VI.
Epilogue (July to August 1814)
Their wedding was the last of the season. Mr. Darcy, surprisingly, had announced his engagement to Miss Penelope Featherington a fortnight before the wedding and had secured a special license, marrying her at St. Mary’s not a week later. Miss Daphne Bridgerton had awakened from her coma at the exact same time and had married her sister’s beau, the Earl Black. The couple were blissfully happy from what Miss Swan could tell from her visits to Bridgerton House. Only Eloise was unhappy with the arrangement but, according to Lady Whistledown, she had introduced the couple.
The entire Bridgerton clan, along with Lord Black, attended for the groom.
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Miss Georgiana Darcy, Mrs. Ainsley, and (as Georgiana had predicted) Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam attended for the bride.
The Viscountess—the former Miss Isabella Swan—had not expected a certain conversation eight days after the wedding, when they were installed at Aubrey Hall with the rest of the Bridgerton family.
“Magic,” Bella checked, looking directly at Anthony.
“Yes,” he agreed. “My family has magic. Our dreams, it turns out, were magic.”
“You are magical,” she stated softly.
“Well, my mother and I are Squibs. We are born from wizards but have no magic. Everyone else is a wizard or a witch.”
“Is that why Francesca is going to Scotland?”
“Yes,” Anthony agreed. “She is going to Hogwarts, a magical school for witches and wizards. Benedict, Colin, Daphne, and Eloise attended. My father attended. Gregory and Hyacinth will attend when they are old enough.”
Bella nodded carefully and then let out a breath. “This makes it so much easier.”
“Easier?” Anthony looked puzzled.
“Mr. Darcy told me never to tell—”
“Tell what?” Anthony asked carefully. He did not want to step on toes, but he did not want secrets between himself and his wife.
“I was in Washington, at a ballgame, a little like cricket. There was a thunderstorm and—and—” she took a deep breath “—there were these nomadic vampires—”
Anthony placed his hand on her arm. “Did they kill your family?”
“I hope not,” she murmured. “I was running from them when I opened a door to a—a horseless carriage—”
“A horseless carriage?”
“Yes,” Bella confirmed. “And I walked into Pemberley’s library, quite wet, where there was no storm.” She looked at him worriedly.
Anthony stared at her. “You walked through a door—”
“It has happened before at Pemberley,” she confirmed. “I am not the first.”
“Pemberley has magical doors?” Anthony questioned, his voice a little high. He quickly grasped Bella’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I am only grateful you came somewhere safe. Those vampires—”
“Yes,” she agreed. “However—”
“However—” Anthony wondered if there could possibly be more.
“I was born in 1987.”
Anthony was speechless.
“As I said, it’s happened before at Pemberley.”
“And it is one way? People do not disappear from Pemberley through magic doors?”
“No, they only come through… magic doors.” Bella paused. “You are not angry with me?”
“How can I be angry with you for being the victim of magic? You are only lucky you were not obliviated.”
“Obliviated?” Bella looked thoroughly confused.
“The Ministry of Magic removes the memories of magic from non-magical people. You are quite fortunate that did not happen to you.”
“No,” Bella agreed. “I’m glad. I would not like to forget the first seventeen years of my life.”
“I am only glad you are safe and whole here, in England, with me. Is there anything else, my love?” Anthony looked at her expectantly.
“My first boyfriend—”
“Boyfriend?” He had never heard the word.
“Suitor.” Bella took a deep breath. “—was a vampire.”
“And he did not follow you through this door,” Anthony checked, having never met a vampire but knowing of them from research.
“No,” Bella promised. “Just me.”
“Thank the old gods,” Anthony praised. “Now, I need to tell you about Daphne, Eloise, and Lord Black.”
Bella looked at him expectantly.
Anthony took a deep breath and plunged into the world of magic and enchantment. If Bella was not quite so surprised as he thought she would be, he supposed it was because of her own brush with magic. Still, he could not have been happier in his choice of wife. If she did sometimes slip from bed before the sun rose, Anthony could always find her under a tree with a book of poetry and marzipan, and he loved her all the more for it.
Excentryke's Musings 