Mid-February 1815

Buckingham House, London

Charlotte and Agatha stared in shock at the opulence that lay before them. In the weeks since the season's start, Charlotte had received many a gift in attempt to buy her favour for daughters and sisters. It would not work, of course, the Queen was not a woman to be bought. Still, the spread was rather impressive.

A pineapple (1), gilded with a fine layer of gold leaf, sat upon a velvet cushion in vibrant scarlet. The pineapple, of which Charlotte already proudly had three, had been draped with diamond necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. The table upon which the bejewelled pineapple sat was barely visible under the many other gifts of jewellery and accoutrements that Charlotte had received. All diamond. The ladies of the ton were not all that subtle. Nor were they especially observant, it seemed, as all of them had failed to notice her proclamation that emeralds were her favoured jewel. All the more reason to not declare a diamond, that Eloise girl had known such a basic fact, and she was hardly the perfect subject, according to Whistledown.

"Evidently, diamonds are not so rare after all." Lady Danbury could not help but to remark smugly. As closest Lady to the Queen, Agatha had been put under considerable pressure to open the Queen's mind to a new diamond. Agatha was not the kind of woman to be easily pushed around but had found herself inclined to agree with the rest of the ton in that each season should have a diamond. If nothing else, it provided for some excitement, and Agatha did so love to meddle.

"Which is exactly why I am not choosing one," Charlotte looked in distaste at the table of jewellery. She had accessories in spades, and diamonds by the tonne. "No matter how many jewels anxious mamas might send me."

Agatha steadied herself with her cane and began to circle the table, and by extension, Charlotte. Though no one could intimidate the Queen, it was in Agatha's habit to make herself as formidable as possible, and her shark-like mannerisms had become second nature for when she wanted to get her way. "So, you are unperturbed by what Lady Whistledown has written?" Some people might have considered the pamphlet to be treasonous with how often the Queen was criticised.

Charlotte scoffed, "That she thinks I am afraid of choosing a diamond? Why should I be? I hear my choice last year, Miss Edwina, has made a splendid match abroad." She too, began to pace so that the Queen and Lady Danbury circled the table of gifts like two wolves prepping for the kill. "Lady Whistledown is a fool, and evidently does not have ears beyond the borders of London as I do. Lord Auckland is a promising young man, and nothing less than an asset to the crown. His political mind is sharper than all others in India, and I have no doubt he will make something great of himself. He will become someone whom Edwina lives to laud, if he is not already."

Agatha opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Charlotte's continuation, "Whistledown acts as if Viscount Bridgerton was such a superior choice to Auckland, but they are not so different in rank. Bridgerton, affluent that he may be, is just a Viscount."

"Certainly, your majesty, you have made nothing but favourable matches for your chosen ladies. So why not continue your considerable success?" Lady Danbury finally managed to get a word in to try and encourage the Queen.

"And give Whistledown exactly what she wants? I will not." The two had stopped their predatory spiral and instead stood motionless, facing each other with only the small table between them. "Besides, I have not seen nearly enough of this year's girls. If I am to grant one my favour, she must do more to earn it."

"I see." Agatha smiled to herself. The Queen would choose a diamond yet, and she had just the young lady in mind. With no more children of her own to champion, Agatha had decided that she would ensure the success of Violet's girls. Though the ordeal with Lord Ledger (2) had been somewhat staunched by Violet, Agatha considered the younger woman to be a dear friend indeed. Their outlooks varied greatly on the nature of love and life, but Agatha could not deny that the Bridgertons had a supernatural sort of luck when it came to finding proper love matches. Agatha could never have a love match of her own, but she damn well intended on providing them for those she held dear.

Charlotte stared off into the distance, a contemplative yet regal furrow in her brow, "I shall simply choose someone," she paused as words failed her.

"Someone who sparkles!" Agatha finished for her. It did not matter what name the diamond was called, a rose by any name still smelled as sweetly, so long as Charlotte chose one.

"Precisely." Charlotte nodded her approval, "My sparkler shall make the best match of the season. And then Whistledown shall be reminded of her place once and for all. It is she who should be afraid."

Charlotte made eye contact with Brimsley, who nodded professionally and gestured to the footman who had just entered the room. Like always, this specific man carried only a silver platter, not for food or drink or the snuff that Charlotte was so fond of, but instead a neat trifold pamphlet. Whistledown had become Charlotte's new drug, and though a new publishing so recently after her second of the season shocked her, she was nothing less than ecstatic. Every word would lead her closer to her quandary.

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It is said that fools rush to judge while the wise watch and wait. Years ago, Miss Henderson, once thought to be on the shelf, triumphed over many a deb to marry Earl Fraser. Miss Dunham had been doomed to spinsterhood until she married Baron Ely. And Miss Kathani Sharma, at the ripe age of six-and-twenty, still managed to capture the heart of none other than the Viscount Bridgerton. It seems, in these modern times, that spinsterhood is not the end of all prospects as we had once thought. Perhaps some of these not quite so young ladies simply bide their time in preparation for the right match. We have an unusually high number of ladies who are rapidly nearing the age of spinsterhood this season. Let us wish them luck and hope that whatever strategy they have will pan out, for they are quite stunning indeed. Like fine wines, it seems the ladies of our dear ton only improve with age.

The truth is, that which some dismiss as common rock, time reveals to be precious stone. A fact the new Baron of Kent and his family are learning this very week. Having only just moved into their newly acquired estate; it is no great assumption to say that there will be a long adjustment period. With a new ball fast approaching, I look forward to how Mr. and Mrs. Mondritch will choose to present themselves. Will they be able to live up to the lofty expectations left by the late Lady Kent, or will they crack under the pressure? Only the Mondriches know.

What this author knows to be true is that diamonds are not the only gems that sparkle. The Queen has still shown no signs of choosing a diamond, and so with a heavy heart I must assume she has resigned herself to a season of passivity. Do not fret, my dear readers, if the Queen does not deign to give her loyal subjects any favour, rest assured that I will do the job for her. I do not know everyone quite so well as I might like, but I am nothing if not a splendid judge of character. If the Queen truly refuses to announce the best pick of the season, then you shall simply have to hear it from me, instead.

All in due time, my gentle readers, all in due time.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

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Mid-February 1815

Kent Estate, Mayfair

Though she knew she should have, Alice did not admonish Nicky for how his mouth hung open as they toured their new estate. The beautiful brick building was far larger than anything Alice could have ever imagined she'd live in. The point was only driven home by the fact that they had needed a tour from the housekeeper to learn the lay of the land.

"Through that door is the east wing," Mrs. Khanna gestured to the right as she led the family through the front door, "and the west wing," to the left, "and if you'll follow me."

Nicky, Daisy, and John gaped and turned in slow circles as they took in their new home. Half-panelled walls with Paris-green (3) wallpaper, grand and luminous windows, and perfectly matching silk curtains. The walls were adorned with, granted older style, paintings and hangings of magnificent quality. All the furniture had been expertly burnished and shone under a new coat of lacquer. The entryway alone was larger than the first residence Will and Alice had lived in.

Nicky and John raced to the open archway that led to the sitting room, thrice as large as the entryway and adorned with not one but two fireplaces. The boys stared at the floral arrangements and candles and did not move until Alice called for them to keep with the rest of the family. It would not do to have the new Baron Kent become lost in his own home on his first week of owning it. They followed Mrs. Khanna up the stairs and Nicky stuck his grubby child fingers, which even at the age of eleven seemed to always have a layer of grime on them, all over the decorations. He reverently stroked a bust, some Greek or Roman figure, that Alice was sure was made of porcelain. One wrong move and it could shatter into a thousand pieces on the floor.

"No one touch anything." Alice warned. Already, she felt stressed. The titled life was supposed to be one of ease and luxury, but she could tell that there were to be many delicate and unspoken rules if they wanted to fit in.

"Upstairs you will find your library, as well as your music room, the private drawing room, your writing room, and the study." Mrs. Khanna carried on as if she didn't notice the children at all.

"How many rooms are there?" Though the housekeeper had been mostly speaking to the adults, she turned at Nicholas's question and held the same deferential posture that she would if he were a full-grown man.

"Twenty-seven, including the servants' quarters, my Lord." Mrs. Khanna spoke with complete seriousness and respect.

"Mind you do not bother Mrs. Khanna, or you'll have to clean them all yourself." Alice tried to bring in some levity. She didn't want her children to grow complacent and entitled and would not stand to see them disrespect the staff. The Mondriches, even the children, were used to chores such as cleaning, and Alice still expected her children to clean up after themselves.

Mrs. Khanna didn't so much as crack a smile, and simply gestured to the first room on the left of the stairwell, "And this is your bedchamber, Mrs. Mondrich, just opposite Mr. Mondrich's."

Will looked from his wife's bedroom door to its mirror on the right side of the stairwell, "We will sleep in separate rooms?"

The housekeeper nodded, "Of course."

"But we are married." Alice said, she half expected Mrs. Khanna to be unaware of the information. Why would a married couple sleep in separate beds? Alice knew many of the wealthy married for business rather than pleasure, but love matches did exist, surely they did not sleep separately as well.

"That is how it is done." Mrs. Khanna spoke as if it were obvious and continued on with the tour.

Will and Alice shared a look, they had not slept separately since their wedding night, but if this was how the ton carried on, what choice did they have?

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Mid-February 1815

Featherington House, Mayfair

Portia sat at a tea table as she held two copies of Whistledown in her hands. The first was the previous edition, the one with the disparaging section about Colin, and the other was the newly published edition. She frowned as she cross-examined the two, she did not like the information that had been presented.

"Unbelievable." Portia turned to Varley as the housekeeper refilled her tea. "The Kent estate has gone to the son of a boxer! What if some shopkeeper or… or… or chimney sweep is next in line for ours? Can you imagine, Varley, some commoner usurping my estate? Someone from a dirty profession like a printer? Or worse, the estate went to just a boy, what if they pass off our home to some uneducated whelp of an apprentice? The home my girls grew up in will see ruin at the hands of those sorts!"

Varley shook her head in disappointment, she knew the wealthy often had children outside their own spheres, but boxers were, in her good opinion, far too violent a sort to enter high society. She turned to briefly look at the two married daughters who sat on opposite settees and conversed with their respective husbands. Mr. Dankworth held Prudence's hand in his own and leaned in towards her as he spoke, with that stupidly eager expression he so often wore. Prudence seemed marginally more receptive to such advances on that particular day, and did not push him away, though she maintained her pinched expression. Phillipa sat, completely unladylike though no one seemed to care, on her knees on the settee and held a tin of sweets. She and Mr. Finch looked positively elated as they took turns feeding each other. The display was almost sickeningly sweet. "Why worry yourself, ma'am? The girls will make good."

Portia turned to her daughters and watched as Prudence scooted away from Mr. Dankworth's increasingly emotional conversation. Phillipa and Albion had begun trying to throw the sweets into each other's mouths, they succeeded only about a third of the time, but neither wasted the opportunity to reuse the fallen candies.

"Oh, dear God…" Portia watched them in horror. Why were they here instead of at their own homes, making heirs? Phillipa and Mr. Finch were in love, but undeniably dim-witted, and Prudence seemed as if she would be happier were her husband a statue for her to gawk at rather than a man for her to interact with. They were doomed.

Penelope wandered into the room and, ignoring her sisters, turned to Portia, "Mama, Rae is accompanying me to Rotten Row (4) for fresh air." Penelope fiddled with her gloves, mint, to match the new dress she wore.

Portia waved her away, "Yes, yes, alright. Don't interrupt, can't you see we're busy here?"

Penelope looked about the room. Phillipa had successfully landed a sweet into Mr. Finch's mouth, but seemed to have thrown too hard, as he reeled back and gagged slightly. It must have hit the back of his throat, while Phillipa had terrible aim, she had a strong arm. Prudence had, likely in order to distract her dullard husband, started to feed Mr. Dankworth grapes off the vine. She dangled a bunch above his face as he tried to bite at them, like a puppy snapping at table scraps. Prudence ate grapes from a bowl of pre-picked fruits that she kept at her side and out of Harry's eyesight.

Penelope rolled her eyes. She had gotten permission, that was all she needed. She and Rae headed for Rotten Row to meet Colin for charm lessons.

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Mid-February 1815

Hyde Park, London

Eloise made no effort to hide her contempt as she reluctantly strolled on the bank of the Serpentine (5) with her brothers. Cressida had been busy with some business or another and had not been able to join Eloise for their usual walk. Instead, though she even had her lady's maid with her, Anthony had insisted she not be unaccompanied, she was flanked on either side by Benedict and Colin. She felt as if she was part of a prison escort, rather than under her family's protection. A not insignificant part of her wished to turn in the opposite direction and sprint all the way to Bloomsbury and Theo's printer shop. She didn't, though, mostly because it would cause trouble for everyone involved and also because she did not think she could outrun Benedict and Colin for that long. She was faster, but they did not have the encumberment of silhouetted skirts restricting their legs. She also was not quite sure that Theo would want to see her. He had the capability to send her letters, he had sent her books before. But he had, as of yet, not made an effort to reach out. Though she would not admit it, Eloise was a coward, and making the first move frightened her terribly, even if she wished to rekindle whatever it was they had. Even in chess, she preferred playing black (6).

Benedict mock pouted at Eloise's sullen expression, "Aw… How terrible that you must spend time with us, your brothers. You, the delicate damsel, us, the knights here to guard you from the lecherous eyes of the ton." He pretended to look around for advancing suitors to scare off, of which there were none. "Would you prefer to be promenading with your fellow debutantes?" His tone was saccharine, mockingly so, and Eloise had to resist the urge to give his ear a good cuff.

Instead, Eloise turned to Ben with an expression that she hoped would convey just how horrid she found his suggested idea, "Would you rather watch grass grow?" She had come to accept that the other ladies enjoyed their mind-meltingly dull hobbies, but that did not make the discussions of embroidery and eligible men any more interesting. She could respect a topic of conversation without enjoying it, and oh how she hated the conversations that the other ladies so enjoyed. Eloise then jerked her head to implicate Colin, who had been the cause of many a simpering giggle on their walk, "And it is not me they are eying. Were you a knight, and you would be a horrible one, for the record, I'd prefer you save me from further conversation about how eligible Colin is. I shall be glad to face a dragon or two if it means you can ward away the other 'damsels' as you so called them."

Benedict snorted, "You are only willing to face dragons because you are so beastly yourself. I do not understand the limits of your new outlook. You are snug with Cressida but have no interest in other debutantes. You wear a ribbon in your hair," he tugged at the blue chiffon ribbon that Eloise had painstakingly tried to weave into a braid before she had given up and asked a maid to do it, "but where is your fan?"

It was a joking manner in which Benedict spoke, but Eloise could sense the real question behind his voice. The two were not so frank with each other when others were around, and Colin was a certified snitch who would run and tell Anthony and Violet of anything the two said that might indicate they were unhappy with society. It was a tiptoe formality Benedict and Eloise were used to, and they knew well how to ask and answer questions without ever giving anything away. Eloise was not in the mood to talk, however. She had hardly made the most changes to her person, and Benedict knew good and well why she was the way she was. "Why must I be the object of your curiosity? It is not me whose outlook has most changed."

Benedict simply gave a "Hmm." And did not push further.

"Did you not promise Anthony you would give society a try?" Colin asked. He knew the answer, but was anxious to leave and find Penelope, and needed an excuse to distract his very observant siblings. Both Benedict and Eloise heaved sighs of annoyance, it seemed that Eloise was not the only sibling who had made such a promise to Anthony. "I shall see you both later."

"Oh, and where are you off to?" Benedict actually stomped his foot in petulance.

"Why, off to enjoy the freedoms of having made no such deal with Anthony, of course!" He walked away with a cheeky grin, and headed to where he knew he would meet Penelope.

Eloise sighed, and kicked lightly at Benedict's shiny boot, "Perhaps one of those ladies has a fan I might borrow; looks like it may become rather warm."

It was unlikely to become any warmer than a comfortable 50° or so, but Benedict did not argue. That Eloise had not sent him away to the sidelines meant she wanted him there. If she truly felt she needed guarding from the questions the other ladies asked about Colin, then he would provide that. At the very least, he would make sure Eloise did not feel so alone in the face of her better adjusted peers. In return, Eloise could ward off the hopeful debutantes who had their eyes set on him. It was symbiosis, plain and simple.

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Mid-February 1815

Rotten Row, Hyde Park

Colin, after having escaped his unsociable siblings, found Penelope rather quickly. She sat, elegant and poised, on a bench under a willow tree that had just begun to push buds. Colin thought she looked spectacularly like a dryad, sitting there under the tree in her pale green dress. She looked positively ethereal, and Colin could not imagine how on earth Penelope could possibly not attract suitors. Men should have flocked to her bench to ask for her arm in afternoon promenade, but as it were, she was alone.

Penelope rose to meet him as he approached, a gentle but nervous smile on her face. She clutched her fan in her hands, more for comfort than necessity. "So… how do we begin?" The two took to walking at a leisurely pace, and Rae, in her mustard-coloured outfit, followed behind them as chaperone. "Perhaps there is a book I might read on charm?"

Colin chuckled mirthlessly, "You still want my help after what Lady Whistledown wrote? I am a cad, so she says."

Penelope suppressed a wince; she had written that and had quickly regretted it. "She has never been more wrong about anyone. Let us pay her no heed."

"See, this is one of the many things I so appreciate about you, Pen. What matters most to you is the people around you. You see me for who I truly am, not a cad or a shiny new Bridgerton to set upon, but as Colin." Truly, there was no one else Colin had felt so comfortable around, not since he was a child. Not since Edmund died. "Now, no more talk of books. If you are to secure a match, you must engage in the world about you, not the one in parchment pages. I should like to see your skills as they are, first."

"But I have none." Penelope's only talent was her written word, and she could not woo a man with letters alone, she must meet him at some point, and words would fail her. She was only capable of eloquence in privacy, when she had the security of a mask or the secrecy of her journal. The real world was real, and had consequences, and people knew her; it was nothing like being Lady Whistledown.

"You know how to wave your fan, flutter your lashes, that sort of thing." Colin paused to take in Penelope's appearance once more. Her eyelashes were just a shade darker than her hair, almost brown rather than red, and the stark contrast brought out the glints of gold in her honey-brown eyes (7). Colin's eyes caught on Penelope's bust. A low neckline was in style, and Colin had heard many of his peers talk favourably of the fashion. He had not paid it much mind until Paris, where it seemed somehow more noticeable in French-style gowns. Penelope's dress was in the French stylings, and briefly his mind saw fit to remind him exactly how he had learned his new brand of charm. He swallowed. "Often that is all it takes. Men are quite simple beings."

Penelope looked hopelessly at her fan, "Well, I guess I can show you…"

"Not me," Colin gestured to a trio of men that stood and spoke with each other, "them."

Penelope nodded and took Rae to walk closer to the men. Colin, in turn, split off and rounded upon a tree near the group, so that he could hear and see the conversation without being in Penelope's way. He knew she would be more comfortable if he made introductions for her, but that was entirely out of the question. Colin could not go around introducing men to Penelope while she hung onto his arm. It would send across entirely the wrong message and would scare away all her prospects. He was not her brother, nor was he an acceptable chaperone, and the only conclusion others could draw was that he and Penelope were courting. Though, Colin thought, Penelope would look far better on his arm than with any of the three men whose attention she had managed to catch. The one was too old, in his forties, and Penelope deserved someone as full of life as herself. The middle was a mere Thane (8), and Penelope deserved someone of higher rank and more ample funds. The third was simply too ugly, superficial as it was, Colin wished for nothing less than the best for Penelope, and the third man could not hold a candle to her radiance. It was no matter, though, they were just practise. Colin would find a truly worthy suitor when Penelope had honed her charm.

Penelope walked slowly past where the three men stood, far enough away to be polite and inconspicuous, but close enough that they would see her and feel obligated to offer a greeting. Rae trailed behind her at a closer distance, alert and ready should anyone need to be reminded of propriety.

The first man nodded to her, "Hello, Miss Featherington."

The other two tipped their hats in greeting.

Already, Penelope felt short of breath, "Hello!" Had she spoken too loudly? She could not tell. "It is so delightful to see you all, and what lovely weather we are having." Penelope tried to cock a hip saucily as she had seen other debutantes do but aborted the motion at the last minute and seemed to the men to be unsteady on her feet. She fluttered her fan rapidly. She tried to 'bat her lashes' as Colin had called it but did not know how and simply blinked at the man with more frequency than felt natural.

Rae suppressed a wince; this would not go well.

"Miss Featherington," Started the third man, "You seem… discomposed."

Penelope felt her breath quicken; she had no idea how to do this. The three men stared at her with concern, and their eyes bore holes into her. It was too much attention, too much focus on her. She was doing something wrong, and she knew it, but could not think how to act properly. All she knew was that she was not good enough for this. Sweat gathered on her brow and under her arms. She fanned herself faster even though it only made far more stressed.

"No." A blunt denial, men did not like that sort of thing. "I am quite well my lord, and if you'll forgive me, I must take my leave. My mama is waiting at home."

Without waiting for a response, Penelope turned on her heel and made a beeline for the bench she had been sat upon earlier. She slapped her now folded fan against her knee and waited for Colin to return. When he did his lips were pursed, and she could not tell if he was holding in laughter, or if he was truly that disappointed.

He simply gave her a bemused smile, "Well, we have our work cut out for us, don't we?"

Footnotes

1. Pineapple mania, an early "fad" in historical trends. Pineapples were extremely popular four around 150 years, of which the regency era is the tail end. Pineapples only grew in the tropics, greenhouses weren't common yet, and so they had to be shipped by boat. Pineapples do not travel well. Because of this, they were symbols of monumental wealth. The rich wouldn't even eat them, they'd just use them as decoration until they rotted.

2. See: Queen Charlotte; A Bridgerton Story. Lord Ledger is Violet's dad. Lady Danbury had a short lived affair with him after her husband's death. Nothing could come of the relationship, as Lord Ledger was married with children (a teenage Violet and maybe siblings.)

3. This is one of the greens that was made with arsenic, it was pretty popular at this time.

4. A section of previously mentioned Hyde Park. Usually, people rode horses there, so the ground was grassless and packed down. It was a popular section of the park for people to show off, and it wouldn't be uncommon for a lady to go and watch the men ride their horses. Sometimes the ladies would ride their own horses down the row.

5. The big man-made lake/river in Hyde Park. Can be seen in several promenade scenes in the show. Ironically, the Serpentine is not very wavy in shape.

6. White always makes the first move in chess. Though this was only decided in the 1880s, it was likely a commonly followed rule, like monopoly free parking or uno stacking which, while not actually rules in their games, are extremely common house rules. White is generally considered to have the advantage, as they can start on the offensive, while black is forced to stay defensive. This fits Eloise, as I feel she is often reactionary rather than proactive. Though ambitious, she doesent usually make the first move, which seems to work more to her detriment than benefit. In chess, though, which has controlled rules, I think Eloise could play extremely well with black, because she has a good eye for figuring out what other people are going to do. I think she'd be a bang up chess player in general tbh. In real chess, white doesent have that much of an advantage; white has a 55% win rate. (% total wins + ½ the draws). The advantage is mostly psychological and strategically white doesn't have superior moves to black.

7. I know show Pen has blue eyes. But you know what, like 90% of the show cast already has blue eyes (or at least blue contacts) and that's boring. I can choose to use book canon whenever, and book canon says Pen has brown eyes, so I say she has brown eyes.

8. Pretty low ranking, and also scottish only. Like the son of an Earl. Lower than a Baron and Viscount, really only higher than knights, esquires, and unlanded gentlemen.