Marina
The story opens on the irony of something tragic happening on a sunny day. Thereafter, Sir Phillip is driven to melancholy by such days. He contemplates the tragedy and the consequences and arrives at the conclusion that he is gripped by a fear situated as metaphor:
“Melancholy terrified him. More than anything. More than fire, more than war, more than hell itself. The thought of sinking into sadness, of being like her…”
When the Metaphorical Is Literal
The defining metaphor of post-19th century literature is, surprisingly, gone to directly just once in this Bridgerton novel that is all about that metaphor. Its spare use is applied that one singular instance as a figurative and literal description of what it means being like Marina:
“She lived in darkness with her curtains drawn and the lights dimmed”
Phillip’s Children
Phillip’s children—the ones he conveniently neglects to mention he has when he extends his invitation to Eloise—are the recipient of a recurring metaphor. The metaphorical transformation from children into something less so is repeated through the narrative by different characters at different times, including one instance that will produce an ironic rebound:
Nurse Edwards hesitated at the door, started to walk through, then turned around. “You are ruining those children,” she hissed.
“They are mine to ruin.”
“Have it your way, then. They are nothing but little monsters, anyway, ill-tempered, misbehaved—”
The Rebound
The ironic rebound comes almost immediately. Perhaps it is simply a case that Phillip is not particularly gifted with a creative mind. Or perhaps it is that shame has grabbed him by the throat and squeezed too tightly to allow for the flow of imaginative synonyms. Whatever the case, the rebound is quick, ironic and metaphorical to the core:
“His back was to the twins, and he dreaded turning around. He was dying inside, ravaged by guilt that he’d hired that woman, that monster, to care for his children.”
What Is Love?
What is love? A million different things to a million different people. But one metaphor about love—true love that defies irony and sarcasm equally—seems to unify all. Love is the collusion of all things perfect in the world. Of course, that collusion is usually known by a different name:
“This—us—is heaven. And I can’t bear to hear you say otherwise.”
