Upper Ten Thousand// Anthony & Benedict Bridgerton

seven

These days, the modern young lady must display a miscellany of talents in her quest for a suitor. She must be a witty conversationalist, an accomplished musician, and an expert in the art of the swoon. For managing to faint with nary a petticoat out of place is a most coveted talent indeed. Of course, not everyone has fallen victim to the royal fever sweeping through London Town. One diamond in particular seems quite immune making this author wonder if the crown has lost its luster.

I sit in the Bridgerton family parlor. I find myself seeking the company of Daphne more often as Val and Lady Danbury are occupied by things other than myself. Daphne is playing pianoforte as Elois reads.

"Oh! Enough! I beg of you," Eloise remarks.

"Perhaps you should join me. You will need to be proficient on the pianoforte soon enough," Daphne tells her.

"You could use the practice, I'm sure," I tease.

"On second thought, continue. You will frighten away the duke, the prince, and any other eligible suitor clear across the North Sea," Eloise taunts.

"And you would wish that upon me, would you, Sister?" Daphne questions.

"If it kept Mama's attentions focused on you instead of me, I might," Eloise admits.

"You can take your reading outside," Daphne tells her.

"You say that as if reading were a bad thing," Eloise states.

"I meant no such thing," Daphne assures.

"But it won't gain me a husband? That what you meant?" Eloise questions.

"Eloise..." Daphne starts.

"You wish to follow your heart, and I wish to nurture my mind. Let us leave it there," Eloise states.

"Can you at least try to understand? You never see things from my perspective. You are not the only one with troubles, Eloise. You have no idea what it... It does not matter," Daphne says.

"Is it an original?" Eloise asks.

"What?" Daphne questions.

"That song, did you compose it yourself?" Eloise asks.

"In a manner of speaking," Daphne tells her.

"What is the name of it?" Eloise asks.

"It does not have a name," Daphne states.

"Every song has a name," I insist.

"It is just a song," Daphne says.

"If you need to practice, then do so. Just... come up with a name for it, at least," Eloise says.

I stand up. "Your sister's quarrel was rather entertaining, but I shall be off.

"I shall see you at the ball," Daphne tells me.

On the way out I pass Benedict in a room by himself, tearing a page from a sketchbook. I walk into the room and almost fully close the door behind me leaving only a small gap. Benedict sits up straighter in his chair looking at me curiously.

"Finally had enough of my dear sister's incessant pianoforte playing?" Benedict asks.

"It is a rather nice song," I tell him, "But after the tenth time I heard it I knew I must get away." Benedict chuckles. I pick up one of the sheets of paper crumpled up on the floor. "These are not bad."

"They are abominable. I cannot stand to look at them," Benedict tells me.

I chuckle. "I believe that is why they call it a sketchbook." I walk over to him and look over his shoulder at his sketches. "And what of these. You can bear to look at them or you have yet to rip them up?"