Chapter Text
Violet’s scream tore through the room, “You cannot do this! Get him here now!”
“Call the viscount!” the doctor called out. This was her eighth child and her doctor had never called for her husband before. Her births had always been relatively simple, easy if one could call labour easy, but this was different. Dr Jesper was one of the traditional doctors who never spoke to women, even when they were the ones he was treating, but he had been the Bridgerton’s family doctor for years, trusted to bring each child into the world and care for them when they fell sick. But right now, Violet could not bring herself to trust the man; she could feel the baby being ready to come but it hurt, and the baby just wouldn’t come out and the man was less than kind.
Finally, Edmund rushed in, and their eighteen-year-old son, Anthony stood outside hanging by the door. His father’s shadow in many ways and this would be the first that he would be allowed around for the birth of a sibling. When Gregory was born, he was in Eton and missed it. His father had been very distressed at his mother’s cries, his hands shaking as he poured out the brandy. This would also be the first time he would be old enough to drink to toast the birth of a new sibling. But Anthony as stood listening, he feared there would be little to toast to.
“What do you mean?”
“If we do not do something, we could lose them both. The baby’s position makes it impossible for the birth because it is turned the wrong way. We must cut…”
“You will not cut my wife!”
“My lord…”
“Speak to me, dammit” Violet swore. It was a habit she forgave herself for every labour. One she promised not to indulge in but just like they promised not to have another child, she found herself pregnant, in labour and swearing… again. Though, if the doctor had his way, this would be her last child and the promise would be easier to keep.
“It is a conversation for his lordsh…”
“You ask my permission to butcher my wife and you cannot even look her in the eye as you suggest it!”
“Edmund… the baby… we need to save the baby, but I do not need to be…. ARGHHHH!”
“Do what you must, but save them both,” he threatened, nodding to his wife who held one of the corners of the bedposts. She nodded, he trusted she knew what her body needed to save their child and ensure she was not cut.
But Jesper felt that time was of the essence and if a cut was not made and it was a boy, the child would die. So, despite the cries, he cut Lady Bridgerton enough to give his hand room to turn the baby. Her scream vibrated through the room as his team tended to the woman. It was a mistake; he cut awkwardly; though the baby came out fine, it was a girl, and his calculated risk did not pay off. Lady Bridgerton began to bleed, and he could not see an end to the bleeding, like a coward, he tore out of the room still covered in her blood. The assistant doctor there stepped in and attempted to staunch the blood but knew her ladyship would not live long. The baby wailed in the arms of the midwife as the nurse ran out to the hall where Edmund and Anthony had just walked in after Mrs Wilson informed them of the doctor’s hasty departure. “My lords, you must come in!”
They walked in and despite being offered the child, Edmund went straight for his wife, so the baby was placed in Anthony’s arms. “A girl,” the woman said as she helped him adjust to carry his new sister. She hoped the child would be a small consolation to the grief they were about to endure. The young doctor, Harris, shook his head as Anthony turned to watch his parents. Edmund looked away from the bloodied sheets and softly pushed the hair out of his wife’s face.
“Edmund…” Violet said weakly.
“No, no. No, no, no, no. No, Violet. You must not leave me. Please do not…”
“We have another daughter… Hyacinth… like your favourite flower…”
“The baby is fine… do not think any more about it, Violet… you are….”
“It is all right… love…”
“No! Violet, you cannot leave me!” Edmund’s voice grew louder.
“Let me hold her for a moment…” Violet weakly raised her arms towards her children. The eldest and youngest, the start and end to her motherhood.
“Do something!” he called to the doctor, ignoring his wife’s plea. He barely noticed when Anthony came and sat on her other side, placing the baby between the parents.
“Hyacinth… she is beautiful… we saved our baby.” she tells her husband weakly.
“Yes, and we must raise her… together… Violet,” Edmund cries as tear fall from his cheek to his wife’s gown.
“Do not cry, love… look at our baby…”
“She looks like you…” Edmund finally said, his tears pouring down his face, his voice thick with emotion.
“Then a piece of me will always live on.”
“Violet, please…”
“I love you… I love you all.” She closed her eyes, too weak to keep them open.
Anthony took the baby, moving to leave the room. He turned to see his father clutching his mother to his chest, screaming in a way that he could barely hear the baby he was carrying in his arms. Minutes old and it seemed like she knew she was in mourning.
He took Hyacinth to the nursery, refusing to let anyone take her from his arms. His siblings were in the nursery, all three sisters and his baby brother. Anthony managed to get into the room set up to welcome the new arrival before he sat in the rocking chair, holding the baby, having instructed the staff to bring her clothes. His own clothes are wet, and he tried not to think of what else she could do without the proper coverage.
The door opened not long after the nurse left to reveal ten-year-old Daphne, seven-year-old Eloise and six-year-old Francesca, his baby sisters in their long white nightdresses, as they held each other’s hands walking into the room and found him dressing the baby.
“The baby is here!” Daphne squealed, coming to his side to see her. As much as he wished, her joy did not radiate in him. He tries to not cry on his sister, there had been enough tears she’d on her and she was not even an hour old.
“We have a new sister,” he said as calmly as he can.
“Yay, we needed another. Now we are four each,” Francesca cooed, trying to stand on the tips of her toes to get a good look at her new sister. Anthony had shed his wet jacket and waistcoat. They were thick enough to absorb the liquid, so it had not wet his shirt. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and cravat hanging around his neck as he held Hyacinth, her head was in his palms, as he sat back into the rocking chair. His sisters were at his side.
“So, what’s her name, Henrietta?” Eloise asked.
“God, no,” he scoffed with a laugh; surprising even him. “This is Hyacinth…”
“Oh! Hyacinth!” Daphne squealed. sixteen-year-old Benedict came in carrying two-year-old Gregory, the ever-joyful eleven-year-old Colin coming in behind them.
“We have a baby!” Benedict exclaimed, setting down Gregory, who toddled to his eldest brother to look at the baby. He had to be cautioned to be careful with Hyacinth’s head.
“Her name is Hyacinth…” Francesca said, smiling at her brothers.
“Well. We now have an ‘H’, is it too early to make bets on ‘I’?” Benedict quipped. That broke Anthony, he cried, holding Hyacinth carefully to his chest, so as not to let his tears spill on her. He felt his siblings surround him, and he could hardly get the words out. “Mother is…” he choked on the word, unable to utter it as if not saying it would stop it from being real.
“What happened with Mother?” Daphne asked, almost hesitant to receive the answer.
“Mother is gone, Daff… I am so sorry.” Anthony cried, barely able to stand the broken look on his sister’s face. He could not brave looking at each and every one of his siblings as he heard their various gasps and cries at the news.
“No! No! She can’t be gone! You are lying!” Daphne cried, turning away from her siblings but before she could dash out of the nursery, their father appeared at the door. Edmund was dishevelled, and some parts of his clothes were wet with blood.
“He is not lying…” Edmund walked past Daphne and the other children parted, almost instinctively knowing. He fell to his knees in front of his oldest and youngest. “Violet… your mother… she… you have your new sister. Hyacinth Violet Bridgerton… our little flower,” he said the name in almost a whisper.
“Petal, perhaps,” Benedict added, fighting the tears in his eyes as he held onto Eloise who threw herself into her brother, faces frozen in shock. Gregory climbed onto his father's body, not caring about or understanding the mess on his body. No one reacted to the transfer of blood onto the toddler’s clothes, all in shock at the news. Francesca, Daphne and Colin clung to each other crying silently.
That was how the family froze for hours. The heir was in the rocking chair with the youngest. The second oldest son with the second oldest daughter were leaning on the wall, tears in their eyes. The other middle children were closer to the door, and the viscount and his youngest son were on the floor. The staff were unsure how to break them out of their grief. Without prompting, Mr Nelson, the Bridgerton steward sent word to Crake House, where the viscount’s older sister, the Countess of Manston lived. She came with her husband and dispatched the staff to their duties.
The family was taken in groups. The girls were taken care of by their nannies, and Gregory was taken by his nurse to be cleaned and put to bed. Colin and Benedict shared Benedict’s room. Edmund could not be coaxed off the floor, and Hyacinth was not ready to let go of Anthony who stayed in the rocking chair. The only three who witnessed Violet’s final moments were almost still frozen in the moment of their loss. Regardless of her youth, it felt as though Hyacinth knew the pain from the loss of her mother, she could not be settled when placed in her cot; her first night spent in the arms of her brother.
The funeral was held 2 days later, and the stoic viscount’s eyes were red from lack of sleep and no shortage of tears. Her parents were long dead, and with no siblings, her children were the last of Violet. Her children held onto each other, as each time any of them went to their father, he turned the other way, never acknowledging them. Daphne, still a child herself started caring for her sisters, Anthony had taken to caring for the younger two; between the two ensured everyone ate, slept and were always presentable.
Daphne would not be turned away from caring for her siblings, especially her sisters. She watched her mother care for her siblings and followed her around the house when she met with the cook, the housekeeper, and some nannies. She could not give instructions without the staff looking to Anthony for confirmation, eventually, he had to ask them to respect Daphne’s authority, it kept her from falling apart like their other sisters. He refused to have her rock the baby at night, moving her from the nursery after catching her many times just watching the baby as if she was scared, she would not wake up. It took two weeks after the funeral to get Hyacinth comfortable with being in her cot as opposed to being in someone’s arms and Daphne’s neurosis threatened to undo the work. After a while, Daphne settled to fuss over Gregory until he sent Daphne to floods of tears when he called for his mama. She managed to hand him over to Anthony, and it was an unspoken agreement how they would care for the children. Benedict and Colin took to caring for themselves, especially when Colin stumble upon their father face down from alcohol, crying out that he had passed away too.
Many had heard of the ‘illness’ that befell the viscount and how his heir was stepping up to provide a short respite and aid Edmund’s recovery, meeting with tenants, and signing off on accounts on his father’s behalf. This was to be Anthony’s first year in Oxford like his father and grandfather, and Colin’s first year in Eton with Benedict. Anthony delayed his attendance at Oxford until January of the following year. His brothers had a shorter delay, leaving for Eton in October as they could not afford to miss a whole semester. It would have been sooner following what Colin witnessed, but Anthony wanted his brother to overcome the nightmares first.
The girls and Gregory would be left in Aubrey Hall with their nurses and nannies because it would be easier for the staff to seek guidance if needed from the children’s aunt, the Countess of Manston in Crake House nearby. Edmund left for Bridgerton House in London, leaving his children to reside with the ghosts of their parents as he had become a shell of himself. He was allowed a year of mourning, but the more he drank, the more he hid away in London, and the less he thought it likely for him to come out even after a decade. His in-law, the Earl of Manston, George Rokesby, who was married to his sister, stood for him in Parliament. Billie, Edmund’s sister, and the Countess of Manston helped Anthony with the viscountcy. Edward, George’s brother stepped up to help with the Earldom while Billie could not for the time being. After six months, when no one had seen Edmund, nor had he made any effort to contact his children or siblings. he had done nothing for the viscountcy, his family or himself, seemingly drinking himself to death. His best friend and brother-in-law, Dr Nicholas Rokesby, who had married Edmund’s younger sister, Georgie, came down from Bath to see Edmund and take him back to his family.
“You cannot go on like this…” Nickolas started as gently as he could, finding his friend not only nursing a bottle in the office but clinging onto it as though it had the answers to everything he sought.
“If it was Georgie… would you fare better?” Edmund slurred.
“For my children, I would do anything but this…”
“They have each other… I saw it that day. I get reports. Even from Oxford, Anthony checks in. Daphne has stepped up to care for her siblings…”
“They lost a mother, they grieve together. Do not compound it by making them grieve a living father.”
“There is no life without her… I have known her my entire adult life… we were meant to grow old together… she just gave up because I left her with a butcher!”
“He had delivered your children before…”
“YOU DEFEND HIM!”
“I defend you… you trusted that he would act as he had always done…”
“He ran away! Left her to bleed for his mistakes. He lives with his family; healthy and whole out at sea, out of my reach.” The rage felt like it could burn the alcohol out of his system, leaving him hollow. He had nothing in him but his anger and the alcohol and to lose one, he wasn’t sure he would survive.
“Revenge will not bring her back…”
“But at least the blood on my hands will be his… not hers.”
“You must ask yourself, will Violet have wanted this for you? For your children?”
“She is not here to ask that of me…” he replied weakly.
“Do not pretend that you do not know the answer… it is the same advice that you gave Winnie when Hugo died… and do not try to say it is different… you have your children to live for. Anthony is a young man starting his journey into adulthood. Daphne is but eleven. You will not abandon them to raise the rest of the children you were very involved in making.”
“Where do I start?’
“Go home… be with your children this winter. I will stay for a while. The boys will be returning from school… go and be with your children. Grieve with them.”
Edmund took a drink from the bottle, looking out of the window, as if he could see his children standing out in the cold begging for him to return to them. This life, this shell of a life he was living was not what Violet would want for him. To abandon the children they wanted, created, and loved to a life without either of them. They had no choice with Violet, but Edmund was making the choice to make his children fatherless, and they deserved better. He just did not know if he could give that to them.