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Esteemed Readers
I have witnessed the follies of men and the foibles of women wrapped in ribbons and bows truced up like a present from our Regents and thrust into society, the “Bon Ton.” The raucous soirees and balls where we dance, laugh and make ourselves peacock for the pleasure of a match. Alas, I shall leave the peacocking and dandified costumes of our Ton to one more attuned to such matters. Brummel, I tip my top hat to you in this endeavor. No, rapacious readers I shall give you what you crave and asked for – what is behind those polished smiles, flittering fans, and at the bottom of whisky glasses. Genteel we may pretend to be but the banality of it all is underscored by a more gruesome current. Stick with me and you shall learn what lies behind the columns at Lady Danbury infamous ball, what flowers wilt when the candles are extinguished at Lady Bridgerton annual Hearts and Flowers ball, and what cards are truly dealt and laid bare at White’s.
I know you are hungry, so here is a taste…
The thrust of the three Featherington girls upon the marriage market is well known to be a means to an end for Lord Featherington who may or may not owe an unspecified sum to certain gaming dens. What price shall he fetch? The oldest Prudence Feathering is too tall and lacks a certain grace, the middle child Philipa of a pleasing nature due to there being nothing in her brain to distinguish her, and then there is the youngest.
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Portia Featherington slams the paper down shattering the silence of her drawing room, “I cannot believe this. My Lord, do you see this slander?” Lord Featherington shrugged his shoulders “It is of no consequence. Simple gossip and I shall not be baited.” The girls grabbed the paper on the table all crowded and reading over each other. Philipa smiles “I am said to be pleasing.” Prudence huffs “He call you a nitwit and me buffoon!” In a small voice through the noise “At least you are named.” Prudence and Philipa turn “Of course you are not listed. There is nothing remarkable about you.” Portia gathers herself “Ladies, we shall hasten to the modiste and show the Ton we are the crème de la crème.”
Across the street a Bridgerton House, a similar discussion erupts. Anthony slams the paper down on the breakfast table “The nerve of this, this – whoever he is he shall not dishonor this house, implying we are wilting violets.” He cringes as the last words leave his mouth “Mother?” Violet looks around the table at her children, from Anthony disdain to Benedict amusement, Eloise curiosity and her youngest two looking for explanation. Francesca her calm one blessedly absent away practicing her skills with Aunt Winnie. Daphne, always a ball of tempered anxiety, she assumes to visit anytime. Each of their personalities is distinct.
Colin Bridgerton, middle boy, and middle child to the Bridgerton brood saunters into the dining room “What is everyone going on about?” Violet turns to see her most sensitive and charming child. He is so much like his father, his eyes alight with mischief, his height lending itself to a gait that gives him a statuesque presence and his smile hiding his true self with a natural charm to disarm those around him. He sits down with a full plate picking up the paper and reading “Oh, well it seems we have a new gossip monger this season amongst the ton. What other scintillating details do you think we shall be privy to?”
Anthony stops mid-sentence “Scintillating? He mocks this house, our mother and god knows what other damage he has done calling out others.” Eloise interjects “Exactly, do you see what he writes about Penelope family? She must be beside herself. Mother I must visit poste haste.” Violet interjects “I thank you all for defending me when it is not necessary. Idle gossip and we shall pay it no heed. Give it wind and it flourishes, which we most certainly are not going to do. Eloise I am sure we shall encounter Penelope at the modiste, for which we are late.”
Eloise huffs but joins Violets as they collect themselves to leave. The youngest scurry off with plans to steal the paper later and have their own read. Benedict moves to take his leave “From an artistic perspective it is beautifully written and does cause a stir. I for one am excited to see the Ton turned on its ear and look forward to the next issue.” Anthony huffs and Colin, have downs two plates of eggs and sausage now stands “I concur brother, the Ton could do with a little rabble.”