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Part 1. - First Meetings
Violet Ledger could not speak.
Not in the presence of Viscount Edmund Bridgerton, that is. From the moment he stepped into Lady Danbury’s ballroom, she had been utterly aware of his presence. As her dance card filled with names that were not his, she grew more and more weary that perhaps he would not notice her as she had noticed him. One gentleman after another led her to the floor until only one spot remained, and then it happened.
When he approached her for the first time, she knew that she should exchange pleasantries with him. She should ask him questions about his interests and thank him for asking her to dance, yet she simply couldn’t.
“Good evening, Miss Ledger. I do hope you have room on your dance card for me—I shall not forgive myself if I let you leave this evening without allowing me to accompany you to the floor.”
“ Speak, Violet! Speak !” she cried to herself.
Instead, she simply smiled and extended her arm to him, hoping he would take her silence as coyness rather than a total loss of words. As he led her to the floor, her hand trembled in his and her knees felt as though they would carry her no further. They danced silently, exchanging smiles and quiet laughs along the way. When the music faded, they were left looking into one another’s eyes as though they were the only two remaining in the room.
“You are a most accomplished dancer, Miss Ledger. One of your many talents, I am sure,” he said, flashing her a smile that feared would melt her into the floor.
“Th-thank you, my Lord,” she managed to sputter.
“ Love ,” she thought. “ This certainly must be love. ” And though she did not know it yet, Edmund Bridgerton had fallen in love with her, too.
~
Portia Beaumont could not breathe.
Not in the presence of Baron Archibald Featherington, that is. It had been three days since she had been informed of her family’s precarious financial circumstances, two days since she had met Lord Featherington, and one day since she had agreed to become his Baroness.
From the first moment she laid eyes on him, she knew she would never love him. She would bear his children, cater to his wishes, fulfill her duty. She would do her best to continue breathing and to endure as she always had. In turn, he would provide her with the security that comes with a titled marriage, ensuring her family provided for. She would survive just as her mother had, and her mother before that, and her mother before that, because that is what women do.
Archibald was older than herself, she being ten and seven and he five and thirty. Arrogance spilled from him and Portia knew she must use this to her advantage. “I plan for us to take permanent residence in London, should we marry” he said to her.
“That sounds most agreeable, my lord. I shall be happy wherever you lead us.”
He smirked, his ego properly fed and proposed the very next morning. She accepted graciously, relief washing over her mother and father as pure terror washed over her. Though she had wanted so desperately to cry, she saved her tears for the solitude of her bedchamber—she had secured a future for herself, after all.
“ Breathe ,” she thought. “ Just keep breathing .” And though she did not know it yet, she would spend the next two and twenty years trying not to drown.
Part 2. - First Times
On a warm summer day, Violet became Viscountess Bridgerton.
Their wedding had been everything she could have dreamed of, though the pair would have happily married on the streets of Mayfair and not held one complaint. Their love had enveloped them in a haze of bliss, neither of them willing to let go of the other’s hand from the moment they said “I do” to the moment they arrived at their newlywed lodgings.
Violet knew what would follow that evening, to as much of an extent as her mother had been willing to share. She knew her husband would likely have much to teach her, and she was more than willing to learn. Excitement and nervousness intertwined in her core as she slipped into her nightdress and carefully walked towards the bedchamber where she would be reunited with her husband.
Her husband.
When she pushed open the door and stepped inside, Edmund smiled warmly at her, sending a calming heat across her body. “You are perfect, Lady Bridgerton,” he praised as he pulled her tightly to him and kissed her with a passion unlike that at the church earlier that morning. Her body trembled beneath him, though she was not afraid. Each touch, each new sensation only made her trust him all the more deeply.
His hands explored her body eagerly, yet with all of the gentleness that she deserved. She opened herself to him fully, not willing to let her naivety hold her back. His eyes remained carefully on her own, watching for any sign of discomfort or distress. She leaned into him, soaking in every ounce of his heat which she began to wonder how she had ever existed without.
When the time came for him to fully take her, he never allowed himself to do more than she was prepared for. He was slow, and allowed her time to relax around him before proceeding. “Is this pleasing for you?” He asked once he had entered her completely.
“Yes, oh yes,” she whispered, growing more and more accustomed to him as he slowly pressed into her. The feeling of need grew more desperate with each passing moment as they began to unravel, their cries of ecstasy growing louder. When they found their release, their bodies shuddered against one another as though their souls had connected and their mutual feeling of relief consumed every inch of them.
“I love you, Violet. I shall always love you,” Edmund whispered as he drew her tightly into his chest.
“I love you, Edmund,” she whispered back, hopeful for a lifetime of loving him.
~
On a hot summer day, Portia became Baroness Featherington.
The wedding had been a rather small affair, their families being the only attendees. Sweat poured from Archibald’s brow as the bishop droned on about protecting one’s spouse, and this, and that. Portia looked at the man she would soon call her husband with an unfamiliar feeling, one she could not quite place. Something falling between an annoyance and a hopefulness that he would not let her down.
As the ceremony ended, the couple climbed into a carriage and left for the cottage where they would spend their first evening together. Portia’s mother had told her exactly what was to take place that evening, which certainly did not help her nerves. “Lie still, allow him to perform his duty, and all will be well,” she had said.
When night fell, Portia excused herself to her chamber to dress for the evening. It did not take long for Archibald to join her, dismissing her lady’s maid who was still removing pins from her hair when he entered. He stood behind her at her vanity and continued removing the pins that she was unable to reach herself. “Thank you,” she said hesitantly, unsure why he had not allowed the maid to finish this task herself.
As soon as the last pin had been removed, his hands dropped to her shoulders. “I shall assume your mother informed you of what is to take place between us?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes, my lord,” she said as her eyes met his in the mirror.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she followed him to the bed. “You must relax yourself or this shall not be pleasant for either of us,” he instructed, his face splotched red. She lay beneath him and did as she had been instructed, trying desperately to calm herself and focus on anything aside from the pain.
When he finished he collapsed on top of her, his breathing rapid and hot against her neck. A sickness rose inside her, threatening to spill at any moment. “I shall take my leave, I will see you tomorrow for breakfast,” he said dully, still breathing deeply as he rolled from the bed and disappeared through the doors to his own bedchamber.
“ You are alright, all is well ,” she reassured herself. Portia at last found sleep, the first of many nights she would spend alone as Lady Featherington.
Part 3. - First Childbirths
“Push!”
Violet squeezed Edmund’s hand as the couple welcomed a shining baby boy, an hair, into their lives. Though she was exhausted and entirely spent, she smiled at her husband whom had remained by her side ever since she felt her first labor pain.
“My strong and beautiful wife! What a wonder you are. We have son!” Edmund beamed.
“My boy, how perfect you are,” Violet whispered, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.
~
“Push!”
Portia squeezed Varley’s hand as she at last welcomed her little girl into the world, her hair as bright red as her mama’s. It had been a painfully long night of labor, her husband nowhere to be found. She ultimately knew where he could be found, given his disappearance as soon as the midwife had arrived.
“She is beautiful, ma’am,” Varley beamed.
“My little girl, it shall be you and me,” Portia whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Part 4. - First Days Without Them
“Help!” Violet heard shouted from the garden.
What came next was a whirlwind of confusion followed the most ferocious pain she could have imagined. Her chest had been split apart, the remnants of her heart scattered on the floor.
Edmund was the air she breathed. Without him there was no air. For months, she rose from the bed in the morning and returned to it at night with no memory of what took place during the day. Her vision was blurred, the colors around her faded into oblivion. She had become a shell of herself when she lost Edmund—the love and light of her existence.
“Mother, we need you,” Anthony pleaded.
“Please do not cry, mama,” Eloise begged.
“Shall I sing you a song?” Daphne asked.
It took time, but eventually, Violet returned to family dinners. She held her children in her arms and squeezed them tight, thankful for the life that coursed through their veins. She still spoke to Edmund as though he were beside her, yet found herself able to cope with the silence that she was met with. She took walks in the garden again, and celebrated the life of the greatest man who had ever lived.
Violet was fortunate to have known love. She knew its power, knew how it could soften a person into their best self. She did all she could to encourage love matches for her children, nudging them to put their hearts above all else. Though she would miss Edmund for the rest of her days, for her children she continued on.
~
“It is your husband, ma’am. They are saying he is dead,” Portia heard Varley say.
What came next was a whirlwind of confusion followed by the most ferocious fear she could have imagined. Her husband had abandoned her with nothing, her only consolation being that she never had to lay eyes on him again.
Archibald had been a dagger in her side, yet when removed, the full effects of his damage was unleashed. For months, she rose from the bed in the morning and returned to it at night with the scars of an uphill battle that seemed highly unlikely for her to win. Her heart had not stopped pounding since his death, the constant threat of destitution hanging just above her head.
“Potatoes? Again?” Philippa complained.
“No new dresses?” Prudence questioned.
“Are you alright, mama?” Penelope asked.
Portia had always been a survivor, and she was unwilling to let her husband ruin her family after a life spent at his mercy. She did what she had to do to protect her family in whatever way she could see forward, securing matches for her daughters to ensure they were provided for even if she herself were to be hung out to dry.
Portia had been hardened by life, her actions driven by defensiveness. She had taken beating after beating, punishment after punishment, yet for what she could not quite place. It was through her daughters, the loves of her life, that she ultimately found a semblance of peace. If nothing else, her husband had given her them and for that, she was grateful. For them, she would continue to fight.