Work Text:
Miss Agatha Bridgerton refuses to panic about her debut.
She’s a young lady of sense, her mother’s daughter. Why - at her age, her mother was already sailing around the world to marry her father, who was then a stranger to her. Agatha can’t possibly betray that legacy now. She’s the daughter of Lady Kate Bridgerton, and she will not quail at the thought of curtseying before the Queen.
It’s not so much the curtsey itself which is troubling her, she must admit. She’s more concerned with the whole entire situation, with the thought of being presented before hundreds of strangers, with spending the whole season in town when she prefers to be at home in Aubrey Hall, and most of all with the notion of being out in society.
It’s not that she wishes to remain a child forever. She does want to be a married lady and have a happy family of her own, one day, to follow in the footsteps of the happy family she grew up in. But somehow, all the same, she doesn’t relish the thought of being out in society now.
The timing is her biggest concern, she finds. She is most especially concerned with being the eldest - the eldest of this generation of the family, but some years younger than the youngest of the generation before her. Aunt Hyacinth had her coming out some time ago and has been happily married for more than three years, now. She already has a couple of babies in the nursery. And yet the eldest of the Fife girls, Clara, is four entire years younger than Agatha, and although they have always been as close as any two cousins who are not in fact blood relations can be, still Agatha feels the gap between them most acutely, tonight.
It’s the eve of her presentation at court. She is sitting in the drawing room at Bridgerton House with as many of the ladies of the family and extended family as are in town - her mother, her Grandma Mary, her namesake Lady Agatha Danbury, her Aunt Daphne, and her honorary Aunt Connie. They’re the greater proportion of all her favourite people in the world, frankly, and yet somehow she can’t summon her usual high spirits in their company today.
Around her, a buoyant conversation is in progress, much as it always is, in this household. Her Aunt Daphne wants to know how much longer the gentlemen will stay at their brandy, for she can’t understand what they can possibly still have to discuss after they spent the morning together too, and she thinks it rude of them to stay separated over-long at a dinner in honour of her favourite niece’s coming-out. The elder Agatha thinks that the younger Agatha might be named the diamond of the season, and Grandma Mary wonders how many diamonds one household can raise, and Aunt Connie wants them all to remember that it’s not the acclaim of society which can make a young lady truly happy, but the love of her family and of a well-suited husband.
Agatha nods along, and waits for her mother to notice that she’s not feeling quite the thing.
Sure enough, when she next rises to see to serving coffee, her mother doesn’t reclaim her previous seat - rather, she deposits herself at Agatha’s side and speaks for her ears alone.
“Do you recall when you were a little girl and your Aunt Daphne and Aunt Edwina were coming out? Do you remember how envious you were of all the excitement?”
Agatha nods, feels a laugh brewing in spite of herself. “Are all little girls foolish like that? I wished for years and years that it would be my turn, and now I would do anything to have another month quietly at home.”
“Which part is unsettling you the most?”
“I wouldn’t call myself unsettled.” She argues at once. “I am your daughter. I mean to be brave as you were brave when you sailed around the world to marry Papa. I’m not quailing.”
“I never said you were, sweetheart.” Her mother pulls her into a half-embrace, right there in the drawing room. “But as it happens, a person can be both brave and unsettled. I recall how nervous I was when I came here and married your father.”
“You were?”
“Mmm. Of course I was. Marriage is a big step even at the best of times. To stand on the threshold of adulthood is no small thing. Why - every one of your Aunts was nervous in their way, when the time came to stand where you are now. And I know for a fact that your uncles felt unsettled about it for their part, too.”
“They did? Even Uncle Benedict and Uncle Colin?” She asks, for they always seem the most easy and carefree of the family.
“Most especially your Uncle Colin. He got himself in quite the tangle - he insisted he wasn’t going to make a sensible match with a friend of the family as we who married before him all did, and then he realised how much he was in love with your Aunt Penelope after all.”
Agatha nods. She has heard the story a thousand times. But it never before occurred to her as a story with a bit of fretfulness at the root of it, a story about getting in a tangle.
She’s grateful to her mother for pointing it out, she finds.
Her mother has said many helpful things to her, over the years. But tonight is the night she says possibly the most helpful thing of all, it turns out.
“You might think of the calm beyond the storm - the calm which comes after it.” Her mother offers now, with another half-hug. “Does that help? If you think of how daunting it is to stand on the threshold of adulthood, do you feel better when you think of how soon you will be through the doorway and standing on the other side? If you’re fretting about your presentation, perhaps you might think of how calm and happy you will feel when we have our family supper back here tomorrow evening. If you’re fretting about the season, perhaps you might look forward to a long summer contest at Aubrey Hall on the other side - for you’re certainly still expected there this summer, even if you have taken a husband by then.”
“That does help.” Agatha decides at once, and nods. “I like that for a way of looking at it. I can always look forward to the calm beyond the storm. If making my curtsey before the Queen is troubling me, I can think of the comfort of coming home again afterwards.”
“Exactly.”
“Thank you, Mama. That’s very helpful. I - how did you know? How did you think to help me see it that way?”
Her mother smiles fondly. “You are your father’s daughter. He is just exactly the same, whenever he’s fretting about something. He can endure a carriage ride as long as he knows Aubrey Hall is waiting for him at the end of it. He can withstand a sticky situation with one of his sister’s suitors as long as he can look forward to coming home to me.”
“I never knew he was like that.”
“Very much so. I’m sure he’d not mind me speaking of it - that’s one of the privileges of standing on the threshold of adulthood, see? You’ll come to know your own parents and your aunts and uncles differently. You should ask your Aunt Daphne about how she and I came to be such close friends during her season, when we had been perhaps more like stepmother and stepdaughter before.”
“Yes. I think I noticed that a little, at the time.” Agatha agrees.
“You might ask your other aunts if they’ve any advice for a young lady fretting about her season, too.” Her mother suggests now.
“Tell me more about looking forward, first? How does it work? How might I use it better? I just… I think of the calm on the other side of the storm?”
“Yes. Your father always tells me he thinks of the rush of relief he will feel when the hard part is over. He thinks very precisely of how relieved he will feel when his carriage is on the driveway at Aubrey Hall or when he can hold his family in his arms.”
“I can do that.” Agatha decides - in fact, she finds that she can feel the truth of it in her soul. “I can imagine just exactly how relieved I will be tomorrow evening. Precisely one day from now, you and I will be back here - and likely a few aunts besides, knowing the family as I do - and I will feel relieved that it is all over. I’ll be able to sink into this very sofa and know that it is done.”
“But I do hope you’ll enjoy it at least a little along the way.” Her mother argues mildly.
“I’m sure I will. Indeed - I feel that much more able to think of enjoying it, now that I have found my confidence that I’ll be comfortable again on the other side.”
“That’s good.”
“How do you endure fretfulness?” She asks her mother now. “Or - are you ever fretful? You always seem so brave and strong, but you did say you were fretful about marriage, just now.”
“I’m fretful more often than you would know. Your father has a talent for helping me hide it.” Her mother says, dry. “I suppose I have always made sure to think of why. I always draw strength from thinking of my reasons for pressing on. So when I sailed here to marry your father, I drew strength from thinking of your Aunt Edwina and the future I wanted for her. Whenever I am worrying about you or any of the many other children I have raised, I think of my love for them and for the whole family. And - I take my strength from your father more than anyone.”
“Mmm. I see that. I think… the calm beyond the storm suits me better.”
“Yes. I thought it would. You’re so much like your father.” That earns her another embrace, it seems.
Perhaps her mother is in a sentimental mood, tonight. Perhaps Agatha is not the only person feeling a little daunted by the season ahead. Perhaps her mother is taking strength from her love, just as she lately explained.
Agatha embraces her robustly in turn, at that - and then sets to asking her next question.
“Do you think the aunts would have any other advice for me?” She asks, quiet.
“I’m sure they would. Why don’t we ask them, hmm?”
Agatha nods - and then looks around the room and wonders how her mother will be heard over the hum of three different conversations between half a dozen ladies.
Truly, the Bridgertons are a high-spirited and talkative bunch.
Her mother manages it effortlessly, in the end. There’s a particular tone she uses to command the attention of her room - Agatha has grown up thinking of it as her nursery voice, in fact, but evidently it works in drawing rooms too.
So -
“Excuse me, ladies. Might we have your attention a moment? The lady of the hour would ask you all a question.”
Agatha takes her cue. “I suppose I wish to ask whether you might offer any advice to a young lady feeling fretful on the eve of her presentation. I find myself a little nervous and perhaps… perhaps wishing that I had simply chosen an arranged marriage as so many Bridgertons have done before me. I understand now why my mother chose to forego the season.”
There’s a round of fond laughter at that, as she expected that there would be.
She presses on. “My mother has been so good as to offer me some very wise ideas, but I wonder - do any of my aunts or grandmothers have anything else to suggest?”
“Surround yourself with people who make you feel comfortable.” Aunt Daphne is the first to speak, because of course she is. “That is crucial, in my experience. Spend plenty of time with your family even when the season is underway. If you find new friends or any gentlemen who make you feel truly comfortable, embrace that. Those are the people to spend your time with.”
“I second that.” Aunt Connie agrees. “Especially the part about gentlemen who make you feel comfortable. You should only welcome suitors who make you feel truly at ease. There’s less need to be nervous about courtship and marriage so long as you are comfortable with the gentleman in question.”
“I do wonder whether I should have asked Mama and Papa to make a comfortable arrangement for me.” Agatha frets now. “And yet - I presume they’d have chosen one of your children, Aunt Connie, and your boys are certainly not old enough to match with me.”
Aunt Connie laughs. “I believe your parents do have other acquaintances. I’m sure we might still make an arrangement of sorts with some other family if you decide you like the idea. Why - your Uncle Fife and I were not a true arranged marriage. We were more a recommendation than an arrangement.”
“We will certainly do our research and make some recommendations if you like the idea, sweetheart.” Her mother rushes to offer now. “Indeed - we can do both. You can have a season and we can take care to introduce you to gentlemen we recommend as being a comfortable match for you.”
“That’s more or less how I became Lady Fife - one of your mother’s little recommendations.” Aunt Connie reminds her.
Agatha nods, considers that a moment, wonders what to ask next.
Aunt Daphne speaks up in the meantime, as is her way. “A partly-arranged marriage is a wonderful thing. You must take joy in disarranging your parents’ arrangements, too. You must remember to spend some part of the season simply being a carefree young lady and causing all sorts of mischief.”
“The mischief is essential.” The elder Agatha adds now. “I shall be most disappointed if a child named in my honour should not turn out to be an agent of mischief.”
“She’s certainly that.” Grandma Mary decides fondly. “She has been an agent of mischief all her life. Why - you and your Aunt Hyacinth were quite the pair when you were youngsters.”
“I must marry soon so our children can grow up together and cause even more mischief in their turn.” Agatha offers, lips twitching.
“That’s the way to do it, sweetheart.” Her mother tells her. “You see? Now you’re joking about the season and the marriage market more than fretting about it. You’ll do perfectly well, I promise you.”
“And if you hit any trouble, your mother will see you right. She has done this a fair few times before.” Aunt Daphne points out. “I don’t say this often enough, but she was something of a saint during my season.”
Her mother scoffs. “I was not saintly. I was impatient and frustrated with you all too often.”
“You still saw me right. You have always seen your girls right. It’s who you are.”
“Mmm - here’s to that.” Grandma Mary offers, lifting her coffee cup high. “To Lady Kate Bridgerton, who always sees her girls right.”
“To Kate!”
“To Mama!” Agatha joins in, and means it.
“And here’s to the lady of the hour. To Miss Agatha Bridgerton, and may she be as happy in her future family as any of us.” Her mother toasts her in turn.
“To Agatha!” Four voices call as one.
It’s something of a moment, Agatha decides. She thinks of what her mother lately said about the threshold of adulthood, and finds that this feels like a significant step. These are her four closest adult ladies in all the world, welcoming her as one voice to step into the season.
She’s to be one of them, now. She's to be an adult lady alongside them. She’s to be part of the sisterhood, and the sisterhood will always be here, around her, no matter what the day or month or season ahead may throw at her.
They will always be here, in her home and by her side, to usher in the calm beyond the storm.