Chapter Text
Kathani Bridgerton, formerly Sharma, was nothing if not determined, a quality that seemed to let her blend in among the Bridgerton siblings.
Combining her strong-headedness with her wish to get along with her second family, who would keep her company now that she was far away from India, it was no wonder she spent so much time trying to win the siblings over.
Fortunately for her, her plan was coming along quite well: the beautiful, respectful and kind-hearted Violet Bridgerton adored her, and had almost adopted her as if she really was one of her off-springs (truthfully, she couldn’t have asked for a better mother in law); Daphne was the first one of the family to warm up to her, and she wouldn’t be surprised if it was revealed she was heavily involved into her matchmaking with Anthony; Benedict had taken a little longer to relax around her, she could tell although he had never acted cold, but had quickly changed his mind once he discovered her passion for art. Her beloved father had been enchanted by every single art form connected to their country, and her passion stemmed from the love she harboured for him. Therefore, she taught Benedict everything she knew about Indian art and, in return, Benedict showed her works and techniques she had never heard about before; she loved the little ones, Gregory and Hyacinth, with all of her being, and she was glad to know the affection was returned wholeheartedly. And, even if she wasn’t close to Colin or Francesca, she still loved them dearly.
But, most importantly, getting to know Anthony’s family meant she had the pleasure of getting acquainted with the one and only Eloise Bridgerton, who had quickly become one of her most trusted friends, and the closest thing she had to a sister (she wouldn’t tell Edwina that of course, that girl could have a serious jealousy streak).
Kate admired her immense passion for her values, her determination to change society and the unfair, misogynist standards women had to endure every day and, most importantly, the love she reserved for the people close to her.
Even though she was the family member who demonstrated affection the least, she was fairly surprised to apprehend it wasn’t her husband, it was as clear as day she would die for her family, and her siblings were aware of that.
They could see it in the way she approved her siblings’ love matches, no matter how hard she insisted marriage was both a trap and a prison for young women, in the suggestions she gave Francesca regarding her pianoforte, in the time spent playing with Gregory and Hyacinth and in the late-night conversations had by the swings with the second-born (Kate decidedly ignored both her and Benedict’s smoking habits).
So, of course, the viscountess could only feel special when she started being part of her close circle. Eloise was her confidant, and Kate was hers, for the matters she felt couldn’t be discussed with her favourite brother.
Kate couldn’t precisely remember when the whole agreement started, but it was before her wedding. In a way, Kate had come to love Eloise even before she did her husband.
She just knew that, during the evenings or even later hours, they had found a way to talk about both the good and the bad, and they didn’t stop chatting even during the newlyweds’ honeymoon, keeping a strong correspondence via letters.
The viscountess talked about her marital bliss, her experiences in India and the affections she held there, how she had loved Edwina from the very first moment and how Mary became her rock. Still, she also discussed the dark sides of that stage of her life.
Eloise felt she had finally found someone who wanted to listen to her “extremely radical” political ideas, who could relate to the struggles of being a woman, and even her opinions on being a spinster. She was considered one for a long time, after all.
And, after a while, some conversations started being more important than others, even if her platonic soulmate wasn’t aware of that. From those encounters, Kate could only hope Eloise realised there were more kinds of love, after all.
✶✶✶✶✶✶✶
Her and Anthony’s room was pitch-black, signalling the sun was still taking its sweet time to rise, and Kate, for some unknown reason, couldn’t sleep.
She had rested for less than two hours, sleep coming fleetingly and sporadically, and Kate wasn’t even surprised anymore. It seemed to happen more and more during these last weeks.
But this time she had a peculiar feeling, as if something was wrong.
Shaken, but not enough to wake her husband, she silently walked out of her room, taking a candle from her bedside table.
Kate had to admit that no matter how beautiful the Bridgerton manor was, it still looked terrifying at night. The vast space felt almost suffocating, and there were too many corners where shadows could hide.
She planned on going to the kitchen, maybe drinking a glass of water or warm milk, when she was halted by a stream of light coming from behind a threshold: Eloise’s room.
Truthfully, Kate shouldn’t have been surprised, since the young girl rarely had a good night’s sleep.
After a few moments, she knocked faintly on her door. No answer. She had either fallen asleep or was ignoring her. Whatever the circumstances, Kate decided to go inside.
Opening the door, she found her best friend sitting at her desk, chewing on her thumb’s nail and contemplating a worn book. A pile of other novels lay on her bed.
“Eloise?” Kate called out. “Eloise?”
She still received no answer.
After getting closer to the girl, Kate laid a hand on her shoulder, almost making her jump.
“Kate? What are you doing awake at this ungodly hour? And why didn’t you knock?” Eloise then joked, “I hope you know that is considered improper”.
Smiling at her obliviousness, the viscountess responded: “I could ask you the same question, sister. And I did knock, twice in fact, but you seem lost in your own little world”.
“Would you like to tell me what is bothering you?” She added, hoping the tiredness had taken away her filter.
Kate didn’t expect to receive an answer. For someone who could ramble on and on about the same topic for hours, she certainly had some trouble expressing her feelings.
“I… I don’t know, Kate”.
“I feel… well, I don’t know this either, apparently”, Eloise scoffed. She then looked up into her eyes, and a sense of over-protectiveness came over the viscountess.
Her sister looked spent, her gaze numb, devoid of any emotion. The nighttime had transformed her sister from a forest fire into mere candlelight.
“Whatever it is, El, I won’t judge”. Hoping to make her laugh, she added, “That is Anthony and Violet’s place, not mine”.
A small smile blossomed upon the younger girl’s lips. Not quite what she had been hoping for, but a success nonetheless.
“The truth is, I’m embarrassed”.
That piqued Kate’s interest.
“I’m afraid I do not know whether what I felt for someone, a boy , was love or not”.
Unexpected. The only word Kate could come up with was unexpected. In reality, she had never questioned Eloise’s truthfulness when she maintained she wanted to be a spinster, and that she would not marry a man. She had heard the same sentence fall from the mouths of many others, herself included, but it had only ever felt real when the younger Bridgerton said it.
To say that giving love advice was not in her programme was an understatement.
“And, may I ask, why is that? Did something happen?”
A full breath later, and off Eloise went.
“Last year, when I.. when I was accused of by Whistledown of associating with radicals, I met someone- Theo”. She stared again at the book in front of her.
“He is kind. Handsome, also. Blue eyes, pleasant smile. He let me talk about my opinion on women’s rights and even shared most of them. I finally felt understood by someone, you know?”
The debutante had a grim look in her eyes, as if it pained to reminisce about this person.
“We started talking while I was trying to discover Lady Whistledown’s identity, and my research had brought me right to him”.
“We talked a lot and, one day, he gifted me some books”. Now everything was clear- well, not everything. She still hadn’t understood the point of this excursus.
“I forged a great friendship with him, and I even told him so. I also told him that the thought of him came up sometimes, when I opened a book and read some interesting theories, that I wished to share them with him. That was the moment he gave me these”.
Kate was now officially confused. Her admission suggested she did, indeed, feel something for the boy, but the term “friendship” fell too easily from her lips to even consider other kinds of sentiments running between the two of them.
“So, I talked with Penelope”, now the look on her face was pained, the loss of her friend still bitter (they would have to discuss that, once this issue was resolved, seeing no one dared to push her to confess what went down).
“She didn’t take it quite well, especially after she found out he is a printer’s assistant”.
Ah, a boy far from the ton. It didn’t surprise her, seeing that her father was someone not from the same class as her step-mother.
“I had hoped she would feel happy for me, especially after she was the one to suggest I had feelings, the romantic kind, for him. After all, no matter how much she pretends to agree with me, I know she loves romance”.
“But, truthfully, she almost looked disgusted at the possibility”. Kate wanted to interject, but she felt she had nothing useful to say.
“And I felt pained by the tone she used. Why was she referring to him that way? She didn’t even know him!”
Noticing her own state of distress, Eloise breathed in and out, hoping it would calm her.
“So, since I started to get so defensive and since she told me I had romantic feelings for him, I started thinking whether our friendship was just friendly, after all”.
Kate was dubious. On one hand, she could understand how Penelope was convinced her friend was feeling something new for this printer’s assistant, but on the other… she felt it had just complicated something genuine and harmless.
“And after I started thinking, I couldn’t stop. What if I felt more? What if he felt more? What would that mean? Did the fact I thought about him while reading mean anything? I questioned everything about our friendship”.
“I did not feel for him something akin to what I feel for Penelope, but it also wasn’t the feeling I’ve heard from you or Daphne. I enjoyed his company, and he did make me feel better, but my heartbeat did not quicken, my thoughts did not abandon me”, Eloise explained while combing a hand through her hair.
She was getting increasingly frustrated, so much so that she had to get up from her chair to start circling the room.
Kate, still very much awake but tired, found refuge on her sister’s bed.
“It is true he came to mind every time I read something thought-provoking, but does that mean anything? Mom or Daphne, and of course Penelope, would tell me that it means something”, Kate wished Eloise would stop thinking about what others would say, “but I also think of Penelope every time I enter a library. I think of Madame Delacroix when I see a particularly gorgeous fabric. I think of Daphne or Edwina every time the word “diamond” gets mentioned. I think of Lady Danbury every time I stumble upon some fresh gossip from the ton, or of Benedict when I observe a good painting”.
“I think of Cressida when I’m reading a romantic novel”, she then added, suddenly opening her eyes wide. “I mean, I think of her because she likes the genre, of course, whatever I should think of her for? I did not mean I connect the idea of romance to Cressida, of course”.
Kate was flabbergasted by this addition, as she didn’t see the utility. She had perfectly understood what she meant, seeing how much the young lady seemed to enjoy “Emma”. Why was she panicking?
Still, Eloise had started talking again, she better listen.
“I think of all of these people in particular situations, sometimes even for no reason at all! Does that mean I’m in love with them? That would simply be ridiculous! Some of those people are my relatives, for God’s sake!”
Kate wanted to tell her she agreed with her discourse, but Eloise started rambling again. The viscountess almost regretted ever thinking the girl was closed off about her feelings. Perhaps she was simply clueless.
“And, had I liked him, wouldn’t I have felt compelled to let him kis-” Eloise promptly shut up.
“Excuse me, young lady, what?” Kate didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The face of the woman in front of her, wide-eyed and mouth-gaping, with cheeks red from the almost-revealed secret, was hilarious. Except, the young man had almost ruined her and, as much she didn’t care about that, since most young man slept their way through their marriage, she knew the event could have been catastrophic, had it been known by the ton and their prying eyes.
“He kissed you?”, questioned Kate. “He tried to”, responded Eloise, “but I didn’t let him!”.
“You see, when I went to see him, I wanted to tell him we couldn’t see each other anymore because, as much as I didn’t agree with the rest of her statement, Penelope was right when she said both of our lives could potentially be ruined even by a simple friendship”.
Eloise was now pondering intensely how to explain herself, still pacing around the room.
“And I did, after the almost kiss. When he leaned in and I rejected him- well that sounds harsh- I thought I did it because I knew it would just cause complications and because our relationship would be doomed from the start”.
“But you do not think that anymore?” Kate urged her to continue.
“I do not think anything, that’s why I asked for your help in the middle of the night!”
“What I know is that when I went home and talked to Benedict he said I looked heartbroken, but I do not know…” Kate was suddenly beginning to despise the Bridgertons’ obsession with love and hearts and sparks and butterflies. She had already guessed which type of feelings her sister might have harboured for this Theo, but she could not tell her that. It was something she had to understand on her own.
“I do not know because they say that true love can be destructive, but I barely think of him anymore, even though it hurts me to admit so and even though I have all of these books as reminders”, she continued to meander.
“And reminiscing, when I took a step back from his advances, I did not think about the opinion of the aristocracy at all! I just… did not want to kiss him”.
Eloise looked almost disappointed by this.
Kate decided it was now her time to digress.
“So… you do not think about him anymore and you not feel butterflies when you look at him, is that correct?”, Eloise nodded.
“And you did not want to kiss him, in fact you rejected him, am I still right?”
Eloise let out a faint “yes”.
“So, why do you think you felt something romantic for him?” She received a dumbfounded look in return.
“You know better than me that we can be purely friends with a man, even if society tells us otherwise. And from your falling out with Penelope”, the teenager looked more hurt by this sentence than by the whole discussion, “you must have realised heartbreak can also be caused by a friend”.
Suddenly, Eloise did not seem that confused anymore.
“Oh…”
Finally, she had gotten the point.
“El, sometimes you have to remember your own opinions. We are not reduced to our relationships with men. Love can also be platonic, and you have the biggest heart out of all the ton. Trust me when I say that when love knocks on your door, you will recognise it”.
A flood of emotions passed through her eyes, and for a moment Kate thought she could see recognition in that gaze. But it was getting late, or too early, and she still hadn’t drank her warm milk.
“Now, Eloise, would you like to accompany me to get something to drink?”
“Unchaperoned, at this hour? Kathani Bridgerton, you rule-breaker”.