Dearest gentle reader. Did you miss me? As the members of our esteemed ton lazily sojourned in their rustic retreats, this author was doing but one thing. Honing my skills. Or should I say, hatching my plans? No, even better. I was sharpening my knives for all of you.
Questions abound as to this author's identity and means. Seeking those answers shall prove fruitless, indeed. There is, of course, another unknown identity at present. Though, this one you will be able to unearth. I speak of the season's diamond, wherever she may be. Your move, Your Majesty.
I have not left my bed for almost three whole months. Charles decided that since Everett and I had gotten engaged so close to the end of the season we should spend a little more time in London before returning to the country. Every day I wish we had left for the country when we were originally supposed to.
A week after everyone else had left for their country estates Everett and I were riding in his carriage along with Lydia as a chaperone. The carriage toppled over. Lydia was fine except for some scrapes and bruises. I broke my leg when I was thrown from the carriage. Everett passed away from his injuries.
In the blink of an eye everything I had worked for last season. Everything that had made me happy. The man I loved was gone.
Lydia sits in a chair beside my bed. She comes to see me every day. Even when I was barely able to keep my eyes open after a fever had set in.
"Charles spoke with the doctor," Lydia tells me. "Your splint will be off in a few days."
I do not respond. I do not care if my splint can be taken off in a few days or a few weeks or a few months. I do not desire to do anything more than lay in bed.
"I know you missed the presentations in front of Her Majesty, but you will be able to attend Lady Danbury's ball," Lydia states.
I nod my head slightly.
"Are you not happy?" Lydia questions.
"How can I be happy?" I question. "Everett is gone and now I am expected to move on."
Since I am unable to walk with Pen and Eloise like we normally do they once again visit me in my room. It is my last day before my splint is removed tomorrow and my life returns to endless days of balls and picnics and promenading.
"Daphne provided me a list of recommendations for a successful season," Eloise informs us. "Private advice regarding the top ten ways in which to entrap a man. I'm telling you the season has barely begun and already I feel touched in the head."
Pen laughs loudly.
"Pen?" I ask. "Has the new Lord Featherington arrived yet?"
"No, not yet," Pen tells me.
"I almost forgot," Eloise says. She places a copy of Lady Whistledown beside me. "I brought this for you."
"Thank you, El." I force a smile. "Your revered Whistledown."
"She did save El from her presentation to the queen," Pen states.
"I was delighted by the diversion, to be sure," Eloise tells us. "But, I sat with her paper all morning, and in truth, all she does is repeat what she hears."
"Someone must report the gossip," Pen reasons. "Does she not have a way with words?"
"Yes, but what is she saying with those words?" Eloise questions. "Truly, I did not mind Whistledown's silence the last some months, as it finally gave me some time to read a few articles of substance." She clears her throat. "'My own sеx, I hope, will excuse me if I treat them like rational creatures, instead of flattering their fascinating graces.' Wollstonecraft."
