Dancing With Our Hands Tied

One

I can't help but fidget with the satin skirt of my dress as the carriage slowly trots through London. I'd imagined visiting here all my life, envious of my father's stories whenever he'd return from his travels, always bearing a gift for Mother and me. It's as grand as I imagined it'd be, the buildings picturesque and lively.

    My mother was raised here, though she always told me she preferred the countryside to the city, where it felt as if all eyes were on you at all times, especially during courting season. She met father here, and it was love at first sight. Well, for him, at least, mother had always been the oblivious type. She hadn't been looking for love that season, growing tired of the marriage market and all that it entailed. And then, my father came around.

    They were married not long after, becoming the Viscount and Viscountess of Devonshire.

     And now... they're gone.

     It's been six months since the accident. Six months since my entire world flipped upside down and changed forever. My father's brother moved in shortly after, and everything changed. My uncle didn't even seem sad about his brother being gone. He moved in and acted as if the house were his. Once the mourning period ended, he was more than happy to shoo me away to my mother's closest friend.

    "We're here, miss." I hadn't caught the name of the man sitting atop the carriage, whom my uncle had assigned to take me to London. He seemed kind of enough, I suppose, though I've grown tired of the pitiful looks people shoot my way now, like I'm some fragile thing that might shatter if pushed too hard.

     The faces waiting for me outside the large estate are familiar, though older than when I'd last seen them all. Violet Bridgerton, my mother's best friend and the closest thing she ever had to a sister, is the first person I spotted. Her arm looped through Anthony's, who was no longer the gangly teenage boy I remember him as.

    He's the viscount now since the passing of their father. He seems so young to have this much responsibility on his shoulders; I remember when his father died, my mother came into my room that night and kissed my head as she wished me goodbye. She came here as soon as she could to be with her friend in her time of need.

   I crept into my father's room that night, hugging him close. The mere thought of losing him caused my heart to ache. I couldn't imagine what they had to have been feeling, losing their father so suddenly. I couldn't fathom the grief.

    I never imagined I'd have to go through it myself.

    Eloise and Francesca are also outside, the two girls whispering amongst themselves. And lastly, two kids are standing off to the side, the boy chasing the younger girl. Gregory had been a baby when I had seen all the kids last, and now he was running and laughing gleefully, not a care in the world. Hyacinth was the youngest, and the only Bridgerton I'd yet to meet, and much like all the females in her family, she was beautiful.

     "Oh, dear Lydia," The matriarch of the home steps forward, and though she's smiling, I can spot the sadness swimming through her gaze as I step out of the carriage, her gaze taking me in. "Oh my, you look just like Jane. You're beautiful."

    I'm shocked when she steps forward and pulls me into a hug; for a woman who looks so formal, she throws customs out the window in this moment, hugging me as if I'm an old friend. I realize to her that I must feel like the ghost of an old friend. The older I get, the more and more I seem to look like a mother; my hair is the same shade of blonde as hers had once been. I had the same round features as her and green eyes.

    I used to love it when I was younger. Mother used to call me her twin, but now, my own reflection hurt to look at. Looking at myself was a reminder of who I'd lost and never see again.

    "Thank you," I bow my head at her once she lets me go, knees bending into a quick curtsy, "For opening your home up to me, Lady Bridgerton. It's beautiful."

    "Oh, no, none of that, dear." She grabs my shoulders, shaking her head at me. "Call me Violet. And this is your home now, too; I want you to feel comfortable as such."

    My home. My home is back in Devonshire. My home is Mother and Father, our family, though small. That is my home.

    "Thank you, L-"I pause before the word can fall past my lips, "Violet."

     Anthony steps forward next, and he is just as handsome as I recall him being. Though his shoulders are held straighter, his gaze no longer holds the playful glint I remember. A lot had changed since I last saw the eldest Bridgerton. "My condolences, Miss Campbell." 

    "I suppose I must call you Viscount Bridgerton now," I question, not bothering to thank him; I've always found it odd to thank people who share their condolences, I get that it's the proper response, but I don't feel thankful; not in the slightest.

    "Anthony is fine," He smiles in a comforting manner. 

    "Well, then you must call me Lydia."

     "Deal."

      "Alright, move aside, brother, it's my turn." Eloise ignores all formalities as she pulls me into a hug. When they visited all those years ago, I clicked most with Eloise and Colin, the middle children of the Bridgerton household. Long after their departure, we wrote to one another, keeping in touch.

    "Oh, how I've missed you," I say, holding her back just as tightly. 

    "I'm glad to see you," she says sincerely, voice muffled. "Maybe with you here, they'll stop caring about my debut into society tomorrow." 

    "Are you kidding?" I pull back slightly to look at her, "That's the only reason I'm here. If my best friend in the whole world is going to fall in love, I should be here to approve of him, no?"

    "Oh, hush you." She rolls her eyes, playfully shoving me.

     Francesca hugs me next, whispering a quiet "I'm sorry for your loss" into my ear before Violet brings me over to the youngest two Bridgertons to meet. They're just as talkative as their older siblings had been when we were kids.

    They both chat as we all enter the house, pointing to the paintings hanging over the staircase, "We had to sit for those for hours." Hyacinth complains, "My neck hurt for days afterward. But my favourite portrait is in my room; you must come to see it."

    "Maybe tomorrow, Hyacinth," Anthony wraps his arm around the younger girl's shoulder. "I'm sure Lydia is tired from her journey. We should let her rest."

    "Right," Hyacinth nods bashfully. "Of course."

     "Eloise, why don't you take Lydia to her room? We've got a big day tomorrow." Violet says. She reaches over to squeeze my hand one more time before sending me up the stairs, and it's a nice change to have someone look at me without a pitiful expression. She smiles at me comfortingly. "The modiste will be here with your dress bright and early."

    Eloise groans as she links her arm through mine, "I can't believe they're still making me do this." She mumbles once we're far enough away from her family, "This whole marriage market is stupid. I'm not some prized cattle to be sold off."

    "I know," I mumble sympathetically. "But that doesn't mean you won't fall in love. Look at your sister; she's happy, is she not?"

    "And boring," Eloise adds, which only makes me giggle, "at least I'll have you at these events and Penelope. We can be wallflowers together."

I hum in agreement, leaning my head against hers. Being a wallflower sounded perfect. I used to dream of the day I'd meet someone, the way mother and father met; I'd lock eyes across a crowded ballroom and know immediately they were the one. I'd dreamt of having a love as electric as my parents, but now... I'm not so sure.

Just a short little intro chapter:) Benedict will be in the next one! Be sure to comment ur thoughts!