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bella notte
act i , distant memories
chapter nine , maddalena vespucci

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IT HAS COME TO THIS author's attention that the ton is abuzz with a most sordid tale. It is said one cannot judge a book by its cover.

But in the case of the bumbling Baron Berbrooke, it seems his displeasing appearance is quite an apt metaphor for the state of affairs in his household.

I would not be surprised if Lord Berbrooke were called away to the country on alleged business ...

Business which, perhaps,might involve sending some much overdue funds to one former maid and young boy, who we can only hope takes after his mother.

"Is this your doing?"

Belle glanced up from the own pamphlet in her hands. She had only just set foot outside her door when she was greeted by the jovial tones of Benedict who was strolling up the front path, wafting his own issue of Lady Whistledown in hand.

Belle shot a smug smirk over to him, as she descended the front steps, Grace only a few feet behind her, chuckling as she surveyed the young lady approaching the gentleman.

"Why is it that when something bearing a slightness of mischief occurs the first person you accuse is me?" The girl smiled, as she reached him, promptly linking her arm through his.

"I think you just answered your own question." Benedict tutted, steering the two of them around so as to exit the front gates.

Belle only smirked in response.

"No. It is not my doing." She conceded, turning over the scandal sheet in hand as they walked onward. "Although, I highly commend the perpetrator, as should you. Your sister has been saved quite a bother."

"Indeed." He agreed. "As have I, of course."

"Yes, you poor thing." Belle narrowed her eyes at the grinning man beside her.

The duo had arranged the previous day to go on an excursion to the bakery where Grace's husband worked. Belle being intent on introducing her dutiful companion to the master behind all the wonderful breakfast pastries she had so far enjoyed on her visit.

"What of our activities this evening, then?" The Bridgerton asked the girl as they walked in step across Grosvenor Square.

"What of them?"

"Will Leopold be retiring from his duties once more?" Benedict asked her with an arched brow.

"In all fairness, I have highly come to suspect that Leopold detests all these social affairs as much as I." Belle chuckled as they turned a corner.

"So just you and I this evening?"

Belle gave a light tut and reached her hand out to pat his arm in mock affection.

"I'm afraid I must abandon you, dear friend." She winced as he replied with a disbelieving smirk.

"For whatever reasons?"

"I have found myself with other plans." The girl replied, with a smug look, choosing not to divulge the details.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I've made a new acquaintance in town and I'd thought I'd pay him a visit." She explained with a light-hearted shrug.

"Him?"

Belle could feel the man on her arm tense a little at her words, shooting her a sly expression earning an eye roll in response.

"He's married." She narrowed her eyes. "Before you start entertaining any crude ideas."

"A lot of men in the ton are married, Belle." Benedict responded, his tone noticeably lower so as to not be overheard by other promenading townsfolk. "It doesn't stop them from the occasional dalliance..."

"Benedict!" Belle let out amused gasp, nearly stopping the duo in their tracks as they descended into childish laughter. "I don't what I've done to make you regard me as so unruly."

"I regard you as nothing of the sort." Benedict chuckled, his eyeline firmly ahead of him as they turned around corner.

Belle pursed her lips upon hearing his words, cocking her head a little to the side, as she tugged his arm for attention.

"And how do you regard me then?" She asked, her smirk never fading. "If not that?"

Benedict's gaze met hers, a challenging look meeting one of daring. Belle tried her best to maintain her fierceness, but something in the depths of his eyes, as they bore into hers, threatened to set her soul on fire and she found herself hastily tearing her gaze away, disguising her shuddering breath as she turned her face from him.

"I'm merely expressing concern for a lady venturing out alone with a stranger." Benedict declared after a moment, having also discreetly composed himself. "Perhaps escorting you to this meeting-"

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself, Mr Bridgerton." Belle interrupted, bringing her gaze back to his, causing his crooked smile to re-emerge on his lips.

"I need not convincing of that." He told her earnestly, nodding his head in a mild show of respect.

"I'm sure there are many other ladies about the ton who would adore to capture your attentions for an evening." She told him, giving his arm a slight nudge as she shot him a knowing smirk.

"And they are anything but comparable to you, my dear Belle." Benedict replied, adopting an overly dramatic manner, earning a scolding smack on the arm.

"You're not coming."

"Ugh."

"Go and find yourself some female attention for an evening, Benedict." Belle chastised him, only realising her words once they'd left her lips.

Benedict gave a light scoff at her response, a hearty chuckle shaking through him as she let out a frustrated groan upon recognising the innuendo.

"Now who's the crude one?"

Belle narrowed her eyes in a humoured manner.

"You're a vulgar man, Mr Bridgerton."

***

"MISS GRANTHAM!"

Belle shot a smile in response to the jovial greeting of Mr Granville, who had opened the door to his address with a wide smile and cigar between his fingers.

"Please, Belle." She corrected him, gently - a habit she was getting all too familiar with, "We are friends, are we not?"

Henry conceded with a bashful nod. Belle furrowed her eyebrows in slight confusion as she listened out for any signs of livelihood behind the door.

"I apologise my arrival seems awfully late." She remarked upon regarding the lack of carriages on the street and quietness from within the house.

Nevertheless, Henry shook his head in disagreement, his smile never fading.

"No, not at all. Please come in." He assured her, stepping back and allowing her through the threshold.

"Thank you."

Shrugging off her cloak, Belle took a few hesitant steps into the entrance hall, before turning back to face Henry.

"I do wonder however if the events of this particular evening should be to your tastes." He remarked slowly, causing her eyebrows to furrow ever so slightly, nevertheless she replied with a fond smile.

"However should I know if I do not stay to find out?" She retorted, at which Henry gave a hearty chuckle, taking a puff of his cigar. "I was promised such gatherings should be fuel to my inspiration, was I not?"

"Henry!"

Before he could reply to her query, the pair were interrupted by another presence entering their midst, by descending the staircase beside them.

Belle looked up to see a woman coming down the staircase, a tight dress hugging her body in a fashion she'd not seen yet since arriving in London. Her hair piled in curls atop her head, with a slightly surprised smile donning her features as she surveyed the Grantham girl.

"Ah, Belle." Henry blow out a stream of cigar smoke. "My wife, Lucy. Belle Grantham, dear. I met her at the picnic the other day."

"A pleasure." Belle greeted Lucy Granville, outstretched her hand which she took warmly as she descend the last few steps.

"Are you staying for the party tonight?" Lucy asked eagerly, her smile slowly turning from surprise into excitement.

"Party, is it?" Belle chuckled, her eyes flitting back to Henry, who gave a nonchalant shrug, although Lucy seemed surprise by the response.

"You don't know?"

"I merely stopped by upon your husband's offer to visit his studio." Belle explained, "I was promised a gathering of inspired minds."

"Oh well, that it certainly will be." Lucy gave a light chuckle, causing Belle to arch an eyebrow, sensing that there was some information to which she was not privy hidden within the exchange.

"Please forgive me, but I must ask." She quickly set out to demystify the conversation. "The nature of this party? Pardon my density, if it is completely apparent."

"No, no." Henry dismissed her worries, taking another inhale of cigar smoke, "Pardon our discretion, the fact of the matter is wife and I are hosts to events of a rather ... amorous nature."

A look passed between the two Granvilles and a slow breath left Belle's lips as she caught on to the sentiment Henry was trying to convey.

"I see."

"It is as you said." Lucy added, her manner gentle and soothing as she spoke. "A gathering of inspired minds, free spirits, like-minded souls."

"A place for us to be without worry of judgement or expectation." Henry continued, his manner mirroring that of wife, both statement bringing a soft reminiscent smile to the Grantham's lips.

She shot the pair a gentle look in acknowledgment as she digested their explanation, clearing her throat gently as she brought her gaze to theirs.

"It sounds like something all too familiar to me." She replied softly, "When I was in Florence, I kept company with many like-minded souls as you say, and they too held many parties." If the pair were surprised by her confession, they didn't show it. "Parties, the nature of which sound not too dissimilar from your own."

"So you will stay?" Henry shot her a hopefully smile.

"I-" She faltered for a moment, a sense of reality overcoming her whims.

"Is all well, my dear?" Lucy arched a brow as Belle let out a heavy sigh.

"I only fear..." She began, clearing her throat once more. "I've been in Mayfair long enough to know that if any knowledge of my attendance at such an event should travel..."

The Granvilles didn't respond but only looked on with expressions of understanding, as she nervously linked her hands together across her front.

"The impact of my involvement in such activities when in Florence is different, there are different liberties. But, here?" She shook her head, her disappointment clear. "I must think of my family."

Belle let out a light-hearted breath, desperate to lift the mood she'd so quickly plummeted with her confession.

"Thank you for your hospitality, nonetheless." The Grantham girl pressed her lips together in a tight smile.

"Forgive me, Belle." Henry said all of a sudden, Belle looked up, a small smirk was playing on his lips as he looked between his wife and her. "But I may have an idea."

Henry had gone on to make an excellent point in the way of persuading Belle to remain with them for the festivities - he argued that everyone deserved a outlet in which to be free from society's restraints, and he'd be damned if he and Lucy couldn't provide that for the Grantham girl.

He'd reasoned that as long as her identity was protected for the sake of her family, why shouldn't be free to dally just as the other members of the ton did?

Lucy Granville had also made a very fair point that should Belle have been born the opposite sex such measures would not even be considered. A sentiment which made Belle all the more willing to make the most of her façade.

Lucy had ushered Belle up to her changing quarters in which she had seen an array of glorious dresses that she was sure would make any self respecting member of the ton faint.

Upon selecting a dress of the deepest indigo, she had changed and Lucy had set to work with undoing the gracious up-do that Grace had constructed for the girl's just hours before her arrival.

All this, accompanied with a small eye mask, and a generous amount of rouge, Lucy assured Belle would easily set her apart from the face she presented at the many social occasions she would attend as part of the ton.

Maddalena Vespucci would be her name. Although it was merely a formality - the name of one of Belle's friend's sister in Florence - plucked for the means of introductions, Henry and Lucy assured the girl that she need to trouble herself with any more of a backstory than that, not a lot of talk from these occasions was often remembered the next day.

Belle felt she could testify to that, as before she'd even tested out her façade by stepping down the stairs, Lucy had already had her cup refilled twice.

A gratefulness swelled inside the girl, the hollow feeling that filled her at the notion of having to pass up the event had long since been replaced.

As she surveyed herself in the mirror, Belle felt, for the first time in a month, the tiniest bit at home. She was taken back to the liberal ways she had lived in Florence before the influenza had hit, when her parents were living and would scold her over breakfast for her drowsiness, before her entire world had been uprooted and plunged back down into the centre of the London marriage mart.

Oh, how simple life used to be.

"Maddalena?"

Belle looked up into the mirror of the dressing table where she sat to see Lucy Granville standing in the doorway. The sounds of the party, now in full swing, echoing from down the stairs caused the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge.

"Are you ready?" Lucy asked, a small smirk playing at her lips.

Belle mirrored the expression before reaching for her glass and throwing back the finals swills of liquid, taking in a shape inhale upon swallowing, the bitter notes of the alcohol leaving a slight tang in her mouth.

She rose to her feet, a new found confidence altering her stature as she crossed over to her new friend, who took her hand in her own and led her towards the staircase.

"Maddalena!"

Soon after, appearing at the top of the staircase, the jovial tone of Henry Granville could be heard, a knowing look in eye as his wife and Belle descended the stairs.

He gave his wife a chaste kiss on the cheek before she quickly disappeared into the throes of the party, leaving him to take Belle's hand, turning her to face the company he was keeping,

"My dear, allow me to introduce you to my friends."

And so Maddalena Vespucci was born.

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘!
i felt the need to make
up for the last update.

for real, i actually love
this chapter, i spit-balled
this out in under two hours.

i'm a proud mom.

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