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Your honor the twins are twinning again

(to be the one) to walk in the sun

Summary: What if Penelope said yes to Debling's proposal? What if Colin never cut into that dance? cowritten with @starryspindel Rating: E Snippet:

1816

Dear Mr. Bridgerton, I am writing to request your help in a important-

Dearest Colin, How are you? I hope you are well on your travels. I am

Colin, I have made a mistake

Mansfield Park was, in her humble opinion, the most boring piece of literature written in the last hundred years, which was a shame really because she usually liked all the novels penned By a Lady. She might have liked the novel the first, or second, or even fifth read through, but now onto her twenty-third (or was it thirty sixth? Sixty fourth? Forty first? One, two, three, four-) she was getting quite sick of Fanny, the insipid protagonist with the backbone of a chocolate éclair.

When was the last time she had an éclair? At the wedding breakfast? The engagement ball? How many had she eaten that day? One, two, three, four-

Her life had devolved into a series of numbers, something she had once thought would be so easy to keep track of. How far the room spread, (one, two, three, four-), toe to toe, (five and seventy slippers apart from wall to wall at the farthest, toe to heel, and six and thirty by the shorter end), the exact number of seams, immaculately maintained, from the papered walls, (one, two, three-), the slats of sunbeam through the curtains, (more in the midday than the morning) (one, two-). Once she began occupying herself with how many instances of the letter ‘a’ she could find ruffling through the book, (one- one- one- one-), she felt something within her splinter.

But, as with everything in her life, now, there was nowhere for it to be kept but inside.

So, she read. All but howled in her head as she huffed. Leave, Fanny. You could simply leave.

Fiction had, after all, been such a means of escape for her in the past.

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