Excentryke's Musings

Title: The Replacement, Part II
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Pride & Prejudice / Twilight Saga / Bridgerton (TV Series)
Pairings: Bella/Darcy, (future) Bella/Benedict
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: arranged marriage, annoying Georgiana, New Moon redux
Summary: Bella and Darcy met at Rosings at Easter but an engagement was not formed.  Now the following August, Darcy has invited Bella and Lady Catherine to Pemberley…
Read The Replacement, Pt. I or go to The Replacement, Pt. III

The Replacement, Part II

The carriage rolled into the park and Bella held the curtain back to look out at the woods.  A sound at the other end of the carriage caused her to look up at her great-aunt by marriage, Lady Catherine De Bourg, who was also her guardian.  “It is a fine prospect, is it not?” Lady Catherine asked.  “You shall see it as soon as we come into the park.”

Bella glanced at her with her violet eyes and then back out of the window with anticipation.

Lady Catherine sat back in satisfaction.

Well should she be satisfied.  She was engineering a match between her nephew, Darcy of Pemberley, and the new heiress of Rosings, her late husband’s new heir, Isabella Swan.  It had been Lady Catherine’s wish for Darcy to marry her daughter Anne, but Anne De Bourg had been sickly and had died of a chill the previous March and Bella had inherited Rosings.  Lady Catherine had a life’s interest, and it was her desire to bring Bella up to be the lady Anne’s health prevented her from becoming.  It was also her desire to make Bella the perfect surrogate daughter.

Bella sucked in a breath when the park came into view. 

Lady Catherine smiled.  “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” Bella demanded uncharacteristically.  She was usually quiet and shy.  Looking over at Lady Catherine, her eyes wide in disbelief, she asked, “How could I not?”

“Imagine it, my dear,” Lady Catherine told her over the turning of the wheels.  “Every Autumn here at Pemberley, the Little Season in London, Easter at Rosings, and then back to London for the Season.  You will be the toast of society.”  At the blush on Bella’s cheek, Lady Catherine only smiled to herself.  “I well see you are imagining it.”

“I am still but seventeen,” she reminded her aunt.

“Eighteen in October,” Lady Catherine reminded her.  “You can be presented to Her Majesty next summer as the Honourable Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Rosings.”  She tapped Bella’s knee.  “Think about it.  You would be universally admired.”

Bella bit her lower lip and looked back out the window.  “I do not need to be admired.”

“Darcy admires you, I am sure,” Lady Catherine reminded her.  “Perhaps you need only think on that for the next four weeks.”

The carriage began to roll into the driveway.

“Ah.  I think I spy our hosts waiting for us.  They must have had a boy look out for us.  Posture, Isabella.  You have a lovely figure when you display it correctly.”

Bella leaned back from the window and sat up straight as her aunt demanded.

“A pity we are still in full mourning,” Lady Catherine sighed.  “Still, Darcy will see you in London over Christmas in mauves and silvers.”

The carriage was now coming to a stop.  Lady Catherine seemed pleased.  The door was opened and a hand presented to her.  Lady Catherine emerged with one last look at Bella, as if to say, Look Smart!—and then stepped down.

Bella took a deep breath and then prepared to exit.

The sun momentarily blinded her after the shadows of the carriage, and she blinked three times before her eyes focused on Darcy.  He was just as handsome as she remembered him. 

“Miss Swan,” he greeted, coming up and kissing her gloved hand.  “Welcome to Pemberley.”

She offered him a small smile.

“I have arranged a mare for you,” he told her as he escorted her inside, Lady Catherine happy to walk behind them in the role of guardian.  They both knew the invitation was for Bella to see Pemberley, not for Lady Catherine to return to the home of her late sister.  “We can go riding tomorrow morning after breakfast and I can show you all the best places to hide away and read.”

Bella blushed.  He remembered her habits.  Every morning she rode to the Greek Folly at Rosings and, when he was in residence, Darcy would walk out and come find her.

“Should I not hide myself away from you?” she asked a little boldly, “And then you come and find me?”  Bella turned and looked at him, her cheeks flushing despite her attempt to stay calm. 

“You know not the estate,” he reminded her, leaning down as if to whisper a secret.  “I shall come find you the next day.”

Bella glanced over at Lady Catherine and saw she looked pleased at this development.  Lady Catherine may not know what they were whispering about, but she liked that they were whispering.

“Will the Colonel be with us?” Bella asked, her voice a little louder for the benefit of her aunt.  “Or is it just us De Bourgs?”  They were now approaching the doors and two footmen stepped forward and opened them for Bella and Darcy. 

Bella waited while a footman took her bonnet and pelisse.

“Shall you like to refresh yourselves?” Darcy asked the ladies.  “It has been a long journey.”

Bella opened her mouth to answer, but it was Lady Catherine who spoke: “We should like to change.”  Bella looked at her oddly.  She thought she looked perfectly respectable.  “I take it we have adjoining rooms as I requested.”

“I put you in a suite,” Darcy informed them, signaling to a maid.

Mrs. Jenkinson had already gone up with Bella’s case and Bella had seen their maids scurry into a side entrance. 

“Excellent.”  Lady Catherine signaled to Bella.  “We shall be down in half an hour.”

“Georgiana and I will be in the music room.  A servant shall show you the way.”  Darcy bowed to them and they were left with a maid who showed them up a grand staircase into the family wing.

Bella was confused, but Lady Catherine made her intentions clear as soon as their maids arrived.

“Your hair is not as I like it.  Charlotte will do it up again.”  She directed Bella to sit at a vanity and Bella looked in the glass.  There was nothing wrong with her hair, which was in a perfect chignon.  Bella looked up at her with a question in her eyes.  “I wish to speak to Darcy alone,” Lady Catherine told her.  “Stay up here for half an hour.  Do something with your appearance so it looks like you have not been twiddling your thumbs.—Charlotte, put a lace collar on the dress perhaps instead of the blusher.”

“I like the blusher,” Bella whispered.  “I shall wash my hands and leave my gloves behind.  They are not needed for tea ‘at home’.”

Lady Catherine did not seem to be listening.  She was checking her appearance and left just as quickly as she had come. 

Bella was left sharing a long look with Mrs. Jenkinson who had come in the room with a cup of tea.

A maid was sent for Bella three quarters of an hour later, and Bella appeared in the music room, sans gloves, with nothing else about her appearance altered.  Darcy and Lady Catherine were sitting on the couches, clearly having been in conference, while a young girl, who looked very much like Darcy, was performing quietly on the pianoforte.

“Ah, there you are.  What have you been about, Isabella?” Lady Catherine inquired.

Bella stood in the doorway uncertain how to answer.

The girl abruptly stopped playing and stood from the instrument.  “Isabella?” she inquired hopefully.

“Ah, yes,” Darcy answered, indicating that the girl should come to him.  “Miss Swan, this is my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.” 

Georgiana glided on her slippers over to the couches and executed a perfect curtsey.  She was quite tall for a girl of sixteen, with chocolate curls and bright green eyes.  Her forehead was a little broad and her nose a little too straight for her to be called pretty, but Bella instantly liked the look of her.

“Miss Darcy,” she greeted with a shy smile.  “I have heard so much about you.  I am so pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”

“It is I who am pleased to meet you,” Georgiana insisted, taking her hand and leading her to a couch, separated from Darcy and Lady Catherine.  “I know we are not related by blood, but we are cousins of a sort.  I will have turned eighteen next June so we shall be coming out together in Society the same season.”  She squeezed Bella’s hand.  “Won’t it be wonderful?  To have a friend when we are presented?”

Bella felt a little overwhelmed and bit her lip nervously.

“Perhaps we should not talk of Seasons,” Darcy suggested, “that is still nearly a year away.  We must not overwhelm Miss Swan.”

“Oh yes,” Georgiana decided breathlessly.  “I suppose Fitzwilliam is right.”

Bella looked at her in confusion.

“Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana explained, “that is my brother.  He was christened ‘Fitzwilliam’ for my mother’s family.  Our family.  That is, not your family.”  She took a deep breath before hurtling on.  “That is, you are a De Bourg on your mother’s side, is that not correct Miss Swan?”

“No,” Bella gasped, still feeling overwhelmed.  “My mother was a Dwyer.  My father’s mother was a De Bourg.”

“Oh!”  Georgiana looked over at Lady Catherine and Darcy.  “So far removed as that?”

Bella gently removed her hand from Georgiana’s grasp.  She was beginning not to like Georgiana at all.  “Is there tea?” she asked desperately although she had already had a cup upstairs.

“Tea!” Georgiana pronounced.  She turned to Lady Catherine.  “Do you think it is time for tea, Lady Catherine?”

“I am certain,” Lady Catherine decided, “that if Isabella wishes to refresh herself, it is most correct.”  She shared a look with Darcy.

A woman in demure black muslin, who must be Georgiana’s companion, stood from where she was sitting, removed from everyone else in the room, and pulled the bell before sitting back down again. 

Georgiana nodded and then refocused on Bella.  “Such a shame you are in mourning.”  She thought a moment.  “I did not know Anne.  That is, I have not seen her in many years.  Did you know her, Miss Swan?”  Georgiana’s speech rushed so that Bella could barely understand what she was saying.  She had to pause for a moment to realize what Georgiana had actually meant by her previous iteration, she was so hurried and breathless.

“Miss De Bourg?” Bella asked.  “I saw her at Sir Lewis’s funeral.”

Georgiana’s green eyes popped open in interest.  “I was there!  I was but nine years old.  You must have been the same age as we are of an age together.”  She smiled triumphantly.  “There.  However, I do not remember you, Miss Swan.”

“You were both very young,” Darcy interrupted before Georgiana could say anything else.

The door opened and a footman appeared.

“Tea,” Lady Catherine ordered.

The footman stood in the doorway, probably counting, bowed, and then disappeared.

“Do you have a companion?” Georgiana started again, her voice just as breathless and fast.  “I have Mrs. Ainsley.”  She indicated the woman in black.  “Good Lord, Miss Swan, if you were not in silks, I would mistake you for her!”

Lady Catherine harrumphed and sat a little straighter. 

“Not that you are not elegant,” Georgiana pressed, laying her hand back on Bella’s, which were carefully folded on her lap.  “Very elegant in fact.  I would not guess you were not a De Bourg.  Do you look like your father or your mother?”

Bella looked pleadingly at Lady Catherine, but her aunt merely inclined her head.  It seemed Bella was forced to answer.

When Bella came down to breakfast the next morning, Lady Catherine was already there, sitting to the right of the head of the table.  She put down her cup of tea and made a circling motion with her finger.

Darcy was standing at the window, looking out at the grounds, in his usual repose.  He turned to see Bella enter, and he nodded at her politely.  Georgiana was sitting to the left of the head of the table and she immediately perked up upon seeing Bella.

“Oh, Miss Swan, come sit by me!” she trilled.

Bella wanted to do no such thing.  However, instead of answering, she came around the table and presented herself to Lady Catherine for inspection and turned in place with her hands held out wide so Lady Catherine could see the full effect.

“No,” Lady Catherine decided.  “That dress looks ill on you.  I should not have picked it.  Go and put on the one with the black velvet piping.”

Bella had placed her hands on her stomach and looked down at the dress, which was much cooler as it was made from just silk.  “You liked this dress well enough when I wore it in July, Aunt,” she reminded Lady Catherine carefully.

“You were not in company in July.  Go and change.”

Darcy had been watching the proceedings and he turned to Lady Catherine.  “I think Miss Swan looks fine in her dress,” he contributed.  “She looks quite the heiress.”

Lady Catherine looked over to him.  “There is too much lace around the bodice.  It does not show off Miss Swan to her full effect.  No, she must go change.”

Georgiana was looking between the three of them carefully, silent for the first time since Bella had met her the afternoon before.

“Modesty is the highest elegance,” Darcy quoted sternly.  “Miss Swan is dressed and more than presentable.  Allow her to have her tea.  The dress will be covered with her pelisse when I take her riding in half an hour, in any effect.”

Lady Catherine looked affronted.  She paused for a moment and then addressed Bella: “You will wear the dress with the velvet piping tomorrow, Isabella.  I will let it go this once.”

“Thank you, Aunt.”  She approached Lady Catherine and kissed her cheek before going and taking the seat beside her.

Darcy went and fetched her a dish of tea and some eggs and bacon. 

Georgiana was considering her.  “You are to go riding with Fitzwilliam?” she asked at length, glancing at her brother.  “May I come?”

“You do not ride in the mornings,” Darcy answered her firmly.  “It would not do to change your morning routine now.  You must practice your pianoforte.”

She deflated.  “Of course, Fitzwilliam.  It is only that Miss Swan is only here for the length of August.”

“The pianoforte is also here for the length of August,” he reminded her.  That seemed to decide the matter.

Bella was secretly pleased.  She did not want to ride out with Georgiana.  She wanted to leave her locked in the music room and not let her out again until after she and Lady Catherine left at the end of the month.  She would have to ask Lady Catherine not to allow them to debut together.  They would be at the same balls, the same teas, but they need not see each other more than necessary.

When she rode out with Darcy, she was mostly silent until they came to a glade with wildflowers.  He helped her down from her mare and they walked out into the flowers before he handed her the book Darcy had brought in his saddlebag and he assisted her in sitting.

She looked at the book.  The spine was fresh and when she opened it, she saw that it was a fresh volume of Milton.

“Have you read it before?” Darcy inquired.

“Milton?” she turned to the title page.  “Yes.”  Her violet eyes flicked up.  “He is one of my great favorites.”

“I chose rightly then.”

“I suppose you did, Mr. Darcy,” she said with a small smile.  Turning to the first page, she began to read the familiar lines of poetry.

They sat in silence for more than half an hour, Darcy all the while regarding her.  She was used to his admiring looks from when he visited at Easter, so she did not react to him.  When he spoke, she was not in the least surprised.  She set her finger to mark her place and looked up.

“I am sorry for Georgiana.”

“Is she always thus?”

“Not as you would suppose,” Darcy confessed.  “She is with me.  She is with her most intimate acquaintance.  It is a sign of her respect and her regard.”

Bella wished she were not respected or regarded then.  She grimaced despite herself.  “How is she otherwise?” 

“Solemn.  She keeps her counsel.”

“I cannot imagine Miss Darcy keeping her counsel.”  Georgiana had told her all about her favorite dog that had died two years previously and had whispered over dinner which footmen she found attractive.  Bella had found it scandalous instead of the intriguing gossip of friends.

“She is not ready to enter society,” Darcy agreed carefully.

No, no, Georgiana was not. 

Bella did not respond and returned to her book. 

Darcy was silent for several moments, but spoke again.  “You did not like her.”  He took a deep breath as if considering.  “I had hoped you would be in each other’s confidence, but I see now your minds are incompatible.  Georgiana spends most of the year in London, but I must bring her out in society next summer.”

Bella looked away, into the woods.  “You forget that I come out into society next summer.”

“We both know that is not what Lady Catherine wants.”

“That is what she promised,” Bella reminded him, “if I am of a mind.  It was the first thing she promised after she told me Anne had died.  It is what my mother wants.”

“I know nothing of Mrs. Swan or indeed of the late Mr. Swan,” Darcy confessed.

“My father died in a hunting accident,” Bella confessed, turning back to Darcy and looking into his verdant gaze, which was so like Georgiana’s it was startling.  “Mama and I live at Lady Catherine’s pleasure.”

“You no longer live at Lady Catherine’s pleasure,” Darcy reminded her.  “You are your own mistress.”

“We both know that is not true.  Lady Catherine has a lifetime share in Rosings Park.  She is also my guardian until I marry or until I turn twenty-one, whichever comes first.”

Darcy looked away angrily.  “I should have proposed to you at Rosings.  I should have married you at Rosings.  You have decided against me within a day of coming to Pemberley.”

Bella sighed, feeling tears in her eyes.  “Would you want me to be unhappy?”  And she would be unhappy being trapped here with Darcy and Georgiana prattling at her.

“I will send Georgiana away tomorrow.”

“That is cruel.”

“It is what you want.”

Bella took in a shaky breath.  “I want to go home.”

“Lady Catherine will not return to Rosings so soon.”

“No,” Bella breathed.  “Not Rosings.  Home.”  She slammed shut her book and stood, tripping over her black gown.  Darcy hurried up to catch her, but she caught herself on his shoulder and shoved herself away from him.  Bella felt completely overwhelmed.  She rushed to her horse and shoved the book away from her.  She did not have a saddlebag.  Darcy did.  He would just have to pick up the book when he left.

She pushed herself up into the saddle completely inelegantly, hearing Darcy behind her. 

“No,” she begged, as she pulled herself into the seat and grabbed the reins.  “I just need—just let me be.  I will return for luncheon.”  She looked down into his anguished face, but rode off into the tree line.

She rode in the wrong direction.

Within a mile she knew she was lost.  She could not find a path and she could not find her way back.  Within three hours she knew she had certainly missed luncheon.  She climbed down out of the saddle and began to walk, leading her mare.  She found a stream and let her horse drink, and sat down.  Through the leaves she could tell it was late afternoon.

Bella did not know where to go, so she just waited.  Someone would come find her.

After an hour, she slapped her horse on the rump and ordered it to “go home.”  She took off her bonnet and just waited.  She fell asleep under the trees when darkness fell.  She felt cold even though it was August.

She woke up to sounds of her name being called.

At first she could see nothing in the darkness, but someone was calling, “Swan!  Swan!”

She stood up against the tree and shouted, “Here!  I’m here!”

“Swan!”  It was coming closer.

“Here!”  She took a hesitant step forward and tripped, catching herself on a tree.  Scraping her hand, she smelled blood and felt blood.

“Swan!  Swan!”

“Here!” she whispered, falling into the tree, tripping, and falling.  She felt tree bark against her face and then she fainted, her head falling back.

The next thing she knew, there was light in her eyes.

“Miss Swan!”  There was a warm hand against her cheek.  “Miss Swan, can you hear me?” 

She did not recognize the voice.

Lifting up her hand, she smelled the blood again and wrinkled her nose.  “What?”

“Miss Swan,” a voice said in relief.

She opened up her eyes to see a handsome face with stunning blue eyes above a white cravat.  “Are we acquainted?” she asked in confusion.  “Are you an acquaintance of Lady Catherine’s?”

The face looked relieved.  “No, Miss Swan,” he answered.  “Come.  You got lost in the woods.  Let me take you back to Pemberley.”

She tensed and pulled away.  “No.  I do not wish to go back.”

“But Miss Swan—”

“No.”  She shook her head and clutched to a tree.

“Lady Catherine is very worried—”

At this, Bella opened her eyes a little bit.  “Aunt Catherine—”

“Yes, Aunt Catherine.”  The man gave her a small smile.  “Come, let me take you to your Aunt Catherine.  She is most anxious for your health.”

“I cut my hand.”  She held it out and saw she had torn a glove.  Then she felt a throbbing at the back of her head.  Blinking, she looked up at the man again.  He had such incredibly blue eyes.

“The physician will be called,” the man promised.  “Come, Miss Swan.  Let us get you to safety.  We are all most anxious for your safe return.”

A warm arm came around her waist and she felt herself being supported.  Carefully, she was led through the trees, the light shining slightly ahead of them, and she was aware she was being half-carried by a man she had never before met.

“Who are you?” she asked him, squinting up at him.  Somewhere she had lost her bonnet.

“Benedict Bridgerton, Madam,” he answered with a small smile.  “I am visiting Matlock Park and I heard about the rescue mission and came to offer my services.”

“Who are you rescuing?” she asked in confusion.

He smiled at her kindly.  “I think you hit your head, Miss Swan.”

“I fell when I scraped my hand,” she answered thickly.  She tripped over a root, but Benedict held onto her more firmly.  “I ran away.”

Benedict looked over at her.  “We all want to do that sometimes,” he admitted.  “Perhaps you should consult Aunt Catherine before you try again.”

“Yes,” she agreed in exhaustion.  “Perhaps you are right.”

They walked for more than half an hour until there were other lights, and then Benedict was calling out, “I found her!  I found Miss Swan!” 

The lights converged and there were too many faces.  She saw Darcy among them and she shrank away from him, but Benedict kept his arm wrapped around her.  When they finally breached the tree line, she saw that they were quite close to the house, and Benedict handed off his light and picked her up in both his arms and carried her up into the house.  As soon as the doors were opened, Lady Catherine was upon her, and Bella could see Georgiana wrapped in shawls, her usually happy face blanched in fear.

However, Benedict carried her swiftly up the stairs and was guided to her room, where Charlotte and Mrs. Jenkinson began to undress her and place blankets on top of her.

“Benedict,” Bella breathed as he was ushered out the door, reaching for him.

Mrs. Jenkinson looked over her shoulder.  “Your name, sir!” she demanded.

“Mr. Benedict Bridgerton of Aubrey Hall, Hampshire,” he answered just as another maid was ushering him out the door.

Mrs. Jenkinson nodded and then turned back to getting Bella undressed.

Lady Catherine rushed through the door just as logs were being piled on the fire. 

Bella was soon in a nightdress, her hair undone and flowing around her shoulders, her hand bound up, and a hot compresses under her sheets.  A physician had come and gone, giving her beef tea and a tonic for her to take if she could not sleep.  Her head fortunately had not been hit too hard and she did not have a concussion, just some mild confusion from having fallen asleep.

“Oh, my dear, we were so worried about you,” Lady Catherine nearly cried, as she held Bella’s good hand, sitting on her bed.  “You were lost for hours.  When you did not come back for luncheon—”

“I could not find my way back,” Bella apologized.  “I do not know the estate.”

“Why did you not stay with Darcy?” Lady Catherine asked carefully, brushing a strand of hair away from Bella’s forehead.  “I trusted him to take care of you.”

“We quarreled,” Bella admitted, chewing her lip.  “I no longer want to marry him.”

“What?” Lady Catherine breathed harshly.  She looked over to where Charlotte and two other maids were packing up Bella’s torn dress, which was now in ruins.  “Get out,” she ordered.  The maids looked away and filed out of the room. 

Mrs. Jenkinson paused at her place near the fire and curtseyed before she, too, exited.

Lady Catherine returned her attention to Bella.  “You are overtired,” she tried to explain away.

“He did not tell you,” Bella surmised.  She sighed and turned away.  “Of course he did not.”

“What could have changed?” Lady Catherine asked carefully.  “I know you approve of the estate.  You regard Darcy highly.  It would make me happy.  You are not spoilt—”

Bella took her hand back and pushed herself up so she was sitting up in bed.  She took a deep breath.  “Aunt.”

“Yes, dear, I am listening.”

“I cannot abide Miss Darcy.”

Lady Catherine’s face remained impassive and then, transforming suddenly, it became crushed.  “That stupid, flighty girl.”  She seemed to be thinking.  “Darcy could send her to London or Bath.”

“You know it is untenable.  She needs at least one season.”

Lady Catherine turned her blue eyes on Bella.  “You cannot abide her so much?”

Bella took in a deep breath and shook her head.  “You saw us yesterday.  Surely you saw how uncomfortable I was when she was whispering with me at dinner.”

“Yes,” Lady Catherine agreed.  “Yes.  I did.  Anne never saw Georgiana.  She never came to Rosings.”  Carefully, she nodded.  “Doctor Forsyte said you must stay in bed for three days.  Then we shall return to Rosings in a week.  We must think of Darcy’s pride and not leave too soon.”  Taking Bella’s hand, she looked into her violet eyes.  “You will be gracious to our hosts until then.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  “Of course, Aunt Catherine.  I understand.”

Lady Catherine nodded.  Leaning forward, she kissed Bella on the forehead.  “You shall marry a baronet,” she decided, “like I did.  Rosings shall have a title again.”

Bella smiled to herself.  “If that is what you think.”

Lady Catherine nodded as she stood from the bed.  “That is exactly what I think.  It is agreed.”  Going to the door, she opened it carefully.  “Be careful what you tell Mrs. Jenkinson.”

“She will know something.”

“Something,” Lady Catherine agreed, “but not everything.”  With that she left.

Not two minutes later, Mrs. Jenkinson entered and came over to fix Bella’s covers.  She looked excited.  “Do you wish to know, Miss Swan?”

Bella looked up with questioning violet eyes.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Mrs. Jenkinson answered slyly.  She went to the vanity and pulled the chair over.  “I had a small chat with Mrs. Ainsley and have a wealth of information.”

Bella bit her lip.  It was just two days ago that she had assumed she would one day be Mrs. Darcy.  Should she even be having this conversation?

She flicked her eyes up. 

That was all the encouragement Mrs. Jenkinson needed.  “Mr. Benedict Bridgerton is the next eldest brother of the Ninth Viscount Bridgerton.”  Bella’s eyes widened.  “He is an artist and studies at the Royal Academy.  His sisters are the Duchess of Hastings and the Countess of Kilmarten.  Another brother, Colin Bridgerton, is lately married, as is the Viscount.” 

“Is Mr. Bridgerton—?”

“No, Mr. Benedict is not,” Mrs. Jenkinson answered kindly.  “Nor is Miss Eloise Bridgerton who is out in society.  There are two younger siblings, who Miss Ainsley informed me are named Gregory or Hyacinth.”  She pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her pocket.  “This is the first published edition of Lady Whistledown from April 1815 when the Duchess of Hastings was first presented to Queen Charlotte as Miss Daphne Bridgerton.”  She slid it to Bella.  “It explains how the Bridgerton siblings are all named in alphabetical order.  Miss Ainsley has saved every copy of the gossip sheet.”

“Gossip sheet?” Bella breathed.

“Yes.  It is the most popular in London, I understand.  My sister wrote to me of it some years ago and sent me some back issues.  Lady Whistledown, that is Mrs. Colin Bridgerton,” she looked at Bella pointedly, “names her subjects by name and not just innuendo.—I would hide this from Lady Catherine.  I also promised to return that to Mrs. Ainsley before we leave.”

“Mr. Bridgerton is staying at Matlock House.”

“Which means,” Mrs. Jenkinson decided, “that he is friends with Mr. Darcy’s cousin, the Viscount of Owestry.  He was also here tonight, searching for you.”

“Is Mr. Bridgerton still here?”

Mrs. Jenkinson shook her head.  “All the men have gone home not an hour since.  I could ask Lady Catherine if we may send for him tomorrow or the next day.  You may wish to thank him.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed hesitantly, looking over the copy of Lady Whistledown.  “That is a thought.”

“An excellent thought,” Mrs. Jenkinson agreed.  Standing, she placed the chair back at the vanity.  “Lady Catherine would never forgive me if I did not let you rest.  It is nearly four in the morning.”

“Is it that late?” Bella asked, setting aside the gossip sheet.  “I feel like I could never sleep.”

“Then I shall come and check in on you in half an hour,” Mrs. Jenkinson promised.  “Goodnight, Miss Swan.  I promise that no one will disturb you and all the curtains are drawn.”

Bella looked toward the windows.  Indeed, all the curtains were drawn.  She smiled to herself.  “Goodnight, Mrs. Jenkinson.  I shall see you in the morning.”

“I shall see you in the afternoon,” Mrs. Jenkinson corrected.  She picked up her candle and quietly left the room. 

Bella glanced at the gossip sheet and wondered.  Benedict Bridgerton was not a baronet, but he had fine blue eyes.  She rather liked the look of him—and with that thought, Bella Swan drifted off to sleep.

The End.

Continue to Replacement, Pt. III