Every time I close my eyes, I am reminded of the look on Benedict’s face when I told him I could not marry him. It is as if it is scratched into my eyelids, forcing me to relive that terrible moment as I am attempting to sleep and when I give up and open my eyes. Having the love of your life confirm they love you enough to marry you should be a joyous occasion, but I fear I ruined it for us both. There is a part of me that hopes he somehow knows it is not because of a lack of love that I rejected him, but what else is someone to think? The thought makes me sick. All I want to do is run through Mayfair to the Bridgerton house and explain the entire misfortune, but Mama wants my engagement ball to be our first official venture fully back in society and I fear that crossing her when she is so set would make my situation even worse. 

I do not know when I became so naive as to expect that I could be saved from the loveless business deals the ton regularly refers to as marriages but Benedict had begun to make me think differently. I both curse him and adore him for it. The days since I last saw him have turned me into a person I do not recognise and while I never have been one to fully wallow in potential misery, I do not think the cure will present itself in this lifetime. 

It is one of the rare occasions I am not hiding away in my room when one of our staff informs me that someone is here to see me. My instinct is to turn them away, tell them I am not seeing anyone for the next 100 years, but then Eloise is standing in the open archway between the house and the garden and I stop. The words fizzle out in my throat and all I can do is nod, sending the staff away with a flick of my hand. Her face is hardened and for a second I think she is going to read me the riot act for denying her brother but then I feel myself start to cry and her face dissolves. I cannot tell if it is pity or her own sadness but I cannot bring myself to care as she rushes to embrace me tenderly, running a hand down my back, over my hair. 

“Eloise, I’m so incredibly sorry,” I manage to get out through my sobs. She does not let go of me until I begin to pull back and wipe a stray tear from under my eye. 

“I have a feeling you’ve done quite a bit of that over the last few days,” she remarks and I am surprised by the lack of malice in her tone. Not that I thought Eloise’s first instinct would be malicious, but I feared her opinion of me would greatly change following recent events. 

“And yet I still do not feel as though I have said it enough,” I reply. Other than my siblings, I have not had an actual conversation with someone in what feels like eons so I am eternally grateful that the garden is a wide enough space for us to talk without fear of being encroached upon. 

“Em, I must ask, what happened?” 

“I cannot tell if an explanation will make the situation better or worse,” I do not wish to lie to another person, especially Eloise. The brunette has been my closest friend since I returned from university and lying to her feels like an even worse betrayal somehow. 

“Well, we can see where we stand after we try,” she encourages me to speak regardless, and I motion for us to sit on the blanket I had laid out before her arrival. 

“After I returned from university, I knew there would be money to pay back as my father had to do some incredible convincing to let me attend in the first place. What I did not realise was that my father did not have it as under control as he said he did. I found out we were in debt and could not pay it back.” I pause, almost about to cry again. Eloise puts a hand on my knee, urging me to continue. “Everyone found out through Lady Whistledown and Benedict promised he would help but he was too late. Unbeknownst to me, my parents were promising me to the son of one of the men to whom our debt is to be paid. He said that if I marry his son and produce an heir, then all will be forgiven. Then Benedict asked me to marry him the next morning and I could not in good conscience say yes, no matter how badly I wanted to”. 

“Is that all?” She attempts a joke and my laugh is watery, but I am appreciative of her relatively good mood nonetheless. “But why not tell Benedict any of this from the beginning? I’m sure he and Anthony could have figured something out”. 

“Initially I did not want it to seem like charity. I did not want Benedict to feel in any way obligated to help me or to be with me out of a twisted sense of duty. I wanted to be sure whatever we were starting to have was genuine. But then, I did not want to say anything because my family was already going through enough shame within our own walls. Even before Lady Whistledown published our disgrace, I was under strict instruction not to tell our sorrowful tale to anyone. Now, I do not want to tell him because I don’t know what good can come of it. I would rather him be sad momentarily and find someone else he can live a happy life with than for both of us to be sad for eternity, knowing what could have been”. 

“And do you not think it his right to decide how he feels?” 

“I’ve already broken his heart enough. I have no desire to crumble it into even smaller pieces”. Eloise has a point, but admitting any part of it had merit out loud would send me into another crying spiral. “I am sorry to burden you with all of this”. 

Eloise shakes her head, dismissing the thought. “You did no such thing. I would not have asked if I did not think I could handle it”. 

“I appreciate you more than you know”. Now it is my turn to place a hand on her knee. “I beg you, please, do not tell Benedict anything. He must not know what you now know”. I give her a look that I hope displays my sincerest begging. 

She takes a moment, looking as if she has decided she will not heed me before replying, “I will not tell him. But I believe someone should”. I know what she means, but I choose to focus on the relief I feel that she has taken my secret to heart and hug her before she turns to leave. 

~~~~

The morning of my engagement ball is cloudy, and somehow I cannot think of better weather to match the day ahead. Marie comes in, as usual, and shoves my curtains open before informing me that it is time to wake up. As if I haven’t been awake for hours already, dreading when not only will I meet my fiance, but when the rest of the ton will meet him too. I glance at my left hand as I rise from my fabric cocoon, taking note of my empty finger on what should be one of the happiest days of my life. Marie gives me a look of pity as she tells me she’ll be back momentarily to get me ready for the lunch that is supposed to take place between our two families. I almost want to tell her not to bother, that if Joseph is to marry me, he’ll have to get used to me in all states anyway, but Mother would have my head. 

Graham and Andrew have been interacting with me as little as possible lately, walking on eggshells as if to avoid saying the wrong thing and setting the whole house ablaze. Josephine and Madeline have been corralled into assisting Mama with the planning of tonight’s events but generally don’t know what to say when I enter a room. No one wants to offer pity or condolences and I do not know whether I prefer their silence to the other option or not. As much as I hate how much I have accepted my current state, I do not have the energy to let anyone else down again. 

Marie returns with tea and toast on a tray, along with what looks like a small slice of strawberry cake. I know it is her attempt at raising my spirits, as strawberry is one of my favourite flavours, but I cannot bring myself to eat anything. I nod in acceptance of what she has brought and we lay it on my bed once it has been made, ready for whenever I find myself capable of consuming something. 

The flowers from Benedict sit in a vase on my vanity. Some of them are crumpled from the tight grip I had on them upon receiving and running away with them, but Marie had insisted throwing them away would be an awful waste and I did not argue with her. If seeing his devastated look every time I close my eyes was not enough, the flowers are a little added stab in the stomach. Yet somehow, I cannot convince myself to get rid of them. Perhaps I am trying to hold on to whatever pieces of him I can gather before I truly lose him. Though part of me is certain that has already happened. 

Marie pins my hair up into an elegant bun with little conversation and I just stare in the mirror, willing the day to finish and for my bed to welcome me back. Alas, my prayers are not answered, and when Marie picks a dress out of my wardrobe, I raise my arms in a minute effort to be of some assistance. She smiles at me through the mirror once we reposition to pick jewellery, and I close my eyes and look away. 

“Em? Mama is waiting for you downstairs,” I hear Graham through the door, grateful to hear his voice even if it means hurrying toward the thing I would rather avoid.  

“We’re almost ready, sir,” Marie answers on my behalf and I smile softly at her in the mirror as a thank you. Graham’s footsteps patter away down the hall as I put my second earring in, finally declaring myself as ready as I could ever be for what we are about to partake in. 

Mama had told me we were to host the Mercier family for lunch as they traveled from France as a way for everyone to officially meet before the night festivities. I take a deep breath as I stand at the top of the stairs, finding enough determination to face this with as much poise and grace as I can muster. Each careful step signifying that what is done is done and that while I may not have chosen this consciously, I can will myself to eventually be content with it. It is all I can hope for Benedict as well. 

Joseph Mercier is not an unattractive man. He and his father glance up at me as I descend, holding the edge of my dress with one hand and the banister with the other, aware that I must look as put together as possible and that tripping would be my ruination. Antione Mercier looks between me and his son, catching the smile that is forming on Joseph’s face, growing the closer I get. Mama and Papa join me at the bottom of the stairs so all three of us are facing the two Frenchmen - Papa offering me his arm to clasp onto and Mama standing with the biggest satisfied smile I think I have ever seen her have. She looks as though she has just finished trekking through the desert for water after stumbling upon an oasis. I suppose for her, that is exactly what this is. 

“Monsieur Mercier, Monsieur Joseph Mercier, my daughter, Miss Emmeline Castillon”. Papa makes the official introduction and slowly pushes his arm toward me, urging me to let go. Joseph seizes the opportunity, takes my gloved hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss upon it, maintaining eye contact throughout. 

“It is wonderful to finally meet you. You are more enchanting than I imagined,” he says after letting go of my hand. His accent is pleasing and his movements are not forceful. There is no malice in his words, no shadowy intentions that I can detect and I realize that perhaps this is a happy day for him. Maybe, somehow, the world does not feel the same weight of sorrow as I do. This only solidifies my choice to keep my happiest face on. It is not his fault this is the situation we find ourselves in. 

“You are too kind,” I reply, glancing between Joseph and his father, offering the latter what I hope is a kind smile. He looks at me approvingly before Mama suggests that we move into the dining room. 

The lunch is light, purposefully planned so everyone feels their best before, during, and after. The alcohol is limited, though the wine is French, an obvious attempt at impressing our guests which seems to go over well. The conversation isn’t tense but it has a twinge of awkwardness to it, like everyone is trying not to address the reason we’re all here in the first place. It is the longest and most imperative game of charades I have ever played and it is taking all of my energy not to run from the table and hide in my room like a child.

The world keeps on spinning, therefore so must I. 

“Oh yes, Emmeline had caught the attention of many a suitor, even a few of the Bridgerton boys. They are quite a famous, highly respected family in Mayfair”. Mama announces this as if it is proof that I am somehow worthy to be considered for this match. Like she didn’t plan this facade to begin with. My breath hitches at the mention of the Bridgertons and I keep my eyes focused on my plate. I am practically drilling a hole into it visually as I blink back the tears that have started to prick behind my eyes. Though I hear some hums of approval and intrigue across the table, I do not dare look up to see if they actually care. 

Papa puts a hand on my knee under the table and I flinch my leg away, accidentally knocking part of the table’s support with my foot. The sound of glasses shaking subtly has caused all eyes to turn toward me, and I look up to greet them all, mustering a small smile to prove everything is fine. Joseph asks if I am all right and I nod, muttering an apology. 

“I thought I felt something on my leg. That’s all,” I excuse my behaviour, hoping everyone will believe me and we can just move on. Despite the fact that no one looks as though they take my words for truth, I sigh in relief when Mama and Monsieur Mercier begin their idle chatter again. Joseph continues to look at me, sincere worry in his eyes, and I give him another small nod to signal that I really am fine. He nods back before looking down at his food, deciding what to pick at next. 

Once the actual meal is over and the plates have been cleared away, Joseph asks Mama and Papa if they might grant the two of us a moment alone. A part of me had forgotten that even though we were verbally committed to wed, the words had not passed between us. I see him fiddling with something in his pocket and I urge myself wholeheartedly not to think of Benedict down on bended knee. That wretched hopeful expression on his face is almost enough to break me down, but as Mama and Papa walk away, bringing Monsieur Mercier with them, I steel myself again. 

He stands at one of the windows, glancing out over the gardens as he waits for me to join him. It feels like it takes years for me to finally be standing an appropriate distance away from him and I join in his garden viewing, hoping he will be the one to initiate the conversation to seal our fates. 

“What a strange day we have had, Miss Castillon,” Joseph begins, still not looking at me. 

“Strange, sir?” I question, not expecting the descriptor. 

Joseph looks at me, “two people, both in love with someone else, forcibly tied together by some cruel twist of fate”. 

I pause, blinking in confusion. Perhaps he is not as overjoyed about our circumstance as I once thought. 

“In love with someone else?” 

“I saw the way you reacted when your mother mentioned the Bridgertons-” 

“Oh I can assure you, that was merely-” I try to dispel any doubts he may have. 

“It is all right Miss Castillon, I too understand what it is to long for something you cannot have,” he pauses, smiling sadly. He looks back out over the gardens before grabbing the ring box out of his pocket. “I thought about what I would say for so long. How this moment would be. I am going to ask you the question our parents are waiting for, but there is something you should know first”. 

“What is it?” 

“The love you feel for the Bridgerton boy is how I feel for someone back home. Someone I cannot love out in the open. You see, Léon and I share what I imagine you share,” he explains with a fondness that both warms and breaks my heart. 

“Léon? But that is-”

“Yes. When I pictured proposing to someone, I cannot say I imagined you would be the person I am asking because you are…not a man”. He looks at me with a curious smile on his face and yet there is a sadness peeking out from his soul as well. 

So when his father thought him unruly, it was merely because no woman held his heart in the same way Léon does.

I do not know what to say, but I feel silence is almost worse, so I settle on, “I’m so sorry sir”. 

“Joseph, please. If we are to wed we might as well drop the formalities”. 

“Joseph, then,” I smile. Suddenly it feels as if my sadness throughout the day is silly. Hearing Joseph explain his circumstance makes me feel guilty for carrying such dread about today as I did. He was so willing to make this work from the beginning and I was so against every opportunity. 

“I cannot promise you a love match, but I can promise a comfortable life. With a friend, if you’ll let me,” he states as he finally bends one knee, opening the box and pointing the ring in my direction. 

“Friends,” I agree, letting him place the ring gingerly on my finger. 

Sitting on my bed, I hear footsteps scurry up to my door and just past it. They come to a halt, turning around and stopping in front of my door, casting a shadow of small shoes that I can see through the crack. There is no knock, and I can see the small pair of feet hesitating to make their next move. I bite the bullet, calling out a “hello?”, to which the door opens and Madeline makes herself known. She holds her bottom lip between her teeth and her hands are wringing together endlessly. The rims of her eyes are red and her eyebrows are furrowed. The sheer amount of emotion in her little body breaks my heart. 

“Madeline, what is it love?” I pat the empty spot on the bed next to me and she takes no time running up and jumping to take the place. 

She says nothing, just buries her head in my side as I wrap an arm around her, pulling her securely under my shoulder. I hear a shudder of breath and I realize that she has begun to cry. Whatever emotion she carried with her down the hallway has decided to spill out, and I squeeze her that bit tighter. 

“What is wrong Madeline? We cannot fix what ails you if you keep it to yourself”. 

“I hate it!” She exclaims, bashing a fist on my duvet. 

“Hate what?” 

“I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!” She exclaims again, causing quite the dent in my bedding for such a little fist. 

“My love, look at me please,” I release her from the guard of my arm and grab the sides of her face lightly so she may look at me. Her eyes are wet and her lower lip has started to quiver and I fear she can hear the sound of my heart splitting in half. 

“I hate that Mummy and Daddy do not smile at each other, I hate that Andrew hasn’t looked at me and I hate that I cannot see my friends! I hate being stuck here!” I am now aware of my own lower lip starting to tremble as Madeline pulls her face away from my hands. I cast my glance at my bedding in hopes of masking my tears but I fear it is pointless when I hear Madeline’s unabashed sobs. The pain of my family had not escaped me since this whole ordeal had seen the light but I had been so wrapped up in my own form of pity that I had not taken the time to properly care. 

“I am so sorry Madeline, I was not aware you had acquired such pain,” I mutter through tears. “It is my fault, it is entirely my fault,” I try to give her a hug but she merely runs out of my room and down the hall, leaving me to cry on my own. 

At the Bridgerton House 

Benedict had spent much of the last few days wracking his brain for ways he could help alleviate some of Emmeline’s burden and he had not eaten or slept much because of it. It was a relief that Anthony knew of the whole ordeal so any transactions made in favour of it would not have to be kept hidden but Benedict could not help feeling like this was his solution to bring forth. If he hadn’t been aware of it before, Benedict had quickly come to despise the ache in his heart, the gaping hole that Miss Castillon had left. Knowing the truth of the matter somehow only made it worse as he knew she blamed herself for it entirely. Seeing her in such pain was something he never wanted to witness again and he swore he would never if he could help it. 

Benedict sits uncomfortably in the chair where he normally sketches, running his hands over his face as he glances out the window, hoping it would bring him some sudden illumination. As if the universe could hear him, his mother walked in, the creaking of the door giving her away. 

“Benedict my dear, can I speak with you for a moment?” She questions, not moving much past the door. 

“Surely you will speak whether I consent or not,” he mutters with a dismissive wave of his hand. Then, taking a moment to consider what he has just said, “apologies, Mother, recent events have made me weary”. 

“I can imagine,” she sympathizes. “Though I fear you are overcomplicating the matter”. 

“Whatever can you mean?” 

“You love this woman, do you not?” She looks expectantly at her son. 

“I…we had never declared it…” he notices her raised brow, “yes, yes I believe I do”. 

“And does Miss Castillon share your affection?” 

“Selfishly I like to think she does,” then, upon remembering a previous conversation, “yes, she does”. 

“Then what you must do seems clear,” Lady Bridgerton seems satisfied, as if whatever truth she thinks she has unveiled is as obvious to everyone else. Benedict ponders for a moment, not wanting to question his mother further but also trying to find the hidden meaning in her words. 

“Oh for pity’s sake, you must marry her!” 

Benedict’s eyes widen, searching his mother’s for any sign of jest. When he finds none, he lowers his head for a second, the idea of proposing to Emmeline sinking further into his skin. Of course there is a part of him that wanted to propose to her long ago, or maybe skip the engagement all together and simply run away from the prying eyes of the ton. But with the idea being brought out of his head and into the open, he suddenly couldn’t fathom it. 

“What if she feels it is out of a sense of obligation? I could not do that to her! I could not have her believe that I would want to force her into a loveless marriage,” Benedict sighs. 

“But if your feelings are true, then they will show through instantly. The circumstances leave much to be desired, certainly, but true love has risen above worse. It will be worth it”. 

Benedict looks up, making eye contact with his mother as his heart starts to race. He could propose to Emmeline this very minute and solve both of their problems. Hers, the debt and his the heartache. Christ, why had he not thought of it before!

Castillon Residence

Marie insists on getting me ready each more for some sense of normality but I cannot say I am any help. I merely sit, anxiously twiddling my thumbs and unable to make eye contact with just about anyone. Whatever decisions she presses toward me I mutter, yes, and hope that she will pick between the dress colour or the hairstyle for the day. I dare not make another decision, lest that should sink my family further into ruin too. It is not as if there is anything to get ready for either, for we have not been invited to any social events since Lady Whistledown aired our news. We wouldn’t have attended anyway, and I suppose it feels better not to have to reject any offers. I do nothing but read in my room or attempt to write sad prose in an effort to vent my emotions, but it is not long before my brain switches to more anxiety inducing efforts. What if Benedict had not truly meant his wishes to help? What if he had seen how I was not worth the effort and had in fact found an easier debutante to court? What if his mother had suggested he not involve himself so that they could avoid the scandal as well? I would not blame him if he had, and I do not want to think ill of him but with nothing else to occupy my thoughts, what else am I to do?

Since Madeline’s emotional revelation, the rest of the family seems hesitant to interact with me other than awkward pleasantries and pitied looks. Marie is truly the only one to actually speak to me as if I am a member of the house and I cannot return the same kindness. I feel stuck in this loop of sadness and anxiety in a hole that I dug myself. If only I had not forced Papa into that deal, then we would not be in this situation to begin with. Tired of sitting in front of the window, hoping for some saving grace to break through the glass, I turn to my writing desk instead, drawing out a paper and ink set in the slowest movements possible. 

Dear Benedict, 

I realise it has been only days since your visit, but I wanted to make it known how much I regret bringing you into this mess of mine. It is not, nor has it ever been, my intention to bring shame to you or your family, and though I thank you for your promise of assistance, I also understand if your desire has shifted. Should you have moved on for the sake of better prospects, know that I do not hold it against you and wish you all the joy and happiness in the world. 

Your dearest friend, Emmeline C. 

Handing the letter off to Marie in the hopes that it would sneak in our limited communications, I wipe my cheek with the other hand, hoping the wetness that had clung there is not too obvious. When Marie returns, she informs me that my parents are requesting my presence downstairs. 

“They told me no details miss, only that they require you straight away”. 

“Well, I suppose I should be glad that someone still wishes to speak to me. Except you, Marie; you have continued to be a dear friend and I fear I have not thanked you enough for it”. 

She smiles, waving her hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it miss, it is only my pleasure”. 

With a small smile and a grateful nod, I make my way down the stairs. The halls are eerily quiet and I cannot help the small glances in hopes that a sibling will come barreling down in joyous laughter. Of course, that is not the case at present and I feel like the only person in the house as I go to join my parents in the drawing room. Upon turning into the doorway, Mama and Papa stand up from their seat on the couch, and Papa has a few letters gripped aggressively in his fist. Mama looks proud as she greets me, offering a small hug before gesturing for me to sit across from them. A sinking feeling appears in my stomach, as her seemingly sudden change in attitude has me on edge. 

“Now my dear, we know it has recently been hard on you-” Papa starts, but Mama looks eager to interject. 

“But we have found a solution!” She all but exclaims, bringing her hands together on her lap as if she cannot contain herself any other way. Papa looks slightly uneasy, and I try and wordlessly beg him for a quick answer. I am not granted such ease. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bridgerton Residence

“It seems like you are set on this matter,” Anthony looks at Benedict with a close-lipped smile. 

“I am. I had worried about it before, but Mother convinced me it is the right way forward,” he replies, pouring another glass of brandy for them both. 

“Then to the success of your courting,” Colin raises a glass, winking at his brother in support. 

“To the success indeed,” Anthony adds as the knocking of three glasses sounds through the room.

“Let us hope your intended sees similarly about the whole ordeal to you,” Colin says as they each take a seat. 

“I believe she will. Once we get past the uncertainty of it all, I believe Emmeline will share my affections, bringing relief to us all”. 

“Yes, then perhaps we can stop finding pieces of her inanimate form on the floor,” Anthony jests at Benedict’s abundance of sketches of the young woman. 

The three laugh and talk amongst themselves, sipping on celebratory drinks while two of the brothers pester for any ideas on how the wedding will go. Benedict mutters something about leaving it up to their mother before adding, “I would marry her in an abandoned field, or in our living room even. The details do not matter to me, but she deserves better. Besides, Mama will have my head if she does not get a say in the marriage of her children”. 

“Benedict,” Eloise pokes her head through the door, “there’s a letter here for you”. She hands him the enclosed document as he quickly rips the envelope open. Recognising the handwriting, he cannot tell whether to be joyful or anxious at Emmeline writing to him during such a time. As he quickly scans the page, he finds the latter to be a more fitting emotion, and the concern of his siblings grows solely in response to the look on his face. He passes the letter to Anthony, who scans it with the same intensity, only to pass it to Colin upon completion. 

“She feels I have neglected her…forgotten about her in some way,” Benedict sighs with a large amount of air, his hands running fervently through his face and hair. 

“She simply worries for the implications of her current affairs. Any person in her position would do the same,” Anthony tries to calm his brother down. 

“She means to provide some relief to you both, should things not go as planned,” Colin adds, reading the letter again before handing it to Eloise. 

“Perhaps she-” “If you are about to rant about the downfalls of marriage, I urge you to hold your tongue,” Anthony whips his head around to Eloise, where she stands stunned. Never had any of her brothers been so serious with her and she immediately closes her mouth again. 

Benedict could not look at any of them for long, as his shoes undoubtedly run a hole into the ground with his incessant pacing. What was meant to be a celebratory evening had come to a halt and the other three Bridgertons share a concerned look between them before facing their brother again. 

“Surely this just means your plans may need to hasten along?” Eloise tries again. 

“I had been trying to plan a near perfect proposal, but if she harbours any doubts of my character or intention, I must squash those immediately”. 

“Go to her in the morning, for if you leave now you run the risk of rejection from her mother for calling at an indecent hour,” Anthony reasons. 

“But I cannot leave her to feel such shame any longer!” Benedict cries. 

“You know how against visitors they are at the moment, it would be better to wait! You would face less obstacles if you went at proper visiting time,” Colin agrees with Anthony. 

“Fine, first thing tomorrow then,” Benedict replies after some hesitation. Eloise crosses to him and holds his elbow in her hands, getting him to pause in his physical loops. 

“Flattering as always Mr. Castillon,” she looks over at me, “and Miss Castillon. How are you this evening my dear?”  “Quite well Lady Danbury. Your decorations are magnificent”.

“Why, it took but all my effort to remove her from the staircase so we could move on to other things,” my brother jests. 

“Your compliments are appreciated Miss Castillon,” Lady Danbury replies, giving my brother a teasing smirk before looking back at me. “Have you been making your rounds? I have yet to see you on the dance floor”. 

“Oh yes, we were just making our way around the ballroom ma’am,” I reply, trying my hardest not to look anywhere else in the room. Lady Danbury, while an excellent host and valued member of the ton, is quite an intimidating figure. 

“Wonderful! Well I’ll be intrigued to find out who the lucky men are that fill your dance card,” she says as she walks away, moving on to entrap some other group in conversation. 

“I am quite interested in that as well,” my brother comments as we begin to walk again. 

“What?”

“Which men you have caught the eye of this evening. Countless of them I’m sure”. 

“Oh well, I wouldn’t say countless-”

“Nonsense Em. Look, every eye is on you as we speak”.

“That is because I have delayed my debut by quite a few years. I can feel their whispers whipping past us,” I sigh, uncomfortably glancing at all the viscous mamas who look at me and then whisper to their daughters. 

“You have to see it as quite the opposite Sister. The delaying of your debut has allowed you a few years advantage above the other young ladies this season. You have more knowledge and maturity and therefore all the more reason not to make a rash decision and bond yourself into a less than ideal marriage. I see it as the ultimate win for you Em”. 

“Or, I am older and therefore less worthy of the attention because I have less years ahead of me to breed and bear children”. 

“It is all a matter of perspective my dear sister”. Andrew parks us in front of the refreshment table, handing me a glass of lemonade before grabbing one for himself. The band strikes a last chord as the dancers bow gracefully, thanking each other for the dance. The mothers clap for a few seconds before pushing their daughters not so subtly in front of a potential suitor, offering them up for the next dance. I try to keep my shoulders up high so as to not hide myself in the corner of the room. Being back in London’s social season is much more intimidating than I had imagined. I see Mother making her way over to us, with two of my other siblings trailing behind her. Graham looks like he might tear our mother’s head off before the night is over, and it takes all of me not to laugh and attract more attention to myself. 

“Good evening dears. Anything noteworthy to report?” Mother asks as she finally reaches Andrew and I. I shake my head no before taking another sip of lemonade. 

“Is there any particular reason you look fit to burst Brother?” Andrew asks Graham, a smile fighting its way onto his face. 

“Your brother has spent the last two dances with some wonderful young ladies, haven’t you love?” Mother looks at Graham expectantly. 

“They were lovely, until one of them tripped over both her feet and mine, nearly causing quite the scene. The other I learned had accepted my proposal to dance on the false information that I am talented in both poetry and the pianoforte,” he explains, huffing in anger. It would be clear to anyone who has seen Graham attempt these things, or merely talked to him for a short while, that the arts are not his strong suit in the slightest. 

“Where on earth did she hear that from?” Andrew asks, already knowing but wanting to poke fun a little bit more. 

“I haven’t a clue Andrew, maybe our dearest mother would know something?” Graham retorts, looking directly at her. 

“I was simply boosting your prospects dear. You hardly seem keen on making progress yourself”. Andrew and I burst into a short fit of laughter. “And what about you Emmeline. Any potentially dazzling beaus you would like to tell us about?” 

“Not yet Mama. We have just finished our tour of the room, not without being stopped by Lady Danbury first”. 

“Well, seeing as it is her ball, that can’t be too surprising,” my younger sister, Josephine, pipes in. This is her first season too and Mother thought it best to divide and conquer the dance floor, Andrew taking me around and her taking the younger two. 

“She stopped us as well. I thought she and Mother would never stop talking,” Graham adds, not one for lengthy conversations. 

“What about you Josephine? Has anyone caught your eye?” I ask, trying to lessen the probability of Mother asking me another question. 

“Lord Gershwin seemed quite taken by her during their dance,” Mother butts in. 

“Was he?” I ask, looking back to Josephine to get her honest response as best I could. Andrew scoffs in disgust.

“What was that for?” Josephine asks him. 

“Lord Gershwin is a cheater and a liar. He has left his unpaid debts on our club books for months and insists every time he is questioned that they are paid off. The evidence stares him clear in the face and yet he lies,” he concludes with a nod, seemingly happy with himself for bringing the truth to light. Josephine looks slightly disappointed. 

“Well, people are allowed to change, are they not?” I offer, trying to not crush Josephine’s possibilities in one fell swoop. 

“If he wanted to change, Sister, he would have repaid his debts. The day he does that, I might reconsider,” Andrew quips back, firm in his stance. 

“All the better I wasn’t too interested anyway,” Josephine comments, shrugging. 

“We’ll find you a better husband Jo, do not fret,” Andrew tries to reassure.

The song comes to a finish and the partners bow once more. I look around at them, scanning their faces before glancing at my empty dance card. Before getting too sad about the lack of names on the small sheet that for some reason determines if the night was a success or not, I look back up, catching some couples smiling goodbye at each other. One poor girl looks like she’s on the verge of tears and her dance partner looks like the wind changed and his face is now stuck in a permanent grimace. A few people over from them stands a group of chestnut haired gentlemen, appearing deep in conversation. They look vaguely familiar, but I cannot seem to place my finger on who they are. Lady Danbury makes her way over to them, causing all three of them to turn around as if they could go unnoticed by one of the most observant women in the ton. I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh as each gentleman makes some variation of a straight, closed lip smile. The tallest of the three looks above the group, clearly not engaged as Lady Danbury talks to one of the others. 

He glances in our direction and my eyes widen as we make eye contact, a heat instantly rushing to my cheeks. I quickly look away, choosing to look down toward the floor and sipping on the lemonade still in my hand. I thank the heavens that Mother and my siblings are still engaged in lengthy conversation, much to Graham’s disappointment, and therefore did not catch my flush of embarrassment. I look back up and the taller gentleman is still looking at me, a small smile on his face. 

I turn back to Andrew, and as the conversation comes to a lull, “Should we make another round Brother? Perhaps you can tell me more about the dastardly men of the ton”. 

“Of course Em. We will catch up with you lot later,” he addresses the rest of the present Castillon clan. Then, as we distance ourselves from our family, “I saw you making eyes with a certain gentleman across the way”.

“Oh was I?” I ask, trying not to choke on the sharp inhale I took in response. 

“Indeed. Fortunately for you, there was another man blocking my view, so you are saved from that humiliation for tonight”. 

“How gracious of you Andrew,” I reply, joking to save face and internally being grateful that whoever that mystery man was decided to stand directly in my brother’s line of sight. 

“The human blockade had rather wide shoulders, and a rather wide frame in general now that I think about it. Impossible to look around”. 

“Did he now?” I try not to laugh at his casual use of “human blockade”. 

“I am being quite serious Em, this is no laughing matter,” he is also trying to keep a laugh down. 

“My apologies dear brother,” I widen my face so that I might have some chance of gaining a more look about me again. 

A gentleman takes the few small steps from his spot against the wall over towards us and stops directly in front of Andrew. My brother gives him a look up and down, as if taking in everything he would ever need to know about this man in a matter of mere seconds. 

“Lord Castillon, Miss Castillon,” he nods politely at each of us, giving me a closed lip smile at the same time, “I was watching from over there,” he points back to his spot against the wall, “and I was wondering if I might have the honour of a dance”. 

“Lord Campbell, was it? I believe my sister’s dance card is full unfortunately. Good evening,” he pulls me along, away from Lord Campbell. 

“What was the meaning of that? You know too well that my card is in fact barren”. 

“I know Lord Campbell from my days at university. Trust me Sister, he is not the type of man you want to keep in constant company”. 

“At this rate, Madeline will find a husband before I do”. 

“I’m just looking out for your best interest Em. And don’t be ridiculous, our 12 year old sister is not about to wed before you”. 

“It certainly feels like she might with the way you are behaving. Though if you are anything like this when she’s of age, I wish her the best of luck”. 

“As your brother it is my job to scour the marriage mart as much as you and make sure you have the best options placed in front of you”.

“And you are deciding those best options are you? Andrew, it is already difficult enough with Daphne Bridgerton being proclaimed the season’s incomparable, I do not think I need the extra burden of you shooting down all my potential prospects”. 

“Nonsense, here comes a ‘potential prospect’ now”. 

A gentleman about Andrew’s height had made his way over to us and stood just as Lord Campbell had done a few moments before. He smiles at both me and my brother before looking between the two of us and choosing to address me directly. 

“Would you care for a dance Miss?” I notice he has the same chestnut hair as the group from before, and I conclude that they must be brothers, or scarily similar mates. 

I look at Andrew, half expecting him to have some reason or another why this man is just as much a piece of scum as the rest of them, and when he doesn’t object, an awkward pause fills the space. 

“If I’m not crossing any boundaries, that is. Should your dance card be full, I will gladly take my leave-” “Not a bother there Lord Bridgerton. Emmeline would be happy to dance, wouldn’t you Em?” He asks, turning toward me half way through his thought. My breath hitches as it dawns on me why the group of gentlemen earlier were so familiar. The Bridgertons are recognisable anywhere. 

“Of course,” I smile as politely as I can, as Lord Bridgerton puts his arm out, guiding me to the dance floor. Andrew takes a step back, most likely going to find Mother and tell her the good news. 

“So tell me Miss, you are Lord Castillon’s sister, are you not?” He asks as the dance starts anew. 

“Indeed I am my Lord. You have siblings as well, yes?” 

He laughs, though I didn’t think I had said anything funny, “Seven in fact”. 

“Seven?” I repeat, the shock in my tone quite clear. 

“So it is not as common knowledge as we once thought”. 

“You’ll have to forgive me sir. I knew there was an abundance of you but the number seemed to have escaped me,” I internally frown; this does not seem to be going well. 

“It’s quite alright. I can hardly expect everyone to keep track of the Bridgerton clan. Surely it is not just you and Lord Castillon though”. 

“Oh no. Andrew is the oldest, then there is I, Graham, Josephine and Madeline. Josephine is also debuting this season”. 

“I was wondering about that. She seems of the age for this to be her first season”. 

“And I do not?” I ask, not meaning to sound offended, but to the untrained ear it might have come across as such. 

“No, that is not what I meant at all. Just that her being younger than you-” he starts to ramble. 

“I am merely jesting Mr. Bridgerton. We delayed my debut by quite a few years so I could finish my studies on the continent”. 

“And what is it that you study?” 

“Literature and artistry mostly, in France. There was a time when I was certain I would not debut at all and simply become a governess, so Papa thought it wise that I at least have some training in certain areas with which I could teach children. Then with some convincing from my mother and younger sisters, I decided I would enter the marriage mart and here I am.” I laugh awkwardly, hoping I didn’t say too much. 

“Is that so? Well, you would get along great with my sister Eloise. She is much into literature of different varieties, much to our mother’s dismay on occasion,” he adds with a smile. 

“You are all named in alphabetical order, are you not?” 

“We are indeed,” he nods, almost surprised that I knew that.

“I do remember some things Mr. Bridgerton. Three years away did not melt my memories that harshly”. He laughs, and I can only hope that it means I made a good first impression. 

“I just found out I am to begin my tour in Greece come the end of the season”. 

“Greece? Oh how wonderful!” The song comes to a close, and we bow as is accustomed. 

“Thank you for joining me Miss Castillon. I hope to see you again some time,” he smiles as he rises to full stature again, still having to look down slightly to make eye contact with me. 

“Thank you for offering it Mr. Bridgerton. I greatly appreciate any excuse to be pulled away from my brother, though I wouldn’t go telling him that,” I reply. 

He laughs, nods, and then departs, heading back in the direction of the rest of his family. His mother looks most intrigued when he rejoins them, grabbing his shoulder and no doubt peppering him with questions. I follow suit, finding Mama and my siblings. Josephine looks at me with wide eyes. 

“You got asked to dance by Colin Bridgerton?” she questions me, amazed. 

“That’s his name,” I mutter, trying to recall as much of the order of them as I can muster. 

“You danced that whole time and you did not even know which one you were with?!” Josephine’s interrogation continues. 

“Well, when there are eight of them and all the boys are to be addressed at ‘Lord Bridgerton’, there isn’t much time for guess work,” I explain, thinking it fairly reasonable. 

“Sending you to the continent did much good for your academics, but poorly for your social knowledge,” Mother sighs. 

“I do not think it was that obvious that I did not know the specifics. Besides, three years does a lot in the development of a person. The boys are hardly recognisable,” I try again. 

“Hm, indeed,” Graham hums sarcastically, clearly holding the opposite opinion. 

“When you spend three years not being filled in on the happenings of your hometown and focusing solely on your academics, things tend to slip your mind,” I try once more. 

Oh, what am I saying? It is a simple afternoon tea. I am never usually one for theatrics but my anxiety makes my mind a one-woman opera from time to time. Mama insists I take the carriage, even though I would much prefer the walk in the open air. As with the rest of our family, it is often difficult to persuade her one way or another once her mind is made up and therefore she will hear no more on the matter; I am to take the carriage. I tug at the sleeve of my dress as I stand in the entryway, waiting for the carriage to be brought around and Mama taps me on the back, telling me, without words, to stop my fussing. 

“This is a splendid opportunity for you my dear, and you must tell me all about it upon your return,” she smiles at me. 

“I imagine I wouldn’t be allowed past the door if I did not relay every detail to you first Mama,” I tease, hoping she catches onto my sarcastic commentary. 

“Your imagination would be correct,” she responds, and I know she took it in the way that I meant her to. With children like us, it would be hard to take everything seriously. 

The carriage finally arrives and I step into it, waving my mother goodbye as it pulls away. Even if I wanted to step back now, I physically cannot. That is, unless I wanted to end up ripping my dress on the rocky roads beneath us. I stare out the window, convincing my heart via my mind that it didn’t need to be beating so fast and that all my illusions about how horribly this could go were entirely fiction. I do not know why I am so nervous, as my family has been invited to many afternoon teas before, but this one feels different. It is not simply Mama’s friends who just happened to invite the whole family along; this is just me. Before, I could allow Andrew and Mama to take over the conversation, uttering a few affirmatives or negatives here and there. This time, however, I was to be fully engaged in the conversation, as Eloise had made it quite clear that she had a myriad of questions for me about my time studying abroad. 

The carriage rolls in front of the Bridgerton residence and I gasp. The house is absolutely beautiful and the flowers growing outside it are some of the most beautiful I have seen since my return home. English springtime really does wonders for the senses, and this is no exception. A butler walks up to the carriage door, offering me his hand as I step out. Upon my arrival at the front door, he walks speedily to where I am assuming Eloise is and announces my arrival. I hear a squeal and quickened footsteps when suddenly Eloise is standing in front of me, the biggest smile on her face. 

“Oh I’m so glad you could make it!” She exclaims, “Come! We’re just upstairs”. She grabs my arms and all but tears it out of its socket as she pulls me towards the intended room. 

I want to pause at her use of the word “we” but am not given the time to ask before we are already in the room. Her mother sits on one of the couches, smiling up at me upon my arrival. I give her a nervous smile back, not having expected her to be present. 

“You already know my mama,” Eloise comments. 

“Lovely to see you again Mrs. Bridgerton,” I greet her, feeling as though I should curtsey or something. Eloise is however still gripping my arm. 

“How wonderful that you could join us this afternoon dear. We just rang for tea, it should be here any minute,” Lady Bridgerton says, gesturing for the two of us to sit down. 

I take a seat in one of the couches on the other side of the small table, and Eloise goes to sit by her mother. Having both pairs of eyes on me makes this suddenly all too real, and I feel my heart rate begin to quicken. 

“Are you alright dear? You seem tense,” Lady Bridgerton comments. I want to chuck it up to a mother’s intuition but I doubt I’m hiding anything that well. 

“Hm? Oh, yes I am fine. Just a bit stressed,” I laugh, trying to cover it up, rather unsuccessfully I think. 

“Stressed? There is no need to be stressed. It is just us,” she responds and Eloise nods, the both of them trying to put me at ease. 

I nod, exhaling a deep sigh and running my hands along my dress. The tea is quick to follow, although the butler does not appear alone. A smaller girl with the same chestnut hair as everyone else in the family, who I remember to be Hyacinth, follows him in. Lady Bridgerton turns at the sound of another pair of footsteps and rolls her eyes. 

“Hyacinth Bridgerton, what do you think you are doing?” 

“Oh hi Mother. Are you three having tea here?” She asks innocently. 

“As if you didn’t already know,” Eloise retorts, scrunching her nose and shaking her head when Hyacinth gives her an annoyed look. 

“Enough! Before the both of you scare away our guest,” Lady Bridgerton says to the two of them, causing them both to stall in their tracks, “Hyacinth, you are to exit this room and go bother your brothers or something”. 

“But Mama! I have so many questions and seeing as Ms. Castillon is here, I figured it was the perfect time to ask them,” she proclaims. 

“Really it is not a bother to me at all if she wishes to stay,” I butt in, having been silent during this whole exchange. 

Hyacinth’s eyes light up and she smiles, running over to sit in the open spot next to me before her mother can object. “Ms. Castillon says I can stay, so I can stay”. 

“Alright, as long as you do not cause too much trouble,” her mother warns her before muttering, “you children will be the death of me,” in a loud whisper.

Eloise begins pouring herself a cup of tea before offering one to me, which I gladly take, happy to have something to do with my hands. Lady Bridgerton clears her throat before looking over at me. 

“So, I have heard many times that you have just returned to us from France, did you not?”

“Indeed I did. I was finishing up my studies over there”.

“What were you studying?” Hyacinth asks. 

“Literature and artistry mostly. I tried my hand at a few science classes but realised I wasn’t very good so my teaching skills would in turn never stretch to those subjects”. 

“You had originally planned to be a governess?” Lady Bridgerton questions. 

“Oh yes. I hadn’t necessarily seen myself being put out into the marriage mart, so I planned to be a governess. Who knows, maybe if things had panned out differently, I would be teaching Gregory and Hyacinth how to analyse literature”. I smile. 

“Oh I would love that! Can she, Mother?” Hyacinth asks, bouncing up and down slightly in her seat. 

“Well I am not actually a governess Hyacinth,” I clarify. 

“I do not care! Most of my tutors are stuffy and boring anyway. You seem like you would make it much more fun”. This time, I’m not entirely sure how to respond. 

“We did not invite our guest over so you could corner her into teaching you about books Hyacinth,” Eloise covers for me. 

“Well it is not as if you ever want to do it,” Hyacinth fires back.

“Do you read Eloise?” I ask, trying to change the conversation. 

“Fervently it seems at times,” Lady Bridgerton adds. 

“I am a lover of literature, yes,” Eloise clarifies, trying to paint a better picture for herself. 

“And yet you never want to save me from my Latin tutor when I would much prefer to read something else instead,” Hyacinth remarks, dramatically displaying her sorrow in the whole matter. “Hence why I think Ms. Castillon would be excellent”. 

“Well I suppose I could put my skills to good use. Though it wouldn’t be much of an education, more of a hobby or something along those lines,” I try, looking between Hyacinth and Lady Bridgerton for some sense of approval or disapproval. 

“It could prove quite useful. An impressive set of skills is most valuable come the social seasons. Who am I to deny my children something they love?” She finally decides. 

“So is that a yes Mama?” Hyacinth begs, once again bouncing with excitement. 

“If Ms. Castillon is alright with it, we could make some arrangements,” Lady Bridgerton looks at me. 

“I suppose if it’s alright by you all, I would be delighted,” I smile; Hyacinth’s energy is infectious. 

“Yay!” she cheers, wrapping me in a hug before sprinting off in excitement. 

“My apologies if I overstepped Lady Bridgerton. I didn’t mean-” 

“Nonsense dear, it would do dear Hyacinth well to have something intellectually challenging for her to focus on. I just hope you are ready for her”. 

“I will certainly try my best,” I nod as the sound of another pair of footsteps signals someone walking close by. 

“Mother, do I dare ask why Hyacinth-” it is Benedict. He stops as he notices his mother is not alone. “Pardon the interruption ladies”. 

“Benedict, you remember Ms. Castillon,” Lady Bridgerton motions to me and I stand, suddenly uncomfortably warm with his gaze upon me. 

“Yes I do. How nice to see you again,” he nods, his chin quickly dipping down and back up. 

“You as well,” I respond, bowing slightly. 

“She has just kindly agreed to tutor Hyacinth in literature,” Lady Bridgerton comments. 

“Ah, so that is why she is squealing like a madman and running throughout the house. You seem to have made quite the impression already Ms. Castillon,” Benedict smiles. I notice it is a more boyish smile, one that I’m sure has charmed many ladies before me. 

“Well, I shall try my hardest to live up to it then,” I chuckle lightly, feeling awkward once again. 

Something about his stare takes me out of the room entirely, and it is once again like it was at the park. Simply him and I together in a room, Lady Bridgerton and Eloise completely forgotten. His eyes reflect the water in the lake that I had so desperately wished to capture, and now I feel as though I may not need to. The perfect view is standing right in front of me. There seems to be a distant calling, sounding as if underwater. 

“Emmeline, can you hear me?” Eloise pulls me back to reality. 

“Hm? Oh yes, my apologies,” I turn to face the two ladies once again. 

“You faded out on me again,” Eloise teases, a light smile on her face. 

“It was not my intention I can assure you”. I catch Lady Bridgerton looking happily between me and her second eldest son, but I brush it past. 

“Mother, would you mind if Emmeline and I were to walk in the gardens?” Eloise asks, changing the subject. 

“I see no reason why not,” Lady Bridgerton responds, “it is a wonderful day after all”. 

I steal a quick glance at Benedict as Eloise takes my arm once again, “Wonderful! We shall return later”. 

She pulls me along through the house and toward the garden and suddenly I can breathe again. 

Back at the Castillon Household 

“Remember our deal Emmeline!” Mama calls as I step back into the house, trying my hardest to walk straight past anyone. 

“As I recall, it was more of a comment on your parenting style than it was a deal,” I respond, standing on the bottom of the staircase. 

 “Nevertheless, I would never let you attend something alone without telling me the details of the whole affair”. 

“Calling it an affair makes it sound much too nefarious Mama,” I point out, “There is no scandal to be had in this household yet”. 

“Never mind that, tell me now”. 

“I simply had tea with Eloise and Lady Bridgerton”. 

“Is that all?” she persists. 

“I might have also agreed to tutor their youngest girl in literature,” I continue, a little quieter than my previous volume. 

“You did what?” I do not look up. 

“Hyacinth seemed so interested in my literature studies and asked if I would share my knowledge with her,” I explain. 

“You agreed to be her tutor?” 

“Not as a full time position. I am not doing it for pay either. I am simply putting my skills to use”. 

My mother takes a moment to think. “Well, I suppose I should be proud that you made such an impression on one of the most influential families in London”. She gets a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“What is that look for?”

“Perhaps I am aware of the ulterior motives behind your plan,” she smirks, leaving me utterly confused. 

“The what?” 

“You wish to spend more time at their house so you agreed to tutor young Hyacinth,” she begins. 

“Yes and that is all I-”

“But really, you intend to spend more time at their house and with their family because you are smitten with Colin Bridgerton!” She exclaims, quite convinced this is the truth.

“Oh no that is not at all why-” I try my best to dissuade her. 

“Oh do not try to deny it now! I’m just curious how I did not come up with the plan myself,” my mother is absolutely beaming. 

I can hear the wedding bells chiming in her mind. I cannot think of anything else to say as she nearly skips into the kitchen, quite overjoyed with our conversation. I knew I had a reason to be anxious this morning but this was surely not it. Mama is now convinced that I am set on getting Colin Bridgerton to court me and I feel as though I cannot stop her. Realising she is probably retelling the plan to my siblings this very moment, I hurry up the stairs, wanting at least a moment to myself before I try and deal with the myriad of questions they are sure to have.