When the girl jumped, so did Opal, a tiny squeak of sound coming from her throat. But thankfully, it was only a sound, not a word, so nothing came out of her mouth that she'd have to try to explain. Or not explain, because that would make more gems and flowers, and she wasn't supposed to do that in public.
It had been part of the new deal with her father-in-law. Henry had done what he said he'd do, he'd spoken with his father, and his mother, and his mother had helped Henry convince his father, and now Opal only had two girls following her around all day instead of a whole bunch. And the flowers weren't thrown out unless they were damaged, but got used instead. And all in all, things were a lot better. So Opal was doing her very best to stick to the promise not to talk to anybody outside of the royal family. She'd sort of messed that up with King Charles, but she wouldn't take that back for anything. He was wonderful and kind and encouraging. She'd sent him letters, and he always wrote back. No, she wasn't sorry about talking to him at all.
But she couldn't break her promise again. That would be very, very wrong when the king was being nice about giving her more space. So she couldn't talk to the young woman, even though she really wanted to ask what was wrong. Something was. It didn't matter if she said she was alright. People that were alright didn't fall down face first in fields. Or if they were alright to begin with, they weren't after falling down.
Opal smiled and gave a little wave to say hello. Then she thought maybe the girl might like something to drink after her tumble. So she gestured with her hand in a beckoning movement, and backed up a bit before looking over to where her things sat in the meadow. It was an invitation for the girl to come with her. Opal hoped she understood.