight though. I am afraid that I have the inconvenient need for sleep,” she said, disengaging from their hold. “But by all means, my door is always open, if you wish.”