CHAPTER TWO — AGEING SPINSTER
"If I catch you with that wretched gossip sheet one more time, I will–" Edith D'Alessio's scolding fell short. She exhaled heavily, choosing not to finish her sentence. "Never mind. Hand it to me, Emilia."
"You shall have to pry it from my cold, dead hands, mother" Emilia responded, refusing to tear her eyes away from the parchment. "It is the best entertainment I've had since I arrived. No offence, of course."
"You should not be indulging in such poison." Edith scowled. "It's not good for you to read such horrible words about yourself."
"Honestly, I found it rather amus–" Emilia was interrupted by Edith viciously snatching the sheet from her hand. "Mother!" She gasped. "I was in the middle of reading! Did you know that Daphne has been named the incomparable of the season?"
"There will be no more Lady Whistledown," Edith told her, a stern finger pointed in her eldest daughter's direction. "Tonight is Lady Danbury's ball. The first of the season. Your sister will be making her debut. Nothing, and I mean nothing, shall spoil her day."
"It is not me you should worry about," Emilia said. "Father and Leo are desperate to have my dear sister married. It is them you should be wary of."
"I am sure they will find a suitable match," Edith replied, discarding the gossip column on the dressing table.
"Do you really believe that?"
Edith's thin brows drew together as she turned back to Emilia. "Are you questioning me?"
"Yes, I thought that much were obvious."
Edith's eyes narrowed. "Do not take that tone with me."
"Apologies. I am just a little hesitant to believe that father and Leo have Gabi's best interests at heart," Emilia said. "And I would simply hate for her to marry a monster."
"Well, we may not have much choice in the matter," Edith muttered. "You'll do very well to stay out of such affairs, Emilia. It will make the season much...smoother, shall we say?"
"Mother, could you honestly live with yourself if you let her marry a...I don't know, Nigel Berbrooke for instance," Emilia hypothesised, the man's very name causing a shiver to run along her spine. Goodness, what an awful thought. The lovely Gabrielle married to that awful excuse of a man? Emilia would rather die than let that happen. "Heaven forbid."
"Nigel Berbrooke is..." Edith paused to choose her words carefully. "A respectable gentleman."
Emilia looked at her questioningly. "I fear we are not speaking of the same Nigel Berbrooke here."
Edith released an exasperated breath. "Emilia, you simply cannot spend the whole evening doing this. You will chase away suitors in an instant."
"Good," she said. "That is the plan."
"Emilia–"
"If they truly cared about Gabrielle, and were worthy men, then they would stay, wouldn't they?" She pointed out. "Well, either that or we'll later find out they are desperate for our family's money."
Edith brought her fingers towards her temples. "Must you always be so cynical?"
"You will be thanking me for my cynicism when I ensure Gabrielle is married to a respectable gentleman." Emilia remained undeterred by her mother's criticisms. "If you recall, I have friends in very high places. I'm sure we will be able to distinguish the good from the bad."
"Do not involve your friends in such meddling," Edith warned. "In fact, you should do your best not to consort as much with the Bridgerton sons during these balls. It will stop men from approaching you."
"Mother, honestly, I won't get approached either way," Emilia pointed out. "I am much past the ideal age now. What was it Lady Whistledown called me? An ageing spinster?"
Edith shook her head in dissatisfaction, tapping her fingernail against the gossip parchment. "And this is exactly why Lady Whistledown shall be banned from this household. You cannot walk around with such a belief."
Emilia scoffed. "Oh, it does not bother me one bit."
"Well, it should," Edith snapped. "I fear you are nowhere near concerned enough about finding a husband as you should be."
"Well, your assumptions would be absolutely correct."
Edith placed her hands on her hips. "You are choosing to make my life impossible, aren't you?"
"Yes, mother," Emilia affirmed. "Because I do not wish to be tethered to some insufferable Lord for the rest of my life, who comes and goes as he pleases and only sees me worthy for child bearing purposes–"
"You truly believe that is a life I want for you either?"
"Of course not," Emilia responded. "But I do not think you can override the wishes of father much longer. If we had stayed in Mayfair these past few years, I would be wearing a ring on my finger, and probably not by choice."
"Your father's intentions, however misguided, are good," Edith reminded. "He does not want you to spend the rest of your life waiting for a love that you may never find."
"I am not waiting for a miracle, mother," Emilia snipped. "Just a love I deserve."
A knock at the bedroom door sounded, cutting their conversation short. Emilia was rather grateful for that; she did not want to get into, yet another, debate about marriage with her mother.
"Come in," Edith called.
Louisa pushed opened the door and stepped inside. Emilia's lips had begun to curve at the sight of her most favoured maid, but it faltered when she noticed the pale blue ballgown resting neatly over her arm.
"Miss D'Alessio," Louisa addressed Emilia, bowing her head. "I have your gown for this evening."
Emilia rose to her feet, taking the dress from Louisa's hands. She ran a finger along the silk material, unconvinced by her first impressions.
"Did Genevieve make this?" Emilia asked, looking up at her mother.
"Yes. Though I chose the style and colour."
"Clearly," Emilia allowed her distaste to be voiced. "I do not believe this is the dress for me tonight."
"Emilia–" Edith tried to protest.
"Mother, I am not wearing that," she insisted.
"Why ever not?"
Emilia handed the dress back to Louisa. "It is really not my colour. And there are far too many frills for my liking."
Edith released another heavy breath. "I do not see Gabrielle making such a fuss about petty things."
"Gabrielle is entirely new to this," Emilia pointed out. "I, on the other hand, am an ageing spinster making her return to society." Edith shook her head at the self deprecating comment. "I'll have to make an incredible first impression if you and father are to finally fulfil your wish of having me married."
"You are not an ageing spinster–"
"Ineligible crone, then."
"Stop quoting Lady Whistledown!"
"Mama!" Gabrielle called out from the hall, interrupting their back and forth. She knocked lightly on the door before peering inside. "Mama, I wondered if Emilia could help with my hair?"
Emilia's eyes lit up at the thought of a way out, and she immediately started forwards. "Of course–"
Edith held out her arm, halting her. "Emilia has not got much time left to get ready."
Gabrielle's expression faltered. "But mama, she does my hair the way I love it."
"Yes, mother, do not be so necessarily cruel as to deprive her of this," Emilia said, keeping her tone light and teasing – she did not want to get another earful from her.
Edith glanced wearily between her two daughters, eventually sighing in defeat. "Fine, if you must. But I want you both ready on time." Her stern stare was directed at Emilia in particular. "And if you are not going to wear the blue gown, then please make sure you choose a dress that I would approve."
"Yes, mother."
Emilia and Gabrielle exchanged matching smiles as they watched their reluctant mother and Louisa vacate the room.
Gabrielle sat herself down on the chair in front of the dresser, releasing a long sigh. "I have to say, sister, I am not enjoying all the fuss about tonight," she admitted.
"You'll get used to it," Emilia assured, reaching for a brush. "By the end of summer, you will be a natural."
"What if I do not find a match this season?"
Emilia glanced at her in the mirror, meeting Gabi's worried eyes. "Then it is not the end of the world."
"But–"
"It is far more important to me that you find a love match," Emilia emphasised, beginning to comb through the ends of her sister's hair. "Sometimes, that takes time. But it will be worth it in the end."
"Is that why you have never married?" Gabrielle questioned.
Emilia chuckled. "No. I find that the men here are not good enough for me."
"What about the ones you are friends with?" Gabrielle queried. "What is the difference between male friends and marriage?"
"Well, I suppose in real love matches, friendship and love are sort of...interwoven, in a way," Emilia said. "It's always a good place to start."
"So why don't you marry a friend?" It was worded innocently, but Emilia noticed Gabrielle's failed attempt at hiding a sly smile.
"If I were to marry a friend," Emilia began, looking at her sternly through the mirror. Gabrielle cracked a smile. "It would be Maude."
"Oh, will she be at Lady Danbury's ball tonight?" Gabrielle inquired.
"I believe so."
Maude Harmon, Emilia's best friend and closest confidant since they were young, had spent the past few years 'mourning' her late husband Thomas – though Emilia was well aware that she was not actually distraught about his death, rather, she was taking her opportunity to live a single and independent widowed life without the constraints of society.
However, if there was one thing that Maude could absolutely not resist, it was a ball, and Emilia knew it would only be a matter of time before she started attending them again. If her most recent letters were anything to go by, Emilia was sure her friend would be making an appearance this social season. A reunion would be wonderful.
"Oh, that will be ever so nice," Gabrielle remarked. "You'll be able to stand in the corner and gossip all night with her again!"
"Naturally."
"In fact, you both could probably put Lady Whistledown to shame," she commented.
Emilia looked into the mirror again, raising her eyebrows challengingly at her sister. "Maybe we are Lady Whistledown," she said mysteriously.
Gabrielle snorted. "Oh, Emmy, please. Don't make me laugh."
"You esteem me so little, sister," Emilia replied, placing a hand against her chest in mock offence, though the growing smile on her face betrayed her intentions.
"Well, you've only been back a day," Gabrielle pointed out. "I can't imagine you've found the time to be writing scandal sheets. Plus, you've already been labelled an ineligible crone."
"Thank you for that reminder."
"And the week before, when she wrote a piece on our whole family, and said you would return an– oh, what was it now?"
"Ageing spinster."
"That's it!"
"I suppose she wasn't entirely wrong," Emilia said quietly, pinning back the final strands her sister's tight curls.
"Emilia, do not say such a thing!" Gabrielle reprimanded. "These men are lucky to even breathe the same air as you."
Emilia's lips began to curl. "It appears I have taught you well."
"Too well, mama says."
"Mother wants what is best for you," Emilia assured. "We just happen to have slightly different ideas of what that entails...But listen, if you do not find somebody this season, then there is no need to panic. Do not feel pressured. The right person will come along eventually."
"Emilia, you do not understand," Gabrielle began, turning to face her. "Mama and Papa no longer place their expectations on you and Leo. It is my duty to secure a marriage now. I cannot let them down."
"You truly think I have no expectations on me?" Emilia questioned, a little taken aback. "Father and Leo have been breathing down my neck for years. It's not as easy as you think."
"But they accept your... attitude," Gabrielle said. "It's not the same with me. They act as if I am their last chance."
"Well, that is simply not true," Emilia responded. "Please do not feel that way. I promise that I would much rather marry some old fool that I do not care for than have you pressured into a loveless marriage."
"Maybe it would not be so bad..." Gabrielle pondered. "I would be provided for."
Emilia stopped what she was doing. "Do not even entertain the thought, sister."
"Why not?"
"Because," Emilia started. She spared a glance towards the door, recognising the need to lower her voice. "Do you really want to live the life that our parents have? Mother is a free spirit, she should be travelling the world and experiencing life, but instead she is shackled here because of marriage and children."
"But she was madly in love with papa–"
"Was in love," Emilia emphasised. "Look at how are they are now. They can barely stand to stay in the same room."
"Well, it is all I've ever known."
"Then we will seek to change that," Emilia promised. She placed a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder. "You have not been blessed with the best of role models, I am aware, but there are good men out there. I have the upmost faith you will find one."
"Oh, I do hope so." Gabrielle said dreamily. "A man who shows kindness. And perhaps somebody well read. Educated. A man of intelligence."
Emilia held back a chuckle. "Education does not always equate to intelligence, trust me. I mean, look at our brother. A prime example."
The corners of Gabrielle's mouth tugged upwards, but she quickly shook her head to dismiss the smile. "Oh, sister. You really are wicked."
Emilia flashed her a playful grin, stepping back from the dressing table. "Now, take a look at my masterpiece. What do you think?"
Emilia had pinned Gabrielle's hair in a delicate up-do, keeping it out of her face, with the intention of allowing Gabi's radiant beauty to shine. Her sister often liked to hide behind her mass of curls, which were admittedly gorgeous, but Emilia sometimes thought it was a shame since she had such stunning features.
"It looks lovely," Gabrielle complimented, admiring herself in the mirror. "I hardly even recognise myself."
"You look beautiful."
Gabrielle tore her eyes away from her reflection, looking over at Emilia. "I feel overcome with excitement for tonight."
"And you should," Emilia encouraged. "It is your very first ball, after all."
A/N
Just a little introduction to Emilia's family relationships and her views on the social season and love.
Next chapter is Lady Danbury's ball and it is going to be ✨ chaotic ✨ in all the best ways.