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PRESENTATIONS & PRESUMPTIONS

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Dearest Reader,

The time has come to place our bets on the upcoming social season.

Consider the household of the Baron Featherington. Three misses foisted upon the marriage market like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless, mama.

Far better odds may exist in the household of the widowed Viscountess Bridgerton. A shockingly prolific family, noted for its bounty of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters.

How very perfect indeed.

But there is one family that is yet to be spotted at the social season. Despite the elusiveness of Mr. and Mrs. Baxter's sudden disappearance after their eldest daughter's scandalous elopement with a writer, of all occupations, it seems that their family is determined to re-enter society with grace, having brought not only their successful son, but their two incredibly handsome daughters. If their coloring is anything like their mother's, then perhaps Miss Marjorie Baxter and Miss Augusta Baxter stand a chance among the grander debutantes of this season after all.

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"OH, IT'S BEAUTIFUL!" Marjorie called out as she untied the bonnet from her head, the footman helping her out of her carriage. The town house wasn't nearly as grand as their one in the country, but still it stood, pale green walls and white trim towering over her as her pink dress swept against the cobblestone.

A soft blonde curl snuck free of her updo, bouncing across her forehead as she sprung forward, a wide smile stretching across her face. To look at the woman, you wouldn't have thought she had suffered a loss in the last year. Marjorie Baxter was all sunshine and smiles as she followed the staff into the foyer, the high ceilings and old chandeliers dusted off for their return. Paintings lined the parlor, although most of them were handed down from previous ancestors. Those who had once held a title. From Mama's line, Marjorie guessed.

With an excited gasp, she rushed to a small lectern in the hallway, her fingers gently running over the worn parchment that stood underneath the portrait of her grandmama and grandpapa.

"Careful sister," James joked, a wry smile dangling from his lips, "Those papers are the lifeblood of the Baxter bloodline."

Marjorie whirled around to face her insolent brother, smacking his shoulder as she continued to wander through the halls. "It's been so long since we've been here I can't even recall the secret passages we used to use."

A fond smile passed her lips and she turned around, "Do you remember how Esther..." Her words trailed off and her chest squeezed. Even speaking her name seemed to crush every bone in her body.

Her sister had been a marvelous woman, the very inspiration for all their shenanigans. Yet now her name was fragile. A piece of stained glass ready to crack.

James' blue eyes fell to the floor, jaw clenching and lips tightening. Marjorie knew better than to push her luck when he got like that. Ignoring him, she continued through to the parlor, the lovely yellow color reminding her of the sun, particles of dust dangling in the air when she faced the window in just the right way. A painting hung between the two windows, red accents decorating the chairs and furniture of the room. It felt so very warm, and Marjorie felt the quaint sensation of wishing to stay there forever, curled up with a good book and her siblings.

She collapsed on the comfy chaise, leaning her head back and soaking in the warmth of the city. The town was absolutely beautiful this time of year, although she understood her parents' reluctance to return.

"Marjorie Anne!" Her mother yelled, a mess of frizzy brunette curls half done up in a style that would put Queen Charlotte's wigs to shame, "There you are, you must realize what time it is?!"

Her Mama and Augusta had taken the carriage earlier that week, Mama demanding that Augusta needed a full week to prepare for her entrance into society. Always the favorite child, Marjorie shook her head bemused. "No Mama," Marjorie teased, knowing it would elicit a perfect reaction from her frazzled mother, "I'm afraid I don't."

"For goodness sake child," Evelyn Baxter shook her head, placing her hand on her hips with a disapproving glare, "If we are to be on time for the presentation at court the least you could do is get off that couch!"

Marjorie chuckled to herself as she followed her Mama up the stairs, ready to give herself over to the woman's frantic and hysteric mannerisms when it came to the season.

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Today is a most important day, and for some a terrifying one. For today is the day London's marriage-minded misses are presented to her majesty the Queen.

May god have mercy on their souls.

It is only the Queen's eye that matters. A glimmer of displeasure, and a lady's value plummets to unthinkable depths. But as we know, the brighter a lady shines, the faster she may burn.

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MARJORIE WAITED PATIENTLY in the halls of the castle, brushing her hands down the pale ivory of her skirts, staring up at a portrait of the beloved Queen and her husband. They looked almost incandescently happy, almost as if their marriage was one of love and not of convenience. She had no doubt that Queen Charlotte loved the King, but even she knew that royals did not choose who they married. It was all a matter of economic and social circumstance to them. Marjorie found that quite unappealing if she did say so herself.

It was why, despite her Mama's best intentions, she had no desire to marry. Unless someone could inspire such deep love that she could truly never live without them, Marjorie simply didn't see the point in such a prospect.

The plan had always been for James and Augusta to find the best matches while Marjorie happily flitted about to each of their estates, attending balls and social events and dancing the night away.

"Quite a lovely painting isn't it?" A man's voice spoke beside her. He was tall with fluffy dark hair that sat atop his head like a hat, piercing blue eyes staring into her deep brown ones. Marjorie stared at the portrait once more. "I suppose, although you can clearly tell their smiles are not genuine."

The man tilted his head at her in curiosity, "Really?"

Marjorie shrugged like it was obvious, "Look there," She pointed at the Queen's facial expression, "There are no lines near the corners of her eyes, and to be quite frank the King looks like he'd be happier standing with his valet than his wife."

The brunete beside her burst out into laughter before holding out his hand, "You are quite right, Miss..."

Marjorie grasped his hand in her gloved one and shook it, "Baxter. And you are?"
"Benedict," He introduced himself, a wry smile similar to her brother's dancing on his lips. "You seem familiar Miss Baxter, have we met before?"

Marjorie shook her head, although she did have to admit that the charming artist looked vaguely familiar. Like someone she'd seen in a dream. Before she could say anything else, the door to the debutante room opened, her mother sticking out her head in righteous fury, "Marjorie!" She whisper-yelled, "Come here this instant! You and your sister are next you know!"

"Forgive me," Marjorie quickly apologized, picking up her skirts. Benedict shook his head.

"No forgiveness needed. I understand overenthusiastic mothers better than anyone. Come to think of it, my sister will be presented soon." He ran a hand through his fluffy hair, "Mum would have my head if I missed it."

Marjorie gently chuckled and quickly ran toward the drawing room, bumping into another body on her way. "Sorry!" She quickly offered, unable to see her assailant before ducking into the room.

"There you are!" She heard the assailant call just as the door closed.

Mama's tight grip threatened to cut off circulation to her bicep as she pushed her place beside her equally beautiful younger sister.

Augusta looked absolutely perfect, not a single blonde hair out of place, her feather perfectly straight. To look at the two sisters you never would have guessed they were anything but. They held their father's coloring in every way, although their manners they owed to their mother.

Beside her, Augusta's hand snuck into her own. "Don't abandon me," She whispered, staring blankly at the wall. Anyone looking at her wouldn't have seen anything but a perfect lady, chin held high and shoulders back.

Marjorie squeezed. "I won't."
"Miss Marjorie Baxter and Miss Augusta Baxter, presented by their mother, Mrs. Stefan Baxter!"

The door flung open, and Marjorie release Augusta's hand, the two women striding forward with brave faces, refusing to look anywhere but the throne.

The Queen was an imposing woman, her eyes scrutinizing every bit of them until they finally landed in a curtsy, their dresses sweeping the grand floor.

"Excellent, my dears."

Her soft voice brought a smile to their mother's face, and with a grateful nod, Marjorie and Augusta slunk back into the shadows, squealing inside at the praise.

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"Oh you were absolutely marvelous sister!" Marjorie exclaimed, falling onto one of the beds of their shared room, "If all the men do not snatch you up immediately, I'll have to question their tastes."

"Oh hush," Augusta shooed away the praise, "We all know you are the true beauty of the family, I am a mere consolation prize."

Marjorie pretended to be offended by the insinuation. "Augusta Baxter! I have never heard such lies come from your mouth before." Her younger sister's laughter was infectious, echoing off the walls of their room.

She pretended to think about it for a moment before turning back toward Marjorie, "Perhaps you're right, I do have a certain softness that you seem to lack."

Marjorie's indignant scoff punctured the air and the pillow beside her landed squarely in Augusta's face. The teasing laughter of the two sisters rang out of the window, drawing the attention of anyone who passed by.

Including the confused, if not curious, glance of a certain Duke.

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The season's opening ball at Danbury House is a most sought after invitation indeed, For every darling debutante from Park Lane to Regent Street will be on display.

Titled, chaste, and innocent, this is what they have been raised and trained for since birth.

Tonight we shall discover which young ladies might succeed at securing a match, thereby avoiding the dreadful, dismal, condition known as "the spinster."

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LADY DANBURY'S BALL was the grandest affair Marjorie had ever had the pleasure of attending, considering most of the country balls were held in open houses or men of similar standing to her brother. It was usually through his grace that her family was able to attend those at all.

Here she and Augusta had been invited by the grace of being debutantes in need of finding husbands, not that Marjorie particularly cared for the latter. She much preferred the lively air of the ball to the stuffy air that surrounded men whenever they approached her.

Glistening chandeliers hung above her while mirrors trimmed in gold surrounded the room on both sides.

"It's absolutely marvelous!" she exclaimed, spinning around where she stood before grasping tightly onto Augusta's arm, giggling as they pressed further into the room. "Don't you agree?"
Augusta was similarly speechless, gaping open-mouthed around the room before Mama quickly pinched the back of both of their necks, speaking through a strained smile, "Stop making a fool of yourselves," She demanded, nodding her head at Baroness Featherington as she passed with her three daughters, although Marjorie was positive the Baroness gave them the stink eye.

Marjorie refused to let the glares of a few mothers affect her though, very quickly taking to the atmosphere around them.

"Miss Baxter!" Someone called, causing Marjorie and Augusta to whip around. The man she had run into at the presentation strode toward her quickly, a wide smile on his face as a younger man with similar coloring followed behind him.

"Lord Benedict!" She exclaimed, quickly noticing the quirked eyebrow and soft smirk the two men shared. "What a surprise!"

Benedict chuckled lightly, "With a Mama like ours nothing is a surprise."

Marjorie's laughter slipped past her lips, catching sight of Augusta's reddening cheeks beside her, the blonde's gaze never leaving the man accompanying Benedict. Quickly slipping into the manners she remembered, Marjorie introduced her, "May I introduce my sister? Miss Augusta Baxter."

Benedict and his brother, she assumed, bowed before taking Augusta's hand in each of theirs, kissing it gently. "A pleasure to meet you Miss," Benedict spoke with a queer gaze in his eye, "I don't suppose you've met my brother?"

The other man stepped forward, kissing Augusta's hand again, "Colin Bridgerton, at your service."

The lightbulb went off in Marjorie's head. "Bridgerton!"

Her sudden exclamation took everyone in the room by surprise, causing her cheeks to turn pink. "I remember visiting the Viscountess in my girlhood," She quickly explained, recalling the memories with great fondness, "She was always so kind to me and my Mama. Although when she and Papa were in the same room it was like two hyenas sizing the other up."

The four of them broke out into gleeful laughter, the Bridgerton boys sharing another curious look.

"Unfortunately, it seems as if she's remained that way." Benedict chimed in.

"Worse, in fact," Colin continued to tease.

Augusta rolled her eyes, "I'm sure she is no worse than our own Mama."

Colin's eyebrow twitched up, "Is that a challenge Miss Baxter?"

"It certainly isn't a concession," Augusta's eyebrow arched upward and Colin scoffed.

"Well just for that, I believe you now owe me a dance,"

"Whatever for?"

Colin pressed forward, punching his name onto her dance card, "So we can truly find out whose Mama is worse."

Augusta's giggle was music to Marjorie's ears, happy to see her sister acting her age instead of the quiet little thing she usually was. "Well in that case," Benedict interrupted, an equally playful gaze in his eye, "Miss Baxter, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

Marjorie lowered herself into a curtsy, "It would be my pleasure Lord Benedict," She giggled.

After he'd entered his name on her dance card, the two boys quickly spirited themselves away, muttering "she's headed this way" before disappearing amongst the crowd of amiable men once again.

Not long after their departure, Marjorie had been approached by several other men that evening asking for separate dances as well with even a few approaching Augusta. Soon their dance cards were half full, with Marjorie already having several of the same men approach her.

"I told you so," Augusta smirked, leading Marjorie to smack the girl as they moved back toward their Mama, who was currently striking up conversation with some stuffy old Earl. Her brother was currently nowhere to be seen, which was to be expected at this point.

The violin struck up and Marjorie found herself curtsying to one of the men she'd vaguely met earlier, trading half-witted conversation about the weather and the dresses of such lovely women. The next man she danced with talked of nothing but his house in the countryside, and all of the estates his family managed to accrue over the last couple of months.

"And what of your family Miss Baxter?"

Her pale golden skirts flounced around and just before she could humiliate herself by addressing his ridiculous assumption, she was quickly passed off to another man, who she was relieved to recognize, "You look as if ready to burst," Benedict teased.

"Believe me, you cut in at just the right time," She laughed, ending the dance with a soft curtsy before launching into a much more lively one. "Now this is more like it!" She exclaimed.

Benedict smiled as their hands clapped together, circling one another before ending back in two lines once again.

"Trust Lord Hardy to ruin your evening with his endless bragging sprees," Benedict jested, eliciting laughter from Marjorie's lips. A sound she'd heard more often in the past day than all her years in the country.

"Believe me Lord Benedict, My evening is far from ruined." She smiled, staring once more around at the beautiful ballroom. "I must find Lady Danbury later and thank her for hosting."

She noticed a panicked face at the name and mirth bubbled up in her chest. "You're not scared of the woman are you?"
Benedict raised an eyebrow, "You've clearly never interacted with the woman. She's like a hound. She can smell out a potential match miles away."

Marjorie's laughter echoed up to the ceiling, the dance ending a few seconds later. Before she could ask Benedict about Lady Danbury's matchmaking skills further, she was snatched off the dance floor, her Mama's claws digging themselves into her skin as she pulled her and Augusta close. "There she is." Mama hissed.

Marjorie turned toward where their mother was looking, only to see the Viscountess Bridgerton appear with her daughter by her side. The man next to her could only be Benedict and Colin's brother, and Marjorie's heart caught in her throat when she realized why she had recognized the boys earlier.

"Mama," Augusta scolded, "You've been reading far too much of that gossip sheet--"

Mrs. Baxter looked affronted at her daughter's suggestion, "That horrible woman had the audacity to label that wench as the diamond of the season."

"Mama..." Marjorie sent her a chastising look. "What Lady Whistledown publishes is most likely lies to try and tear down the other women of the season. I wouldn't be surprised if it was someone in this room."

Mama straightened herself up before releasing her grip on her daughters, "Well then, let us hope that she writes how many men you and your sister have enchanted this evening."

Marjorie rolled her eyes and linked her arm with her sister's, whispering softly, "I swear, Mama is going to drive me to insanity if she continues on like this."
Augusta tried to stifle a chuckle rather unsuccessfully, "Oh come now Marge, she's no worse than most Mamas of the ton I'm told."
Marjorie quirked a brow at her comment. "So, did you and Mr. Bridgerton manage to come to a decision then?"

Augusta playfully shoved her shoulder, "Oh please, nothing of that sort. We simply determined that both our mothers are rather....excitable when it comes to the season."

Marjorie's giggle seemed to catch the attention of several other women before she quietly continued to turn about the room.

"Now it is your turn," Augusta paused, turning toward her sister with wide eyes and a sly smile, "I noticed that the dashing brother came to your rescue on the dance floor."
Marjorie shook her head and scoffed, continuing to stroll with her sister, "Oh please, you know better than anyone that I am hardly swayed by performative acts of chivalry." She nodded at several other suitors, having no desire to dance with any more of them unless a livelier song came on. "Lord Benedict was simply saving me from dull conversation."
Augusta groaned, "You think every conversation with a man is dull."

"Quite right!" an unfamiliar voice punctured their conversation, the sound of a cane against marble snapping the two women to attention. Marjorie's eyes widened and she hastily dipped into a curtsy. "Oh none of that. Miss Baxter, am I correct?"

Marjorie shared a look with her sister before Augusta left her the company of the imposing woman, giving a weak excuse of needing a drink.

Lady Danbury was waiting for her reply.

"Yes, my lady." She forced out.

Danbury linked her arm with hers, "Walk with me."

It wasn't a question.

Marjorie's heart was beating in her chest, so much so that she almost worried it would jump out if her pulse quickened any further. "I must apologize for my remarks Lady Danbury, I would never dream to call any of your guests dull."

The woman let out a hearty laugh and slammed her cane on the ground once more, "Oh but you are correct my dear. Any and all conversation I have found slightly interesting has come from my discussions with other women," The woman leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eye. "After all, we tend to know all the secrets don't we?"

Marjorie chuckled, easily slipping into a more relaxed stance with the Lady. "I'm afraid we do."

For a moment, Marjorie simply considered her surroundings. How lucky she'd been to even enter the season at all, considering the last few times she was eligible there was always something getting in the way. And with the recent news of her sister...

Well it was hard to re-enter society when they'd made you a pariah.

Marjorie soon caught sight of where Lady Danbury was leading her, feeling her cheeks grow rosy as she recognized all three Bridgerton boys conversing with their sister. They immediately began to duck away, but Lady Danbury was faster.

"Too late," She smirked, "I already noted you."
Benedict quickly caught Marjorie's gaze as if to say 'i told you so' while Colin and the eldest sheepishly hid their embarrassment. "Lady Danbury!" They chorused.

Laughter snuck up Marjorie's throat, unable to hold it back at the sight. Forcing herself to remember her manners, she smiled at the young Bridgerton girl first, who was looking quite demure.

Marjorie found herself thinking of Augusta for a brief moment. Lady Danbury turned to the woman beside her with a smile, something glinting in her eye, "I trust you have been introduced to Miss Marjorie Baxter?"

Benedict and Colin moved to speak but were cut off by a brief, "Baxter?"

Marjorie finally turned her gaze toward the man she hadn't seen in quite some years. He'd grown into someone she hardly recognized, all the softness and playfulness of his character disappearing into a hard shell.

"Yes." She finally spoke up for herself, "I was actually introduced to Misters Benedict and Colin earlier this evening."

Benedict smiled, "She is quite the lovely dancer."

The eldest Bridgerton's eyes flitted between the two of them for a moment before Lady Danbury interceded once more. "Miss Bridgerton, is there a reason I've yet to see you on the dance floor?"

The girl blushed deeply and moved to answer before she was again cut off by her eldest brother.

"All in good time Lady Danbury."

Marjorie grasped Daphne's hand. "Perhaps I can convince my brother to be of service," She exclaimed, "He can never say no to dancing. Especially with someone as lovely as you."

"That is very kind of you, Miss Baxter," Daphne smiled softly, although Marjorie could hear the strain in her voice. She almost sounded like Mama. "I would love--"
"My sister is perfectly capable of securing suitors on her own." Anthony Bridgerton's arrogant voice made Marjorie's skin crawl. She didn't recall him being this frustrating when she was little. Although she supposed the season brought out the worst in everyone.

"Excellent," Marjorie smirked, "So I suppose you won't mind if I borrow her for a moment then? After all, one must dance when they are at a ball, don't you agree, my Lord?"

Benedict and Colin were barely able to suppress their laughter, and Anthony's face seemed to grow redder and redder. Marjorie hadn't even noticed that Lady Danbury had left them alone until the blonde spirited Daphne away from her overprotective chaperone.

"I am forever grateful to you," The younger girl chirped. Marjorie shook her head.

"Don't mention it, I know the pain of having an overprotective brother all too well."

She managed to catch a glimpse of said brother's blonde mane near the cards table, discussing business with other young lords with Papa nearby. "James!" She called out.

He excused himself and before he could protest, his blue eyes instantly fell upon Daphne, rendering him speechless. "Well now, dear sister may I ask who this is?"
Marjorie smirked to herself, "Miss Daphne Bridgerton has yet to dance, and I told her all about your love for the sport." She teased, knowing James felt anything but. However, if the way he was looking at the Bridgerton girl was any indication, she didn't think he'd mind this time.

"Miss Bridgerton?" He asked, offering his hand. Daphne took it and followed him to the dance floor. From the other side of the room, Lady Danbury gave Marjorie an affirming nod.

Pride rose in her chest.

"Oh come now Anthony," A feminine voice rose up above the rest, "Surely there must be one young woman here worthy of a dance."

"Mother, we are not having this conversation again."

"Oh come now, it's not as if the ballroom is lacking brilliant, eligible young women."

Marjorie resisted the urge to smile as Lady Violet's voice carried over. "Look, I'm fairly certain that's Marjorie Baxter, you remember her? You two used to be such playmates--"

"Yes, I remember." Anthony's reply was swift, and Marjorie thought she caught his eyes flicker toward her through her peripheral. He sighed and straightened his posture, "She is...tolerable I suppose."

Marjorie huffed, sticking her tongue against her cheek as the insult floated toward her. Tolerable. She was right, Lord Hardy hadn't ruined her night at all. No, that honor went to Anthony Bridgerton.

"Papa?" Marjorie turned around, not even bothering to hide her displeasure, "I am feeling rather unwell, may I take the carriage home?"

Her father excused himself and grasped her hand, leaning down, "Smart girl, I don't blame you." Marjorie smiled fondly as her father announced to the rest of the room "Allow me to join you."

Marjorie nodded, and as her father led her out of the ballroom, she didn't even notice the Viscount and his mother striding toward her.

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