Remembrance

The Betrayal and A Timeskip

Two weeks have easily passed for the off-season and the Bridgerton brood found themselves settling into a comfortable routine at Aubrey Hall, relishing the peaceful respite from the hustle and bustle of London society.

As Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount, sat in his study, surrounded by the familiar comfort of his ancestral home, he meticulously sifted through the stack of correspondence laid out before him. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the room, casting a warm ambiance as he delved into the letters and missives that awaited his attention.

Among the papers were invitations to various social events, requests for his presence at informal meetings and gatherings, and letters from acquaintances near and far. Each piece of correspondence held its own significance, a reflection of the myriad responsibilities that came with his position as the Viscount.

However, when he glanced upon the expected missive from Lady Portia Feathertington, it was the first he snatched from the stack eagerly. He broke the plain wax seal and ran his eyes over the elegant script. His expression soon turned to one of dejected frustration.

The letter read:

-x-

Dear Lord Bridgerton,

I find myself compelled to inform you of a change in my family's travel plans regarding our convalescent arrangements. We shall not be making our way to Cornwall as previously intended.

I know it is your intention to have members of your staff monitor our whereabouts under the guise of providing aid. However, I beg you understand my desire to seek a more private, isolated locale for my daughter's recovery - away from even well-meaning eyes during this most delicate time.

Please accept my apologies for any previous misleading regarding our destination. I provide this clarification not as an attempt at deception, but to establish clear boundaries of privacy that I humbly request be respected by yourself and your family.

You have my renewed vow that I shall keep my promise of apprising you and Miss Eloise of any changes or developments in my daughter's condition, for the sake of easing your worried minds. However, for our own peace, I cannot in good conscience supply a location where your response or visit would be expected.

I thank you once again, for the generous offer you have made previously, as difficult as it was to refuse such kindness. May this letter convey my utmost gratitude for your concern and well-wishes towards my Penelope.

To share some good news, my Penelope had regained stable breathing. The physician is optimistic that soon, she will wake up from her slumber.

Truly,

Portia Featherington.

-x-

Anthony's jaw clenched as he read over Lady Featherington's polite yet firm words. While he understood a mother's inclination to shelter her child, it stung to have his efforts to support them so thoroughly rebuffed.

With a weary sigh, he tossed the letter onto his desk, raking one hand through his hair as he contemplated how to break this setback to Eloise delicately. Knowing he will need his mother's help on this, he instructed one of the footmen on the halls to call his mother to his study.

After a short while, Violet knocks softly at her son's study and comes in when she heard a faint voice inviting her in.

"Dearest, you called for me?" Violet asks her son as she takes a seat at one of the armchairs in front of Anthony's desk.

Anthony studied the parchment once more, lips pursued in consternation before glancing up at his mother with furrowed brows. "I find myself at an impasse, mother. While I comprehend Lady Featherington's desire for privacy in this arduous time, how am I to convey this abrupt change of plans to Eloise?" He shook his head, his features taut with worry for his sister's fragile emotional state.