Sasha tugged on my hand once we arrived at South Kensington metro station. It was the closest station near the Natural History Museum, or at least I think; I don't know, I don't live here. Sasha, on the other hand, recognized everything and eagerly pulled me through the crowds. It wasn't the busiest part of London but still, the streets weren't barren either. Most people were headed to the same place.
The Natural History Museum is across from the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington, which appears to be a fancy part of London. I'd recommend a visit if you've never gone; the buildings are lovely and the museums are free- just make sure you reserve tickets before arriving. As it happens, we didn't, but that wouldn't have made a difference. This was a starting point, as far as I was concerned. Go to the place where Sasha could remember- and I could find on Google- and go from there. It was so strange, this feeling; the feeling that you're looking for a group of people who don't know that you even exist yet. I know what the Bridgertons look like and what country they live in, but they wouldn't know me- or Sasha- if they passed us on the street. A very strange feeling, indeed; this is what celebrities must experience all the time.
Once we arrived at the museum, or rather outside the enormous structure, I sat down on a nearby bench after gawking at the edifice. A happy Sasha raced about, pointing to things and telling me to "look". To him, this was fun excursion with Mom; we're out here in the world playing detective together. He was having the time of his life. Watching my son run about in his carefree frame-of-mind, I realized that I needed to come up with a next step in my plan. Here we were at the museum, but Sasha couldn't really remember the way back to the Bridgerton house, which I later learned was in Chelsea. I guess they drove to-and-from the museum; taking the train with a bunch of normal people was a new experience for him. Heh, well glad he's getting a taste of the middle and lower class lifestyle while he's still young. I want to foster empathy for those less fortunate than him, since that was basically his mother's childhood. But as I watched him, I was forced to face the reality that I had no idea what I was doing or what to do next. I mean, where do I go from here? Where does one start looking for a millionaire bachelor?
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and unlocked the screen. For the first time in years, I opened my contact list and scrolled down to find Edwina's number. Sighing gravely to myself, my chin rested desperately on my palm as I mulled over my meagre options.
Edwina and I hadn't spoken in nearly five years now. Last I heard, she was off to "find herself a rich man" here in London. Living the TradWife dream, I suppose. I had no idea how she was doing now, or if she was even still in London; she blocked me on all her social accounts years ago. She was recently engaged- I knew that because I was told by a third party. Who her fiancé was or what he looked like, I had no clue. Maybe Edwina'd gotten her wish and found herself a rich husband, just like she always dreamed… I'd be happy for her if she did.
My phone tossed and turned a little in my hand as another sigh escaped my lips. Should I call her? But then, what's the point in that? First, I'd have to explain Sasha's very existence, and then, if by some miracle she believed us, she might still be reluctant to help me. Then again, she might know where individuals like the Bridgertons would haunt around the city; she knew a LOT more about the wealthy elite than me. But also, bringing her into the scenario might only complicate things even further. Plus she's got her fiancé and future marriage to think about…. Pursing my lips tight together, I decided to put my phone back into my pocket. No, it's too great a risk at this time and there's no proof that involving her in this mess would solve anything. It looks like it's just Sasha and me still for the moment….
That's when I got an idea. Little Sasha ran over to the bench where I was sitting, standing in front of my knees and bouncing excitedly. His small hands took hold of mine. "Mom! Mom, can we go into the museum now?" "Hmmmmm, in a minute, honey. Mommy wants to ask you a few more questions first." "Questions about what?" His eyebrow raised puzzled. I had to be careful how I worded this….. Maybe trying to find Anthony Bridgerton was the wrong way to go about this; he did have seven siblings, after all. That might be a better place to start.
"Can you tell me about a bit more about your aunts and uncles? Where do they like to go in London?" Sasha thought for moment, humming to himself, gazing upward contemplatively, and sitting down beside me. "Hmmmmmm, Uncle Benedict likes anything to do with art- he's an artist." "Oh really? And your Uncle Colin? What does he do?" "Dad said that he helps edit Aunt Penelope's articles; they're like these really boring stories." "Is Uncle Colin married to Aunt Penelope?" "Yep, they got two kids." Well, that's good to know, I guess. He continued without my prompting this time.
"Aunt Daphne isn't around much; same with Aunt Eloise. But Aunt Edwina lives here in London." "Does she live here with her husband?" I asked and he nodded, not really invested in the conversation and still waiting to go inside the museum. My eyes drew out into space a bit. Well at least I know she does get married…. Probably to the same man she's engaged to now. My hands curled into fists as my lips parted a sliver. At least I know things work out for her in that regard…..
Dad would be happy too.
By now, Sasha was glancing back up at my face curiously. "Why are you asking me about them? Aren't we looking for Dad?" "Yes, sweetie. But Mommy doesn't really know where to begin….. Where do you think should we look for Daddy?" No harm in asking Anthony's son this question; he might have the most valuable insight. Sasha shrugged before saying very seriously. "The bank? Dad spends a lot of time there." "Heh, where else does Daddy spend time at?" Sasha thought again, his eyes wandering out a bit too.
"Grandma said that she and Dad used to walk through Hyde Park every day when they stayed in London." "She did? Hey wait, is Hyde Park the park you live nearby?" He looked at me and shrugged again. "I dunno. Dad always just called it "the park". Grandma's the one who said "Hyde Park". I dunno if they're the same place." Well, it's better than nothing. So Anthony takes his mom out for daily walks in Hyde Park, does he? Great! That's a good place to start. Even if they're not in London at this exact moment, Sasha may recognize the park and more spots around it. This process was turning out to go at the pace of one step at a time, but that was better than standing still. Taking my son's hand, we went into the museum as promised before rushing over to Hyde Park near Buckingham Palace.
We got into the museum after a forty-minute wait in the no-ticket line; seriously, book in advance people.