Grosvenor Square, 1813.
Dearest reader,
the time has come to place our bets for the upcoming social season. Consider the household of the Baron Featherington. Three misses foisted upon the marriage market like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless mama.
"Tighter!" Lady Featherington demanded as the maid tightened the corset around Prudence's waist.
"Is she to breathe, mama?" Penelope asked, worriedly.
"I was able to squeeze my waist into the size of an orange and a half when I was Prudence's age." Lady Featherington announced proudly, "Your sister shall do the same."
Far better odds might exist in the household of the widowed Marchioness of Canterbury, taking up the role as head of household after her mother's untimely passing. Just in time to lead her rosy-cheeked sister into her season debut.
"Chin up." Marianne Wentworth gently ordered as her little sister stood in the centre of the room.
Lucille did as her sister told her, eager to be the picture of elegance.
Marianna smiled, "Good, now practice your curtesy." She watched as Lucille did as she was told, stooping low but not too low, her posture straight with her rosy lips straightened into a gracious line. Marianna smiled, "Perfect."
Lucille beamed, "Do you think I'm ready, sister?"
Marianna brushed a strand of lose hair from her little sister's face, "I never doubted just how ready you were for a second."
As they would also exist in the household
of the widowed Viscountess Bridgerton. A shockingly prolific family, noted for its bounty of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters.
"I am already roasting." Eloise complained as she walked down the staircase of her household with her sisters in tow. Tugging on the collar of her frilly dress.
Francesca laughed, "Are you to complain the entire day, Eloise?"
Eloise's eyes widened, "Surely I cannot be expected to bear these fashions the entire day?"
Hyacinth however seemed to think differently as she swished the skirts of her dress, "I feel like a princess. Do I look like one?" She asked.
"Do you truly wish to know what I think you look like?" Eloise asked with a sneer.
"On your left!" Gregory suddenly appeared from the stairs, tagging Hyacinth's shoulder as she began to race after him.
"Is our dear sister still not ready?" Benedict asked as he approached his two little sisters.
"She's only been readying herself the entire night." Francesca told him.
Eloise rolled her eyes, "You mean her entire life."
"I shall run upstairs and hasten her along." Colin announced as he made his way to the bottom of the staircase, only for his big brother to follow.
"Colin, wait, I'll do it." He offered. Colin brushed him off.
"She likes me better than you, Benedict." He informed him instantly making Benedict's face screw up in confusion.
"Did she say that?" He asked in disbelief.
Colin shrugged, "Everyone says that."
Benedict opened his mouth but before the brothers could continued their bickering Eloise let out an impatient groan and marched to the bottom of the staircase, "DAPHNE!" She screamed instantly making everyone freeze in their footsteps, "YOU MUST MAKE HASTE!" She breathed a sigh before turning to her brothers calmly, "Should you think she heard me?"
How very perfect indeed.
Today is a most important day, and for some a terrifying one, for today is the day London's marriage-minded misses are presented to Her Majesty the Queen. May God have mercy on their souls.
Marianne was helping her sister ruffle out the skirts of her pure white dress, the picture of innocence. She could practically sense her nervousness. But Marianna had been in her place once before, she knew how intimidating the queen could be, but as long as you smiled and nodded, her gaze would pass over you like you were simply transparent.
"Do not fret." She told Lucille calmly, "All you have to do is walk, smile and bow and then walk back. It's simple."
Lucille shook her head, "No. but what if I trip? Or my skirt is creased or my feathers fall out or —,"
Marianne gently rested her hands on her sisters shoulders, "None of that will happen. You are the upmost picture of elegance, and even if the queen cannot see that, plenty of young and eligible gentleman will."
Lucille smiled at her sister's words. Marianne was always the wise one, it was almost like a maternal instinct since they were kids. Only now it was more enforced as Marianne had her own children to care for. Thomas and Alice were very lucky children indeed.
"Alright." Lucille eventually breathed out, "I'm ready."
After a rather embarrassing display of one of the Featherington girl's falling flat on her face, it was Lucille's turn to be presented to her majesty.
"Miss Lucille Dawson presented by her sister the Right Honourable Dowager Marchioness Wentworth."
At the announcement, the doors opened to reveal the sisters. Lucille was the picture of elegance as she practically glided down the aisle. Marianne was at her side, sensing a few eyes on her as it had been a while since she'd returned to London. Although, now she was a widow, a girl of twenty five years and with two young children.
It is only the queen's eye that matters today. A glimmer of displeasure. . . and a young lady's value plummets to unthinkable depths.
Once they met her majesty the queen they both bowed gracefully.
Marianne stayed calm as she witnessed the queen suddenly stand from her seat and approach Lucille who still had her head bowed towards the floor. Her gloved hand tilted the young girl's head up as she smiled down on Lucille proudly, "Beautiful, Miss Dawson."
Thankfully, Lucille didn't speak, not until the majesty turned and made her way back to her seat, "Marianne —," She whispered her voice full of excitement only for her sister to hush her gently.
"Just keep smiling." Marianna cautioned, Lucille listening to her as they turned and made their way back out of the throne room.
Once the doors shut behind them as Lucille let the ear splitting grin take over her face, "Did that really just happen?"
Marianna smiled at her sister in pride, "I am incredibly proud of you, sister." She told her as she placed her hands on her shoulders, tempted to hug her but knew it would not be proper.
"She called me beautiful." Lucille recited as they made their way back to the carriage, "Can you believe it? The queen of England, Mari!" She giggled excitedly.
Marianne smiled at her sister's excitement, "Of course it is a pleasing surprise for today." She then reached forward and clasped her sister's hand in her own, "But now the real work must begin."
But as we know, the brighter a lady shines, the faster she may burn.
It has been said that,"Of all bitches dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine."
If that should be true, then this author would like to show you her teeth. My name is Lady Whistledown. You do not know me, and rest assured, you never shall. But be forewarned, dear reader, I certainly know you.
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