Season's Feather

Chapter One

"According to the much-heralded poet of Lord Byron: Of all bitches, dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine. If that should be true, then this author would like to show you her teeth.

"My name is Lady Whistledown. You do not know me, and you never shall. But if you are currently reading these papers of record, then rest assured: I certainly know you. Perhaps one resides within the certain household of a certain Baron Featherington. Should one have a bracket for a face?

"Three misses. Foisted upon the marriage market this season like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless dear mama - the luckless souls..."

Lady Featherington stands slightly behind her daughter having her corset tightened. A stern gaze locked on her daughter's figure.

"Tighter. Tighter." Lady Featherington growls. The maid pulls tightly and her daughter groans at the loss of more air.

"Is she to breathe, mama?" The younger of the two girls in the corner asks.

Lady Featherington scoffs at the question. Her gaze eyeing them momentarily, "I was able to squeeze my waist into the size of an orange and a half when I was Prudence's age. Your sister shall do the same if she's to finally impress the queen."

The younger sister glances at her oldest sister concerned and walks over placing a comforting hand on hers, "Do not worry, Prudence. It will all be over in a matter of...hours." She says in uncertainty.

"The only thing I shall worry about, Penelope, is if I am to go out before Her Majesty looking anything like you in that ill-fitting frock." She then turns to the maid sucking in a big breath, "Tighter!"

"Or perhaps one is more fortunate. Admirably proportioned, impressively refined? Then perhaps..one is a Bridgerton.

"A total of nine children in this most prolific of broods. The rather industrious viscountess and late viscount having produced four perfectly handsome sons and five perfectly beautiful daughters. Yes. Perfect, indeed."

"I am already roasting!" Claims a beautiful girl storming down the main stairs in the estate.

"Are you going to complain the entire day, Eloise?" Says the next sister just behind her.

Eloise turns her head and groans, "Surely I cannot be expected to bear these fashions the entire day."

"I feel like a princess. Do I look like one?" The third sister asks.

Eloise looks at her youngest sister with a stone face, "Do you truly wish to know what I think you look like?"

"On your left!" A young boy calls out.

The youngest sister on the stairs rushes down after him, "Gregory!"

Two older men, the two of three eldest brothers walk out into the open view now.

"Is our dear sister still not ready?" The older of the two asks.

"She has only been readying herself the entire night." The sister next to Eloise replies.

But, Eloise reprimands her statement, "You mean her entire life."

"I shall run up and hasten her." The younger of the two older men offers.

But the eldest brother puts his hand on his younger brother's chest, stopping him. "Colin, wait. I will do it." He argues playfully.

Colin turns to his brother with a playful glare, "She likes me much better than you, Benedict."