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It’s Christmas Eve and a 12-year-old Agatha Bridgerton is sitting in her bed, reading with the lamp on her bedside table shining brightly with her younger brother, a 10-year-old Thomas Bridgerton, quietly snoring, asleep at the foot of her bed. He had talked her ear off all night about his new cricket bat Uncle Anthony gifted him earlier in the day.
Suddenly, Agatha’s bedroom door swings open with a wailing 5-year-old Jane Bridgerton.
“Aggiiiieeeeeeeee,” a distraught Jane cries for her sister.
Agatha looks to her left to see the time on her digital clock reads 11:27 pm and concludes it must be a bad dream her younger sister might’ve had. Still, she launches into big sister mode, maneuvering out of her bed to not disturb Thomas, and runs over to Jane shushing her while closing her bedroom door.
“Janey, come here. What’s wrong?,” Agatha asks while kneeling to hug her sister.
“I-I-I-I saw…. kissing…. on her tummy…. mistletoe”, the little girl tries and fails to vocalize the cause of her crying, but is too overwhelmed by her emotions for Agatha to understand the exact reason.
It pains Agatha to see any of her siblings in pain (though she’d deny it if Thomas asked), so she instructs Jane to sit on the floor with her so she can try a new approach to calming her sister.
“Hey,” Agatha calls for Jane’s attention, “remember on family sports day when all of us ran the 40m dash, and our hearts were beating so fast Uncle Ben gathered all the children so we could do those deep breath exercises?”
A still crying Jane nods.
“Okay, great. We’re gonna do that exercise right now. Take my hands.”
Jane, who is sitting cross-legged in front of Agatha wipes her tears with the back of her hand and holds onto her big sister with a death grip as if to silently communicate that she never wants Agatha to go. Agatha responds with a reassuring smile to let her know she’s here always.
“Alright Janey, I want you to breathe in and count to four,” Agatha instructs, “hold that breathe for seven seconds and breathe out for eight more seconds like this,” she then demonstrates the exercise so her sister can follow along.
Jane repeats her sister’s motions exactly and begins to calm down enough for her to stop crying. They continue doing the deep breath exercise twice more before Agatha decides Jane is relaxed enough for an explanation of her earlier crying fit.
“Janey, why were you crying?” Agatha repeats her earlier question.
“.... I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus under the mistletoe,” Jane says.
“Mum’s kissing Santa?!” Jane nods.
“No way!” Agatha exclaims with enough enthusiasm for Jane to continue explaining, but anyone older than her sister could see that Agatha was being brazen.
See, there was a time Agatha and Thomas also caught their mum kissing “Santa” when Thomas was around Jane’s age. “Santa” was their father, Colin Bridgerton, who insists on dressing like Kriss Kringle while putting gifts under the Christmas tree in the living room so the literal spirit of Christmas has someone to greet when the clock strikes midnight.
Agatha and Thomas had snuck out to see how many presents they got one night when they saw their parents kissing like in the PG-13 movies they weren’t allowed to watch. They promptly ran back upstairs giggling. Unlike poor Jane, they had stopped believing in Santa the year before that incident when Aunt Daphne made all the Bridgerton children watch The Santa Clause. They concluded that since their father put on Santa’s clothes and his hair wasn’t getting any greyer, his stomach wasn’t getting any bigger and there weren’t any ancient elves creeping about, it simply meant that Santa Claus had to be, without a doubt, made up.
Still, Jane believed and so Agatha continued listening to her sister’s account of what she saw.
“Yeah,” Jane continues, “she didn't see me creep down the stairs to have a peep. I bet she thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep.”
Agatha is battling to hold in her laughter because if she lets it out, she knows Jane will be annoyed. But before she slips up, Jane adds more to the story of what took place before she stormed into her sister's room.
“And guess what Aggie?,” Jane asks rhetorically, “Santa was rubbing her belly — the one with our future brother inside! Then I saw mommy tickle Santa Claus, underneath his snowy-white beard.”
At this revelation Agatha bursts out laughing which upsets her little sister and wakes their sleeping brother.
“What’s the matter?” Thomas groggily lets out.
“I was trying to tell Aggie what I saw downstairs, but now she’s laughing,” an irritated Jane says. “Oh what a laugh it would have been if daddy had only seen,” the younger girl finishes sarcastically while rolling her eyes.
Thomas turns to his older sister with an inquisitive look, to which she simply replies, “Jane saw Mum kiss Santa”. Their brother lets out an “oooh” in understanding.
Thomas turns to his younger sister with a smile on his lips.
“Janebug look at the bright side, we’ll get to live at the North Pole and you’ll finally get to use those idle hands for good use in the toy factory. Aggs, how long do you think it’ll take for her elf ears to come in?”, Thomas teases.
Both Jane’s siblings are full-on laughing now, clutching their sides on Agatha’s bed. Their laughter takes over them so much that they miss Jane eyeing Thomas’ cricket bat he left on the floor in Agatha’s room.
Agatha — still laughing — follows Jane’s line of sight to the cricket bat, but before she would ask Jane why she was staring at it with such focus, the youngest Bridgerton shoots herself off the bed, grabs the bat then turns to her siblings and says intently, “Daddy is my daddy, not Santa and he will break before this family does.”
Jane is out the door leaving her older siblings dumfounded, and after a delayed reaction, they take after her.
Agatha sees her parents are still kissing under the mistletoe in their living room just beside the Christmas tree when Jane flies down the stairs shouting, “Santa’s naughty!!!”
Before either of their parents could pull apart and react to the commotion, Jane swings the bat at Colin’s knee.
“Bloody hell!—what was that?” Colin exclaims, falling to the living room floor and holding his knee.
Jane goes to swing again but Thomas catches up to her and yanks the bat out of her hand mid-swing, “Woah there Prancer. I’ll take that”.
Penelope crouches to the floor as much as she can at seven months pregnant to check on her husband who’s assessing the (minimal) damage to his knee. She opts to sit beside him instead.
“Agatha, Thomas, and Jane Bridgerton, what is the meaning of all this?!” Penelope exclaims in that stern motherly tone that always lets her children know when they’re doing something they ought not to be doing.
All three children go quiet, except for Jane who’s pointing at Colin declaring, “I don’t want Santa to be my daddy and he should be kissing Mrs. Claus instead.”
Penelope’s stern expression softens after Jane’s confession while Colin sits up, chuckles, and tugs down the fake beard he’s been sporting.
“D-daddy??” little Jane stammers out.
“Well, I see you all have a lot to discuss, so we should go to our rooms,” Agatha says. “Don’t you agree Tommy?”
Thomas nods his head and as the two eldest children turn to run back up the stairs, their father’s voice brings them to a halt.
“Not so fast you two. Come and sit beside me and your mum. You too Janebug.”
Agatha and Thomas both hesitantly turn around and gather around their parents to witness the horror that is about to ensue when they undoubtedly crush the magic of Santa for their sister when they tell her the truth.
“Janey,” Penelope starts, “first, I know you have a lot of big emotions, and that’s one of the many things I love most about you, you’re never afraid to share with any of us how you’re feeling. However, you know we don’t solve our frustrations by hitting other people.”
Jane shrinks with guilt and hangs her head, while Penelope looks to her husband who seems to be physically alright from his youngest daughter's earlier attack. He has mirth behind his eyes which encourages Penelope to continue. Penelope hooks her finger under Jane’s chin so the girl can look up at her mother.
“We are not upset with you okay? However, next time you see something that bothers you, speak up and say something to us. We are a family of talkers, so never let anger like that overflow in you, okay my dear.”
Jane nods and lunges to hug her mother, “I’m sorry Mommy and I’m sorry Daddy,” Jane says as she turns to her father. Suddenly, Jane gets an inquisitive look. Colin massages the crease between her eyebrows and encourages her to ask her question.
“It’s just that… well if daddy is daddy and not Santa, then who’s Santa?”
Agatha and Thomas cringe and look at one another for the devastating blow that Jane is about to receive.
Colin is about to start when Jane reaches across from her mother’s lap to start twirling the hairs of the fake Santa beard under his chin, and then he hesitates. Agatha decides to step in.
“Well Janey, it’s our top family secret, do you promise not to tell?”
Jane nods her head vigorously, and so Agatha continues.
“You see, daddy is actually Santa Claus. He dresses like the stereotypical Santa as a disguise so no one can know his real identity. He goes around the world once a year on Christmas and delivers toys to children like you, me, and Tommy when he’s not busy being a boring uni professor.”
“Hey!” Colin chides with humour as Jane shrieks at this new information.
“I’m positive when you saw mum kissing Santa,” Agatha says the last word with air quotes, “it was while he was on his stop at our house to deliver our toys.”
Jane turns to her parents for confirmation, and they silently nod their heads as a signal to not only further Jane’s imagination but to thank their eldest for helping them not ruin Christmas for her sister.
Colin gives Jane the warmest hug and says, “I need to get back to the toys Janebug. Remember what your mother said earlier, and also this — I love you, your siblings, and your mum very much and so does she. We are all in this together, always.” Colin grabs all his children and his wife in a bear hug.
Jane lets out a roaring yawn after some time during the family hug and they all pull apart laughing.
“Alright Father Christmas,” Thomas pipes up, “I’m going to get her to bed after this eventful evening and take this bat back to my room so I can get back to my dream of winning the 2035 ICC World Cup. Happy Christmas family. Come on Janebug.” Thomas bends so that Jane can climb on his back and they both head up the stairs.
Agatha turns to look at her parents, “You know, one day you’re going to have to tell her the truth. I suggest next year before she asks you to make one of the reindeer fly. You know how she gets.”
Both Penelope and Colin laugh.
Agatha continues, “Since you're Santa and all, and I’m clearly on the nice list, I’m confident you got me that bookshelf that’s been on my wishlist list since I was 8. And if you haven’t already, Christmas is for 24 more hours, I’m sure you can get one of Santa’s elves — my uncles — to help you build it. Thank you Da- I mean Santa.” Agatha smiles sweetly, kissing both parents on the cheek before rushing upstairs.
“Huh. Did she just hustle us?” Colin questions out loud.
Penelope snuggles up close to Colin, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips and answers, “My dear Cupid, I believe she did”.