Chapter Five - Bridgerton House

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Lady Whistledown's

SOCIETY PAPERS

There is nothing quite like the sweet-scented smell of success. But after taking in the scene from last night's festivities, it is clear the season won't be quite so fragrant for everyone.

The Viscount Bridgerton's own mama may have loudly declared her eldest son's lofty intentions to marry, yet I cannot be the only one wondering if this former Capital R-Rake is, indeed, ready to flourish.

Perhaps the Viscount, like the rest of us, is simply waiting for the Queen to finally name her diamond. Or perhaps this author should take matters into her own hands.

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"What do you think, darling?" I ask, lowering Whistldown's paper and looking towards Frederick. "Is Anthony truly ready to marry?"

Frederick pauses, setting down his own newspaper and thinking over the question before slowly speaking up. "I think... that he is ready to do his duty as the eldest son. Whether he marries for love or for duty, I don't quite know."

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Perhaps the Viscount, like the rest of us, is simply waiting for the Queen to finally name her diamond. Or perhaps this author should take matters into her own hands.

Though, of the many purportedly well-trained and bred hothouse flowers on display this year, this author must wonder if a more surprising choice might still be in store.

Whichever darling miss receives such high esteem, let us hope there is a suitor available of only the sharpest wit, lest his dry musings leave a young lady wilting like a parched rose.

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Albion snorts and chuckles as he reads the day's Whistledown column, "it is rather clever the way she uses plant puns to belittle."

Penelope giggles and smiles cheerfully at him, snapping her book shut and standing up from the couch by the window. "Clever indeed!"

"Oh! Prudence, have you heard of Lord Bindley?" I ask, "I heard that he is in need of a wife?"

"Apparently, he is not interested enough," Prudence hisses, stabbing her needle through the fabric irritably, "he showed no interest in me at Lady Danbury's ball, Florence."

Prudence sighs and puts her needlework to the side, grabbing my hand and rushing out of the room.

"Pru? What- oh! Where are we going?"

She pulls me into one of the smallest bedrooms and quickly shuts the door with a resounding snap. As soon as she is sure that we're alone, she beings to pace back and forth, bringing her hands to her face and nervously biting her nails- something I know her mother would never let her do.

"I think that it may be too late, Florence... it is my fourth year entering the mart and I have not even caught the eye of a suitor! I mean, even Philippa has been able to ensnare Mr Finch into an engagement!" She cries.

I reach out and grab her arms, forcing her to stop pacing and look at me. "There is no need to worry. There are still plenty of opportunities for you to find your match, Prudence. Philippa and Albion... well, they simply were fortunate enough to find each other and even more fortunate enough to stay together after your father passed. You will find your match. I am certain of it. Now, dry your eyes and take a breath. I am sure that your mama would not like to see you in such a state."

She straightens her shoulders and sniffles, wiping her eyes before nodding. She takes a few deep breaths before reaching for the door and starting to turn it, pausing to glance back at me, the fear shining through her eyes. "Do you really think that I will find my match, Florence?"

I nod my head and take a small step closer to her, "I do. You just have to believe it yourself now."

"I just have to believe it for myself. I just have to believe it for myself," Prudence sighs before straightening up and pulling open the door, and starting out of the room. Repeating the little mantra to herself the entire way back to the drawing-room.

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A few hours later, I found myself seated next to Eloise in the Bridgeton drawing-room. A content Lady Bridgerton sitting across from us and looking through the fabric samples that Madame Delacroix had brought over.

"There. You see? Lady Goring was quite taken with Eloise's dress last night, Madame Delacroix. She would keep saying how well it complimented her complexion. She said you reminded her of Daphne, dearest."

Eloise sighs and turns another page of her book, not even bothering to look over at her mother. "I am not Daphne."

Lady Bridgerton sighs before glancing down at a strip of fabric, and handing it over to Madame Delacroix. "This is the one."

Ah, with pleasure, Lady Bridgerton," Madame Delacroix says.

"Oh, Madame Delacroix," I stand up and step over towards her, "I was wondering if you had some time sometime this week to fit me for a few gowns... I find myself in need of a new one for a ball I am to host later in the season."

"I would be honored, madame," Madame Delacroix says, "whenever you decided to come to the shop I shall fit you! No appointment necessary!"

I smile, "thank you, Madame Delacroix! It means the world that you are so willing to make me a dress."

Madame Delacroix nods her head and quickly packs up her fabrics before starting out of the room. I sigh in contentment before sitting back down and fiddling with my thumbs.

"Florence?"

"Yes, Anthony?" I turn and look over at him with a raised brow.

"Do you happen to know when I am able to see Frederick? I need to talk to him about some business," Anthony says, peering over his newspaper and furrowing his brow. "I keep forgetting to ask him whenever I see him at our club and the matter has somewhat of a time constraint."

"I am sure that you are welcome to visit Windsor House whenever you need," I say, "Frederick is almost always there working. I think that it would be good for him to talk to someone other than me... even if it is business that he talks about."

"Swept away by many a nimble-footed young lady, were you Brother?" Eloise asks, glancing over at us.

"I can still barely feel my toes," Anthony declares stiffly, looking away from me and towards his mother and sister. "I thought you ladies were taught to dance."

"And I thought you gentlemen capable of worthwhile conversation," Eloise retorts. "How sad both of our hopes were dashed."

Hyacinth moves over from the other side of the drawing-room and moves to sit beside me. Staying silent for a few moments before looking over at me in complete seriousness. "I think Eloise would make a brilliant diamond."

"I could not agree more, Hyacinth," Lady Bridgerton interjects loudly, leaning forwards in her seat and nodding her head along. "Perhaps Her Majesty will take note at her ball tomorrow night."

Eloise pulls her head away from her book to stare her sister down, a grimace appearing across her face. "I despise you."

"Don't you worry, Hyacinth, Eloise is all talk and no bite," I assure, wrapping an arm around the youngest Bridgerton and pulling her into a quick hug.

The room chuckles for a moment before falling silent once more. Eloise and Anthony turn their attention back to their reading materials while Lady Bridgerton picks up her needlework and begins to work on it once again. Hyacinth falls silent for a few minutes before quickly beginning to turn to me and start chattering about some new game she and Gregory have been playing.

"We even got the Marquis of Ashdown to play it with us!" She exclaims.

"Well, that sounds like quite a game indeed," I say, chuckling as I look over at her. "You must show me how to play it one day."

Hyacinth is quick to agree before changing the topic and talking to me about a rather interesting-looking lady she saw out on the street from her bedroom window. Apparently, Hyacinth couldn't tell who she was because she was facing away from the window the entire time and had a rather large hat on that covered her head, but she was dressed in the most horrendous of colors.

"Brother," Anthony greets, folding his newspaper and setting it aside as Benedict strolls into the room, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Is everything alright, Benedict?" I ask, peering over at him in concern.

He nods and quickly cools his face as he sits down across from Anthony.

"Are you and the modiste still, uh, making a stitch?" Anthony asks quietly.

"Apparently not," Benedict replies, "have you found a wife yet? Or are you planning to offend every girl until there are none left?"

"Oh, haven't you heard, Benedict?" I say, smirking as I lean in closer to them, "dear old Anthony has an index full of debutants to interview for the illustrious position of being his wife."

"Is mother aware?" Benedict asks, smirking.

"Aware of what?" Lady Bridgerton asks, taking whatever Hyacinth had handed to her and glancing over at us with a raised brow.

"I'm off to deal with our solicitor," Anthony says, standing up and throwing the newspaper to the side. "Have fun with your pretty pictures, Brother."

Lady Bridgerton watches with an open mouth as Anthony starts out of the room, quickly following after him and shutting the door after her.

"Whatever do you think they are going to talk about?" I muse, watching the door with a furrowed brow.

"I am afraid to find out," Hyacinth mutters quietly. She quickly clears her throat and raises her voice as she rocks back her in seat. "Do you want to hear about the last marbles game I played against Gregory? I won, did you know."

I chuckle and lean back in my seat, "I would love nothing more, Hyacinth."

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-T