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London, England 1813
This author has often thought the heart a most curious of instruments, heeding neither reason nor rank. For what possible explanation might Miss Bridgerton have for entertaining the the suit of a mere baron when she seems to have secured a duke? Could the debutante's mind not be the only thing amiss? And as for Miss Betty Morrigan, could there be a reason as to why she is settling for silver when she could easily attain gold?
It was a perfectly sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. If someone were to stand outside and listen closely, they could hear the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves swaying in the gentle summer breeze... And perhaps even the sound of Betty Morrigan's glass-shattering screech.
Over in the Morrigan estate, Rebekah hovered over her daughter, nitpicking every single tiny detail of her hair and dress as they readied themselves to leave. She meticulously smoothed the flyaway strands down, pinning them back with the never-ending flow of pins coming from Poppy's hands.
Betty could only glare and scowl at her mother through the mirror as her anger grew with every single touch of Rebekah's ice cold hands reaching for her daughter's face. With Poppy finishing off the last pull to tighten her corset once more, Betty's ability to breathe through her anger had diminished. Her mother caught her gaze in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, rolling her eyes as she moved another piece of her daughter's hair.
That was the last nail in the coffin for London's greatest dynasty... Rebekah Morrigan was moments away from a vicious attack. Betty let out an ear-piercing shriek a second later, thrashing her arms out of the womens' grips. She rushed over to the other side of the room, dropping down on the chaise lounge chair. Her shoulders slumped and her head hung low, Betty sat with her arms crossed against her chest.
Rebekah could only roll her eyes and shake her head at her daughter's sudden outburst. She huffed, moving over to sit next to her. She paused for a moment, allowing Betty to calm herself down. "Whatever is troubling you?" She asked. "I thought you would be happy you have secured a match. I might get my summer wedding after all..." Rebakah trailed off, getting lost in her own dreams of her first born's getting married. Betty scowled.
Rebekah returned her focus back towards her daughter, ignoring the disgusted look. "Surely, his intentions are clear, my darling. You have danced together at every ball since Vauxhall! This is wonderful."
"Well, she did that with Benedict too, ma'am..." Poppy mindlessly spoke up from the corner of the room where she was gathering Betty's old garments with a basket attached to her hip.
"Poppy!" Betty exclaimed.
"Please do not remind me, Poppy!" Rebekah sang out through a plastered smile. Poppy promptly nodded her head and returned to picking up the mess that was created getting Betty ready for the day. After a few moments of awkward silence, Rebekah removed herself from the sofa and spoke up. "Up, my darling. I expect you to be downstairs in ten minutes." She called out on her way out the door.
