Chapter Text
I.
In which John and Francesca get engaged and Violet is skeptical.
“We’re engaged!”
The Bridgertons flock around Francesca, exclaiming over the brand-new diamond ring on her finger. She clasps John's hand, keeping him by her side so that they may endure the attention as a unit.
It’s rare the whole family is together anymore now that nearly everyone is grown, but Anthony and Kate are in town for a conference and Colin and Penelope have just returned, tan and happy, from filming Colin’s travel series in Vietnam, so Violet insisted on putting extra leaves in the large dining room table and having the entire Bridgerton clan over for dinner. And what better time for the announcement, thought Francesca. It would be efficient. No sibling would feel left out or favored by hearing the news first or last. It was quite serendipitous, really.
As Daphne, Kate, Penelope, and Hyacinth pull her away from her fiancé, cooing over the cut and size of her ring and pestering her for details of the proposal with Eloise rolling her eyes behind them, Francesca watches Benedict and Colin clap John on the back. He stiffens a little with a smile that one who did not know him might mistake as reserved, but when he looks at Francesca she knows he’s beaming.
Anthony is the last to congratulate them. He wraps Francesca in a tight hug.
“You’re sure he’s worthy of my favorite sister?” he asks.
“You said I was your favorite!” Hyacinth pipes up from across the room, with a face that promises a great deal of groveling will be needed to recover from this slight.
Anthony winces.
“The ears on that girl. I’m quite convinced she’s part bat," he grouses, sneaking a wary look over his shoulder at his youngest sister.
“He is more than worthy, brother,” Francesca assures him. A soft smile blooms as she watches John shaking hands with Simon, eyes sparkling behind his placid exterior, “I love him.”
“Then I shall love him, too,” says Anthony with that pompous authority that used to drive her crazy and now just makes her laugh.
It is a wonderfully good evening, everyone agrees. In fact, they are so busy agreeing on this that Francesca almost doesn’t notice that her mother has been unusually quiet.
Kate and Daphne are arguing over who had the better wedding venue, a conversation Violet most certainly has opinions on, but instead of chiming in she sips her glass of wine. But it’s when she stays silent as Colin chimes in that his wedding breakfast was so charming it was featured in an actual bridal magazine spread that Francesca knows something is wrong.
John shoots her a concerned look. This is why she loves him. She hasn’t said a word but somehow he always knows when something has upset her. Francesca shakes her head, gives him a quick smile to reassure him.
She waits until the end of the evening, her brothers and sisters by birth and by marriage filtering out the front door, before pulling Violet aside.
“You wish to say something.”
Violet’s mouth falls open in speechless protest, an expression Francesca has come to associate with the time Gregory asked one too many questions about the circumstances of his conception after Hyacinth called him an ‘accident’.
“… No,” Violet says, after much too long a pause.
“Then there is something you do not wish to say,” Francesca presses.
Violet sighs.
“Only that… I worry -”
“You do not think John is the right match." Francesca cuts her off, brow furrowed.
Violet shakes her head at the interruption. “I did not say that! Perhaps he is. But he’s also your first real relationship.”
She touches Francesca’s chin with such fondness that Francesca feels her heart ache a little. It makes it difficult to stay cross with her.
“My quiet girl. Your siblings have always flung themselves into every new passion or disaster with all the grace and ferocity of a hurricane, but you… you are my calm in the storm. And that is a beautiful thing. But I worry that perhaps you’ve been so concerned with being steadfast that you’ve not given yourself the chance be anything else.”
It’s the kind of platitude Francesca hates. Half compliment, half critique. Indirect. Unactionable. Her jaw clenches.
“And what does this have to do with my engagement?”
Violet hears the anger in her voice and takes a light step back.
“Nothing. John is a very fine man. If you are happy, then I am happier.”
“I am,” Francesca insists, “Very happy.”
Violet smiles, though Francesca notes it does not reach her eyes.
“Good.”
Francesca finds John waiting for her in the foyer. He holds out his arm. It is strong and solid. Steadfast. As Francesca takes it she feels an overwhelming rush of peace and security. She lets it carry her, rising on her toes and kissing him soundly in the open doorway of her mother’s house until he pulls back, ruffled, but clearly pleased.
Violet doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She loves this man, and that will never change.