Summary: Mr. Hayward and you meet over dress fabric. Already engaging with another woman, it isn't easy for the heart to keep falling. Miss Baxter making sure Tom wouldn't have his moments with you. Under the pressuring of your brother Anthony, you bring ruin to what had come blooming naturally. Two hearts torn apart. A dance perhaps bringing a new chance.
The carriage came to a wobbling stop by the beginning of the shop street. Footman opening the door. Offering a hand. Mother stepped out first. Lifting the hem of your dress ever so lightly, you stepped down with the help of the footman. Brushing your hand over the seam of your skirt, wiping down any folds.
“Return for us within an hour and a half.” Violet instructed the carrier. He tipped his hat to her. “Best of luck.” Footman John whispered to you. Hopping onto the back of the carriage. Tipping his hat to you, riding off over cobble stone. Returning half a smile to him. “Y/n.” Violet called out.
Fluttering usheringly with your lashes, you pulled away from your little daydream. Hastening over to be by your mother’s side. Claiming her arm as support. Hand laying gracefully over hers. Left and right there was attention. Attention you were not yet used to.
The queen’s diamond. You still believed it to be untrue. Uncertain why the queen had chosen you out of all the eligible ladies of the ton. You could’ve easily picked out numerous better choices than yourself. And yet somehow that grace had fallen onto you.
“As the queen’s diamond, we’ll need new dresses for the upcoming ball.” Mother explained, giving your hand a good pat over her arm. Humming softly to acknowledge her. Gaze focused on your surroundings. At every passing glance.
Every unnerving glance that made you want to hide away. However, Daphne manage the attention. The first few shops were uninteresting. A small boutique with a dangling white sign caught your mother’s attention. Stopping to let a passing couple go by, ushering to the window.
Peeking inside to all that they had to offer. Hats. All sorts and kinds. Big hats, small hats, top hats, hats with flowers and feathers. Mother turned her head lightly your way. You immediately shook your head to dim the twinkle in her eyes.
You were not getting a hat. Tugging at her arm, you didn’t want her to linger there. You always found that hats didn’t match your head. Seeing like something oddly put on top. Violet batted her gaze down with a soft exhale. Joining your side once more.
“With Madam Delacroix away, it is quite harder to find good fabric. Both beautiful to the eye and with quality.” Violet spoke, stirring up the conversation. “She always had the most beautiful pallets all the way from Paris, didn’t she.” Giving you a little nudge.
“She did.” Answering with a quick smile. “Oh, look at that.” Mother called out. Nudging up ahead to a boutique. Walls coloured with bright colours. A green with golden letter sign wobbling in the soft breeze. Dress emporium. You read quickly before heading inside.
Little bell above, ringling. “Just a moment!” A lady’s voice peeked out. Getting on the tips of your toes, you tried to relocate it. Violet tapping your arm, gesturing at all the fabric pallets laying around. “Oh.” A lady breathed out, appearing from hanging fabric.
Puffing some hair out of her face. She bowed her head. “We need a new dress for my daughter. Perhaps two.” Violet addressed. The woman’s eyes fell on you. “It is an honour to dress the diamond.” Dipping into a curtsy.
“Anything you like in particular?” She then asked with curiosity. Looking over your shoulder at the neatly presented stacks of fabric, you weren’t sure. “Perhaps ponceau?” The lady offered, perking her brow up with a subtle hum. Trying to recollect the colour to the name, you stared unmatched at her.
“Or perhaps Pomegranate?” Violet moved in with a high pitched hum at the end of her sentence. “I…I…” Moving your hands nervously by your side. “Or perhaps a Flamme de Ponche?" The lady suggested. “Oh no, too flattening for her complexion.” Mother responded.
Rubbing your fingers inwards against the top of your palm, you dried them before they could sweat. Feeling as if they were speaking a different language than you. Your mother gasped, going over to a colour. “Y/n, what do you think of Corbeau?” Showing you a dark shade of green.
Finally there was a colour to the name you were actually helpful with. “London Smoke?” The lady offered, presenting a light ivory grey looking fabric. “Isabelline?” Mother called out, holding up broken white. Strange name after strange name got called out, presented each with the matching color scheme.
The words swirling and twirling in your mind. “Uhm…what was Claret again?” Unsure whether it was something brown or orange pallet. The lady tapped with her finger at one of the fabrics that had formed a pile already. Sheets of fabric displayed in an utter mess to assist you. “Is that what you want?” The lady questioned.
The deep cherry red colour wasn’t a certain choice. Panicking as you wished Daphne was around. She always had a good way with fashion. The little bell above the door rang. “I’ll be there in a moment!” The shop owner called out. She held up two pallets of fabrics. Hinting with her eyes for you to make a choice.
“The white one!” You suddenly heard from behind you. Turning your head, finding a gentleman looking your way. The softest smile reflecting upon you. Gentle eyes hiding behind spectacles. Turning your head back to the fabric, you found it not such a bad choice.
“What the gentleman offers and…” Looking a bit more around. “That one.” Pointing at a fabric underneath many. The woman nodded, taking her leave with the two chosen fabrics. Exhaling deep, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders.
Mother followed the lady to discuss the final matters. Over your shoulder, you saw the gentleman quickly turn his gaze down. Mindlessly touching the fabrics in front of him. Folding your hands together, you shyly approach him. “I must thank you…I believe it was London smoke that you had picked out.” Saying to him.
The gentleman breathed out a laugh. It made you laugh as well. “Are you looking for fabric as well, sir?” Asking with curiosity. “Hayward. Tom Hayward.” He addressed with a bow. “Y/n Bridgerton.” You responded with a small curtsy.
“Perhaps Oeil de Mouche?” uncertain if you said it correctly. Mr. Hayward laughed at that. Pulling out a fabric, keeping it to his chest. “What do you think of my…” Making sure he read the label correctly. "Camelopard, Miss Bridgerton?” Making his expression fierce. Unable to hold yourself, you laughed.
You grabbed a fabric as well, draping it over your shoulders like a shawl. “How is my Dead leaf?” Quirking your eyebrow teasingly up. “Oh, very dead Miss Bridgerton.” Mr. Hayward responded with a shake of his head. Pulling his nose up at the dreadful orange, yellow tone. Laughing along, you laid it back. Plucking softly at the fabric. “Who even comes up with these names?” You questioned.
“A drunk.” Mr. Hayward answered, leading you to snort loudly. “My sister would know these names by heart.” Speaking as your mind drifted away. Wondering how long it has been since you’ve seen her. Mr. Hayward smiled your way, admiringly.
Chuckling softly, you found yourself drawn to his charm and wits. “Mr. Hayward, there you are!” The little bell had rung again. A woman entered, going immediately for Mr. Hayward's arm. “Have you collected my fabrics yet?” She asked, leaning back to have her view on him. “Not…not yet.” Mr. Hayward responded with a soft clearance of his throat.
The woman’s eyes fell upon you as you had awkwardly averted your gaze from them. Feeling an extra in their presence. Mr. Hayward cleared his throat again. “Miss Y/n Bridgerton.” He told her with a gesture. “Miss Ann Baxter.” Gesturing at the lady by his arm. The lady gasped loud. “You are the queen’s diamond are you not?” Exclaiming with a twinkle in her eye.
Putting up a shy smile, you nodded. “That I am.” Hands folded together, pulling apart with a bounce on your heels. Mr. Hayward’s gaze was on you, gawking slightly your way. The shop owner and your mother returned. “Mr. Hayward.” You said with a bow. “Miss Baxter.” Leaving her with a small dip.
Joining your mother, locking arms with her. Passing by them with little of a glance. Wanting to leave the shop in the upmost hurry. Before passing through the door, you heard them ask for Miss Baxter’s order of dresses. Glancing over your shoulder with pity back at the shop. Why did he already need to have a suitor? You had already found yourself offering your heart to him.
Yet now there was another girl in play, you shamelessly had to take it back. “Everything alright?” Violet asked upon your sudden silence. Shaking your head, you didn’t wish to go into any details. It was silly even, finding yourself interested in someone so quickly. There would be little chance that you encountered him again.
“Mr. Hayward?” You called out in disbelief. Smiling heartily his way. “Miss Bridgerton!” He exclaimed coming to meet you half-way. His eyes linger on your dress. “You are wearing your pearl grey.” Saying with the utmost smile. “London Smoke.” You corrected him. Curling up a cheekier smile at you.
“It suits you.” Adjusting his spectacles. “Mr. Hayward!” You heard loud from over his shoulder. Mr. Hayward turned, giving you a certain view as well. Seeing Miss Ann Baxter wave him over, standing with a few others. Mr. Hayward sucked in a breath, moving a hand to his hip.
“We…we are playing Pall Mall… would you like to join, Miss Bridgerton?” Only now you noticed the mallet he weighed down in the grass. “Oh…” You began his request so sudden. Before you could utter a proper reply, Miss Baxter joined his side. Clamping onto his arm. “Mr. Hayward, it is your turn. We are waiting.” Saying with a tilted head.
Fluttering with her eyelashes. “Uhm…yes…well…I was just…” Muttering foolishly. “Inviting Miss Bridgerton for our game…” Tapping the mallet shyly into the grass. “But Mr. Hayward, we are already an even pair. You can’t have us play with an uneven pair can we now?” Pouting her lips up to him.
Tom scratched the back of his head. “I…I suppose so…” Replying to her words. It would take a fool not to see the hint. Lowering your head, you took a step back. “I…I am required elsewhere… enjoy your game.” Clasping your hands together with a point in their direction. Turning on your heel.
“But…” Mr. Hayward muttered out, feet moving a step closer. Hand moving back with disappointment that he had to let you go. Slowly following Miss Baxter’s tugging on his arm. Gaze going over his shoulder, watching you walk off. Alone.
You hastened yourself over back to your siblings. Joining your brother’s side, who slid an arm over you. “Are you acquainted with them?” Anthony asked. “Partly.” You responded, leaning into his shoulder. He pinched your cheek brotherly. Letting go of your shoulder when Kate came with little Edmund. His expression full of joy, opening his hands to take over his son.
Raising him up, giving his belly a sweet puff before lowering him into his arms. Caught up with his own little family. “I’m…I’m going for a walk.” You informed them. “Oh, but you are welcome to stay Y/n.” Kate replied. “Yes, stay sister.” Anthony pitched in, holding his son up in the air. Shaking your head lightly, you declined.
“I want a moment for myself. I won’t take long.” Explaining more. Kate placed her hand on her husband’s arm, nodding. “Stay in sight.” Anthony called out. “I am not little anymore.” Reminding him with a cheeky smile. “Always to me…” Your brother mumbled under his breath.
Waving him goodbye over your shoulder, you drifted away. Heading towards the lake to walk beside it. Alone with nothing but yourself and your thoughts. Picking a good spot, you came sitting down. Admiring the sun glittering on the water surface. Curling up a smile at a duck splashing its head down. Shuddering out its feathers when rising once more.
You fluttered with your lashes upon the sudden bump. Turning your head to find a ball by your hip. Curiously you picked it up. Recognizing it as a Pall Mall ball. “Miss Bridgerton!” Came loudly. Gaze following upwards to a panting Mr. Hayward making his way over. Mallet swinging loosely in his grip. Getting up, you dusted your skirt off.
“I believe this one is yours.” Holding it out. Mr. Hayward chuckled sheepishly. “I must have given it too much force.” He spoke, scratching the back of his neck. Quirking your brow up, you calculated how far he must have kicked the ball to reach all the way up here.
“Miss Bridgerton…I must apologize for Miss Baxter.” He began, bowing his head lightly. “It is quite alright, I didn’t need to participate.” You responded. “Do…do you not enjoy the entertainment?” Tapping the mallet nervously at the ground. “Oh, I do.” Was your simple answer. “I’m quite good at it. No need to spoil the good sport.” Slipping a wink towards the man.
His cheeky laugh, bringing you along in his entertainment. “Oh, Miss Bridgerton.” He exclaimed, gaze falling on you. Startled, you remained perfectly still. His hand neared your face. Drawing just behind your ear. A thickness formed in your throat, that was hard to swallow away.
That bashful smile present once more as he withdrew his hand. Showing you a single grass that had found a way to tangle in your hair. “Oh…” You let out, touching your hair where he was moments ago. Turning a bashful glance away. Mr. Hayward blew on it, letting it carry away with the wind.
Eyes settling on you once more. Liguring, holding you captive behind spectacles. Gaze softening up, there was a fondness in return. “They…they must be wondering where you are…” Speaking with a betrayal to yourself that you were ruining the moment. “Let them…” Mr. Hayward breathed out, unable to tear his gaze away. Unable to move till you moved.
“Do…do you like poetry, Miss Bridgerton?” Mr. Hayward let out so suddenly. A desperate matter to keep you around. “I…I believe I have yet to find one that may touch my heart.” Speaking in honesty. His eyes lit up with a twinkle. “I…I could lend you poetry that is known to move even the trickiest of hearts.” He replied.
“Mr. Hayward!” Clenching his jaw at the mention of his name. Hip to his hand, tapping the mallet annoyingly at the ground. “Miss Baxter!” He let out, turning to her with a forced jaw. “You are being missed, Mr. Hayward.” Her arm moved around him. Mr. Hayward batting his gaze up to the heavens with a clenched jaw.
Tugging at his arm. Pulling him away from your presence. “Miss Bridgerton I…” He breathed out, trying to say what was on his mind. Exhaling softly, you lowered your gaze on his departure. Noticing the ball still in your hand. “Mr. Hayward!” Calling out loud. Coming after them. His posture turned at the hearing of your voice with a gaspy breath.
Tearing himself free from Miss Baxter. Meeting you half-way. “I believe you require this.” Holding the ball in your hand. He was about to take it, when another hand snatched it right up from under your nose. Miss Baxter casting a sneer your way. Tugging at Mr. Hayward once more for their departure.
Saddened, you returned to your brother. “Are you quite alright, sister?” Anthony let out curiously. You simply hummed, sitting down. There was no denying that you enjoyed Mr. Hayward’s company. You just wished it wasn’t always cut so short by Miss Baxter. Yet then again you couldn’t blame her. They were courting afterall. Despite it, there hadn’t been one hint of affection between the two of them.
Locking arms with your brother, you entered the soiree. A social gathering you were invited to. Your brother Anthony acting as chaperone. Spotting a few people from his study days, he went to them. You shuffled inside, finding a quiet spot by the drinks. Pouring yourself a glass of lemonade.
“Miss Bridgerton.” Recognizing the voice, you turned towards the sound. Mr. Hayward, making his way over. Pushing some people gently aside to reach you. “It is a pleasure to meet you here.” He spoke with a hearty smile. “I was not aware you would be here.” Responding excitedly. “I am acquainted with the hostess’s brother.” He informed.
Reaching for his pocket, he pulled out a book. Just large enough to fit in his palm. “For you, Miss Bridgerton.” Offering you the book. You accepted it, fingers touching with the exchange. Turning the book towards you, you quietly read the title.
Mr. Hayward brushing his finger over his lips, turning his head lightly away. “How did you know I would be here?” You questioned since he remembered to bring poetry along. “I…I’ve been keeping it around in the hopes to encounter you.” Adjusting his spectacles shyly.
From the corner of his eyes, brought something frightening to him. Turning on his heel, he lowered his head to avoid being seen. Taking a glance of your own, you understood. Miss Baxter making her way over. Cheeks bloated with jealousy.
Noticing an eager gentleman trying to keep her present. Someone she must have been conversing with? Miss Baxter clamped as usual to his arm. “Come, I’d like to see where we sit.” Dragging him away. Smiling sympathetically. Taking a deep breath, you held the poetry book to your chest. Curling up a smile with fondness.
There was a clearance of a throat, startling you. Turning to look over your shoulder. Anthony standing with a stern expression on his face. Hastening himself over to you. Grabbing you by your elbow, facing you away from the gathering behind you. “Tell me, that was a lie I was seeing.” He wanted to be certain.
“I…I don’t understand.” Responding to him. Anthony snatched the book from your hand. “Tell me you aren’t catching feelings for a gentleman who is already engaged otherwise.” Tone in his voice trembled, trying to keep it steady. “I…I…” Casting your gaze away was enough.
“Y/n!” He said between a clenched jaw. “This will bring you nothing but trouble. You need to stay away from him.” Juggling at your arm. “An…Anthony.” You breathed out in agony. “You are the queen’s diamond, for King’s sake!” Replying bitsy to you. “You cannot afford a scandal. An already claimed gentleman is a scandal Y/n.” Hardening his scowl at you.
“I…I simply enjoy his company.” Trying to tell him otherwise. That you weren’t interested in Mr. Hayward that way, but that would feel like a lie to you. “Stay away from him!” Urging you. “I am serious Y/n. Stay away from him for the sake of your reputation” His words entered your heart with sharpness.
Lip trembling, you didn’t want it to be true, but you also knew he spoke the truth. Wondering what you were doing with an already claimed gentleman. Shaking your head, you tried to keep your tears at bay. “Sister…” Anthony breathed out, touching your cheek. Lip trembling more, you knew you’d cry any instant now. “I’d like to leave.” Voice cracking with emotion.
Anthony nodded, tugging the book in his inside pocket. Motioning for you to head for the door, he would find the hostess. Apologizing for their quick departure. Mr. Hayward’s head lifted up seeing you stand by the door. Lips parting as he could tell you were in a bit of a distress. Your brother joined you hastily. Tom jumped up from his seat at your sudden leave. Wondering if you were alright.
Your brother’s words still haunted you by nightfall. Mr. Hayward’s book of poetry unopened on your nightstand. Kate had come bringing it in afterwards. Thinking perhaps it would give you some comfort. Instead it was doing the opposite. The book only reminded you of the mistake you were venturing in. There was an outcome and it was as plain as day.
You liked to pretend that you had no clue how this would end. It was not a good note. It would never be a good note. Knowing it would come crashing down one way or another. Mr. Hayward would marry Miss Baxter. You would be left with nothing but the emptiness of your heart. Marrying a man of someone else’s choice that could never fulfill you. For they were not him. They could never be.
Screaming in your pillow, you hated yourself for falling so openly for him. To have allowed your heart to welcome him without a second thought. It was clear from the beginning he was already occupied with another.
You should’ve walked away then. Yet the more you encountered him, the more your heart fell for him. Finding his face all over Mayfair. It was as if your heart had a rope linked with him. Feeling a tug each time he was around.
Anthony was right, you should forget him. Staring at the book on your nightstand, you knew it had to start here. Grabbing a hold of the book, pulling it over the nightstand to you. “I am sorry.” Whispering down to it. Hoping your words of forgiveness might reach Mr. Hayward.
Poetry book clutched to your chest, you waited. Looking briefly up to the horizon. Sun slowly setting. The door opened, laughter and chatter following outside. Straightening your posture. Door slamming shut. A silhouette going around the corner.
“Miss Bridgerton?” A surprised Mr. Hayward called out, nearly bumping into you. “I…I…” Scratching the back of his head sheepishly with a chuckle. “Were you waiting for me?” His quirky smile lingering. Moving his hands behind his back, he came leaning a bit forwards. Eyes widening at the notice of his poetry book in your hands.
“Oh…have you read it? What was your favorite poem?” Asking with curiosity. “I haven’t.” You blurted out, shoving the book against him. Baffled, he wrapped his fingers around the book before it could drop to the ground. “I…I have no interest in poetry. You should have not lent it to me.” Calling out. Hayward blinked confusingly.
“Miss Bridgerton.I…I don’t understand.” Muttering out. “I was clear, was I not?” Speaking in a louder tone. Batting your gaze down for you hated yourself for doing this. “You and I shouldn’t meet up anymore.” Turning your head to avoid the hurt in his eyes. Not wanting him to see the betrayal in your eyes.
“Did…did someone set you up to this?” Tom questioned. “Miss Bridgerton?” Breathing out as he reached for your arm. “Stay away from me!” You shouted, tearing your arm away. Eyes catching the sorrow deep in his eyes. How his gaze slowly lowered as the shock wore off. Turning away, you started walking.
Lip trembling, forcing yourself not to cry. Mr. Hayward panted loud, looking hastily around. Gaze snapping up to you. “Earth has not anything to show more fair!” Shouting loudly with desperation. “Dull would he be of soul who could pass by!” Pouring his heart out in every word of poetry. There had been a slight pause in your step. “A sight so touching in its majesty!”
Shaking your head, you forced yourself forwards. Wiping the back of your hand against your cheek. Withholding the sobs bubbling inside. “Miss Bridgerton!” Mr. Hayward roared out, feeling you slip away from his fingers. Dropping to his knees. Broken. Desperate and unwanted.
One day you would forgive yourself for it being the right choice. Yet that day hadn’t arrived yet. You had just rounded your conversation up with possible suitors. Each one of them nothing that could warm your heart… for they were not him. As they took their leave, it left a gap between the crowd.
Hating how your eyes always seemed to find him. Mr. Hayward. Miss Ann Baxter by his side. A dreading silence between them. Postures facing away, instead of turning to each other. Each looking a different direction. Miss Baxter fanned herself wearing a plastered smile.
Suddenly sick to the stomach, you felt the gut wrenching ache in your heart. Knowing perfectly well how you left things. An unfinished poem. Two broken hearts. Silence. Hating how your heart still yearned for him when you shouldn’t. Blinking surprised when Mr. Hayward and Miss Baxter greeted each other with a bow and curtsy.
Each taking their leave. Miss Baxter going her own way. Mr. Hayward ready to go his way. Gaze catching yours from afar. No spectacles to hide behind. His lips parted longingly. Eying your brother by your side, you quickly turned away. Touching his shoulder, whispering a departure to him. He nodded, bringing his attention to his wife once more.
You slipped through the crowd. Trying to blend in. This was too public. A confrontation with him would be too painful. Unsure if your heart could take it. Never remaining at one place, you hoped to stay unnoticed. Looking everywhere, barely looking where your feet were going.
Gasping softly at the sturdy bump you accidently touched. Hand pressed against his chest for a firm balance. Gaze going upwards in surprise to Mr. Hayward. “Miss Bridgerton…” He spoke beggingly. You immediately pushed yourself away from him. “Did you forget my words?” You replied, taking a step back. “Miss Baxter is looking for you!” Forcing out, already moving away.
Eyes widening when his grip was clear on your wrist. Pulling you slowly back in place. “Miss Baxter and I are no longer…” His words fading out at the end. “There was never love between us.” Speaking truthfully.
Your gaze traced every inch of the deep pools of his eyes. Placing his hand over yours, he pulled you even closer. “Miss Bridgerton. I’d very much like a dance…is there still room for me?” Glancing down at your dance card.
You were barely able to move over the thundering beats of your heart. His words linger on your lips. “Yes…” Whispering out, clasping your hand over the dancecard to hold it still. Mr. Hayward took your hand, leading you up to the dancers. Taking a spot in between. Gaze never left yours. Greeting each other properly before the dance.
Stepping around the girl beside you, you kept your gaze forwards. Swallowing softly at the thumping of your fluttering heart. Then you crossed over, walking around Mr. Hayward. Feeling his burning gaze at every profile of yours. Lips parting with a breathy gasp. Standing still for Mr. Hayward copied your routine. Walking around you, your eyes met.
Returning back to his position, you came joining him in the middle. Circling around each other, eyes holding each other. “I know I will never be able to offer you what any other gentleman can.” Mr. Hayward began. A slight tremble in his voice. “I cannot offer you great wealth or the world.” Taking your hand, placing another on your lower hip.
“But I can offer you my love… and my devotion.” Slowly circling around with you. “If that is what you want…” His gaze parted from yours. “Mr. Hayward.” You answered, drawing his immediate attention back to you. “I can never love anyone but you.” Shaking your head, you felt the tears swell up. “Please forgive me for my unkindness… it was with nothing but pain in my heart to turn you away…”
Noticing how he was barely listening. A cheeky fondness in his smile. Bringing your hands up, he kissed them tenderly. Tugging a stray of hair behind your ear. “My dearest Y/n.” Kissing your hands once more.
Ending the dance earlier, you hastened with Mr. Hayward to your brother. Presenting your chosen suitor to him. With some explanation from Mr. Hayward and the parting from Miss Baxter.
"They're like, the four ugly step sisters!"- referring to the cliquey, dismissive treatment Jane, Elizabeth, Kitty, and Lydia gave Mary in the first episode.
"She's awful!"- about Mrs. Bennet
"Ooh, is she the mean girl?"- about Caroline Bingley, before she's even said a single word.
"That guy looks like he doesn't want to be here."- about Mr. Darcy
"They end up together, don't they?"- about Tom Hayward, shortly after he's introduced.
"Oh, you're kidding!"- when Ann Baxter reveals she and Mr. Hayward have an "understanding". He was very disappointed.
"God! She's awful!"- about Mrs. Bennet in her letter, while laughing in disbelief.
"No!"- said in shock, when I told him that Mr. Gardiner was, in fact, the brother of Mrs. Bennet.
"Okay, they have to end up together!"- said about Tom Hayward, again.
"She doesn't end up with him, right?"- about William Ryder, shortly after his introduction.
"Were those dance cards a real thing they did?"- followed by a brief rundown of Regency dance etiquette, where Ann's instructions to Mary suddenly made a lot more sense to him.
"They have to end up together. Do you know if they end up together?"- again, about Tom and Mary. I do know, but I lied and said I didn't.
"She told him!"- about Mary telling off Mr. Ryder about his disdain for the conventions of society.
"Oh, no! Not her!"- about Caroline Bingley's reappearance.
Howling laughter when Mary alluded to Mr. Darcy's rejection of Caroline.
"She's awful!"- about Mrs. Bennet. Again.
"She's awful!"- about Lydia.
"She's gonna end up with the other guy, right?"- shortly after Mr. Ryder shows up at Pemberley.
"It's all about money with her, isn't it?"- about Mrs. Bennet visiting Mary at bedtime. Followed by a brief explanation of why a husband having money was very important at that point in history and why Mr. Bennet lowkey kind of sucked.
"She can't end up with him! He's said he's unconventional and he doesn't like playing by the rules of society and that's not Mary's scene."- he's usually not this adept at picking up subtext or even obvious allusions in movies and tv. I was surprised and a little proud.
"WHY WOULD THEY LEAVE IT ON A CLIFFHANGER LIKE THAT?" - about the end of episode 6. Because that's all we have this side of the Atlantic until Wednesday.
