𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙮, Bridgerton

PROLOGUE

- PROLOGUE -
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- season one -

. . .

Since the time in which Ophelia was a young girl, the stables had always been an incredibly important part of her life. From learning the basics of sitting sidesaddle with her father when she was merely four years old to riding through the parks with Anthony for company as she grew into her teenage years. No matter where and what horses were there, whether that be a new youngster who'd barely even been backed or a retired heavyweight shire returning from the farms, she had always been completely and utterly infatuated with the beloved creatures.

Perhaps it was simply because of her memories regarding her parents, when the smallest of ponies had been gifted to her in the field behind the yard, but there was always something about a stables that was so calm and peaceful. It was where she was most comfortable, where she could sit for hours and hide away from the heavy weights of society and their cruel eyes.

It was there that she would be found on this very day, tucked away in the end stable with a sketch pad rested against her thigh. If only the maids could see her wonderful new dress now, how it was covered in the shavings that adorned each and every block.

She was supposed to be having a dance lesson with Daphne in the grand hall, where their teacher, Miss Danton, was trying desperately to encourage the younger of the two to actively participate in the class. But there was only so much criticisms she could take and they certainly didn't include the placement of one's chin as they were lowered into a forty-five degree angle by their partner.

Much like the second youngest Bridgerton sister, Ophelia didn't quite yet understand the importance of eloquent dancing and perfect poise. She would much rather sketch like Benedict, read or spend her entire day riding. Not disappear out to tea with a suitor, dance in elegant soirées ( that are mostly for showing off the most expensive and glitzy dresses one can find whilst also conversing with men of a similar class ), or take up a hobby that would impress a lord or sir.

And this didn't mean to say that she didn't enjoy the balls. In fact, they were possibly at the top of her social calendar. But whilst she did indeed attract the odd man every now and then, other than her substantial amount of money, Ophelia was the heiress of a dead family. And that meant little to a man who was hoping to marry into a family of similar power, importance and wealth.

"Ophelia?" The voice of Lady Violet echoed down the partially empty stable block as the Farrington heiress pressed herself against the back wall of the stable and hoped desperately that she would not be seen. She could hear the footsteps growing closer to her, eyes remaining hesitantly on the book's text instead of the head of hair slowly dropping into view. There was a moment of silence in which a short sigh filled the air. "Dancing lessons weren't on your schedule, I suppose?"

"Why must we dance at balls?" Ophelia didn't see much point in ignoring the woman who had easily found her and instead closed her pad and left it in her lap. "There shouldn't be a complaint made when I choose to do this, but I dread to see the day Lady Whistledown runs a bad word through her pamphlet about my family."

"Dancing is a wonderful opportunity to get to know your suitor." Lady Violet stated as Ophelia stood from the floor and brushed her dress down. "And when things develop, words don't have to be spoken to know how comfortable you are with one another... besides, with the Queen beginning the season off tomorrow, your dancing skills are one of many that must be at the best of your ability."

The Farrington walked across the stable and unlocked the top bolt on the door, sliding through the smallest of gaps and then closing it behind her. "Alongside impressing many with the art of piano and violin." She nodded gently, resisting the very undignified urge to roll her eyes. "And the ability to speak French and Latin fluently."

Lady Violet placed a comforting hand on the light material of Ophelia's shoulder, "My dear, the Queen would take you and Daphne without a single knowledge of your talents. But to continue through the season, violin will be a subject your suitors would like to ask you about."

A curl of red hair slipped over her shoulder as their shoes begun tapping quietly against the concrete pathway away from the stables. Violin was another subject greatly disliked by the young Farrington, and she cursed Lady Whistledown each and every day for writing about her abilities to play after a showcase many months ago. It appeared classical music was always something she was questioned on; who her muses were, had she ever composed a piece herself, and each and every time the answers were much too boring for the lord or sir in question.

"If not for yourself, just remember how proud your mother and father would be to see you get the greatest of compliments from the Queen." Lady Violet spoke softly as she wandered up the stairs and pushed open the front door of their home. There was a pause in which they could hear the voices of Daphne and Miss Danton from the hall, just before Anthony would make an appearance from the drawing room.

"Shouldn't you be dancing?" The eldest of brother's asked curiously. "You must get in touch with the art of it, Ophelia." He folded his arms sternly after pulling a jacket on, aware of her lack of enthusiasm for the string of movements.

"She's just on her way." Lady Violet replied, nudging Ophelia towards the hall. "Make haste, there's only so many minutes of the dance lesson left."

Ophelia straightened out the skirt of her dress and picked up the material gloves she'd ditched on her way out of the hall earlier before wandering through the doorway and rejoining her best friend in dancing.

Lady Violet was right, she just had to remember how proud her parents would be to see their only child be deemed diamond of the season.

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