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Daphne was lying in the middle of the bed, eyes fixed on the canopy's intricate detailing. If she dared to move her gaze even slightly, she would need to run to the chamber pot - for her third pregnancy proved to be a challenge through and through. There were days she could not even hold her children from the nausea. Constantly lightheaded, fatigued. "It is but a few more months", she kept telling herself, "This too shall pass."
She cradled her belly, as if to apologize. "Take whatever you need, my child. As long as you need it." She closed her eyes.
She heard Simon's light footsteps approaching - she would always hear them despite their quiet. If she took too long an afternoon in bed, he would come to check on her, as per usual.
The door opened gently; he approached the bed in silence not to disturb her. She remained still out of fatigue, but grunted to let him know that she was not asleep.
He smiled; this simple grunt meant that she did not feel all that exhausted... yet. He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her. "I have a gift for you, that might perhaps ease your solitary hours." A curious hum. "You know the postal delivery was disrupted for the past few days... Today a large bundle from the Bridgerton house has arrived."
Daphne let out a small cry of joy; she instinctively tried to prop herself up - no, that was not happening right now. She turned her head toward him, opened one eye. "Suspiciously large, indeed." Even this tiny move was one too many. She resumed her inertia.
"Do you care to read them for me?"
Simon looked at the bundle in his hands, all private correspondence to her wife from her, or rather, their family. "Are you certain? I do not want to pry."
"Quite certain. Let us transport there for a moment, together."
Simon put the letters on his side. He reached and caressed her temple with his thumb, a gesture that always seemed to soothe her. "How do you feel this afternoon?"
She hummed again, this time to the rhythm of his caresses. "I feel like this one should be our last one..." she jested. She inhaled a long breath, exhaled slowly. His magical touch always comforted her babies inside of her, thereby giving her a moment of respite. "Did you spend time with our children before coming to me?"
"I have..." he said, as he continued the light strokes on her temple. "They were in the walled garden, enjoying the sun after so many days of thunderstorms and picking flowers for their mother. Augie showed me how to make a flower crown and gave the one I made to his sister. He asked me to give you the one he made.” He paused with a knowing nod. “But I knew better than to bring a new odour to our bedchamber."
"Oh no... my poor baby Augie." She put her hand above his, to reciprocate the caress. "Where did you put it?"
"In between the pages of our copy of The Gardeners Dictionary."
She opened an eye to offer her appreciation; he tilted his head, acknowledging the praise. They giggled. Then Simon gestured to the letters on his side. "All right... It is time to go through this bundle then. By author, by chronological order, or randomly?"
She contemplated the question for a moment. She would surely enjoy hearing of everyone's perspective first, then to get to the truth through her mother's insightful letters. Yet, she would also appreciate a chronological retelling... But "Let us be bold and adventurous" she said finally. "Give me the key points in any order you please."
"With pleasure, Your Grace." He picked up a letter from the bundle and carefully unsealed it.
"We start with a rare correspondence... It is from Eloise."
"Eloise?!" gasped Daphne, but Simon was quick to soothe her before she could manage to sit up.
"No cause for concern, apologies. Everything is alright. She is simply asking... for advice... Odd... something about secrets and lies." He raised his eyebrow; they exchanged a glance.
"Odd, indeed, Eloise asking me for advice. That one will have to wait until I have my full mental capacity to understand her plight."
He nodded and grabbed the next random paper out of the pile. He eyed it for a bit, in surprise.
"Oh you will enjoy this one, this is from your mother... The identity of our infamous Lady Whistledown is revealed. It is our queen of swooning, Daphne!"
"Cressida?!" She urgently sat up to grab the letter, but nausea hit before she could reach it. Their eyes met and before Simon could react to her utter discomfort, she sprung out of the bed. "Do not follow me... do not... follow!" she yelled, as she ran with quick steps into her own bedchamber, toward the chamber pot, slamming the dividing door behind her.
"Do you honestly believe me repelled by your body's efforts for carrying our child?" he quipped through the door.
"I do not care... You shall not see me with my head inside the chamber pot! Cover your ears as well!"
He chuckled at her unwavering attempts to conceal herself even after three pregnancies. He waited a while in between the noises coming from the other room. Then he grabbed the letters from the bed and sat on the floor, leaning against the door.
"I cannot believe that Cressida is Whistledown..." she yelled from the other side, once the hurls subsided. "She is vicious, yes. And she enjoys malice... Yet, I never thought her clever as to puppeteer all of our reputation with her pen." She stopped to collect her composure. "Come to think of it... She did threaten me with publishing our passionate garden escapade..."
"Did she now?" he growled, all the while welcoming the tingling sensation that their passionate garden escapade evoked in him.
"And I told her she could either be a duchess's friend, or her enemy. Well, she's neither... that horrible, horrible girl...Although…” She paused, remembering the estrangement between Eloise and Penelope. “Eloise befriended her this summer, if we are to believe my mother's letters. I wonder whether these secrets and lies that were tormenting her was because of Cressida..."
A bit of silence, then some more struggle, and silence again...
"All right... do you wish me to continue?" he asked from the opposite side of the door.
A laborious approval.
"This one is from Kate!" He knew Daphne always enjoyed her tales of taming Anthony, he browsed quickly to find a delightful instance. Instead, he unintentionally let out an "Oh..."
"What?" The door swung open and Daphne appeared, causing Simon to slightly lose his balance on the floor. "What?!" She kneeled next to him trying to read the letter in his hands upside down, only to further disturb her stomach. "Tell me!"
"They are leaving for India. They wish your nephew to be born and raised in Kate's homeland."
"Oh..." was the only reply she could muster. Her eyes darkened.
"That was my reaction!" He tried to lighten her mood, but he could not make her smile. He changed his strategy; he reached out and squeezed her hand. "Does it pain you that you will miss the first years of your first nephew?"
She shrugged in defeat. "I have already missed two weddings... I had hoped that I could be by Kate's side when it was her time to welcome their child." She squeezed his fingers. "Alas, this child of yours demands my undivided attention."
He stood up and pulled her alongside him, toward the bed. She laid down once again, eyes closed, hands over her chest. He poured her a glass of water, then a second and a third one, for her thirst seemed unquenchable.
"Better?"
"Better. Who is next?"
She seemed to have already accepted the departure. He opened another letter.
"Your mother again. Describing Francesca's wedding." His eyes quickly browsed the long content. "Our new brother made her cry with his speech, apparently."
She sighed with delight. "I am looking forward to meeting him, Simon. Francesca's letters paint such a lovely picture of John..."
He hesitated for a second, unsure of how to proceed.
"Well... that would require a trip to Scotland, my dear. The Sterlings have decided to take residence in their primary estate."
"Oh..."
Daphne thought about her mother, how lonely she must feel now that her two daughters were away from her. Not to mention the Viscount and the Viscountess... Well, at least she would have her second-born son and second-born daughter by her side, providing enough shenanigans to make her forget about the three missing children.
"Also..." continued Simon, wary. "Eloise is joining them..."
"Eloise?! In the Highlands? She would be bored out of her mind!"
Simon once again placed his hand on her forehead to caress her temple; this agitated state would only fatigue her more. "Perhaps she will find a new perspective there..." he whispered with a soothing voice.
"Perhaps..." she sighed. "My poor mother."
Simon looked deeper into Violet's letter to cheer Daphne up, otherwise this correspondence reciting session would need to conclude. "Well, she might not be as lonely after all, Daphne, deducing from the way she mentions Lady Danbury's brother more than once..."
He felt her body relax with this piece of insight. He knew that her mother's lack of companionship in life occasionally pained Daphne, especially now that even her youngest siblings were fast approaching adulthood.
She contemplated the possibility of a blossoming romance, after so many years. She would not object to this prospect. "Have you met him before?"
"Her brother? No. Lady Danbury never talked about him. I simply knew that he existed."
Was it a bad sign? Surely, her quasi-mother-in-law would not allow her mother to walk a dangerous path. "Oh well... I hope my mother can finally find companionship, now that most of children have left her side."
Simon felt relieved that she was welcoming all these changes with optimism, despite her current state. He proceeded to paint a picture of their near future, even though her present was currently a challenge.
"We shall visit your mother in Aubrey Hall, once you get on your feet. And I will take you to the Highlands, Daphne. One day." He paused, weighing the extent of the picture in his mind. "India, that is so far a distance that I shall not dare to entertain the idea. However, I have no doubt Anthony will move mountains to introduce the next Viscount Bridgerton, or Miss Bridgerton, to the rest of the Bridgertons in a timely manner."
She squeezed his hand. The picture was vivid in her mind now. Simon would keep his promises, she had no doubt.
He returned to another letter from the pile. "Francesca is letting you know that she shall give you lengthy descriptions of their wedding day once she settles in her new residence. And that you shall not worry, for she has Eloise and Kilmartin's cousin Michaela to keep her company in the Highlands."
"Ah! Another Sterling I am yet to meet!" Her voice hit a wistful note through its excitement. She chased away a little teardrop. "Nothing of Colin? He has been awfully silent since he got engaged." She had not seen her brother since he came back from his travels through the war-torn Europe, the experience of which had been clearly enough to push him toward the comfort of a longtime friend.
"Well, Daphne, I believe this next letter might answer this question..." He was holding yet another one from Violet Bridgerton.
His tone made her open her eyes again, his playful retelling had taken a stiff turn.
"Cressida was not Lady Whistledown after all."
She sat up, pushed down the nausea. Simon was unwilling to continue, clearly. She grabbed the letter from his hands and tried to read while the gags quickly intensified. She returned the letter, resting her eyes for a moment.
Simon waited for her to look deep into his eyes and held her hand. "Lady Whistledown is a Bridgerton. It is your new sister."
She froze for a moment, then she threw herself back onto the bed, defeated. "I do not understand."
"How do you mean?"
"She was Eloise's best friend, and she almost ruined her... Oh, this is why they drifted apart!" Her brain was buzzing with the speed of her successive thoughts. "Oh, and that was the reason for her letter! She knew..."
"And yet nothing came out of that gossip sheet, Daphne. Surely, it could not have been so bad, assuming from the way your mother is conveying the news."
"I cannot believe it" she sighed, beating the mattress in protest like a child. "Do you remember how she always tormented me? The insinuations she wrote about me... That I required further inspection, that I was ineligible, that my mind was amiss, as well as my honour. She was simply... mean. And it was the sweet Penelope all along?"
Simon laid next to her and put his hand on her stomach. He took his time to calm her nerves once again, smiling through and through.
"Well… I, for one, am eternally grateful for the vicious gossip she wrote about you." He was caressing their child and placing occasional kisses on her cheeks and on her belly. "Imagine if you were eligible. You would have never turned to a broken man such as me, among the plethora of your suitors. You would have found love elsewhere, and I would have forever remained forlorn and alone, never knowing the joys of being loved by you, loving you, loving our children." He felt her hand caress his neck. "You are my wife today because she terrified you into playing a ruse with me." Her eyes were closed but she smiled, feeling his face close to his. His smile widened in return. "Such a blessed life, all because you were ineligible."
She sighed, shook her head slightly. "You make compelling arguments, Your Grace."
"I believe we should send her our belated gratitude for our blessed matrimony."
"I would not go that far… For now, our greetings for their matrimony shall suffice."
He nodded in agreement. Her fury had been mild and short lived, which was all he could ask for right now.
"For now, bed rest. You shall have plenty of time in the near future, once this episode ends."
She put her hand over his hand on her belly. "It feels as if this time, it will last forever."
Simon had learned to manage his own fears about childbirth during their first and became a soothing voice throughout their second. But this one was different - more challenging, more demanding, more draining. His fears were returning nightmare by nightmare, every time her nausea lasted for hours, and her face looked sallow. Still, he had witnessed her strength every time, so he needed to follow suit.
"It is but a few more weeks. Then our baby C shall start moving in your belly and you shall have a respite from your frequent chamber pot visits."
She let out a long exhale, eyes still close. "I would like to kiss you very much right now, but I dare not."
He smiled. He kissed her forehead longingly, caressed her hair, while opening the final letter left in the pile.
"We have one from your brother C. Apologetic, nevertheless proud. Yet another Bridgerton in marital bliss..."
"I shall hope so! He married the most sought-after woman in London, after all."
He chuckled at this unravelled truth. "And I married the ineligible Miss Bridgerton who required further inspection."
She opened her eyes to catch that mischievous smile of his that she was certain had appeared on his lips as he uttered these words.
There it was!
She smiled back. "You may kiss me now" she whispered. So he did.