Reflections of the choices

Chapter four

"These wounds won't seem to heal 

This pain is just too real 

There's just too much that time cannot erase."

"My Immortal" by Evanescence

Marina sat in the Bridgerton drawing room, trying not to betray her unease. Her slender fingers toyed with the lace on her sleeve, and though her face was calm, conflicting emotions swirled within her. The evening had passed in a strange mixture of anxiety and relief. On the one hand, she felt relieved to have avoided the ball, where she would have had to don the mask of a happy wife and mother once again. On the other hand, she was gripped by fear—the fear that her attempt to avoid attention would raise even more questions.

There was an air of something unsaid, something tense in the room, as if everyone present was trying not to acknowledge the obvious. But she knew their silence was no coincidence. Francesca's words, just recently describing the ball, sounded like echoes from a distant life in which she no longer felt like a participant.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Violet asked, her voice full of genuine concern.

Marina raised her eyes and met her compassionate gaze. This caring attention felt both comforting and burdensome.

"Much better now, thank you, Lady Bridgerton," she replied, forcing herself to smile.

But the smile didn't reach her eyes, and Violet noticed. She, more than anyone, could read the faces of her loved ones, and now Marina was part of her family.

"I hope your nausea isn't troubling you anymore," Violet continued, trying to find some thread of conversation that might dispel the tense atmosphere.

"I didn't want to miss your first ball, but..." Marina lowered her gaze to the floor, as if fearing that her eyes would reveal more than just a mild indisposition. "I didn't want to spoil everyone's mood with my poor health at the ball."

"Nonsense, dear," Violet gently smiled, trying to instill confidence in Marina. "The most important thing is that you're feeling better."

But Marina knew her words hadn't soothed the lady of the house. She caught how the women's gazes in the room—from Francesca to Hyacinth—slid toward her abdomen, as if the very nature of their suspicions drew their eyes there. Marina felt her heart tighten with tension, and a thought began to form in her mind that she desperately tried to suppress.

Francesca, trying to change the subject, began to describe how the ball had gone. Her voice rang with excitement, and at some point, Marina realized that Francesca's words were becoming background noise to her, like echoes of a distant past where she had once been young and full of hope.

"And you know, the highlight of the evening was Penelope," Francesca said, enthusiastically recounting the events. "She danced with a mysterious and, most importantly, very handsome stranger."

"What about Lord Debling?" Kate unexpectedly asked, as if she had just returned to the conversation.

"Ooooh, drama!" Hyacinth chimed in gleefully. "And Penelope is the star. So exciting."

Violet, observing the conversation, quickly glanced at Colin. His face remained calm, but her attention was drawn to his hands, which had clenched into fists. It was a barely noticeable movement, but it didn't escape her keen eye. From the moment Penelope's name was mentioned, Colin seemed to change. Violet couldn't help but feel a wave of anxiety piercing her heart. She had always known that there was something more than just friendship between Colin and Penelope, but he had neither acknowledged nor understood it himself.