𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | b. bridgerton

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 | rumination

(TW- Very brief mention of possible suicide)

Jo often thought that once she had met Rafael, she would never have to return to London. Maybe back to Wiltshire every so often to visit her uncle, but never back to London, and especially not to partake in the social season. The idea of attending balls while wearing the best dresses, promenading with handsome men everyday, exchanging gossip and making friends with other young ladies; it had all seemed so exciting to her once upon a time. But Jo was older now, and at least partly wiser, not blessed with the same naivety that she once had many years ago.

She remembered England in seasons. In winters, eating spiced cakes during her uncle's Christmas parties at Charlton Manor. In autumns, celebrating the Harvest festival in the village, dancing around bonfires. In summers, wading through riverbanks with Samuel's greyhounds during picnics as he watched on from a blanket under a willow tree. Or, in springs - which were her favourite - watching the world from Michael's shoulders, as the snow melted and the flowers bloomed.

It had been a good number of years since Jo had seen her dear cousin Michael, not since they both used to accompany Samuel in his summerly romps across Europe, but they were as close as blood-related siblings could have ever been. She thought the world of him when she was a child. Michael was a little over four years older than her and had his own friends amongst the boys in the village that he could have quite easily ditched Jo for. But he never hesitated to bring Jo with him, balancing his giggling, bumbling cousin on his shoulders as the boys chased each other through the cornfields.

Those were the fond memories that sustained Jo as an adolescent when she first moved away; too young at the time to understand that it was not just a holiday, that the new house she lived in would eventually become her home. She didn't know why she had to move away, why her uncle and Michael could stay together while she was miles apart from either of them. Jo mourned her old life when she went to sleep at night, crying frustratedly because she was surrounded by adults that towered over her, all speaking in a language that she was too stupid to understand.

Eventually, life became easier as Jo learnt Spanish and came to appreciate the beauty of her life away from high society, the humble village of Villaconejos slowly becoming her new home, her new 'normal'. But like she had done all those years ago in England, she was once again supposed to say goodbye to her current life, moving back to the country that had become a stranger to her.

The morning after Samuel arrived, Jo laid in her bed, staring up at the linen curtains of the canopy, contemplating the events of the night before. Despite all the wine that she had drank, her recollection of their conversation on the porch had remained clear: she had agreed to journey back to England with her uncle, to compete in the marriage mart. Jo exhaled shakily as she rolled onto her side, bringing her knees up to her chest as she distractedly traced the dark thread embroidered on her quilt.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her reverie.

"Jo?" A voice called from the hallway. The door opened and Alma - ever the early riser, already dressed for the day - was suddenly sweeping through the room, yanking open the curtains, causing a bright ray of sunlight to burst through the windows. Jo protested loudly as she turned over again, burying her head under the duvet, feeling as though her retinas had been singed off.

"C'mon, up!" Alma ordered cheerfully, as she swatted at Jo's feet underneath the covers. "Time for breakfast."

The girl groaned, heaving herself into a sitting position and inelegantly tumbling out of bed, hobbling over to where her governess was holding out a robe for her to put on. Jo was still half asleep, even as Alma mumbled about the girl's hair looking a mess as she fought to tame it into a chignon with a hairpin.