in quite deep// featherington oc

ten

After dinner we sit in the drawing room. Philippa plays the pianoforte as Prudence tries her best to sing in tune but does not succeed. Anthony sits down on the other end of the sofa under the window. I sit up realising I was on the verge of sleep. Anthony laughs lightly.

"I can see I am not good enough company for you," Anthony remarks.

I smile. "I am afraid Benedict holds the spot of my favorite Bridgerton."

"You have rankings?" Anthony asks.

"I do," I inform him. "You are a step up from Gregory."

Anthony shakes his head. "Come now."

"And it is only because of the one time when I was crossing the street and he managed to hit me with a mudpie from your garden," I inform him.

"He was five," Anthony reminds me. "That was years ago."

"Yes and I still hold the grudge," I state. "And if I did not you would be dead last on the list."

Anthony laughs before sitting up straighter. "Why is your mama staring like that?"

I turn and see that my mama is in fact staring at Anthony and I. She gestures for me to sit up straighter. No doubt an attempt to shove my bosom in Anthony's line of sight.

"She probably thinks you will ask for my hand in marriage at any moment," I inform him.

Anthony looks confused. "Why would I do such a thing?"

"You have spoken to me," I explain.

"Your mother thinks I will propose because I have spoken to you?" Anthony questions.

I nod my head. "You have met my mother have you not?"

Anthony laughs. "Should she not be thinking of you and Lord Wilds?"

"Lord Wilds?" I question.

"Surely you have read Lady Whistledown," Anthony offers. "You make a handsome couple."

"Were we actually a couple I would thank you," I tell him. "But it is all just rumors.

Anthony smiles. "If you insist, Patience."

Though I tried, Mama would not let me stay home from the dinner party at Lady Gartside this evening.  Pen on the other hand is playing sick. I stand in her room watching as she reads.

"You are up to something," I state.

Pen looks at me for a moment. "I need to be able to get into Marina's room as well as Mama's without them knowing."

"Why?" I question.

"I do not believe that the letter from Sir George was real," Pen confesses.

"You think Mama faked it," I state.

"No doubt with the help of Mrs Varley," Pen tells me.

I nod my head. "Well you must tell me what you discover. I may not like Miss Thompson or what she is trying to do but if Sir George is alive she may choose to be with him instead."

"That is why I must figure this out," Pen explain.

"I shall leave you to it," I tell her.

When we arrive home from the dinner party I hear Miss Thompson shout.

"How dare you!"

I walk towards her room. Penelope is there. Miss Thompson is holding letters in her hand.

"Look. Look at the signature on Sir George's last letter, and this one from many months ago," Pen tells her.

"So?" Miss Thompson asks.

"So, they are not the same," Pen tells her. "The slant of the lettering, it is all wrong."

"Penelope, I'm tired. I haven't..." Miss Thompson starts.

Pen grabs another letter. "This one. It was in a drawer on the back of Mama's desk. She or even Mrs. Varley practiced George's signature, but even they could not get it perfect. That last letter, the one where he broke your heart... it was a forgery, Marina. George never wrote those things to you. He never denied loving you. He never denied your child."

"Perhaps," Miss Thompson offers.

"Marina..." Pen starts.

"Even if you are correct..." Miss Thompson continues.

Pen cuts her off, "I am correct. You cannot deny..."

"Even if it is true, George has still not replied to my letters. He has abandoned me, while Colin has embraced me," Miss Thompson states.

"I thought you loved him. George," I state.

"I was a fool. This changes nothing." Miss Thompson lights the letters on fire before dropping them into the fireplace.

I notice a bag packed at the end of Miss Thompson's bed. "Why is your bag packed?"

"Tell me you are not going to Gretna Green!" Pen says. "Marina! What will you do when Colin realizes the child is not his? That day will come. He is not simple."

"What I will do is live safe in the knowledge that my husband is a good and kind man. He would never turn me out on the street. He will care for us both, come what may," Miss Thompson insists.

"But what of him? What of Colin?" Pen questions.

"You love him," Miss Thompson states.

"What?" Pen questions.

"No, it makes sense now. Your objections, your meddling. You love Colin Bridgerton," Miss Thompson explains.

"You know not of what you speak," Pen insists.

"I believe I know so much more than you, Pen... of Colin, of the world. If I am to be the executioner of this childish infatuation, then so be it. Your love is an unrequited fantasy. Colin sees you as you are and regards you no differently than he does Eloise, or even little Hyacinth. He sees me as a wife, a woman. And as a woman, I must make these difficult choices for myself and for my child... even if they hurt your feelings," Miss Thompson insists.

I wrap my arms around Pen. "Let us go." I glare at Miss Thompson. "You truly think that because you have caught a Bridgerton that you are set. You believe you are now above Pen. But remember the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

All is fair in love and war, but some battles leave no victor, only a trail of broken hearts that makes us wonder if the price we pay is ever worth the fight. The ones we love have the power to inflict the greatest scars. For what thing is more fragile... than the human heart? The bond between man and bride is private, sacred. But I must tell you, I have learned that a grave fraud is afoot.

As if the Featheringtons did not have enough to be dealing with, Miss Marina Thompson is with child... and she has been from the very first day she arrived in our fair city. Desperate times may call for desperate measures, but I would wager many will think her actions beyond the pale. Perhaps she thought it her only option, or perhaps she knows no shame. But I ask you, can the ends ever justify such wretched means?