There will forever be just two words that come to this author's mind the morning after any good party, "shock" and "delight." Well, dear reader, the scandalous accounts from last night's soiree at Vauxhall are quite shocking and delightful indeed. Emerging, phoenix-like from the ashes of irrelevance, is one Miss Daphne Bridgerton. The illustrious debutante was seen dancing not once, but twice with the season's most eligible and most uncatchable rake, the Duke of Hastings.
Eloise, Penelope, and I are walking through the market with our lady's maids trailing behind.
"So, Daphne may be in love. Does she think it an accomplishment?" Eloise remarks. "What exactly has she accomplished, then? She certainly did not build that man or bake him. He simply showed up. Now he straggles about. He likes her face, probably. Perhaps her hair. Having a nice face and pleasant hair is not an accomplishment. Do you know what is an accomplishment? Attending university! If I were a man, I could do that, you know. Instead, I shall have to stand by and watch dear Mama appear proud because some man should like to admire my sister's face and hair and fill her up with babies," Eloise drags on. "Oh, Penelope, you're not listening to a word I say."
Penelope pulls Eloise and I close.
"Oh!" I gasp.
"I know of someone... with child," Penelope tells us.
"Is it your mama?" I ask.
"Is she not advanced in age?" Eloise asks. "I suppose your father should still want a boy..."
"It is not Mama," Penelope tells us. "It is a maid."
"Which one of your maids is married?" I question.
"She is not married," Penelope tells us.
"How did she become with child if she is not married?" Eloise asks.
"I do not know, but I will find out," Penelope assures.
"You must," I insist.
"Otherwise, how can we make sure it never happens to us? We have accomplishments to acquire," Eloise states.
I sit in the drawing room with my family. I play the pianoforte as Lydia recounts the whole evening to Peter.
"Ruth danced with Lord Broadmore twice last night," Lydia states.
"Twice?" Peter asks.
I laugh lightly. "Yes. Twice."
"He was quite taken with our dear Ruth," Lydia tells him. She holds a plate out to me. "You must eat, Ruth. You will be no good to a certain caller if you are passed out on the settee."
"I am not hungry, Lydia," I tell her.
"It was quite the sight. Dear Ruth only stepped on Lord Broadmore's foot once," Charles tells Percy.
"I did not," I protest.
"Is Lord Broadmore to be in attendance at the Crawford ball?" Lydia asks.
"He has mentioned he will be in attendance," I tell her.
"The Ramsbury ball, Friday?" Lydia asks. "And the grand picnic?"
"I do not know," I tell her. "But if I were to assume I would think he will be in attendance."
"I think he will propose," Lydia states.
I look at her quite surprised by the statement.
"I do not know..." I trail off.
"Nonsense," Peter insists. "I've known Everett for years. He's never called on anyone before like he has our dear sister."
Balfour walks into the room.
