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Kate is determined to enjoy her first new year in town.
She even hopes it might not be too difficult to enjoy it, that she might not have to put her mind to it too hard or steel her courage. For much as she has always hated English winter, at least in town there are things to do. At least she is to spend the evening of new year’s day at a ball with her husband, for example. And at least there will be other entertainments of that sort all throughout January, just when she is typically at her most melancholy.
Anthony’s in a very affectionate mood with her lately, too. That will help. And he’ll be at her side not in Oxford - a considerable improvement over January last year.
Indeed, the more she considers it, the more she is convinced that this will be the very best January she’s had since moving to England. The family employs a second governess these days, a Mrs Rawlings, so Kate will be less busy and tired than usual, she hopes. And there’s that second pianoforte in her personal music practice room, of course, just as Anthony had it set up for her - that can only help her mood.
In short, she expects it to be a very cheery new year indeed, as new years go.
It’s in that frame of mind that she sets out to find her husband and all the children in the drawing room. They’re all to gather there to give the children their new year gifts and to undertake a few rounds of competitive charades - not quite a full-scale Bridgerton competition with mess and croquet mallets and handicrafts and suchlike, but a little bit of a nod to that. A little smidge of competitive interest.
It’s not the proper season for excessive family competitions, is it? A full schedule of contests is a strictly summer activity. But Anthony suggested they might all enjoy a little silliness to celebrate the turning of the year, and so a little silliness they shall have.
She arrives in the drawing room to find her family much as she expected them. Daphne, Edwina and Francesca are sitting on one sofa together, all neatly in a line, carefully demure as they wait quietly for their gifts.
Eloise is climbing over the back of that same sofa, prodding Francesca in the neck as if trying to draw her attention to something interesting - or else test the strength of her spine.
Kate’s mother and Agatha are sitting with the nurse and the two youngest children. Colin is pulling at Benedict’s shirt sleeve, then pretending he wasn’t, then pretending it was Newton.
Anthony, meanwhile, is making directly for Kate the very second she walks into the room.
“I didn’t realise I was late.” She says mildly, for the whole of the rest of the family seem already to be gathered here.
Except Basset. Are they expecting Basset?
“You’re not late at all, sweetheart. I only told everyone else to be here at an earlier time than I told you. Mary and I cooked that up for a sort of scheme as a gift for you. We decided we’d be the ones to get everyone to sit still and Eloise to mind her shoes on the furniture, and let you stay in your music room an extra quarter-hour.”
Hmm. He is, in her considered opinion, quite the best husband who ever lived. She’d like to kiss him to show him that, she decides.
They kiss for a few seconds, there in the middle of the drawing room, while Colin grumbles quietly.
They don’t kiss all day, though. They have opportunities enough for kissing in their married life without doing it for the whole of this morning. So it is that Kate convinces herself to pull away and start helping her husband with the distribution of new year’s gifts.
They start with the girls, first. Each of them has one handkerchief, but that’s not the truly precious thing. There’s also a note each - a little slip of paper, entitling them to one town excursion of their choice.
That was a considered decision, on Kate and Anthony’s part. They chose it as a way to ensure every girl had an exactly equal gift and couldn’t squabble, and yet had one personally suited to herself too.
It seems to have turned out spectacularly well. Eloise is trying to decide whether she shall ask for a visit to the bookseller or to some interesting public lecture, while Francesca reminds her quietly that there is a bookseller in Sevenoaks so she had much better choose the lecture while she can, and Daphne warns her that a child her age might not understand a lecture terribly well - helpful Daphne thoughts like that. Edwina is determined that she shall choose the same excursion as Daphne, and Daphne has realised that, if they play their cards correctly, the two of them might even get to go on an excursion twice.
Francesca, meanwhile, has decided to dash over to Anthony and Kate to embrace them and thank them.
They give gifts to the youngest two, now - just simple blocks for Hyacinth to play with in the nursery, and a toy horse for Gregory who is starting to outgrow simple blocks, now. Kate takes a moment to thank her mother for that gift of a quarter-hour’s quiet time this morning, too, and to hand her and Agatha each a handkerchief like those the girls have.
Kate has been pleasantly surprised by her own handkerchief embroidery capabilities, in recent months.
Anthony is the one to hand Benedict and Colin their gifts. Each has a book, very carefully chosen from the family library, to take a bit of home with them to Cambridge and Eton as usual. Benedict’s seems to involve a whole host of illustrations of Grecian nude statues, and Kate sniggers a little at that, for it seems to her that Benedict is of just exactly the sort of age to start to enjoy things like that, these days. She very much imagines that a bit of romantic drama will be a feature of his life before too long.
Colin, meanwhile, is overly curious about the Grecian statues, then horrified when he realises they are all nude, and ultimately very happy indeed with a book of travel writings about Paris.
It’s at that precise moment Anthony first introduces some mild dismay into Kate’s determination to enjoy the new year.
“Here. A little something for my lovely wife.” He tells her, and hands her a rather large, flat parcel wrapped in brown paper.
“A little something? This is hardly little.” She argues, for it’s about the size of a tea-tray.
“Sheet music is like that, I’m told. They print it on large pages so a person needn’t turn them too often. Personally I think it a shame, for page-turning is my favourite thing about music, but evidently that’s not a commonly held opinion.”
Ah. Yes. She should have guessed it was sheet music.
She’s torn, here. She doesn’t entirely know how to react. For she does love sheet music, and most of all she loves her husband being all in a silly good humour about sheet music. He’s being so very bright and warm and joyful this morning, and she likes it a great deal.
She decides, therefore, to kiss him in gratitude before she reprimands him for his audacity.
It’s a good kiss - at least one of the top three kisses they have shared this morning. He does seem all in a soft and easy and jolly mood to celebrate the day - or else perhaps to celebrate giving her a gift.
But when the kiss is over, she sets about taking him to task.
“We said we weren’t giving anything to each other.” She reminds him, stern, even as she opens the parcel to look at his selections. “Oh - Beethoven. I do have a fondness for Beethoven.”
“You also have a husband who lacks musical imagination. One of these days I shall branch out and buy some sheet music which I might sing and you might play the pianoforte part, perhaps.”
“No - that doesn’t sound like you.”
They both laugh warmly together a moment, hands clasped.
Then she recalls that she is supposed to be vexed with him.
“We certainly said no gifts for each other. We agreed firmly that neither of us needed more trinkets - or indeed sheet music - so soon after our honeymoon and that new pianoforte and redecorating our rooms here in town.”
“Ahm - yes. I do recall that.” He concedes, scratching a bit at his ear.
“And we didn’t buy anything for each other at this time last year.”
“Indeed. But you see - this year we are in town, and it’s simply too tempting to buy you the occasional spontaneous gift. There are a great many music sellers in this fair city, and sooner or later a chap is bound to walk past one and - and get stuck, frankly. Just about a fortnight or so ago, I was trying to walk past this music seller, and I hit a bit of a bump and found myself inside instead, so - here we are.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She informs him fondly.
“Only for you, sweetheart. Besides - I know you hate January. So this was certainly a rational purchase to improve your January.”
“I don’t see how all of those things can be true. I don’t see how they are compatible.” She argues. “This can’t be a rational decision and a complete accident and an inevitable bowing to temptation.”
He doesn’t even try to argue his way out of that accusation.
She hugs him around the waist a little, then sets to her closing point on the matter. “I’m very grateful indeed, for you do know I like a bit of new sheet music. I’m only vexed that you didn’t warn me, for I’d surely have done you another handkerchief or two. I have decided for a gift I shall simply have to give you the opportunity to turn the pages for a couple of hours this afternoon while I try these new pieces.”
“Excellent. I was rather hoping you’d say that.”
…….
Benedict wins the charades contest. Kate isn’t that surprised, honestly. Benedict wins a good proportion of this family’s contests, especially those that are at all artistic or dramatic.
Then there’s a fine bit of time spent in the music room with her husband, playing her new pieces but also taking the occasional pause for a kiss or a conversation.
“Do you think we should make a detour to the bedroom?” She asks him, at one point.
“Hmm. Here’s a thorny question. For I’m inclined to say yes, but I’m due to meet Benedict for our new year’s drink shortly.”
“Oh - of course. I do recall that. Well - you must keep that appointment. I understand well how important that is to you both.”
“But bedding my wife is also important to me.” He tells her, mock-serious. “And we’re unlikely to have the opportunity this evening, for I imagine the Harris ball will finish very late indeed.”
“It might perhaps be possible for us to survive the rest of the day without further bedsport. We did have a little fun first thing this morning.” She muses.
“No further bedsport? A half-day or more of chastity? Who are you and what have you done with Kate Bridgerton?”
She laughs, and he looks overly smug about her laughing, and it’s really rather sweet.
“I’m sure we’ll endure, husband dear. Or if we find ourselves on the point of perishing we could sneak off at the ball. I understand that’s a thing which does happen, but I never see how, myself.”
“Mmm. Having never raked about town, I couldn’t rightly say.”
“I thought you such a rake when we married.” She recalls, amused at her own naivety. “Or at least - other folks liked to call you a rake so I presumed they were correct.”
“Perhaps I would have been if I hadn’t met you.”
“You’d have been the softest-hearted rake the ton had ever seen.” She teases him, fond.
And again - he doesn’t even attempt to argue with that. It’s the second time today he has simply allowed her to win.
She wonders whether he’s ailing.
Or perhaps it’s something else. Perhaps he has noticed, even subconsciously, that her courses have lately been delayed after a year or so of calling much more regularly. Perhaps he’s trying to take care of her - either because he fears she’s in a state of distress and exhaustion, and that is what’s caused it, or because he suspects she might be carrying his child.
Hmm. Perhaps they might have to manage a conversation about that, in January or beyond.
……..
They’re due to leave shortly for the ball when Basset shows up in the drawing room.
Kate wouldn’t say she’s overly surprised to see him here. Why - Basset is often at Bridgerton House, just as he is often at Aubrey Hall. It’s simply the way of the world. Basset is where Bridgertons are, and that’s simply how it works.
So she’s not surprised, but all the same, she wasn’t specifically expecting him. She might have thought it more likely he would show his face for the charades this morning than appearing on the evening of new year’s day for no apparent reason.
“Is Anthony expecting you?” She asks, mild, as she greets him.
“Mmm - more or less. Benedict is expecting me, if nothing else.”
“Oh?”
“I said I’d play a few games of billiards with him while you couples go to the ball.”
“We couples?” She asks, brows raised.
“Well - you two Bridgertons will be inseparable all night, I imagine, and I know Fife is hoping to spend the evening there with his Miss Cho too. So Benedict and I are to have a chaps’ night at the billiards table while you’re all out.”
Of all the sweet and familial and Bridgerton things she has known Basset do, she decides this must be quite close to the top of the list. Naturally he is inducting his best friend’s younger brother into their billiards ritual while all the coupled-up folk are dancing.
“You might let Colin stay up for a game or two, even.” She suggests, mild.
“Yes. I thought we might. Ahm - out of interest - if Benedict and I were to have a brandy or two, do you think it might be acceptable to pour a little half-measure for Colin?”
“Oh - certainly. I’m convinced he’s old enough for a very occasional half-measure on a chaps’ billiards night. I’m equally convinced that Anthony will disagree with me, but there we have it.” She concludes, fond - fond of her husband, of her husband’s brothers and friends, of the whole damn world, honestly.
“Excellent. Well - I’ll proceed with caution. And I’ll not let the lads get up to any mischief while you’re all out.”
“I’m sure a little bit of mischief would be acceptable. But no mischief which causes any permanent damage to child or house, thank you.”
“Understood. Have a fine night out.”
“And a fine night in to you, Basset.”
…….
One of Kate’s very favourite things about being in town is the frequent opportunity to dance with her husband. It’s awfully romantic and uplifting, to her mind, to have such moments when they can play the part of courting couple - and yet with the utter certainty that they can go home together at the end of the evening, that they have their whole lives together ahead of them. It strikes her as courtship without all the unknowns, and she likes that.
So it is that they dance the opening set together, and her husband manages to spend almost the entire time telling her how much he likes her new evening gown - truly, he does - and she equally spends almost the entire time acting all exasperated and fond.
She’s enjoying this openly adoring chapter of their marriage very much indeed.
When the opening set draws to a close, she and Anthony wander back to the place where her mother and Agatha are sitting in the corner of the ballroom. Miss Cho and Lord Fife look to be taking a path to meet them, too, and Kate supposes that’s no surprise. Lord Fife is evidently keen to count the Bridgertons amongst his close circle of friends, and although Kate has met Miss Cho only a handful of times, the two of them have already decided that they intend to become very good friends indeed.
She is a little surprised, though, at how the next interaction plays out.
“I intend to dance with each of you fine ladies, now, if you’ll accept my poor invitation.” Anthony tells her mother and Agatha, mock-gallant, for this is a well-known part of their family routine.
“What a shocking surprise.” Agatha even says, and winks at him.
“Who’s up first?” He asks, chuckling a bit at the ritual of it all.
“You go first, Mary, if you like.” Agatha suggests now.
“I went first last week.”
“Are we truly to squabble over which of us shall have first dance with your son-by-marriage?”
And that - that very moment - is when the surprising part occurs.
“I could dance with one of you.” Lord Fife says, sudden.
Five pairs of eyes turn to him, wide and confused.
“I mean - I should like to dance with one of you. I’d consider it a great honour to dance with one of the Bridgerton ladies. Or - well - of course neither of you is a Bridgerton by name, but I should consider it an honour to dance with the ladies of the Bridgerton family party so that you needn't wait another half-hour for an invitation to dance.” He explains, all eager and tripping over his words.
“Would you look at that, Mary? What a fine and noble invitation.” Agatha offers, and even Kate can’t tell whether she’s being a bit ironic or not.
“I don’t know about this, Fife.” Anthony offers now, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “You’ll ruin our rituals and routines if you start offering to dance with the matrons of the family too.”
“Oh. Ahm. Quite so. I wouldn’t wish to impose -”
“Nonsense, young man. I’d be delighted to dance with you. You had best prepare a good many anecdotes about my godson.” Agatha bids him, getting to her feet.
So it is that Kate watches Anthony lead her mother onto the floor, watches Lord Fife lead Agatha.
She watches, too, as Miss Cho frowns fiercely at their retreating backs.
She wonders what to do about that. Indeed - Miss Cho is still frowning, even as she and Kate take those two now-vacant chairs.
Honestly - Kate does not know what to do about this. She just lately started to claim the lady as her close friend, and she hasn’t a clue why there’s so much frowning afoot. She supposes it might well have something to do with Lord Fife dancing with another lady, but surely Miss Cho realises that Agatha is not exactly on the hunt for a suitor?
The surest way of understanding will be to address it outright, she supposes. She is striving to be a person who deals less in secrets and more in plainspokenness, these days, since she has grown into her confidence as Lady Bridgerton. So she supposes she might be capable of asking a close but new acquaintance what’s on her mind.
She might, perhaps, be just about capable of that.
“Is there a reason you’re frowning so very hard at the world? Are you frowning at your beau, perhaps? I beg you might tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.” Kate tries, by way of opening.
“Oh - bless you. I might perhaps be frowning at him the slightest bit.”
“You might?” She tries prompting, for she supposes that’s what she herself would wish to hear in such a situation.
“Mmm. He gave me another fern this morning. Another. I’m beginning to wonder how many more I can accept before I end up snapping at him that I’d rather have a marriage proposal.”
“Ah. I see. But - you’re only been courting - what? - six weeks? Two months at most?”
“Indeed.” Miss Cho agrees, mild.
Kate finds that she still hasn’t entirely understood what’s wrong, here.
“If he’s anything like my husband, perhaps speaking of his feelings does not come naturally to him.” She suggests. “Perhaps he finds it easier to give you another fern than to speak of courtship?”
“Oh no - that can’t be, for he speaks about such things all the time. He’s very direct on a number of themes, including how much he enjoys courting me. But - but I suppose it would be fair to say that we often discuss courtship, and how fond we are of one another, but not whether we’re at all ready for what happens next.”
“I see.”
“I think his parents are much on his mind. I believe that doesn’t help him, and I do want to be earnestly supportive of him - I do wish to be able to discuss such big things as marriage and his parents, rather than only how charming I find him as a morning caller. I find him so very solicitous of my mood and happiness, but whenever I try to ask him whether he’s a bit out of sorts on any particular day he gets rather uncomfortable so - so I can’t see at all how I’m to reciprocate his solicitousness.” Miss Cho tells her, all in a rush, as if she has been very much in need of someone to tell it to.
“I think you’re doing well to even think of it.” Kate assures her instinctively. “I daresay it’s early days in a courtship for you to be thinking so deeply about how you might best take care of one another and discuss serious matters. I think it can only be a matter of practice - I know Anthony and I are still a good deal more communicative about some things than others.”
“You are? You are still conscious of areas to improve upon in that regard? For honestly, your marriage looks beautiful to me, and I know Lord Fife wants one a good deal like it and - and I suppose tonight I am fretting that I’m not up to the task.”
“I’m convinced you are.” Kate says, and means it. “Anthony has often told me that your Lord Fife wants a marriage with friendship and mutual support at its heart, but that needn’t mean it must look the same as ours.”
“Mmm. I can see that might be true.”
“How do you think you would get on with telling him plainly that you want to be a source of support and true friendship to him above all else?” Kate asks now. “I know I found it quite frightening, the first few times I attempted to discuss emotional matters with Anthony outright, but it has served us very well indeed. And I know you two are not coy with each other, so I’m certain you could manage a bit of honest conversation about such things if you took the bull by the horns.”
Miss Cho nods at that, firm and decisive. “I think you’re correct. I could simply try it. I could simply explain that I am ready and willing to talk about serious things, and future things and parent things - all of it.”
“I think you could. And if I’ve understood even half of what Anthony has ever told me about your young man, I think he’d be overjoyed if you initiated a bit of emotional closeness like that.”
“Oh - thank you.” Miss Cho tells her now, with a sudden, earnest smile. “I’m so very grateful for your thoughts on the matter. It’s terribly difficult to know what to do about falling in love, isn’t it? I wish we were given lessons on that rather than comportment.”
“You make me mighty glad that my marriage to Anthony was arranged by my mother’s good friend without all the uncertainty of a season and a long courtship in town.”
“But there are wonderful aspects to it, too.” Miss Cho argues staunchly. “I’ve had tremendous fun in recent weeks with Lord Fife, dancing and laughing and simply speaking with him so very much.”
“Just think - I get all that and get to take my husband home with me each night too.” Kate offers, dry.
“Yes. I suppose I will like that part better, if we ever get that far.”
“You will. A gentleman does not purchase such an excess of ferns for a lady he feels lukewarm about, I believe.”
Miss Cho laughs at that, the last traces of her frown melting away once and for all.
“Come now - I refuse to become the sort of lady who can only gossip about gentlemen. I must stop fretting about my courtship and ask after your news.” She even says, in a tone of some determination.
“Mmm - my news. Where to begin? I’ve some new sheet music today.”
“Oh?”
“Beethoven, as usual.”
“Yes - I think I’ve a preference for Beethoven, too, out of the composers currently considered fashionable. I dabbled a little in Haydn last summer, but I don’t think it suited me.”
Kate realises, quite abruptly, that it’s the first time she’s ever had a conversation like this. It’s the first time she has ever sat in a crowded ballroom with a close young lady friend and simply had a chat about music - not about children, or the weather, or any aspect of light chitchat or her duties as a wife.
This must be the sort of conversation proper friends have. It’s like speaking with Basset about horses, except that it’s not only about horses. Why - she supposes there might even be several topics of conversation she and Miss Cho could have in common.
So it is that she dives into the conversation for all she is worth, spends the next half-hour or so continuously exchanging opinions on the music of the day.
They’re still knee-deep in Mozart when the gentlemen and matrons make their way back to this corner of the ballroom.
There’s a bit of mild awkwardness, then. Kate instinctively stands up to cede her chair to her mother and take her husband’s arm, but that leaves Miss Cho and Lord Fife looking awfully awkward about whether they are supposed to mirror that action.
“I’d ask you to dance another set but we agreed upon the supper set as our second, did we not? So we can’t dance another now without spoiling that plan.” Lord Fife offers, audibly discomposed.
“I’m sure we’re capable of standing here and chatting a while, My Lord, even if we can’t rightly dance another.” Miss Cho suggests.
“Jolly good. And - ahm - did you two ladies have a pleasant conversation while we were dancing?”
“I’d say it was very pleasant indeed.” Kate says, and means it. “I think we must all spend some time together at Aubrey Hall before too long to cherish this friendship.”
“Certainly - you must both join us there soon.” Anthony adds.
There are nods and warm words all round at that.
Miss Cho, then, picks up a more specific theme. “Lady Bridgerton and I spoke at length about music, so I shan’t bore you by recounting every word of that.” She tells Lord Fife, patting at his hand with no attempt at subtlety. “But we also discussed what a fine thing a marriage built on true friendship can be - you know, companionship and support and so on.”
Lord Fife flushes noticeably pink, at that. Kate wonders whether she and Anthony ought to excuse themselves, somehow, or encourage the other couple to go on a walk for their privacy.
Before she can suggest as much, her husband reads her mind.
“All good points, Miss Cho. All very good points - such things should indeed form the bedrock of a marriage, in my opinion. But here’s another fine thing about marriage - a chap can dance with his wife as many times as he pleases. Come on, sweetheart. Back to the floor?”
With that, Kate finds herself simply whisked back onto the dance floor, spluttering with laughter at her husband’s lack of subtlety.
She throws a concerned look at her friend over her shoulder as she goes.
“I’m certain you could help your friend along better than that.” She accuses Anthony warmly.
“I have decided that there’s no need to help him along. He’s sincerely attached to the lady and he’ll muddle through the rest in his own time. Sometimes a person does need some time to settle into an affectionate marriage and that’s simply how it is. I suppose that’s what I am reflecting on, at the turning of the year - how very far you and I have come in our marriage this year, how much more joy I hope there is to find ahead of us, and how grateful I am for your patience and affection while I learn to be a more demonstrative husband.”
She blinks at him a moment, wonders how on earth she is to reply to a speech so very sweet as that - and settles for kissing him full on the lips, there in the middle of the ballroom.
It’s only a brief kiss. It’s not so very improper at all - truly it isn’t.
Then she makes an attempt at replying to his words.
“It’s funny, for I have on occasion found myself thinking that, if I made a good news list for the whole year, your affectionate nature would be the very first thing on my list. I do think you are very affectionate and even demonstrative indeed.”
“Perhaps I mean to thank you for your patience while I become more vocal, then. All the same - you are patient, and I am glad of it.”
She laughs. “I once thought myself very impatient indeed. I am certainly easily frustrated - and yet somehow it comes naturally to me to be a little more patient with our marriage than with anything else in all the world.”
He hums a little, takes her through the next turn in the dance.
And then -
“You would truly put my affectionate nature first on your list for last year? Not our honeymoon? Not Newton?” He asks, as if shocked at it.
“How could I choose anything else, when my joy in those two stems from your affectionate nature in the first place? I enjoyed our honeymoon because you were so warm and easy. I have Newton simply because you are an over-generous and demonstrative husband, even when you are in distress.”
“It’s no fun arguing with you when you’re logical.” He grumbles fondly.
She laughs, squeezes his hand. “Go on, then, husband. What would be on your good news list for the year?”
“You. You, and our honeymoon, and you, and our family’s good health, and you.”
“Ah. And perhaps also me?” She teases fondly.
“There. That. You have the idea.” He agrees.
He is, to her mind, quite the most generously loving husband any woman ever had. He’s certainly the most encouraging, and affirming, and endlessly, endlessly uplifting.
She might tell him that, in January, or in some other month this year. She might make a sort of challenge to herself to help him speak about such things more often. She might have inspired herself to do that, even, with that advice she lately gave her friend.
Anthony Bridgerton loves her - and this year is the year he will learn to speak about it.