Chapter Text
It wasn’t something she noticed, at least not right away.
No, the feeling snuck up on her. Slowly, at first, merely a shadow when Daphne wed. And then with increasing speed as Anthony, Benedict, and Francesca were married.
By the time Colin, Eloise, and Francesca (a second time) were married in quick succession, Violet could no longer ignore it. The feeling had grown far beyond a shadow, it had solidified.
She was lonely.
Certainly she was often surrounded by her family, and Violet was never short on friends or events to attend… and yet, the loneliness remained.
Violet had once fervently believed she’d never get over the sudden, premature death of Edmund. Even when she finally shed her mourning and then half-mourning dresses Violet hadn’t truly considered herself ‘over’ the death of her beloved husband.
But now, nearly two decades later here she was, wishing for companionship in the romantic sense.
It was utterly ridiculous.
And yet, Violet found her eyes wandering to the aging couples around her at each ball, musical, and poetry recital wishing herself to be among those who had a partner at this stage in life.
Because while her life certainly wasn’t lacking at the moment, soon she’d be alone in her house on Bruton Street with only the hired staff.
Yes, her children and grandchildren would come to visit, likely frequently enough to fill her home with laughter and mischief for many days. That still left the evenings and nights, though, and often the early mornings as well for her alone.
While Violet prided herself on her independence, on caring and raising her children largely on her own, she wasn’t too proud to admit she desired a husband again after all this time.
Violet even wondered if now was a better time to come to this realization, given that her children were mostly grown and any man interested in her could only be interested in, well, her .
There wouldn’t be any sort of dowry, Heaven knew she was far too old for such things, so money wouldn’t be a motive. Anthony had been the Viscount for years now, with children of his own so a new title wouldn’t bring suitors either.
There was the fact that the Bridgerton name brought respect with it, Violet wouldn’t lie and say she hadn’t used the power of her surname more than once to get her way. Not for anything facetious, just the important things, like her daughter-in-law and her slight predicament with the law a few years back.
But she didn’t think men paid much mind to marrying into a good name, not at her age. And there certainly wouldn’t be any new children for heirs, either.
Yes, that was all well and good for her, as potential suitors would have pure intentions…. But it also meant there likely wouldn’t be a soul pursuing her either, not without the other incentives.
Besides, how did a woman of her age go about finding a husband?
Violet certainly knew widows remarried, but often it was within a few years of their first husband passing, such as with Francesca. She’d never heard of someone in her situation remarrying so long after their initial marriage.
Would she even remember how to attract the kind of attention she now sought?
Or would the longtime bachelors and widowers scoff at her bumbling attempts? Would the men of the ton laugh at an old woman thinking she could present herself this season as an actual option?
While her stomach roiled at the possibility of being the laughing stock of the ton, Violet knew she couldn’t let imagined humiliation hold her back.
If each of her daughters were brave enough to look and intelligent enough to wait for the right man, twice in Francesca’s case, then Violet could do the same.
And, well, with Hyacinth and Gregory still shy yet of searching for a match and no other children on the mart, Violet thought… well, maybe this would be the perfect time to try.
Inhaling deeply, Violet penned her intentions to Lady Agatha Danbury, knowing that if she kept such intentions to herself there’d be no one to hold her accountable to her decision to put herself out on the mart.