If you were to ask anyone in the ton about the Lady with a Fan, even an errand boy could give you an answer. That's the name Anastasia Bridgerton had built for herself to protect her family after their father's passing. As the oldest sister and twin...
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The guest mansion in Lady Danbury's estate had truly given justice to the phrase 'a sight for sore eyes'. Intricate details were carved into the walls, with beautiful murals done by London's finest craftsmen. Each room told a different story, yet each story somehow connected to the other. The beauty of the place had been created with such cohesiveness that even Queen Charlotte could not stop herself from applauding the craftsmiths. Anastasia once had the opportunity to tour the property a little while earlier, when the old Duchess had conducted an extensive remodelling of its interiors.
It was as marvellous then as it is now.
She could understand why the Royalty of the North chose to stay there instead of the palace, especially with the rare serenity gained from the vast spans of greenery surrounding the mansion.
The girl found herself relishing the marvel of the place, following the maid as they ventured towards the guest lounge.
"Miss Anastasia Bridgerton has arrived", The footman announced.
She did not quite understand what had changed, but the bold announcement spiked an odd sense of anxiety through her veins. Suddenly, the girl found herself rather nervous to meet her host.
A gentle voice resounded from within, followed by footsteps as a maid threw the doors open, revealing the gorgeous woman Anastasia had met but once in her life.
Queen Amelia was as beautiful as the rumours claimed, captivating black hair in elegant braids as she gazed up from the tea table. Her soft green eyes reflected the light in magical droplets as if inlaid with diamonds that shone under the sun. Her kind smile appeared humble, yet the way her body moved for even the slightest of actions became proof enough of her royal origin.
"Miss Bridgerton, Welcome", The Queen greeted, a cup of tea in her hand as she turned to the door.
Anastasia moved inside, one foot sweeping past the other's heel as she bowed into a curtsey the people swore had come straight from the etiquette guide.
"I greet Your Majesty Queen Amelia", said the girl, the picture of perfection.
Her practised movements did not escape Amelia's notice, green eyes flickering ever so slightly in approval. The girl had evidently perfected her manners from top to toe. But Amelia could see the truth within. Her perfection came from desperation. It could be seen in her feet as they stood angled in submission, and the way her smile hid every thought that flashed past her mind. Amelia could tell that the perfection the ton praised came from a struggle to survive in high society. She knew the moment she saw the girl. Because she too, had once been the same.
"Please, do not be so formal", The Queen began, the pleasant smile still plastered to her lips as she spoke, "Have a seat". Her hand gestured towards the chair opposing herself.
