Charming Miss Atherton

Seventeen

"Trouble often visits my home in many forms disguise, which is why the regular employment of a good butler is paramount in maintaining my sanity." -Lord Derby overheard speaking to Lord Charvil at a garden party in Hertfordshire on June 30, 1811.

Bridget sat up abruptly. The dense fog hovering outside Bridget's windows told her that it was still early morning. She surveyed her room, noting that the fire had yet to be lit. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the brisk temperature of the room. Bridget had just had a very vivid dream about Ripley. She pulled at her nightshirt which was still clammy and wet from perspiration. Yes, it had been a very good dream. And not one that Bridget would ever dare to discuss out loud. With a yawn, Bridget laid back against her pillows, her eyes watching the sun's rays slowly creep into her room.

Ripley, Ripley, Ripley, she thought with a smile.

The manner in which Ripley had requested an interview alone left Bridget in little doubt as to his intentions.

He wished to marry her.

And she realized that she wanted to marry him too.

But despite her willingness, she could not dispel the nagging seed of doubt that she had so carefully crafted these past few years. She knew Ripley would not abuse her heart the way Mr. Briggs (shudder) had. He was the kindest and best of men. And he was a Duke - or would be very soon. If one wished to look at their alliance objectively, it was not hard to see that all the advantages of the match were entirely on her side. And Bridget knew that Ripley liked her. He had made that much clear when he had kissed her. But did his admiration for her stop there? Or was there more to his fascination? And based on what little she knew, Bridget wondered if she had the courage to say yes despite her lack of assurances. She certainly did not wish for anyone but Ripley. And she could not bear the idea of him marrying someone else.

Bridget sighed heavily. She was overthinking it. She would just have to trust her instincts when the moment presented itself. No matter the outcome, Bridget was certain that her life would be forever changed.

Bridget sat in the drawing room, pacing. She could do little else. Her mind had been distracted all morning and on the hour of Ripley's arrival, her thoughts were as chaotic as ever. Earlier in the day, Bridget had made the mistake of brushing her teeth with soap, putting a gown on backward, and placing her satin shoes on the wrong feet. Bridget would have left her chambers to meet Lord Ripley in her bewildered state, had it not been for the kindness of Helen's lady's maid, Sally, who had offered to arrange Bridget's hair in a collection of curls at the crown of her head. It was by her gentle hand that Bridget's appearance was made suitable.

Several hours later, Bridget was dressed, her hair pristine and her nerves shattered. No doubt the servants had thought her mad when, delivering her requested tray of tea and biscuits, they had caught Bridget conversing with herself. Bridget laughed at the irony. She checked the clock again. It read three-quarters past one o'clock. Bridget hugged herself. How could she bear the suspense of waiting for Ripley in the next fifteen minutes? It had been tiresome enough to get through the last five. Bridget decided to sit down in a wingback chair that faced the window, its back to the drawing-room door. As Bridget relaxed into the plushy folds of the chair, her lids began to grow heavy.

I'll only close my eyes for a moment. Bridget told herself.

To help pass the time.

"Wakey, wakey sunshine."

Bridget twisted her head away from the voice, her eyes clamped shut.

"Pssst! Brid-get!"

Bridget's eyelids fluttered, unwilling to allow her dream to fade. It was the same recurring dream she had had in Reigate. Most of the details of the dream were the same as before, she wore a white flowing gown with matching ribbons in her hair and her mystery gentleman wore the same black half-mask. They danced, as they always did in the dream, only this time as the dance came to a close, the mysterious gentleman knelt to one knee in the midst of the crowd with what looked like a large diamond ring and opened his mouth to say. . .