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𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚
𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲.
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It was a quiet Monday morning for the governess of the Bridgerton household. The serenity was usually because Gregory and Hyacinth were all tired out from their adventures over the weekend. Eloise opted to take classes with Augusta but separate from her younger siblings while Francesca was away visiting a cousin.
Augusta was alone in the schoolroom, her feather pen in hand as she placed her thoughts in one of her brown notebooks. Gregory and Hyacinth had finished their lessons for the day and all she had was Eloise for the afternoon. Eloise's lessons were mostly comprised of her to ranting about her lack of opportunities while the governess would absentmindedly nod her head in agreement. They were having a class; Augusta would reply with a more suitable comment in one of their leisure moments.
The door to the schoolroom flung open and a panting Eloise appeared.
Augusta spared her glance before her focus shifted back to her writing. "Allow me a minute, Eloise." She stated. "You have arrived ahead of our agreed time. Are you that eager to ─ "
She wasn't aware of how quickly Eloise moved from the doorway to where she was standing by the window. In one moment, Augusta was writing an excerpt of her story and then she was being urgently tugged on her wrist. They hastily moved around the extravagant Bridgerton household.
Of course, Augusta ─ no matter how much she adored Eloise ─ was full of protests such as: This is such uncharacteristic lunacy from you, Eloise! You are hurting my arm! Kindly release your grip, Eloise!
"Gift!" Eloise exclaimed, her hands raised in an exaggerated manner when they stopped at the drawing room. "Painting! You! Caller!" The governess was extremely amused by her lack of words.
"Eloise is usually much more eloquent than this." The kind voice of Violet Bridgerton commented towards the gentleman standing beside her.
Augusta was bewildered at the sight she was seeing. Before her was a canvas perched firmly on a gold easel with intricate carvings, however, that is not what truly shocked her. It was the painting on the canvas that compelled her to take one step back, her eyes to go wide in surprise, and a soft gasp to escape her lips.
The painting was of her a few nights ago. A portrait of the governess sitting in that little corner in the room full of artists at Henry Granville's party three days ago. Augusta's head was turned to the side with tendrils of her blonde hair loose, her arms were folded firmly across her torso, and her jaw looked quite stiff. The background was plainly gray. As her eyes scanned the painting, she was exceedingly unimpressed.
"A gift for the lighthearted Miss Woodbury." Augusta's gaze settled on the owner of the velvet voice. It was the irksome gentleman who had announced to her that he was looking for a wife. "Henry Granville ─ a dear colleague of mine ─ painted this."
"It is very beautiful!" Hyacinth exclaimed, walking closer to the art piece.
Augusta felt another presence by her side. She was now flanked by Eloise and Benedict.
Benedict leaned nearer to her in order to whisper discreetly. "Mister Granville has made you look spiteful, Aggie."
In response, Augusta tipped her head to him, her eyes never leaving the portrait. "I believe I am innately spiteful to most, Mister. Bridgerton."
"To me, you are no such thing."
"Is that so?" She challenged with an eyebrow raised.
"Undoubtedly, Aggie."
The gentleman strode across the room to her, bringing the two out of their silly banter. He moved with a purpose ─ elegance and confidence undeniably in his character as he walked with his chest puffed out and his head held high (not to mention a cheeky closed mouthed smile was permanently etched on his lips). He bowed his head when he came to a halt in front of her.
Lord Mark Wetherby, the Earl of Henstridge, had seemingly taken an interest in Augusta.
"My apologies for not telling you my name sooner, Miss Woodbury." He informed her, his gaze never straying away from hers. "I was quite distracted with your beauty and grace."
Augusta inwardly sighed in apathy. At present, she did not need the words of an arrogant gentleman (that might as well be considered a hoax) or her attention to be wooed with an expensive painting that accompanied a bouquet of roses.
"I wish to acquaint ourselves better." Lord Wetherby continued with a hopeful disposition. "Perhaps at the opening of the new wing at the Somerset House?"
"Perhaps not, my lord." Augusta replied sharply ─ all but immediately. "As what I understand from our brief meeting," The smirk disappeared from lips. "You are looking for a wife. I am not her because I am not looking for a husband." The governess let her eyes roam over his figure for a split second, her mind wandering back to the sight of his neck covered in blue. "Besides, I am not fond of gentlemen to be covered with paint in the most peculiar places."
"Pardon me." Augusta linked her arm with Eloise's'. "I have a brilliant young lady to educate." She strutted away, her chin held high.
Meanwhile, Benedict was guffawing at the scene in front of him: the speechless Earl of Henstridge, his mama shaking her head, and Eloise's' echoing question of what did you mean by peculiar places, Miss Woodbury? to Aggie.
Of course, he was boisterously laughing on the inside for his mama would scold him for such behavior.
Lord Wetherby turned to him, hands firmly clasped behind his back. "Mister Bridgerton, what is your judgment on the painting?"
Benedict tipped his head to the side as he stared at the artwork displayed in their drawing room. Physically, it was his friend ─ he considered Aggie to be his friend, okay? ─ but the whole aura of the painting was a tad bit. . .dull. He chose his next words carefully for he was not normally asked of his opinion about other artist's work.
"It seems like the subject has no spirit in your friend's work." Benedict informed the Earl, his gaze never straying away from the portrait. "As what you just witnessed, Lord Wetherby, she is in no way a dull lady."
Where was the gentleness that Aggie often showed with Hyacinth and Gregory whenever they pestered her with questions? Where was the excitement in her features as she and Eloise would discuss their favorite books? More importantly, where was her bold and passionate character that appeared in his sight more times than he could count?
"You know her well, Mister Bridgerton." Lord Wetherby stated in a curious tone. "Care to give guidance on how to win the affections of Miss Woodbury?"
Benedict laughed lightly, shaking his head. "I only have one advice, my lord." He tipped his head to the flowers, the very first item he caught sight of upon entering the room. "Roses do not catch her attention."
The earl gave him a grateful smile. Lord Wetherby did not seem to be surrendering to the hurricane Benedict knew as Aggie Woodbury. Well, the flop of man was in for an adventure ─ one that the second Bridgerton son was thrilled (and possibly dreading) to witness.
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1812
In the chill air of the night, Augusta made her footsteps especially quiet as she rounded the corner to the stairs. She had just finished prepping more assignments for the Bridgerton children for the next following weeks. They were an energetic bunch but surely an amusing group to be teaching.
Truth be told, they reminded Augusta of her younger siblings ─ the way they looked up to her for more details they wanted to learn whether it was about a book or sewing an intricate pattern. The matriarch of the Bridgerton family was much like her own mama back in Bloomfield before she had. . .succumbed to her sadness by staying in bed for the whole day. Each waking hour, Augusta waited for letters from her family to arrive, a pang of sadness and longing in her heart when the footman would look at her with pity as he shook his head.
It was odd to think that she longed for an item; she rarely did. Augusta often longed for intangible objects such as knowledge about the world or a deeper understanding of why people did certain things. However, books would be an exemption.
She longed for a flower ─ a protea.
It was an afternoon in the summer when her father had announced his presents for his family had finally arrived.
Augusta and her younger siblings raced down the stairs, their loud squeals and heavy footsteps filling the exquisite halls of the manor. She was first to reach her papa in his study, her eyes shining with excitement. Her papa brought out a white flower, his hands gently showing it to his eldest daughter.
Augusta frowned. "Papa, I wanted a book."
Her papa chuckled softly. "I am aware, my wild jewel." He turned the flower for Augusta to see the many and intricate little spikes it had. "This is a protea. It symbolizes courage and diversity. I see it fit to be given to you, Aggie, for your path is quite the same. Your lust for life and desire to change the world for your sex are truly remarkable traits that I admire about you."
She heard a pair of hurried footsteps descending the staircase and peered up to see who was in such a hurry.
It was Benedict Bridgerton. He looked incompetent to be attending the ball ─ one that Violet had mentioned to her numerous times. A sketchbook was in his hand, his white cotton shirt had a few buttons that were undone, and his brown hair looked like it had weathered a storm.
Turning a corner, Mister Bridgerton's gaze settled on her and his face lit up. "Good evening, Miss Woodbury!" He bellowed, hurriedly walking towards her.
"Mister Bridgerton. You called me by my preferred name. . ." Augusta furrowed her brows at his choice of words and behavior. "What have you done?"
"Nothing!" He glanced up at the staircase in panic. "However, I do need your assistance tonight."
Groaning, she rolled her eyes. "I am not posing for one of your sketches, Mister Bridgerton."
"No! Just ─ " One of Mister Bridgerton's hand anxiously clutched her elbow, bringing her body closer to his.
Augusta had sucked in a breath, startled at the diminishing distance between them and the warmth his touch radiated. If he noticed this, he didn't say anything. She gazed up at him and saw that his eyes embodied trepidation and an odd tenseness that she had never seen with the carefree demeanor of the particular Bridgerton.
"Lie to my mother for me."
"Pardon?!" Augusta jerked back at the request. He was asking her to lie to the lady who was basically her employer. "You want me to ─ "
"Yes!" He exclaimed. "I will give you anything if you are willing to be my savior tonight."
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"I want a protea ─ a white king protea!" Her eyes shined with amusement. "Do we have an agreement, Mr. Bridgerton?"
With his promise, Augusta swiftly opened the door to the staircase leading to the servant's quarters. He wasted no time and sprinted inside, slamming the door shut.
"Miss Woodbury!" The kind voice of Violet Bridgerton flowed through the large house. "Have you by any chance caught sight of Benedict?" She queried, walking closer to the governess. "We are attending a ball tonight with his brothers and I cannot seem to find him."
Augusta schooled her expression. "I have not seen him, Lady Bridgerton. My apologies."
Violet waved her hand. "No need to apologize, dearest. I assume he is hiding somewhere here. Poor boy; frightened at the idea of ─ "
" ─ As a matter of fact, Lady Bridgerton,"
When the matriarch of the Bridgerton household extended her arm to the staircase, Augusta's hands shot out and swiftly turned Violet's form around. The governess was leading them towards the front door, the two walking side by side.
"I believe your son mentioned he would be going to the ball ahead of you and his brothers."
Violet hummed. "Is that so? Very well."
"I shall see that you out, Lady Bridgerton."
"There is no need, Miss Woodbury."
She smiled. "I insist."
Four days later, a bouquet of pink and white proteas were found on the doorstep of Augusta's bedroom.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
we're meeting
alice in the next
chapter and i'm
excited for all
of you to know
her 🥰
also, i uploaded
a graphic gallery
for this book!!