Chapter Text
Anthony stood, his back ramrod straight, outside of the closed door of the chapel. Any second, now, and they’d call for him to make his entrance in the Church. After his row with Daphne earlier, which had grievously affected him, he had felt as if his mind had detached from his body. Now he was left wrung from it and was rather going through the motions. He wondered distantly how he could still stand on his own two legs as he felt as if all strength had deserted him.
Ah! They must have summoned him, as he was now walking down the aisle, towards the Queen. He felt himself bow his head, and then his feet directed him to the altar, where the archbishop was waiting for the betrothed couple. He glanced towards Benedict who was attending to him. He might have winked at him, but Anthony could not be sure.
Then, as he turned to face the crowd, he saw her walking in. He tried to take some air into his lungs, but his respiration halted. He was finding it difficult to breathe. He kept his hands tied into his back, his eyes still following her, unable to leave her form.
Please Anthony! You must marry my sister. You must marry her, as soon as you can, because this feeling that plagues us so, it will pass, it will become tenable, it will become bearable, and soon enough it will be as if we never felt it at all. Mere passion. It must, because it has to.
He felt it again. The same pang in his heart he had felt when he had heard those words for the first time. He had wanted to stop the wedding. But She had forbidden it. He had thought she would be happy, and that she would thank him. But, yet again, it seemed that he hadn’t understood her. And clearly, she didn’t understand him. He had thought they shared the same thing. But she didn’t feel the same. How could she feel the same if, after what he had told her the night of the Sheffield dinner, she still sent him to the gallows? He thought he had been clear. He had never been that clear in his life, he thought. He may not have pronounced the three little words, but he had never uncovered his feelings as he had that night. The conversation replayed before his eyes.
She has done nothing. It is you! You have made this match impossible!
But I am leaving for India!
And it is not far enough! Do you think that there is a corner of this Earth that you could travel to far away enough to free me from that torment? I am a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence! You are the bane of my existence… And the object of all my desires… Night and day, I dream of you and what I… Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you?
I did not ask for this. To be plagued by these feelings. Hiding from my sister. Being driven to distraction every time you enter the room…
Then you agree: it is unsupportable.
Impossible.
If I wed your sister, it will bind me and you for eternity, and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, dreading the day when my last thread of honor finally snaps. Is that the future you want for us? For your sister?
And yet here was he. Anthony. About to wed Her sister. Edwina. His hands clutched together behind his backs to prevent one from raising to his chest, because his heart was going to fall from it, broken into thousands of pieces, soon. His eyes could barely leave Her. But they had to, as the entire Ton stood up for the bride had entered the church in turn. She was advancing towards him, led by her mother. They both were wearing a bright smile. He felt tears come up to his eyes. He couldn’t keep still, his feet twitching. But he stayed rooted where he was, striving to summon a smile on his face, and hoping that it would not turn out to be a grimace.
And then Edwina stood in front of him. He may have said something to her, he was not sure, but she must have liked it, judging by the delighted look on her face. He was going to be sick. He wondered what he was reflecting outwardly. What did people around him see? Wasn’t he green? Wasn’t he perspiring? Wasn’t he gasping for air? Astonishingly, it didn’t seem so. Was it all just inside his head?
It must have been, since he was now facing the archbishop. He heard, as if under water:
“Dearly beloved. We are gathered together here, in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony. And therefore, it is not by any to be enterprised nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, and wantonly, like brute beasts that have no understanding…”
He kept his eyes looking straight ahead, through the archbishop, as another voice rang loud in his ears as if it was just beside him.
If you have doubts, do not simply set them aside. This is the most important choice you will ever make. And it would break my heart to see you spend the rest of your life in regret. I dare say it would break your father’s heart too.
He tried again to draw a breath, his chest constricted. He had wanted to. So much. For a whole night, he had hoped he would get an escape, with the pretext the dowry scheme offered. But She had tied his hands anew. He hadn’t been able to refuse her anything. He couldn’t bear to disappoint her in any way. He blinked rapidly, trying to concentrate on the present moment.
“…but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.
First, It was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name…”
I question the example you are setting for your siblings, marrying a woman for whom you clearly hold no great tenderness or love. Just because you are dedicated to this family does not mean that there should be no room left for love, Anthony. Your father took his role as viscount seriously, but he also loved deeply. I know that is what you want too, I know that deep down, it is what you have always wanted.
He looked away, throwing a glance around and meeting Benedict’s gaze, who was frowning as he watched him intently. He diverted his eyes, hearing another voice.
I mourn for you brother. All of these decisions that you seem to make and then resent us for. Though they do not make you worthy of your family’s respect. They simply make us pity you. Nothing more.
These judgmental stares from every member of his family were tearing him apart. First Daphne, now Benedict. This furrowed brow could only mean he was again failing spectacularly at something. Could they not see that he had no choice? That he was giving all he had and was putting all he was in it? He was fighting for them to get what they had, and mainly so they wouldn’t have to fight themselves, because it was exhausting. He was exhausted. When would it be enough? What must he do for it to make it enough?
Do you ever wonder what Father might say, on a day such as this? He was the only one you ever truly respected. The only one you ever listened to. If Papa were still here…
ALL! THE! TIME! All the BLOODY time, he wondered what Father might say or do. He inhaled deeply, forcing back the tears that were on the brink of rolling on his cheeks. Why wasn’t Father here anyway?
“… Thirdly, It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.”
You can choose to be happy, to follow the desires of your heart instead of pushing away any feeling that comes to the surface. It should not be a luxury but a right to choose, to fight, for the family that you want.
Well, no. He could not be happy anymore. He hadn’t succeeded to make her understand that he loved her. And now it was too late. She would go to India, unbeknownst that someone in the world loved her beyond reason, and she would take any comfort he might have found and felt in this life away. His heart’s desire was out of his reach. He had fought against Kate, and he had lost. And now he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Therefore, if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace…”
The silence in the chapel rang loudly in Anthony’s ears. He couldn’t understand how no one could hear his scream. It was so deafening, in his head… The archbishop was now addressing him and Edwina, it seemed.
“I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why you may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, you do now confess it. For be you well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful…”
Anthony’s throat tightened. He gulped, desperately trying to get some air in. He closed his eyes. Far away, he heard:
“My Lord? My Lord!” His eyes fell on Edwina. He was shocked to see her. He couldn’t remember how he had got there. And what was he even doing in London? Wasn’t he supposed to marry in Aubrey Hall, their country seat, as his parents and grandparents had done before him? He looked again at Edwina as if he were seeing a ghost.
“The archbishop would like you to repeat, my Lord!” Edwina said uncertainly, her voice wavering. Again, Anthony looked through her. Not seeing anything.
“I- I…” Anthony swallowed, choking on his words. “I want my father by my side. I need my father’s approval to marry… Where is he?”
A heavy silence fell on the congregation as nobody knew what to say. All eyes were on him. The attention was even more suffocating. Edwina was mute, watching him warily. The church dignitary hesitantly hazarded “My Lord? Errrr…” From the corner of his eye, he could see his mother bring a hand in front of her mouth. Kate was fixing him sharply, a question in her eyes. Benedict approached him from aside.
“Anthony, what is the matter?” he urged him in a whisper.
“Ben, why isn’t Father here? Where is he? And why aren’t we all at Aubrey Hall. He has to be there.”
Benedict watched him dumbfounded. He looked around to his mother and Daphne, color having left his face. He took Anthony by the shoulder, shaking him a little as he spoke softly.
“Anthony… Father can’t be here… You know… He’s…"
“What? What is he? And why couldn’t he be here? It is my wedding. Could you get married without Father being here?”
“Anthony, Father is dead…” Benedict was now talking to him quietly, still griping him tightly, his eyes boring into him. Anthony’s vision and mind blurred. He couldn’t comprehend what Benedict was telling him. The blood drained from his face and his breath became shallow.
“What? NO!” he gasped. “No, it can’t be! You’re wrong!” He choked on a sob. His eyes burned but he couldn’t do anything but let the tears burst out. “No! NO! I cannot- HE cannot… I CANNOT do it without him!!! There is still so much he hasn’t taught me. He CAN’T be gone!” He collapsed and were it not for Benedict’s arms still holding him, he would have dropped to the floor. As it was his brother only slowed his fall. He kept on weeping and wailing, curled up in himself, like a fatally wounded animal.
Violet couldn’t bear it anymore. She rushed to him. For a while now, since the ceremony had begun, Benedict had thrown stunned looks towards her and Daphne, bewildered by Anthony’s behavior, gesturing in the hope to convey something was wrong, very wrong, as if imploring her to do something. But she didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t known what to do. And because of her, because of her unhelpfulness, right there, under her very eyes, Violet saw the ravages of grief – the very ones Anthony himself had talked to her about-, take over her son. It was an agonizing feeling. It was destroying her, to see her little boy in so much pain, on the day that should have been the most beautiful of his life, where he should have felt only joy. She had watched, little by little, her son’s spirit leaving far away from where his body resided. Tragically, she realized what she was witnessing now in an accelerated pace, was what had been happening for eleven years under her nose, in slow motion. And she hadn’t noticed. Guilt griped at her. She crouched down to him as she got near him at the altar, wracked by sobs in his brother’s arms. She murmured to her second born to take the children away. But as Benedict tried to disentangle himself, Anthony grabbed his overcoat, as if holding for dear life.
“No Father, don’t leave me!” He moaned, shaking Benedict, who was very pale and unnerved by the sight of his brother breaking down. Benedict knew he had always been the one bearing the greatest likeliness to their father, but Anthony mistaking him for Edmund was even more staggering. Anthony then turned to his mother with wild eyes.
“Mama! I couldn’t do anything, I’m so sorry, he’s gone! He’s GONE! We were just picking some flowers for you and Daph... And there was a bee! It stung him and then he couldn’t breathe!”
Violet was crying as she loosened Anthony’s hands from Benedict’s clothing, bringing him against her chest. “I know Anthony. I know. It will be all right. You will be all right. I’m here now.” She sat on the floor of the church, unbothered by the Ton watching the spectacle of her broken son, but yet shielding him from them, and pulled his head on her lap, stroking his head as he continued to cry, his body shaken with convulsions.
Benedict retreated toward the guests who were all gaping. Anthony would hate that. He hated the Ton and its false ways at any turn. It was no wonder he looked to avoid any social to-do. He must have hated that his own wedding had become one of those events he loathed with passion, he who was such a private person. He suddenly felt a wave of resentment towards all the people that had imposed that farce of a wedding on his brother, the Queen taking the first spot of that list. She was known to play matchmaking as a hobby for her Diamond, a poor girl she chose on a whim, and made a show of her all season long. And so, she had put his brother on display as if in a circus, uncaring of the fact her toys were actual persons, forsaking any wish they could express. All of it to win a silly game of power and influence played at a distance with Lady Whistledown. He took a long breath not to snap at the Queen. It would do no one good. Certainly not Anthony.
Lady Mary had come up to take her daughter backwards in the pews with her at the first mentioning of their father, rapidly sensing that the matter at hand was no small issue. Miss Edwina seemed shocked but not really overwhelmed. The look on Miss Sharma’s face, on the other hand… Her eyes were filled with horror, she stood there agape, unable to move, her body as taut as Anthony’s while she witnessed him being seized by pain, as if she could feel Anthony’s torture in her own skin and bones. Finally, Benedict turned to Lady Danbury, who half stood, her face somber as she seemed to be pondering what was unrolling before her, her eyes travelling between Miss Sharma and Anthony, something like remorse written on her features. He turned towards Daphne to summon her with a look. They needed to protect Anthony. To shoo everyone away from their family. As it was, it was already too late. They would need all the help available. First, they needed to deal with the Queen. And the Dragon was paramount to handle her. Only she would know how to remove her from the scene. If the Queen left, the Ton would be obliged to follow.
Contrary to what his mother had suggested, Benedict thought it was not necessary to screen his youngest siblings from Anthony’s pain. It was important they understood, too, and they would go through it all as a family, without excluding anyone. After all, Anthony’s trauma was all their business. And they all bore some responsibility for not seeing Anthony was drowning. Maybe they even had precipitated it a little, with their incessant mocking remarks, unrelenting demands, never stopping to care how he fared, and what he wanted. He could feel shame mounting in the pit of his stomach, as the last example of that lack of consideration came to mind. Only last night, Colin and himself had shown little concern for Anthony’s state of mind. Now that he reflected on it, he did appear forlorn. Dispirited. Hopeless. It should have raised an alarm that he was feeling this way ahead of his wedding. Even if it was seemingly what he had wished for from the beginning. Instead, the pair of brothers had been unrelentless in their teasing and taunting, probably furthering the injury and the hurt. It made him sick.
Interrupting his musings for now, he got to work with his sister. She had gathered their siblings a little away from the second pew, where the first members of the Ton were already eagerly gossiping about Anthony’s apparent madness. Gregory and Hyacinth were looking wide eyed at Anthony, shocked to see their anchor drifting, the man they worshipped the ground he walked on, their most fervent champion, if not father, falling apart. Fortunately, Colin and Eloise, although unsettled, protected them from the guests' hurtful comments. Francesca was watching pensively at the whole scene, her eyes moving from their mother and Anthony, towards Miss Edwina, and then to her sister. Her stare stayed there for a moment longer. She said nothing but seemed to understand everything, sadness settling into her gaze on their brother’s behalf. When Daphne joined him beside Lady D., he was tempted to ask what the hell they had discussed before the ceremony had begun, and if she had had an inkling of what was about to happen. Well, not exactly, as he figured no one could have predicted that happening, but he was damned curious about what had been said. But Daphne shot him a glare, meaning ‘Later!’. He surreptitiously acknowledged her gesture and addressed the problem at hand in a low voice.
“Daph, Lady Danbury, we need to get everyone out of our way. And the Queen needs to leave the premises… If she does not, nobody will. As entitled as she feels watching the whole thing unfolding -since the bride is her diamond and has de facto been thwarted at the altar-, she has no business handling this matter. This is a family affair, and therefore must be dealt with behind closed doors, for Anthony’s sake. He may have made some mistakes along the way, but he has been displayed enough.”
“I agree wholeheartedly, Mr.Bridgerton.”, intoned the old matron, “I will take on the Queen (and the archbishop, by the way). You, your Grace, should begin to direct the Ton outside. As a Duchess, you hold some authority many won’t dare to question, as reluctant as they will be. With our actions combined, the church will soon be emptying.” She paused and added: “And I also think we should send for the Duke as soon as we can, your Grace. He might be of help as well.
As for you Mr. Bridgerton, I must ask you to take care of the Sharma family for me. I strongly suspect one among them will want to follow the Viscount to ensure he’s well, or at least ensure she can help him recover well and as fast as possible. And by “will want”, I mean “nobody won’t prevent her from being as close to him as she can”. And we will want, if not need her input, because I rather believe she has more to say than she lets on. She may be as inflexible as the Viscount, but she also has the same raw constitution as he does, and she's been as much on edge as he was for years. We might be able to understand him better through her insight. Lady Sharma is prone to headaches when things don’t turn out how she wants. And Miss Edwina… Well, she has been deaf and blind all season to all that her sister has warned her against, or might have been feeling. So, I don’t really know how she will react. At best she won't display any pettiness, cause she can be childish. And to be honest I don’t care much about her feelings, as she has shown herself to be rather self-absorbed and unbothered by what could ail those who cared most about her. I don’t think she’ll have anything to bring to the table that might help anyone in our predicament. I suggest you gather everyone, and you all withdraw to Bridgerton House as soon as you’re able to, and I will join you there along with the Duchess as fast as we can.”
Each nodded soberly as their battleplan was drawn, quietly turning towards their assigned targets. They carried it on briskly, and each of them having supervised their part flawlessly, not two hours later, they were all ensconced in the safety of their home...