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━━━━  " 📂 "

𝙃 𝙀 𝘼 𝘿  𝙊 𝙑 𝙀 𝙍  𝙃 𝙀 𝙀 𝙇 𝙎

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LONDON
THE SOCIAL SEASON
1813

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THERE WAS A STARK limit to their time before Cecilia and Daphne were arranged to debut. A mere few days remained to ensure their dance skills were creditable, they had enough topics of conversation to keep a man entertained for the duration of such dance, the grace and poise expected of a young woman, the perfect curtsey to present before the Queen, enough skills under their belt to become interesting and of course, enough dresses to wear for the upcoming weeks that fit their exact measurements. New ones could quite easily be acquired throughout the season, but it seemed impractical to not be prepared and create images of flawless appearances in the weeks coming up to the intended event.

Thus, visits to the modiste had become commonplace to ensure absolute and complete perfection for the returned daughter, once initially to check on Cecilia's measurements should they have changed during her year away, and then several following to pick out designs, fabric and other such decisions that would bring both her debut dress, of its pure white appearance, and her dresses for the first few events of the season would only elevate the wish and push for eligible bachelors to step forward with a wish to court her.

"Ah, Miss Bridgerton, you will simply look most exquisite." When one was feeling pitiful, Madame Delacroix and her luxuriously French accent would always be present to show one any number of compliments, and the young girl whom had just entered would almost never turn down such interaction, instead smiling as the woman took her hand examined her latest purchase; a new pair of gloves.

The dark-haired woman had been by Violet and Cecilia's sides almost instantly as she entered the shop, abandoning the Mama she had been attending just moments before. Her reasoning was easily clear to anyone else present; the return of the eldest Bridgerton daughter, with her pointed chin, doe eyes and structured cheekbones was someone who Madame Delacroix could have only dreamt of dressing, and at that moment the Bridgertons were perhaps her highest-paying customer.

"Thank you, Madame Delacroix." Something else, other than the beauty that proceeded all other opinions of the girl was her kindness (which was something that appealed to her family as well as suitors and the people who worked for the Bridgertons), and the simple smile on Cecilia's face as the modiste attended to her would only ensure that her service would be elevated to the utmost best.

The Viscountess Bridgerton led the way, standing up from the futon herself and Daphne had been perched on ever since Cecilia had begun to be fitted, the empire waistline being tightened below her breasts, pins poking tiny ticklish pains into her skin. Cecilia watched, eyes trained upon her polished reflection as violet examined the white material, hand brushing over the skirts and the long train that fell from the wooden platform below her feet. "It is a wonderful dress." Violet complimented. "I can't help but recognise some of these designs though, are they entirely original?"

"Ah, Lady Bridgerton you are most insightful!" Madame Delacroix hurried to her side and the particular embroidered design that was being spoken of. "I was lucky enough to have saved Miss Bridgerton's dress from last year and adjusted it to the new fashions. You are a wonder, Miss Bridgerton, as you remained almost the same size in the necessary places despite the loss of weight in certain areas."

"And the designs?" Violet prompted, her eyes having met Cecilia's in the looking glass and noting the comments on such weight loss, something that could only be linked to her illness, had caused quite some worry.

"I believed it to be quite the compelling idea that as you have the wonder of debuting two sisters in one year they may share some embroidery to link them so." Madame Delacroix explained. "You may, my lady, recognise this particular design to be the same as Daphne's."

"Ah, yes, I see that now." Violet nodded. "I believe I had a maidservant in my employment bring forth the headdress to complete the illusion?"

Madame Delacroix nodded and disappeared from sight as she passed the rolls of fabric, Violet turning to her daughters in the newfound quiet of the dressing room. "Cecilia, you look wonderful," Daphne commented without prompt, her usual steadfast manners coming into play. "I truly think it even better that we are doing this together, it should ease my nerves all the more."

"I am glad too," Cecilia replied. "I believe it quite the wondrous idea to combine our designs and that, now we are joint in our debuts, that Anthony shall have to present the both of us. I may be able to actually enjoy this now that I have you to help me deal with him."

"Cecilia-" Violet's eyebrows rose.

"Mama, you cannot deny that Anthony shall be an utter nightmare when vetting our potential suitors." Cecilia hummed, thankful for the modiste's timing as Madame Delacroix returned with the rather tall box that homed the tiara that should be placed upon her tidied hair. The woman placed the box down on a nearby surface and opened it up, joining the Viscountess in placing it on top of the signature brunette curls of the Bridgerton.

"Oh, Cecilia." Violet took a step back to examine her, the sight of her daughter finally dressed in her entirety for her debut simply overwhelming. Daphne stood too, arm slipped into the elbow of her mother. "You look quite wonderful, darling."

"She could be a painting, no?" Madame Delacroix smiled, her hands on Cecilia's shoulders as she stood behind her and continued to adjust her dress. In the mirror, the eldest daughter could see her sister and her mother nod, sincere. "Shall I retrieve the other dresses I have made thus far next? I believe there is a dress that is perfect for her first event just waiting for her to try on."

"Yes," Violet confirmed, waving a hand to hurry her along. "That would be perfect, thank you."

And Cecilia only had to smile prettily, her attention on the mirror in front of her as she was dressed up like the ivory dolls she had once played with.

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The days leading to the Bridgerton sisters' debut had moved quickly, Cecilia overseeing the delivery of her new wardrobe and accessories as well as settling back into the life of a high society family in London. She was happy to have the time to do so, spending time wandering the streets alongside her sister and enjoying similar activities as she had before; reading, writing and refreshing her memory of particular dances with the help of Colin and Benedict.

It was the evening prior to the event to spark the debut of the sisters and in the golden glow of many candles, the elder half of the Bridgerton siblings, save for Francesca who was planning for her trip to bath, had found their enjoyment for the brief hours before the respite that came with the night in the drawing-room.

Cecilia was sat beside her twin, peering over his shoulder as he read one of the more boring books in his collection, finding herself too lazy to get up and return to her room to retrieve one that she would actually enjoy. Eloise was on a tangent once again, too focused on the upset that came from seeing her dress to wear the next day and just how many ruffles were on it.

"I feel like Elizabeth I." She threw her arms up in distress. "Cecilia - don't you believe I shall look exactly like a Tudor? I thought ridiculous collars were merely a thing of the past."

"And I thought that we may spend an evening in peace." Anthony frowned. "Eloise, do you mind?"

"In fact-"

"Yes, Eloise, you shall look a little like a Tudor." Cecilia quickly decided that it was perhaps in her best interests to humour her younger sister so as to preserve Anthony's temper and ensure that herself and Daphne, who was busy writing a letter, would enjoy their time tomorrow above much else. "However, I believe you should indeed wish to be a little like Elizabeth, considering the many wonderous feats she faced as the queen. Many defining moments came from her rule and I suppose you would find it most inspiring that she refused to marry."

"Yes, I know of all that." Eloise scoffed. "Yet I don't suppose you shall be wearing anything with ruffles."

"Good luck, sister." Colin patted her elbow, before his concentration reverted solely back to his book.

"No, I shall not be wearing anything with ruffles." Cecilia hummed. "I don't suppose many suitors shall find excessive ruffles quiet as enticing as nothing more than a simple neckline."

Benedict rested his pencil. "Suitors?" He repeated. "Since when have you been looking for suitors, Cecilia?"

"You're looking for suitors?" Colin looked similarly distraught, closing his book with a snap and leaving it wedged between the cushions and frame of the sofa. "Cecilia, are you not... do you not... I thought you would be engaged to Frederick by the end of the week and then Anthony should only have to deal with finding Daphne a husband, because..."

"Frederick Grey seems to hold many of the correct values a man should hold." The eldest brother murmured, not looking up from his work. "I believe him to be perhaps the perfect suitor for you, Cecilia. It is most useful to myself that I shall be able to focus on Daphne and her husband."

"It is most unfortunate that I should be making your life somewhat harder, then." Cecilia looked awkward as she sat up. "I have not exchanged a letter with Frederick for quite some time, I am afraid I shall be looking for suitors elsewhere."

A small voice piped up from the doorway and their attention was turned towards it, finding Gregory standing there. "But I like Freddie." He said, frowning.

Cecilia bit her lip, disliking the expression that came to her youngest brother's face. "It is rude to eavesdrop, Gregory. You may wish to become friends with him if you like him so much."

"You have fallen out with Frederick?" Colin asked, just as confused as his other brothers, sharing a look with Benedict who only shrugged and returned to his drawings. "Cecilia, did you not think to inform me of this? Lord Grey has been your friend for almost as long as you have known me."

"You are my twin, Colin, I hardly think that a necessary comparison."

"If you two intend to bicker, I intend to remove myself to my office." Anthony made to stand, collecting his documents and travelling past Gregory, who truly should have been in bed by that time.

"Cecilia, have you truly fallen out with Frederick?" Eloise sat up. "Is that why you were making such a fuss on the day of your arrival when I was talking of the necessity - or lack thereof - of marriage?"

"I suppose it is, yes," Cecilia replied. "I do not wish to talk of this much longer." This time, it was she who stood up. "I have to talk to Anthony and discuss his intentions on how he shall approach the marriage mart this season. Excuse me, I don't believe I shall see many of you until breakfast tomorrow morning. Goodnight brothers, sisters." She excused herself politely but with quite enough inherent impudence that it made her opinion on the subject at hand quite clear.

She exited the room and pulled the door to an almost close behind her, turning to find that Gregory stood there still. "Does Mama know that you are awake still?" She asked him.

"I don't believe she knows that I am not in my room," Gregory replied. "Are you truly sure that you are feeling better, Cecilia?" He looked far more concerned than Cecilia should have hoped him to be, knowing that she had brought such upset to the youngest of her brothers alarming.

"Why, yes." She smiled down at him, leading him away from the doors to the drawing-room and coming to sit on the staircase. "Gregory, I do not understand why you are concerned as such." Her ankles folded below her, arm around her brother's shoulders as they sat together. "Surely you knew this would be what came as we grew up."

"I know that." He was almost rolling her eyes at her. "I do well in my lessons, Cecilia."

"Of course you do."

"It's just... you came back somewhat... odd." Gregory didn't quite meet her eyes. "When you left it was so sudden, and now that you have returned you don't like Freddie anymore. You have always liked Freddie. You have liked Freddie longer than you have liked me."

"Gregory - I am still the same."

"I know... but some things have changed."

"And I may only strive to repent for that." Cecilia pulled him a little closer and messed up his hair. "I shall forever be your older sister, Gregory, the same sister who chased you across the lawn of Aubrey Hall and rode with you across many fields upon my horse."

"I know you are." He nodded, still looking somewhat perplexed at her words.

"And I do mean it, just because I am no longer continuing a friendship with Frederick does not mean that you should do the same." Cecilia patted his hands and stood. "You are free to do as you please, really. I must go and talk to Anthony, you should go sleep in preparation for tomorrow."

"As should you." Gregory replied. "For it is not I who is being presented in front of the queen."

"Goodnight, Gregory." Cecilia offered yet another smile to the youngest of her brothers before making her way from him and instead directing her course towards the ajar door to her brother's study.

Herself and Anthony had once been close, and although she understood why he had hardened and become far more serious over the years after becoming viscount of the young age of seventeen, it saddened her to think it had strained their relationship to this point. It was her hope that now, as she and Daphne were debuting and it was Anthony's choice in appointment of a husband that they could become close once more, and come to understand each other's interest and personalities like they once had.

It didn't seem all that far from impossible, and Cecilia brought herself to a stop outside of the door, raising her hand in an enclosed fist and her knuckles landed against the wood several times as she knocked.

What could only be named as a grunt of acknowledgment invited her into the room and she stepped in, taking in the all too familiar sight that had once housed her father as he took care of the accounts and estates as Anthony was.

"You look far too much like him, but I'm sure you're aware." Cecilia commented, voice mild as she stepped away from the door. She found herself in something of a predicament in decided where to stand, ending up by the windowsill as opposed to sitting in front of him or standing right by the desk.

"It is a comment I receive often." Anthony nodded, quill scrawling across the page. "Is there something I can help you with, Cecilia? I can't believe you to be so blindsided in the prospect of the marriage mart to have misunderstood my intentions in leaving the room to concentrate.

"I did not misunderstand." Cecilia frowned. "I simply wished to speak to you."

"You don't feel ill again, do you?" Anthony looked concerned. "Should you do it would be most improper for you to be withdrawn from debuting in society for the second time. There are expectations for this family-"

"Brother." Cecilia cut him off before it would become too much. She knew, truly, that should Anthony actually know of what had caused her to live in recluse from her family and closest friends for a year then his anger should be enough to light London in another blaze. "It is not that. I am not some frail... idiot who would return should she not know she had truly recovered. Because I have."

"Good. You are of sensible mind, I cannot see why I might have doubted you previously." Anthony sounded more upset at himself with that one, no doubt saddened by the thought of having wasted time. "Then what is it that you wish to say?"

"I don't intend to embarrass you this season, Anthony." Cecilia informed him, voice steady as she watched him abandon his quill in the cloth below the ink well and adjust his attention to her. "I wish to find a husband and further our family. That benefits us and does not damage our reputability."

He leant back in his chair, studying her face to see if she was serious. "I am glad someone doesn't share the same delusions of finding a love match." Anthony replied. "At least one other seems to understand how rare the love Mother and Father shared is."

"I am not looking for a love match." Cecilia confirmed, before her features hardened into the slightly competitive face that had once been commonplace during sibling arguments. "However let me make it clear that I intend to find a suitor who respects me. I wish to make a friend of him and I shall not marry merely for reputation or it being beneficial for us. He may be a prince, but should he not be my friend than I shall not marry him."

"I see." Anthony said. "I understand. Is there anything else you wish to add?"

Cecilia didn't speak instantly. "If I do happen to find a love match, no matter whom he is I intend to marry him." She replied. "They are my only requests. He may have the reputation of a charitable man or the relative of a foreign king, but should he not be my friend then I shall not marry him. You should understand that ideals, I suppose?"

"Yes. That makes perfect sense. I will look for men to make you a friend."

"And you shall use Daphne's waif-like wish to find a love match to set her up with those who may be my mortal enemy." Cecilia joked, although Anthony looked to be considering it.

"You know me too well, Cecilia." He reached for his pen. "I can ensure you that I will find you a friend, if that is all you truly wish for."

"It is, brother. Thank you." She nodded, turning towards the door. "Goodnight, Anthony."

"Goodnight, Cecilia." He replied. "I hope you should know that I am truly glad you are back." Anthony added, despite her back having turned. His voice had an unfamiliar, gravelly emotion to it that she didn't recognise and they shared a smile as she looked back.

"My return has pleased me, too." She agreed before slipping from the room to begin her preparations for the next morning.

Leaving Anthony sat behind his desk, and reaching for his small, black, leather bound notebook and found a clean page, a new title coming to the top of it.

And beneath it, he wrote the name of the very first person he believed would be allowed to marry his sister.

More than likely aware, given the conversation occurring the drawing room no more than a half hour before, that Cecilia would insist upon not marrying Frederick Grey.

But Anthony was certain it was nothing more than a spat between friends.