A Rose By Any Other Name | Anthony Bridgerton

- CHAPTER IV | EXTENDED VERSION -

SPRING 1814

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     WE ALL KNOW the great lengths a young lady will go in pursuit of a proposal. And apparently, she will travel great distances too. Lord Anthony Bridgerton appears to be inching ever so closer to selecting his viscountess and to that end has invited our diamond to join him for an excursion at his ancestral home, Aubrey Hall. Country air indeed clears the mind and invigorates the body. Might this be the final gust that pushes the viscount over the precipice of a proposal? Of course, the luckless souls remaining in town will have to find new diversions in the absence of their most precious of stones.

     Not among such souls is that of one Miss Rose Xenakis. Dearest reader, this author finds herself compelled to draw your attention to the newest jewel added to the Bridgerton collection. However, remember that one must not be fooled by imitation gems gilded in false gold and mystery. Under that paper-thin shimmer, it remains a fragile facade. Unlike true diamonds, glass ones are easily broken; even the slightest bit of pressure can crush them to insignificance.

     Despite having arrived merely a week ago, Miss Xenakis has made quite the impact. Previously the cause of gossip due to her new abode in Rosewood House, she has managed to snake her way into my papers yet again. Following her already quite scandalous performance as Juliet in the Royal Theatre's performance of the Shakespearean romance, Miss Xenakis was seen arm in arm with none other than Mr. Colin Bridgerton, conversing with the Bridgerton family. She was accompanied by no parents, no elder family members, and no maid. Although, what else might be expected of a working woman such as Miss Xenakis?

     As for the relation to Miss Edwina Sharma's visit to Aubrey Hall, it appears that Miss Xenakis has received an invitation as well. One questions the thought behind this decision. Do the Bridgertons not believe themselves to have already suffered enough scandal? Trust this author, improper entanglement is not a mistake this family can afford.

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     Rose was well aware that she had come of age in a far grander abode than the average persons could even imagine setting eyes on. With its high ceilings and chandeliers and winding staircases, it was a jewel - despite the grime that covered it. But if the Bell family home was a glittering jewel, then the Bridgerton's was the shining sun.

     "Cal," Rose gasped, gripping her friend's hand as their carriage approached the place. Even if only from the exterior, Miss Xenakis could tell that the estate's majesty was unmatched.

     "It is unlike any I have ever seen," Cal breathed, leaning past Rose to grasp a better view from the small window of the carriage.

     Three ivy-covered levels grew into the sky before them, surrounded by carefully maintained grounds as far as the eye could see. Standing at the entrance of the maison, a large group was gathered: the endless Bridgertons in their various blue dress, the three Sharmas in their vibrant shades, and an unknown woman in red with a cane and high hat who held an infant in her arms. All as beautiful and pristine as the house itself. All perfectly matched with their surroundings as if roses groomed specifically to exist in such a place. As if, from first bud to the day they wilted away, they were meant to grow amongst this society.

     The thought troubled Miss Xenakis as her carriage came to a halt, and when she stepped through its door and drew attention from the group, she became suddenly aware of her attire: of its pale green shade - more a colour caused from fading with age than from any tasteful fashion sense - and of the threads that she had mindlessly snagged on the rough of her bedroom door. She was aware of her stockings, lightly speckled with dirt from her trip to the stables that morning and a bit too visible under her centimetres too short dress; of the two measly horses that pulled her carriage, wobbly still from the haphazardly replaced wheel; of the ink under her fingernails that had refused to wash out after furiously working through her finances the night before. Rose stood out conspicuously, a thorn among flowers.