⚘seven⚘

These days, the modern young lady must display a miscellany of talents in her quest for a suitor. She must be a witty conversationalist, an accomplished musician, and an expert in the art of the swoon. For managing to faint with nary a petticoat out of place is a most coveted talent indeed. Of course, not everyone has fallen victim to the royal fever sweeping through London Town. One diamond in particular seems quite immune making this author wonder if the crown has lost its luster.

I sit in the Bridgerton family parlor. Something I find myself doing more often these days. Daphne is playing pianoforte as Eloise reads.

"Oh! Enough! I beg of you," Eloise remarks.

"Perhaps you should join me. You will need to be proficient on the pianoforte soon enough," Daphne tells her.

"You could use the practice, I'm sure," I tease.

"On second thought, continue. You will frighten away the Duke, the prince, and any other eligible suitor clear across the North Sea," Eloise taunts.

"And you would wish that upon me, would you, Sister?" Daphne questions.

"If it kept Mama's attentions focused on you instead of me, I might," Eloise admits.

"You can take your reading outside," Daphne tells her.

"You say that as if reading were a bad thing," Eloise states.

"I meant no such thing," Daphne assures.

"But it won't gain me a husband? That what you meant?" Eloise questions.

"Eloise..." Daphne starts.

"You wish to follow your heart, and I wish to nurture my mind. Let us leave it there," Eloise states.

"Can you at least try to understand? You never see things from my perspective. You are not the only one with troubles, Eloise. You have no idea what it... It does not matter," Daphne says.

"Is it an original?" Eloise asks.

"What?" Daphne questions.

"That song, did you compose it yourself?" Eloise asks.

"In a manner of speaking," Daphne tells her.

"What is the name of it?" Eloise asks.

"It does not have a name," Daphne states.

"Every song has a name," I insist.

"It is just a song," Daphne says.

"If you need to practice, then do so. Just... come up with a name for it, at least," Eloise says.

I stand up. "Your sisters' quarrel was rather entertaining but I shall be off."

"I shall see you at the ball," Daphne tells me.

On the way out I pass Benedict alone tearing a page from a sketchbook. I walk into the room and close the door behind me.

Benedict sits up straighter in his chair. "I have told you Diana we cannot be alone together."

"It is your own house. Who shall see us and speak ill of our intentions?" I argue. Benedict sighs. I pick up one of the sheets of paper crumpled up on the floor. "These are not bad."

"They are abominable. I can not stand to look at them," Benedict tells me.

I chuckle. "I believe that is why they call it a sketchbook." I walk over to him and look over his shoulder at his sketches. "And what of these. You can bare to look at them or you have yet to rip them up?"

"You think to highly of these sketches," Benedict tells me.

"If you enjoy drawing but need practice, then practice. Hire a drawing master. Find a young lady to act impressed. I would ask you to draw me... But I know it is taboo. Unbecoming of a lady."

"Di..." Benedict trails off.

"Daphne told me that the other day your mother said something curious. That one should marry one's dearest friend. And it got me wondering is that truly what marriage is all about, then? Friendship?" I ask.

"Well, I imagine it a good start. Though most marriages are more like battlefields," Benedict tells me.

"Even if it is a battlefield, there must be other things that hold the troop together," I reason.

"My word! I might have thought you were trying to organize a militia," Benedict remarks.

"What I mean is there are other things... physical... or perhaps intangible... that bring a couple together," I explain.

"Well, yes, of course there's more to a marriage, physical and intangible. Both," Benedict tells me.

I look at him curiously. "Both? But how can something be both physical and intangible when they are quite the opposite?" Benedict chuckles as he stands up. "You are beastly! Never mind."

"No. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the absurdity of how little mothers tell their daughters," Benedict tells me.

"Well I have no mother. You remember that. But Aunt Featherington has told me nothing. Something else you already now," I state.

"And you already know that I certainly cannot tell you," Benedict says.

I step closer to him. "Why not?"

"Because it is not my place. It is scandalous for you to even be asking such things," Benedict states.

"No one else will tell me anything. So, how am I to find a proper husband if I do not even know what I am to be searching for?" I question.

"You will know when you know," Benedict assures.

"What does that even mean?" I question.

"I cannot tell you," Benedict insists.

"I thought we were friends," I state.

"Diana..." Benedict starts.

"Benedict. Tell me," I say. Benedict gives me a look. "Tell me!"

"All right! All right! What happens between a husband and a wife... Well, it is a natural continuation of what happens at night," Benedict tells me.

"At night? What happens at night?" I question.

"When you are alone," Benedict states.

I look at him confused. "When I am sleeping?"

"Not when you are sleeping." Benedict steps closer. "When you touch yourself. You do touch yourself?" I look at him curiously. "When you are alone, you can touch yourself... anywhere on your body, anywhere that gives you pleasure, but especially... between your legs. And when you find a feeling you particularly enjoy... you can carry on with that... until the feeling grows, and eventually you reach... a pinnacle, a release. And that should help you..." Benedict trails off.

I let out a shaky breath. "I should go."

Penelope and I once again wait for the mail to arrive.

"I'm beginning to think there is a conspiracy to deprive us of mail," I remark.

Penelope smiles. "A letter will arrive any day now. I am sure of it."

"Post has arrived!"

Penelope once again goes through the letters on the tray as she has done every day for weeks. This time she pulls a letter from the rest. I have to stop myself from letting out a squeal. I grab Penelope's arm and drag her towards Marina's room. She is sitting on her bed as Penelope and I burst through the door.

"Marina, it is here. A letter from Spain," Penelope tells her.

Marina grabs the letter and rips it open.

"It must be from Sir George. He has written back to you," I state.

"Well, what does he say?" Penelope asks. Marina's face drops. "Well?"

Marina sits down on the bed.

"What has happened? Marina, has he been wounded?" I question.

"He pretends there was nothing between us." Marina starts to cry.

"How do you mean?" Penelope questions.

"He says he desires... nothing more to do with me, or our... my situation. That he had no part in it." Marina lets out a sob.

I hold her close as she wails in agony.

Marina puts on a brave face as we attend another ball. I cannot imagine the agony she is in. She was, probably still is, in love with Sir George. And she has a constant reminder growing inside of her.

After Daphne dances with the prince I am able to get her by herself.

"What happened to the Duke?" I question.

"I do not wish to speak of the Duke," Daphne tells me.

"Did you two have a fight?" I ask.

"It does not matter. The Duke has made it very clear that he no longer wishes to have anything to do with me," Daphne tells me.

"Daph, I'm sorry," I offer.

Daphne shakes her head. "Do not be. Without the Duke I still have plenty of other suitors."

"But you two seemed so happy," I offer.

"I thought the same," Daphne tells me.

Could it be true? The season's diamond even more precious and rare a stone than previously thought? For it now appears this treasure is set to join the likes of the queen's ever-so-cherished crown jewels themselves. The Duke of Hastings, I hear, was left looking rather tongue-tied last night, as Miss Bridgerton seems to have finally grown tired of waiting for him to pose that all-important question. Or, perhaps, the young miss has simply traded up. Surprising? Quite. Unreasonable? Of course not. After all, why settle for a Duke when one can have a prince?

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A/N so I finished writing this book and I am so excited for you guys to read it!! It's only fourteen chapters so we are half way through. But I really like how I wrapped things up in the end. Can't wait for y'alls opinions.