Work Text:
1815
Many who do not know Kate very well (most people, really) believe that she embraces conflict. And indeed, when it is a matter of a member of the ton attempting to degrade her or her family, she fears nothing and no one. No woman who has ever borne the title of Viscountess Bridgerton has ever been afraid to stand up for her family and home. But in personal matters — matters within her family, matters that truly mean something — Kate finds herself avoiding confrontation.
It usually never ends well.
She avoided telling her mother and sister of the Sheffields’ requirements for Edwina’s dowry. She avoided telling Edwina of her true feelings for Anthony until it was too late. She avoided telling Anthony of her true feelings, for so long.
And for the past year of her marriage, she has avoided telling Anthony why she is never found at the entrance to Aubrey Hall.
It is a shame, really, because it was the first thing she fell in love with when she arrived with her family and Lady Danbury just a year ago. Lady Violet is a master of balancing the home’s country charm with tasteful decadence.
But now, returned from their honeymoon, Kate cannot bring herself to ever be there longer than she must.
The worst thing about it is that she knows it’s irrational, and she knows that talking to Anthony could very well resolve everything. But she fears opening old wounds, knowing how much guilt her husband still carries over their tumultuous courtship — if you could even call it that.
Violet has told Kate that Aubrey Hall is home to infinite memories, moments in time that feel like they could last forever in the right kind of light, or during a certain time of year. Kate did not understand, at first, but has since come to recognize her own memories scattered throughout her new home.
In the library, she relives moments of quiet, stolen in the middle of the night. In the ballroom, she remembers Anthony’s hands on her as they shared their first dance. In the gardens, she feels the press of his hand to her stung chest, his breath mingling with hers. In the light of dawn she remembers stolen rides.
But at Aubrey Hall’s grand entrance, all she can see is Anthony on one knee before Edwina, the ring that now rests comfortably on her own finger blazing in the morning sunlight, out of her reach. All she can feel is the stuttering thud of her heartbeat as Anthony brushed past her, right as she was ready to tell Edwina that she had developed feelings for him. She hears her sister’s delighted acceptance, and suddenly her new life as Viscountess feels impossible, even as she lives it.
Anthony has apologized, very specifically, for his proposal to Edwina. But Kate still finds it hard to forget that moment, her utter confusion in the face of his resolve.
It’s not much of a problem, at first. With the season not set to begin for some time, Aubrey Hall remains relatively quiet as Kate settles into her role as lady of the house. She spends much of her days in conversation with Lady Violet, who is thrilled to have a new woman in the house to take under her wing, or getting to know her new siblings-in-law better. There is no need to greet visitors or linger in front of the home. And any other moment is claimed very insistently by her husband, who can not handle working on paperwork with her in the study for much longer than an hour at a time without attempting to convince her their time could be used... otherwise.
She believes she has hidden her distaste for the front of the house quite well. But nothing gets by Anthony, not anymore. A side effect of his always watching her, naturally, is that he notices the way she stiffens when walking through the main entrance, how her eyes linger on the spot where he got down on one knee.
He gently broaches the topic while Kate is brewing her afternoon cup of chai, and his other siblings are otherwise occupied. It’s just them, alone in the drawing room: her seated at a table with her drink and him standing pensively near the piano.
“It pains me that there are parts of our home that conjure bad memories,” he says, looking her way. She cannot meet his gaze.
Kate attempts a shrug. “I am sure it will pass with time,” she says, failing to sound as casual as she wishes. Anthony frowns, crossing the room and sitting beside her. She is fidgeting with her gloves again, and he's seen.
“Kate, you know that you do not need to overlook things that hurt you.” She glances up at him, finally, hands stilling. “Do not consider how I might feel, or any complications. If something hurts you, I want to know. I am your husband.”
And oh, the way he says the word, so warm and possessive, it almost soothes her lingering aches there. Almost.
“I do not know what there is to be done,” Kate admits with a sigh. “It is in the past. You have apologized.” She hesitates. “The problem is me. My inability to let go. I should be the one to deal with it.”
“You could never be a problem,” Anthony says kindly, reaching forward and grasping her hand. “Kate, you are allowed to feel this way.”
“I did not ask your permission,” Kate snaps, knowing even as she says the words that she is being unfair.
“Nor did I seek it,” Anthony replies, unfazed. He’s weathered enough of her moods to know when she is lashing out. “You should allow yourself to feel this way.”
“It does not help anyone if I do,” Kate insists.
“Your emotions are under no obligation to help anyone,” he retorts. Kate blinks at him.
“You sound like Edwina,” she accuses. He preens a little, recognizing the words for the compliment they are, and it’s so genuine, so disarming, that she slackens her stiff posture, sighing deeply. “I don’t like feeling this way. But it’s my most vivid memory of that spot, I can’t forget how it felt watching you after everything that had happened… to know that it wasn’t enough. That I wasn’t enough, to change your mind. It hurt.”
“I know,” he whispers softly. He does not apologize again, does not need to, but she can see the clockwork of his mind racing to find a solution to her pain.
Many people who do not know Anthony very well (most people, really) believe he embraces conflict, especially with his wife. They bicker constantly, about issues small and large, in both public and private. In reality, however, he has an innate sense for serious conversations, and when it matters, he listens with an attentiveness that makes Kate feel utterly safe, each time.
He’s listening to her in that way now.
Kate takes a deep breath, holding Anthony’s gaze, letting him see her conflict and insecurity. He doesn’t look away.
“Do you trust me?” he asks quietly. She nods, because of course she does. Always. “Come with me.”
He gives her time to finish her tea ("I'm still a gentleman, Kate."), and then he’s guiding her through Aubrey Hall, right out to the front terrace. She’s shaking her head before they even reach their destination, but he pulls her out anyways, bringing her right to the spot where he proposed to Edwina.
Holding both of her hands in his, he says, “We have a lifetime to make new memories here. You and me, our family. This ground is yours. This entryway is yours.” He brings her hands up to his mouth and presses a tender kiss to her knuckles. “I am yours.” Kate’s eyes shine, and she cannot believe how easily this sentimental fool of a man can make her more weepy than she has ever been in her life. “So, Kate Bridgerton,” Anthony continues softly. “What memory shall we make here first?”
Kate cannot resist saying, “I will not be making love to you here, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Anthony blinks, then his face breaks out in an utterly wicked smirk. “I could make it good for you.” He sounds almost offended, even though she knows that wasn’t remotely what he had originally been offering at all. But he's smiling, and he's just looking at her, and she loves him, loves this.
(She still, of course, must win the little battle she's started.)
“Really. Gravel?” she asks skeptically. They've had their fun all over the home, of course. But this would be pushing things, even for them.
His face is utterly serious as he says, “I’m a very talented lover.”
Kate laughs. “Oh, are you?”
Anthony tugs her closer. “Do you have any complaints you wish to share?”
“People could see us.”
“We’ll do it at night.”
“There could be bugs.”
“We’ll do it in the winter.”
“When it is cold?”
A pause, then: “I’ll buy a blanket.” Kate laughs again, and he brings a hand up to her face, stroking her cheek. “New memories, Kathani. I promise.”
And she believes him.
1841
Charlotte Bridgeton’s favorite spot in Aubrey Hall has always been the entryway.
It’s where her father took her on a sunny morning when she was five and taught her how to waltz while her brothers threw flower petals plucked from their mother’s gardens in the air. It’s where she was given her first horse, where she, Miles, and Edmund would splash in puddles when it rained. It's where she and her mother would meet for walks, when Edmund and Miles were just a little too grating on her nerves.
And now, she’s standing here, watching the sunrise from her favorite spot, and enjoying the peace while she can. For in just a few hours, she will be bound for her debut in London, and her first social season. She luckily won’t be alone; Edmund has declared his intentions to begin seeking a wife of his own, though Charlotte highly suspects he just wants to be able to keep an eye on her. No matter. He will be good company, and he knows better than to try to influence her decision in any way.
She scares him, just a little, and he knows it.
She hears her mother and father’s horses before she sees them, rounding the corner of the estate and riding her way when they do spot her. She should have figured they would still be taking their morning ride even today; she can count on one hand the amount of times her mother has allowed anything other than pregnancy keep her from her tradition.
“Already awake, I see,” her mother says with a coy smile. “I was the same before my own debut.”
“Yes, well you were older, at least,” Charlotte snarks, but she can’t help but smile as her parents dismount their horses and pass them off to approaching footmen. “I am but a delicate flower, untouched by the world of men.”
Her father looks hilariously pained, and Kate arches an eyebrow. “How much do you think you can bait him before he turns into the tyrant your aunt described him to be during her season?”
Charlotte shrugs. “Father, should I try my hand at opera?”
“Should you what?” Anthony sputters, and Charlotte bursts into giggles, joined this time by her mother.
Charlotte is no stranger to the men of the ton. Her mother has hosted a wide variety of soirees to get her accustomed to the ways of social functions before her London debut, and Charlotte met plenty of men that way. She even kissed one, and was kissed by another. Not that it means anything, she simply wanted to know what she was in for.
Disappointment, if the men she has met so far are any indication.
"I fear I will never meet someone who likes at me the way Papa looks at you," she'd groaned to Kate just two nights prior.
"Fear not," Kate had replied. "If it's right, it will happen when you least expect it."
“I will miss Aubrey Hall,” Charlotte admits to her parents, suddenly feeling rather fidgety. “It’s so quiet here. London feels unending.”
“You will be back here before you know it,” Anthony assures her. “Your mother’s ball will need a star, after all.” He's right, of course.
“Put a tiara on Edmund’s head, he shall suit the role perfectly,” Charlotte retorts.
“Ah, lovely, I arrived just as she started talking about me,” comes a voice from behind her. Charlotte doesn’t bother turning as Edmund and Miles both emerge, joining them outside. Hopefully little Mary is still asleep. “How awful that we all inherited Mother’s affection for rising before the sun.”
“Tell me about it,” Anthony mutters. Kate elbows him in the side.
“Have you a list of qualities needed in a wife prepared, brother?” Charlotte asks cheerily.
“Be sure to include ‘suitable hips for birthing,’” Miles adds. Anthony rolls his eyes.
“Also add, ‘Respect for father,’ since it cannot be found amongst you lot,” he says, but he’s still smiling (he's always smiling when his wife is around), so Charlotte kicks some gravel at him petulantly. He makes a face at her, so identical to the one she knows she is making at him, that she cannot help but giggle. He softens at the sound of her laugh, eyes growing a bit sad.
“You’ll be dancing at balls soon,” he murmurs.
“Oh no,” Edmund whispers to her. “You’ve got him nostalgic.” She punches him in the arm.
Anthony appears to be in his own world still. “I taught you your first dance here.”
“I remember,” Charlotte says fondly. “I balanced on your toes while Mama pretended to know how to play the flute.”
“I was not pretending,” her mother sputters.
(She never really did master the instrument, but Charlotte is quite possibly the world's worst painter, so who is she to judge?)
“Could’ve fooled me,” Edmund whispers, but Kate very clearly sees him, and the mere quirk of her lips has him slinking back.
Charlotte hopes, in that moment, quite desperately, that whatever she finds, it can feel as much like home as this one precious corner of Aubrey Hall.
“Alright, all of you, get inside and get ready to depart,” Kate says. “Bridgerton House awaits.”
Her brothers file inside, and her father presses a quick kiss to her cheek as he passes her, whispering, “It will be fine.”
Kate, however, lingers outside with Charlotte, shooting her daughter a knowing smile. She always knows what's in her head.
“Settle for nothing less than this feeling, Charlotte,” she says softly. “The happiness? The pride I feel now? You deserve that and more.”
“Agreed,” Charlotte says lightly, taking her mother by the arm. Kate chuckles, shaking her head. “Shall we try a dance out here one more time, for old time’s sake? You were always better at leading quadrilles than Papa.”
Her mother laughs, eyes warm and shining with unshed tears.
“It would be my absolute pleasure, Miss Bridgerton,” she says with a dramatic curtsy.
And for the rest of the season, Charlotte is quite sure that no dance will ever compare to spinning around Aubrey Hall’s entrance, laughing in time with her mother in the early morning sun and fog.
That is, until she shares a dance with someone at — where else — Aubrey Hall during the Hearts and Flowers Ball, someone who makes her heart race in a way it never has… when she is taken by surprise, as her mother had promised.
But that’s a different memory entirely. Aubrey Hall is, after all, full of them.