Day 1: Kate Being Kate (Menace)

Day 1: Kate being Kate (Menace)

Anthony Bridgerton was not hiding. He was the Lord of Aubrey Hall and if he so happened to choose to spend his afternoon seated in his office rather than greeting the arriving guests, that was his prerogative. And he really did have work to get done, which was probably why his mother had only put up token protests at his planned absence.

Of course, he was not actually working, but he was not hiding, either, and that seemed the most important point. It honestly wouldn't have mattered if he'd tried. Where could a man hide from his own dreams? There was no escaping his unconscious-- no settling his mind or body because Kate Sheffield was…

Walking in the gardens right outside his window. Of course she was; an apparition made real before his very eyes.

Kate was facing away from him, walking-- marching, really-- toward his mother's flower garden like it was her job. She never glided or moved at a sedate pace like other women of his acquaintance. Kate strode with purpose. Even without her signature dark, thick curly hair and the soft curve of her waist meeting her bottom (the memory of squeezing said bottom being a favorite to torture himself with), Anthony knew he would have recognized her from her gait alone. 

Did he know Edwina's walk? 

The thought came unbidden to his mind and Anthony frowned momentarily. He had walked with her on several occasions and yet he could not say for certain how she moved. Gracefully, he supposed, as the incomparable must. Probably at a benignly moderate pace befitting a genteel woman of her height. Which was about a half of a head shorter than Kate.

Like clockwork his mind was back on Kate again. He couldn't even see her any longer, she'd made it into the no garden near the tulips. Kate was very fond of tulip style sleeves; he wondered absently if she was also partial to the flowers.

Another unbidden thought came into his mind (did Edwina have a preferred style of sleeve?) but he squashed it ruthlessly. That way led to madness. There would be time aplenty to learn all the intricacies and minutiae of his future bride once they were married.

Anthony stood, suddenly restless. It was no good being cooped up indoors when the weather was so fine. A walk through the gardens would be just the thing. And if he happened to run into Kate, the more the better as it would provide him another opportunity to press his suit. 

His mind flashed to the memory of Kate pressed against him and he shook his head emphatically in an attempt to clear it from his mind. Anthony was pursuing Edwina Sheffield not her stubborn, belligerent, appealing menace of an older sister. (The irony that he had decided to quite literally pursue Kate out of doors was not lost on him.)

Still, it was with supreme confidence that Anthony exited Aubrey Hall and stepped into the sunshine-- the kind of confidence peers of the realm always seemed to be in possession of. He would conquer whatever hold Kate Sheffield had over him and marry her perfectly nice, perfectly bland sister simply because that was what he had decided to do.

He just had to find her first...

Day 4: "People are staring at us." (Damsel in Distress)

Kate and Anthony decide to run into each other on purpose. It goes well until it doesn't.

TW: mild head injury

Day 7: Aubrey Hall

Seeing Aubrey Hall brings into sharp relief what a lady author meant in her descriptions of another great estate.

Day 5: Kate and her 3 parents (Watercolors)

[TW: dying parent (canonical) and the grief that causes]

Kate did not paint portraits. Watercolors were a notoriously tricky medium and getting a person's likeness was no easy task. She'd really only tried once.

Her father had been ill for several months. He wasn't confined to bed (that would come later) but his movements were no longer smooth and graceful. He would get winded easily and often spent much of the day reclined.

It was hard to see him like that. Miles Sheffield had been strong-- vibrant and active and full of energy. The illness had taken that from him.

But it hadn't taken his smile. It was obvious to Kate that her father was in a great deal of pain but his eyes still twinkled and his laughter was filled with mirth as he teased his wife and daughters.

The doctors had warned that he would only get worse and Kate wanted nothing more than to capture that smile before it was gone. Only she couldn't seem to get the likeness right. It was lifeless and muddled and the colors blurred before her eyes.

"Kate." Mary's voice cut through her gaze and she looked up from her easel in confusion. "Oh Kate, what is the matter?"

Dimly, she realized the room was still blurry, that she was crying. "I--" The words caught in her throat. "I am trying--" she choked, "not to forget."

Mary embraced her. "Oh Kate, you will remember him. I promise you will."

"But I have already lost--" Kate cut herself off, eyes wide with horror. The words my mother hung unspoken between them.

Mary only held her closer, hands rubbing soothing circles around her back. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

Storms aside, Kate did not cry. Not when she fell and skinned her knees, not when being punished for misbehaving, not when their beloved corgi Kepler passed. Just this once, she indulged herself.

After a spell, her gasping breaths calmed to sniffles. Kate pulled away from Mary and wiped her eyes. "Sorry, I just… I cannot let him fade away too." Her aching heart couldn't take it.

Mary took her hand and squeezed. "Never apologize for loving someone, Kate. It's a beautiful gift."

Her throat felt dry and Kate had the distinct feeling that, if she let herself, she might crumble. So she straightened her spine and pulled her hand back. "Thank you, Mary." She truly meant it but the words didn't sound right.

"Of course, darling," Mary replied, voice tinged with lingering sadness. "What will you do with the painting?"

Kate pulled it from the easel-- ironically dry because Kate's face was wet-- and folded it. Rather than answer, she said, "I believe I shall return to landscapes for the time being."

Recognizing the obvious subject change, Mary nodded. "Somerset is lovely this time of year."

"It is," she agreed, unable to keep the obvious relief from her face.

They spoke for a few more minutes about nothing of import until Kate excused herself. She went to her room and placed the still folded failed portrait on her dressing table. Part of her wanted to destroy it (she'd captured her father so poorly) but something inside her chest squeezed in protest at the thought.

She placed the folded paper into her trunk instead. It felt right, sat next to her other special keepsakes. She ran a hand over it one final time. Perhaps someday she might even be glad she'd painted it.

Kate Sharma x Lucy Granville (because self-realized women are awesome)

"Do you need assistance with your clothes, Miss Sharma?"

Kate shook her head, cheeks warming. She had needed help not so long ago. Her clothes had been slightly outdated but well made; now they were hardly better than rags.

She took the clothes from Lucy but the other woman did not move away. Instead she brushed Kate's curls back from her face. "You have remarkable features. It's why I suggested you model in the first place."

"Th-thank you?"

"I speak only the truth." 

Still she did not move away. "Lady Granville, I have to change…"

"Please, call me Lucy." Kate nodded. "And I may call you Kate?" She nodded again. "Kate… do you know what happens here in the late hours?"

Kate shook her head, eyes wide. 

"We are bohemians, Mr. Granville and I. We take pleasure as we wish– but only as it is offered freely. Do you understand?"

Kate shook her head again.

"I like you, Kate. You are beautiful and different, and I should like to kiss you," Kate inhaled sharply, "but only if you should also wish it. Should you not, we need never speak of this again. Your invitation here is secure regardless of your choices tonight– or, indeed, any night." A sensual smile formed in her lips. "The goal is pleasure for all involved."

"But will I not be… fallen?" Kate hated the timidity in her voice but her virtue was all that remained of her former life.

"Perhaps in the eyes of some but it is not for them to know what we do here. And the act men of God speak of– the one that results in children– requires at least one man be present." Lucy placed a hand on her cheek. "The kiss, dear Kate, would be just for us."

"Okay."

Lucy smiled and it warmed her whole face. She placed Kate's clothes on a nearby chair and then moved close again. Tucking another stubborn strand behind Kate's ear, she leaned close and brought their lips together.

Day 7: Kate and her future (Nothing but sweetness and light)

Kate was not an early riser by nature but every once in a while her eyes would pop open after the first light of morning when everything was quiet and fresh and new. When the future felt endlessly full of possibilities. When she could have or be or want and no one would know. The stillness held all her secrets.

Sometimes she would think of Edwina, of her prospects and future, both so bright. Before they'd come to London there were no specifics but as suitors made themselves known, Kate would imagine living her spinster years on their generosity, helping Edwina with her children.

It never felt quite right. None of these men were for Edwina, she was certain (especially not Lord Bridgerton). Her sister would make a wonderful match, a love match if possible. Kate would make sure of it.

More often on these quiet mornings, Kate would imagine her own future life. Not the one she was confident would come to pass (her spinsterhood and continued poverty) but the one she could scarcely allow herself to hope for. A future where she had a family of her very own.

There was always a husband but he was a faceless, nebulous sort of creature that surely existed but had very little impact. It was the children she felt fill her heart. Perhaps a boy with her sharp features but lighter hair and eyes or a girl with her wild curls and chubby cheeks.

She sometimes rested a hand on her flat stomach and thought about all the ways they would change her. Mary's confinement had been fascinating to Kate, watching as her belly grew and grew until one day a squalling Edwina emerged as if by magic.

It was magic, Kate decided, and one of the few powers men did not hold. Only women could bring life into the world.

Eventually, she would sigh and put her fantasies away. It might be a woman's power to create life but it was one Kate knew she would never hold. She would not be a mother no matter how she wished for it because that faceless, nebulous husband did not exist, not for her. (And if there was a face that had begun to appear in her mind's eye, well, no one needed to know but her.)

The bright light of day held no space for impossible dreams. Kate saw the future with clarity-- in a few months, she would return to Somerset with Mary after ensuring Edwina made an exceptional match. She would be the best aunt her sister's children could hope for and it would be enough. Her family, small and full of so much love, was enough.