Chapter Text
Kate Sharma had been afraid of storms for as long as she could remember. When thunder boomed and lightning struck, she had always been inside of doors, out of the rain. The ground had stayed firm beneath her feet, and still she had panicked. The fear rising in her chest, immobilising her as she hid from Mary and Edwina and waited for it to pass.
And each time, as she calmed down, she remembered thinking to herself that she was safe. The storm couldn’t hurt her. Trees may fall and windows may shake and shatter, but her home would stay standing and she would recover.
The same could not be said when at sea.
The waves would batter the hull of the steamship, water sloshing up over the balustrade, and Kate was always faced with the very real fear that a boat, however large and well built, was not as sturdy as a cottage in the countryside.
Dinner had been a disaster. Her invitation from Edwina and her portly but shockingly rich husband to dine with the First-Class passengers had once again brought her face to face with the infuriating rake Anthony Bridgerton. And his somewhat-less infuriating brother Benedict, of course, but how can one focus on polite conversation with an amiable gentleman when his irksome brother is insistent on arguing with you?
Mr Nigel Berbrooke, Edwina’s husband, had made his fortune on the goldfields of Ballarat in 1853 and returned to England to find himself a bride. As the second son of a baron and a man of considerable means who was willing to provide for both sisters, Edwina could hardly say no to his proposal. Not after it came so soon after Mary had died of typhus in 1862 and left her daughters alone in the world.
And so Kate had found herself on the steamship Danbury for the past 8 weeks, in Second Class quarters designated for single women while Edwina shared a First Class suite with her new husband. She had never felt so alone. Her sister slept not two decks up, yet she could only see her at church or when invited to dine with the first-class passengers – clearly the intention of her new brother-in-law, she surmised, to ensure he had privacy with his new wife.
She gripped the rail tighter at the thought, her knuckles white with fury. How dare this man exert such power over her life? Kate was not his wife, nor would she ever be, and she was not his sister either. And yet he treated her like a child, talking down to her to remind her of her place.
Tonight she had fled dinner after he made a rather impolite joke regarding her dog, Newton, who had remained in London. It was all too much. The isolation, the rats, the lice, the perpetual dampness and rocking of the boat. Things she had to put up with for months for this man, and still he would choose to mock her and insult her beloved pet from whom she was now forever parted?
She let out a scream of frustration, too lost in her anger to care about who might hear her. It was night, after all, and she was alone on the poop deck.
“Miss Sharma?”
Or not.
Kate startled at the voice of Anthony Bridgerton and blushed, embarrassed that he might have heard her outburst.
“Lord Bridgerton. What a surprise to see you out here. Dinner not to your liking?” She asked dryly, her impertinence a mask for how shaken she truly felt inside.
A spot of rain landed on her forehead.
Kate ignored it, turning to face the man who had for weeks perplexed her.
“The taste of weevils must be growing on me, for I enjoyed the meal far more than I did the company of your brother-in-law.” Anthony grimaced.
She murmured her assent and sighed.
“He’s not always so bad.” Kate admitted, thinking of Nigel’s ramblings in the past about racehorses and cheese. “I suppose I’m just tired of this journey. Two months is far too long to spend away from dry land.”
A nod as he stepped forward to hold the rail beside her, looking up at the dark clouds overhead.
“I agree. There's much I miss about London that I didn’t expect.”
“Your club and a certain opera singer, perhaps?” Kate snarked, well aware of his reputation.
She was met with a hard stare that almost made her feel ashamed of her comment. She knew Anthony Bridgerton well enough by now to recognise that there was more to this man than his romantic conquests. He was a good and honourable sort deep down, on the rare occasion that she managed to peel back the layers and see the person within.
“My horse, for one. And fresh food.” The rain was coming down heavier now and she shivered from the cold – or was it from the intensity of his gaze? “Do you really still think so little of me?”
Of course not, she thought to herself. If only Edwina won over someone like Anthony before settling for Berbrooke. Kate had no such hopes for matrimonial bliss for herself, well and truly a spinster, unwed at 22. She was certain she would never marry.
Her hand came to rest upon his in apology and something in her ached as he flinched at the touch.
“You’re freezing! We should return to the dining room to get out of the rain.”
But before Kate could agree, a loud crack of thunder overhead made her freeze on the spot, gripping the railing tighter.
Not now, she wanted to cry. Please, not now. But she could not speak. She could not move.
As the wind picked up and the waves began to crash harder against the hull, it was all Kate could do to sink to her knees and clutch tightly to the bars.
Anthony had no idea what to do. His cries of her name and attempts to get her to stand were met with no response as silent sobs racked her delicate frame. As much as he wanted to comfort her, it wasn’t safe to stay on the deck. The crew had warned them to remain in their cabins in inclement weather, for the Bass Strait was a dangerous crossing and storms had sunk many a ship in these waters.
He knelt and wrapped an arm around her, noticing the tear tracks on her cheeks and the wild look in her dark eyes as lightning illuminated the sky.
“We must go inside! Miss Sharma!" Anthony yelled over the howl of the wind.
Water sloshed upon the deck and the boat jerked suddenly.
It seemed to knock Kate out of her stupor, and she nodded, rising carefully while holding tight to his hand.
Another flash of lightning struck, and he looked out to the sea just in time for it to illuminate a dark shape as tall as a house moving rapidly towards them.
A wave, he realised, and pulled Kate away from the railing.
But it was too late.
The water hit with a resounding crack, instantly flooding the deck and sweeping them off their feet.
The last thing Kate heard was the Viscount screaming her name in terror before she was swallowed by the icy depths.