Upper Orders//Benedict Bridgerton

⚘twenty nine⚘

Dearest Gentle Reader, we have been apart for far too long. At last, London's fashionable set has made its return. And so too has this author. Lady Whistledown: As the season begins, the question on everyone's mind is, of course, which newly minted debutante will shine the brightest? The crop this year appears to be rather dazzling.

There is the exquisite Miss Malhotra, said to be quite a catch. Miss Stowell is thought to be a most accomplished young lady. The mild-mannered Miss Hartigan will certainly appeal to genteel suitors. Miss Kenworthy is a welcome entry, brimming with confidence and charisma. And then there is Miss Barragan, who certainly stands out in a crowd.

And let us not forget, should we all need a little excitement, there is another Bridgerton making her debut this year.

Today is the day Francesca is making her debut into society. Benedict and I have once again left our babies at home. William is no longer a bay though I suppose. He is two now. Our second son, John, was born just two months ago. It is rather hard to leave them behind but Benedict and I desire to be there for his sister.

We stand outside the door to Francesca's room. She has yet to come out.

"I cannot hear anything," Gregory states.

"Probably because she knows we are out here eavesdropping," Eloise offers. "I am sure that she is well enough."

"Oh, as you were last year?" Benedict remarks.

"This is not last year," Violet states. "Francesca is..."

"Very quiet," Gregory states.

"Perhaps she has been stunned into silence by the beauty of that giant feather," Hyacinth offers. "I cannot wait to wear one."

"Perhaps she has swallowed that giant feather," Gregory says.

Anthony walks down the hall with Kate. "We are not ready to go?"

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Kate questions.

"Would you mind asking whoever is playing downstairs to quieten down so I might hear?" Violet says.

"I can try, but is that not, in fact..." Kate starts.

"Who else would be playing pianoforte in this house?" Benedict questions as we walk towards the drawing room.

"Certainly not me," Eloise reasons.

Sure enough as we enter the room Francesca is sitting at the pianoforte playing away.

"Francesca? Why, there you are," Violet says. "Dear. Francesca. Francesca."

"There's no need to shout," Francesca states as she stops playing.

"I must say all those piano lessons in Bath have reaped their reward," Anthony states. "You've gotten rather good."

"How did you get down here?" Hyacinth questions. "I've been outside your door all morning."

"I woke up early," Francesca informs her. "Got dressed. Took breakfast in the garden. Because it is just another day. Shall we go?"

"Perhaps we do not need to worry so much," Anthony tells his mama.

"You do realize what tune she was playing just now, don't you?" Benedict tells his mama. "Mozart's "Funeral March.""

I shake my head as I wrap my arm in his. "Do not start."

Benedict smiles. "I would never dream of it."

Debutantes aside, there is also the question of which gentleman will reveal himself as the prize of the season. For our young ladies will certainly need someone dashing at whom to set their caps. Whoever it is that makes the finest match this year, let us hope that their pairing brings some titillation. For, of the status quo, this author quickly grows weary.