metanoia // bridgerton.

•part forty-three•

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Clyvedon, 1813.

All is fair in love and war, but some battles leave no victor, only a trail of broken hearts that makes us wonder if the price we pay is ever worth the fight.

The ones we love have the power to inflict the greatest scars. For what thing is more fragile than the human heart?

The bond between a man and bride is private, sacred. But I must tell you, I have learned that a grave fraud is afoot. As if the Featheringtons did not have enough to be dealing with, Miss Marina Thompson is with child and she has been from the very first day she arrived in our fair city.

Desperate times may call for desperate measures, but I would wager many will think her actions beyond the pale. Perhaps she thought it her only option, or perhaps she knows no shame.

But I ask you, can the ends ever justify such wretched means?

••••••

THE Duke and Duchess of Hastings came home late that evening, both drunk and seemingly having pushed away their problems for at least a while. The pub they drank at wasn't similar to Jim and Dora's pub, but it did the job of making them wind down well and an hour after coming Simon and Clara lost themselves, dancing, drinking and forgetting the first ever reason they even entered that pub.

People were surprised to see the duke and duchess come to such a place, but soon welcomed them as if they were all equal, seeing how simple and friendly the duchess was and how much the duke tried to follow in her footsteps. However, strange behavior was noticed as well, especially from Clara's part as the girl drank less than Simon, glancing at her husband from time to time as if the wine he was drinking had been poisoned.

However, nobody truly knew what hell rang inside of their heads and they simply enjoyed a night with their higher up's, hopeful to see them again someday soon.

Clara and Simon came home drunk, Simon slightly more than Clara, however, she was not adequate as well, having to hold onto her husband for support as they both climbed up the stairs to the entrance of their home, the full moon the only source of light guiding them inside.

Clara giggled when Simon toppled slightly, almost bringing her down with him, but they managed to stay upright, Clara opening the door to enter. It was incredibly quiet inside, everyone having gone to bed as only she and Simon made sound, trying not to be too loud even if the servant quarters were far away from where they stood. Perhaps, they did not want to waken their own fatigued bodies like this, aware of Clara's question and Simon's answer, something which lingered right behind the affects of alcohol.