Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my OC.
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"Where there is love, there is life."
—Ghandi
Aubrey Hall
July, 1788
The attenuated cries of two infants pierced the black miasma of exhaustion. The young woman on the bed was slumped motionless against the pillows, her eyes closed, her skin the color of old parchment. At the babies' cries her eyelids fluttered shut but didn't open and she sank once more into merciful oblivion.
After seeing to their mistress, the three women in the stifling chamber worked quickly and in silence. When they were finished they left the room soundlessly, closing the door behind them.
More than three hours passed before Violet Bridgerton emerged from her stupor. She was soaked with sweat. The room was like a furnace, the windows tightly closed, the fire blazing in the deep hearth. She heard whispers and with a soft moan tried to raise herself on the pillows but her body ached as if she'd been racked, and she had barely sufficient strength to open her eyes.
"Dearest, you're awake." It was the voice of her husband—her Edmund.
Effortfully Violet opened her eyes. The viscount peered down at his wife, his blue eyes shining with such love and admiration for the frail woman on the bed. The very same woman who had just labored for some twenty anguished hours to bring forth their children.
Children.
Plural.
Twins.
"The babies," Violet said, her voice coming as if from a great distance through her cracked lips. "Where are my babies?"
Edmund said nothing for a moment, and there was a rustle of skirts as a woman joined her husband at the bedside.
Frightened now, Violet gazed up at the two faces bent over her. Her heart felt squeezed. "Edmund? The babies." Panic rose in her voice this time around. "Where are my babies?"
"Shhh, Violet. The babies are fine," he all but assured her, causing Violet to close her eyes on the tears that were beginning to fill them—on the despairing weakness that was starting to swamp her. She had been preparing for the worst... But they're alive, and they're healthy.
"I want to see them," she said with fervor. For months she had been dreaming of this day—of holding the product of her and Edmund's love.
Violet had endured the last weeks of her pregnancy amid one of the hottest summers in recent memory; Edmund could not find it within himself to deny his wife. Soon, the newly-made parents were seated next to each other on the bed, their arms filled with the tiniest of cooing bundles: a boy and a girl.
"Oh, Edmund... They're perfect," Violet sighed contentedly, staring down at their children.
"They are indeed," Edmund agreed, pride swelling in his chest. "And they are ours."
Ours.
Violet very much enjoyed the notion.
It was decided upon by the viscount and the viscountess that the boy would be called Anthony, and the girl would be Amelia.
And there was nothing else for now. The love that the Bridgertons had for each other was their only other companion in that very moment, and it filled the chamber, overpowering and rich, as they allowed the rest of the world to slip away, if only for a moment.
A/N: Just a short prologue to introduce the story. Hope you enjoy! :)
P.S. Please note that I have changed the ages of the Bridgerton children a little bit. Nothing too drastic, but I've made Anthony a few years younger than what he was in the book/show. Originally, he was born in 1784. I've just made him four years younger—so, in my story he and Amelia are 26.