The journey from London to Aubrey Hall; the ancestral seat of the Bridgertons, was both serene and filled with a quiet anticipation. The newlyweds, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and his bride, Penelope Bridgerton, settled into the carriage, hands intertwined, their hearts brimming with the promise of the days ahead.
Anthony had wished to whisk Penelope away to the continent, to explore the picturesque landscapes of Italy to the charming village of France. But his duties as Viscount and obligations in Parliament restrained him to no more than two months away from London. So, Aubrey Hall, with its sprawling grounds and secluded beauty, became their haven, a perfect retreat for their honeymoon.
As the carriage rolled to a stop before the grand entrance of the estate, they were met with the welcoming smiles of the household staff. The butler, Mr. Hollins, stood at the forefront, his expression warm but tinged with the decorum expected of his station. The housemaids and footmen lined up behind him, their faces alight with joy at the sight of the new Viscountess.
"Welcome home, my lord, my lady." Hollins intoned with a deep bow, his voice carrying the weight of years of service. "We are most delighted to have you both here."
Penelope smiled warmly, her eyes misting with emotion. The servants' genuine affection touched her deeply. She had visited Aubrey Hall many times in the past, often as a guest of the Bridgertons, and had always treated the staff with kindness and respect. That they now welcomed her as their mistress was a moment of profound significance.
"Thank you, Hollins." Penelope replied softly, her hand still clasped in Anthony's. "It is a pleasure to be here, truly."
The housekeeper, Mrs. Lewis, stepped forward with a curtsy. "We are most pleased, my lady. The household is all the better for your presence."
Anthony, observing the scene, felt a swell of pride. His Penelope had always been gracious, even before her title elevated her in the eyes of society. That she had already won the hearts of those who served them filled him with a deep sense of contentment,
Once the formalities were over, the couple was shown to their chambers, where the grandeur of the estate paled in comparison to the intimacy they were about to share. The moment the door closed behind them, the veneer of propriety was cast aside, replaced by the raw, undeniable desire they felt for each other.
That night, beneath the canopy of their bed, Anthony and Penelope consummated their marriage with a passion that had been simmering since their engagement. Theirs was a union forged not merely from duty but from a love that burned brightly in both their hearts. The days that followed saw them sequestered in their chambers, indulging in the delights of each other's company. The servants, well-versed in the ways of newlyweds, discreetly left trays of food outside their door, knowing better than to disturb the Viscount and his new Viscountess during this private time.
By the second week, after their initial fervor had settled into a warm and enduring affection, Penelope finally ventured beyond their bedchambers. Anthony, knowing her love of books, was not surprised when she made her way to the library, a room lined with volumes from floor to ceiling. The scent of aged leather and parchment greeted her as she stepped inside, her fingers brushing against the spines of well-worn tomes. She immediately felt at peace, the outside world fading away as she immersed herself in the rich world of literature.
Anthony found her there one afternoon, curled up in a deep armchair, her nose buried in a book. He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of his wife so content and at ease. It was a simple moment, yet it filled him with profound happiness.
"You've found your sanctuary, I see." He remarked, his voice soft as he crossed the room to her.
Penelope looked up, her eyes sparkling with the joy of discovery. "Indeed, I have. This place, these books… they are a treasure trove. I could lose myself here for hours."
Anthony smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "And you are welcome to do so my love. Aubrey Hall is as much yours as it is mine."
The days at Aubrey Hall passed in a blissful routine. They would take walks through the gardens, their hands entwined as they talked of everything and nothing. They explored the estate together, from the sun-dappled orchards to the cool, shaded groves. They rode on horseback through the fields, laughing as they raced against each other, the wind whipping through Penelope's red curls.
In the evening, they would retire to the drawing room, where Anthony would read aloud to her, his deep voice filling the room with stories of adventure and romance. They dined together in intimate settings, the candlelight casting a warm glow over their private conversations.
Their time at Aubrey Hall was a period of discovery, not just of each other's bodies, but of their hearts and souls. They grew closer with each passing day, their bond strengthening as they shared their hopes, dreams and fears.
And as their honeymoon neared its end, Anthony and Penelope knew that this time together had been a gift. They would soon return to London, to the responsibilities and expectations of society, but they would carry with them the memories of these precious weeks. They had been given the chance to lay the foundation for their marriage, one built on mutual respect, deep affection, and an enduring love that would see them through whatever challenges the future might hold.
For now, they were content to be simply Mr. and Mrs. Bridgerton, deeply in love, and utterly devoted to one another.
The return to London after two blissful months at Aubrey Hall was a bittersweet moment for Anthony and Penelope Bridgerton. The honeymoon had been a time of uninterrupted closeness, but now the weight of their duties and the bustling rhythm of London awaited them. Nonetheless, the welcome they received at Bridgerton House was warm and filled with joy.
Violet Bridgerton, ever the gracious hostess and doting mother, had spared no effort in preparing a lavish dinner with fresh flowers, their fragrance mingling with the scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread. The long table was set with the finest china and silver, each place meticulously arranged. Candles flickered in crystal holders, casting a warm, inviting glow over the family gathered around.
As the evening unfolded, conversation flowed easily. Benedict recounted an amusing tale from his latest escapade, while Daphne, ever the doting sister, inquired about their time at Aubrey Hall. Even Eloise, though often disdainful of society's norms, seemed genuinely interested in hearing about the estate's library. Anthony, seated beside Penelope, listened with a contented smile, his hand occasionally brushing against hers under the table in a silent gesture of affection.
It was during this harmonious scene that one of the footmen approached with a decanter of wine, moving gracefully around the table to refill the glasses of those who desired it. When he reached Penelope, she subtly placed her hand over her glass, offering a polite but firm refusal.
"No, thank you," she murmured softly. "I shall abstain this evening."
Violet, ever observant, did not miss the gesture. Though she said nothing, a knowing smile played at the corners of her lips, her eyes bright with speculation. The dinner continued without further comment, but a spark of excitement had been kindled in the matriarch's mind. Her heart filled with hope at the possibility of a new Bridgerton on the horizon.
The following day, the Bridgerton ladies set out for Madame Delacroix' modiste shop, a favored destination when new gowns were in order. Daphne's ball was fast approaching, and new dresses were a must for such an occasion. The shop was a flurry of activity, with bolts of fabric draped across tables and half-finished gowns displayed on mannequins.
Madame Genevieve, a woman of keen fashion sense and a sharper tongue, was busy taking Eloise's measurements when Violet saw her opportunity. She gently guided Penelope to a quieter corner of the shop, away from the prying ears of the others.
"My dear." Violet began, her voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and maternal affection. "I could not help but notice your abstention from wine last night. Might we be expecting joyous news? Penelope, are you… with child?"
Penelope's eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. She had always known Violet to be perceptive, but she hadn't expected her mother-in-law to discern her condition so quickly. Nevertheless, she composed herself and met Violet's gaze.
"Oh! I… Well, that is to say…" A blush crept across Penelope's cheeks as she collected herself, taking a deep breath. "To be quite honest, I am not entirely certain, Violet."
"But you suspect?" Violet pressed gently.
Penelope nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have missed my courses since… Well, since the wedding night. But I hesitate to raise hopes prematurely."
Violet's expression softened, her suspicions now tempered with understanding. "Have you spoken to Anthony about this?"
Penelope shook her head. "No, I have not. I do not wish to raise his hopes only to dash them should it turn out to be a false alarm."
Violet considered this for a moment, her brows furrowing slightly as she pondered the best course of action. "Perhaps you should consult with the family physician, just to be certain."
Penelope's face betrayed her hesitation. "If I do that, word will surely reach Anthony, and he will know. I would rather wait a little longer, until I am more certain."
A pause followed, and then Violet nodded in agreement. "You are right to be cautious, my dear. We shall wait another month, and if your courses still do not arrive, we will take the next steps then."
Penelope smiled, grateful for Violet's understanding and support. "Thank you, Violet. I do hope I am, but … I just want to be sure."
Violet reached out and took Penelope's hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We shall wait together, my dear. And if it turns out that you are carrying the next Bridgerton heir, it will be a joy for the entire family."
Penelope's heart swelled at the thought. To bring such happiness to Anthony, to bear his child – it was a dream she scarcely dared to believe could come true. But as she looked into Violet's kind eyes, she felt a surge of hope and a deep sense of belonging to this family that had welcomed her so warmly.
The two women shared a quiet moment of understanding before rejoining the others, the secret of Penelope's possible condition tucked safely between them for now.
The grand ballroom of Hastings House glittered with candlelight, the air filled with the melodious strains of a string quartet and the gentle rustle of silk gowns. The crème de la société had gathered to celebrate the Duchess of Hastings' soiree, a highlight of London's ending season.
In a secluded corner of the opulent chamber, the Bridgerton family had congregated, their presence as always drawing admiring glances from the assembled guests. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton stood a short distance away, deep in conversation with a group of distinguished gentlemen, while his wife, the newly minted Viscountess, remained with his family.
Benedict Bridgerton, ever the attentive second brother, approached the ladies with a silver tray laden with champagne flutes. "Mother, my dear sisters, might I tempt you with some refreshments?"
Penelope smiled warmly at her brother-in-law but gently declined. "Thank you Benedict, but I find myself in the mood for something less… spirited. Might I trouble you for a glass of lemonade instead?"
Benedict's eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded amiably. "Of course, my dearest sister-in-law. I shall fetch it directly."
As he departed, Daphne, the Duchess of Hastings, cast a meaningful glance towards her mother, Lady Violet. The matriarch's eyes twinkled with barely suppressed excitement as she leaned in close to her eldest daughter.
"Daphne, my dear." Violet whispered, her voice barely audible above the general hubbub, "I believe we may soon have cause for celebration. Penelope has been… shall we say, abstaining from certain libations of late."
Daphne's eyes widened in understanding, a delighted smile spreading across her face. She turned to Penelope, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Penelope, forgive my impertinence, but… are you perhaps expecting a happy announcement?"
Penelope blushed, her hand unconsciously drifting to her midsection. "I… I am not certain." she admitted softly. "I have been reluctant to consult Dr. Wilkins, for fear of raising false hopes."
The duchess nodded sympathetically. "I quite understand your hesitation. The anticipation can be most overwhelming."
A moment of thoughtful silence passed between the ladies before Daphne's face brightened with an idea. "Pen, if I may be so bold… perhaps you would consider allowing the Basset family physician to examine you? Dr. Fothergill is the soul of discretion, and his findings would remain strictly between us ladies."
Penelope hesitated, her eyes darting towards Anthony across the room. "But surely, if a doctor were to call…"
"Not at all." Daphne assured her. "We could arrange for you to visit Hastings House under the guise of tea. No one need be the wiser until you are ready to share the news – if indeed there is news to share."
Violet beamed at her daughter's suggestion. "A capital idea, dearest. What say you, Penelope?"
Penelope considered for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well. I suppose it would be wise to know for certain, one way or the other. That is very kind of you to offer, Daphne." Penelope replied, her voice soft with gratitude. "I had not thought of seeking assistance outside the Bridgertons' family physician. It would certainly put my mind at ease to know for certain."
Daphne reached out and squeezed Penelope's hand, her touch reassuring. "Consider it done, then. I shall make the arrangements, and you can rest easy knowing that whatever the outcome, it will remain between us until you are ready to share the news."
Penelope smiled, a wave of relief washing over her. She had been carrying the weight of uncertainty alone, and now, with Violet and Daphne's support, she felt a little less burdened. "Thank you, Daphne. Truly, you have no idea how much this means to me."
Daphne's eyes sparkled with warmth as she responded. "We are sisters now, Penelope. It is only right that we look out for one another."
As Benedict returned with Penelope's lemonade, the ladies exchanged secret smiles, their hearts full of hope and excitement for the possibility of a new addition to the Bridgerton family. The ball continued around them, but for Penelope, the world had narrowed to the thrilling prospect of the new life that might be growing within her.