LETTING YOU IN
A Bridgerton story
by Rachel Smith Cobleigh
1
Aubrey Hall
Family seat of the Viscount Bridgerton
Kent, England
May 1814
The Dowager Viscountess Lady Violet Bridgerton carefully folded another chemise and laid it on the neat stack at the foot of the bed. The bed. Not her bed. She smiled, a quiet glow of contentment surrounding her heart. The last time she'd felt like this, Edmund had—a flash of something in her periphery made her pause, her breath catching softly. She knew—she knew—he wasn't there. But oh, it would be so easy to imagine him, pressed just there, radiating warmth against her back, his breath brushing the nape of her neck...
RAP! Rap rap rap—
Violet's eyes flew open, and she sighed. Anthony. What was it now?
"Mother?"
She could hear her eldest son's rough half-whisper through the door, the brush of fabric against wood, and she imagined him leaning closer, as his voice became low and urgent.
"Mother? May I enter? Please, I must speak with you!"
"Anthony!" Benedict called, and Violet sighed. Her second son was apparently shouting while hurrying down the hall. Violet looked upward. Give me patience! Benedict thumped closer. "Anthony, wait!"
"Stop. Shouting!" Anthony growled back, still against the door. "Do you want to bring the whole household—!"
"But I was just—"
Violet opened the door and stood back to let Anthony stumble in, with Benedict close on his heels.
"—teasing," Benedict protested, pulling up short at the sight of his mother's expression. He shot her one of his irresistible crooked smiles, knowing full well she couldn't resist it, and she relented, barely fighting to keep an answering smile off her own face. His eyes twinkled with unrepressed mirth.
Anthony, by contrast, was a taut ball of trembling tension, his eyes wide and his expression panicked. She sobered and put a calming hand on his forearm. "What is it, dearest? Surely you're not having second thoughts."
"'Second'—" His eyes flashed, and now it was with anger. "Whyever would I be having second thoughts? I've wanted nothing more for months now, ever since I first laid eyes on that infernal woman!"
"Of course," Violet said soothingly, once again fighting a smile at the way he described the woman he was to wed in only three hours' time. "What has Miss Sharma done now?"
Behind him, Benedict gave a most ungentlemanly snort.
"She hasn't—" Anthony spun, shooting a glare at Benedict, whose expression by then was the very picture of innocence. Anthony straightened his shoulders and tugged his waistcoat firmly into place. His nostrils flared as he breathed. Visibly calming himself, he lifted his chin, his jaw working, and turned back to Violet with careful deliberation. "Miss Sharma has done nothing untoward, Mother."
"He's afraid she's going to leave him at the altar, too," Benedict choked out.
Violet saw real panic in Anthony's eyes. She shifted her gaze to her second son. "Out."
"But I was just—" Benedict protested. At the look in her eyes, he sobered. "Oh, all right." He turned to step out of the room, then twisted to look back, his hand on the doorknob, and opened his mouth to aim a parting shot at his older brother, but Violet glared him into silence. With a respectful nod to her and an affectionate look at the back of his brother's head that Anthony missed entirely, Benedict retreated.
When the door closed with a quiet click, Violet went back to her dresser and lifted another lacy chemise out of the drawer, then crossed the room to lay it on the bed beside the others.
"What are you doing?" Anthony asked with a frown. "Couldn't one of the maids—"
"I wanted to do this myself," Violet replied quietly, continuing her task.
Anthony turned, glancing from side to side as he took in the room. "Where... where are all your things?"
"I asked Mrs. Wilson to have them moved to one of the spare bedrooms early this morning," Violet said. "But these..." She paused, running her fingers over the pale blue lace and soft silk. "These I wanted to pack up myself."
She watched Anthony's face as his frown was replaced with a mix of emotions. He was neither at a loss as to what the garments signified—she knew only too well of his reputation prior to this Season—nor was he entirely comfortable at the sight of them. She supposed no son would wish to consider his mother in such a light, but something else coloured his expression as well, something that made her chest ache.
He lifted his gaze to hers, then took in the room once more, with its newly-bare shelves and bedside tables, and the two small stacks of neatly-folded clothing atop the fresh sheets. When he looked back at her, he said quietly, "You do not need to do this."
"It is long past time," Violet replied, laying the blue chemise down. The last of them. Edmund's favourite. She turned back to her son. "This is the grandest suite. It belongs to the lord and his lady. I do not belong here."
Anthony took a swift step forward and reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. "You shall always belong here, Mother."
She gave him a sad smile, but joy bubbled beneath the surface. "In this house, most certainly. In this room..." She looked past him to take in the familiar furniture, the walls, the tall windows with their view of the flower gardens and the expanse of green meadow that stretched down to the distant lake. So many memories, so many of them achingly lovely. Painful, yes, but beautiful still. Even now she could see the water, restlessly sparkling with the morning's sunlight, and clearly remember her earliest days here with her new husband, the wicked gleam in his eye as he coaxed her down to the water's edge and then further in, assuring her that no servants were about and none would dare interrupt them. Shedding everything, laughing, chilled at first and then soon warmed by the whole length of his body and the sun on their skin.
Swallowing and blinking back a sting of tears, she closed her eyes as she felt the warmth against her back again.
Edmund was here somehow. She just knew it.
This was right. It was time.
Drawing in a deep breath, Violet opened her eyes and looked up at her son. Anthony had her colouring and Edmund's gaze, which always seemed able to say so much without speaking a word. Shaking her head, she smiled up at her son and gave his hands a squeeze.
"These rooms belong to you and Kate now, my dear. There is no use in protesting." Violet ran her thumbs over the backs of his hands, then released him. "Now. What has you so rudely intruding upon my idyll?"
"I'm sorry, Mother." Anthony sighed. "I know it is foolish. It is just—I cannot help—" He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, leaving some of it sticking out in a tuft.
"You're afraid Miss Sharma will abandon you at the altar as her younger sister did? I hardly think that possible." Violet tapped his lapel. "There is a very. good. reason. that Lady Danbury and Lady Mary were in complete agreement with my plan to house them at Farrington Hall these past three days. You should be grateful Lord and Lady Ashbourne were willing to even entertain such an imposition on so little notice."
"It was entirely unnecessary," Anthony protested, uselessly. They'd already argued this point and he'd quite thoroughly lost to the three matrons.
"Do not insult my intelligence," Violet retorted, just shy of snapping at him. "You were hardly discreet the night of the failed ball. Do you really think the entire household had not noticed that you and Miss Sharma were nowhere to be found? I had the servants searching every room of the house."
Anthony smirked. "And you say we were not discreet."
"I did not have them search the gardens," Violet snapped.
Anthony's eyes widened.
Violet sighed, reaching out to touch his arm. "You forget that your father and I lived at Bridgerton House for many years." She gave him a small smile. "Do you think there was any corner we did not explore?"
The look on Anthony's face at that was absolutely indescribable, and Violet chuckled. She fell silent as she reached up to cradle his cheek. His skin was smooth; freshly shaved for the wedding.
"I have not been pleased to know of your reputation," she said quietly. "But I could hardly fault you for needing the outlet, with your father and I as your parents. The only thing that spared either of us from engaging in such habits ourselves was that we found each other so young."
"It was your first Season," Anthony murmured, smiling, and Violet nodded, smiling too as she let her hand fall away from his cheek. Hearing the story of their parents' courtship had been a favourite pastime of the eldest children when Edmund was alive, and he had taken great delight in retelling it whenever they begged him to.
Anthony looked down at his hands, rubbing his fingers together in a slight gesture of agitation. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but seeing as you already seem to know..." He met her gaze. "I do not want you to worry. I shall not be engaging in such behaviour ever again."
Violet nodded and pressed her lips together, looking up at him in approval.
"It is not just because I shall make such a vow to her," he said. "We both know how little the words can mean."
"You are a man of your word, Anthony."
He swallowed and looked to the side. "I should be. This whole wretched business... it was my fault."
"You were not the only one involved in it," Violet said, "although I do agree that the lion's share of the responsibility for it falls on your shoulders."
He looked back at her, both contrite and amused. "Yes. Well. As I was saying, since you already seem to know..." Abruptly, he clasped his hands behind his back. "Something took place between me and Kate."
Violet nodded, both wanting and not wanting to hear what would follow.
"She is..." His expression became reverent and he closed his eyes, exhaling with just the slightest shudder. He opened them again after a moment and met Violet's gaze directly. "...frankly, extraordinary. No one else has ever—" He swallowed, suddenly seeming not quite able to meet her eyes. "Most always tired before I did. I learned to be content with what I could reasonably expect, although there was always a measure of disappointment. But Kate..." He huffed out a chagrined sigh, then chuckled and shook his head, his cheeks taking on a distinctly pink flush. "I had to beg her for mercy. She wore me out."
Violet laughed, then pressed up on her toes, took his head in her hands, and pulled him down so she could plant a kiss on his forehead. "I am very happy to hear it." She grinned up at him.
He exhaled a shaky laugh, grasping her elbows to steady her as she rested back on her heels again. She wasn't that infirm yet, but she didn't reprimand him.
"Thank you for shielding us from discovery, Mother."
As she nodded, she smoothed his collar and adjusted the cravat at his neck. "Now. Why are you suddenly afraid she will not go through with what she has promised? She strikes me as a woman who knows her own mind."
Anthony grinned. "Oh, she is that, certainly." His smile fell away. "But it is that which makes me fearful. Mother, she will never accept me ordering her about."
"Good," Violet said. "I don't see the problem."
"Benedict does. He thinks it will be very amusing to see her face when she must repeat her vows."
Violet blinked, frowning as she went over to close the dresser drawer she'd left open. "Why?"
"Do you remember when Eloise was so up in arms over the Solemnization of Matrimony in the Book of Common Prayer?"
Violet paused, tilting her head. That had been some time ago. "What of it?"
"She was upset that the vows were, as she insisted, 'so very unfair'. The woman must promise to obey the man, but there is no such requirement for the man to obey the woman."
"Well, of course there isn't."
Anthony just raised his eyebrows and kept them there.
"Surely Miss Sharma will not object."
"You do not know her as I do." Anthony glowered, an edge of panic in his eyes. "Mother, what do we do? I do not even know if she is aware of the words! The full text was not read at either of the rehearsals!"
"Surely she has seen or heard them somewhere..."
"How?" he demanded. "To my knowledge, she has attended no completed wedding ceremonies during the Season. She is from India. Do you suppose weddings officiated by someone ordained by the Church of England are quite common there?"
"I'm sure they've taken place. Are not missionaries common on the East India Company ships?"
Anthony paced. "But what does that signify? Does the name 'Kathani Sharma' strike you as one held by someone baptised in a Christian ceremony? For all we know, Lady Mary has lived as a Hindu and raised her daughters as such."
Violet paused, her eyes wide. "Do you truly think so?"
"The point is, I don't know!"
"Do you think Miss Sharma will object to raising your children as Christians?"
Anthony crossed to Violet in two quick strides and clasped her shoulders. "Focus, Mother. The question of children will be moot if she does not marry me first."
Violet looked at him. "I would be very surprised if Lady Mary had not made sure to give her daughters a thorough education in the particulars of English society before bringing them to these shores."
"Lady Mary told me herself that she had wrongly abdicated much of that responsibility to Kate," Anthony said, tension rising in his voice. He paused. "Lady Mary... also struggled after the death of her husband." Violet nodded, an ache of sympathy twisting in her chest, followed by an ache of joy. To have endured such similar struggles: how well-suited these two young people were! Surely Miss Sharma would accept his hand. Indeed, the whole family was eager to welcome her. But when Anthony let go of Violet's shoulders, he resumed his agitated pacing. "Do we really expect that, amidst all their other preparations, the Misses Sharma sat down and read the Book of Common Prayer cover to cover? Have you ever once seen them in church?"
Violet frowned. "No... but I do not often see Lady Danbury in attendance, either. The Sharmas were likely taking their social cues from her. To be honest, Anthony, we—you—are not particularly known for it, either."
"I'm not objecting to them being Hindus," Anthony said tightly, still pacing. "I am just convinced that at the very mention of the word 'obey', Kate will refuse to continue."
Violet frowned. "Surely not."
Anthony paused his pacing to widen his eyes and nod.
Violet sighed. If only they hadn't had to rush the wedding arrangements! But the Queen had made it quite clear that her will was not to be flouted a second time, and that a quiet ceremony between Lord Bridgerton and the elder Miss Kate Sharma, away from the eyes of the ton, would be completed without delay. The Queen had very generously hosted the wedding of her Diamond, the younger Miss Edwina Sharma, at the palace. But when Edwina left Anthony at the altar after she had caught sight of Anthony's very-poorly-hidden attraction to Kate in the midst of the wedding ceremony—Violet exhaled in an effort to not grind her teeth yet again—it was not just the Sharmas' and the Bridgertons' social capital that had taken a blow, but also the Queen's.
It had been a rather terrible two weeks, receiving the cut direct from all their acquaintances and even many whom Violet had counted as friends. She would not so easily forget the sting of those betrayals.
She could only thank God that the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Kate's fall from the horse, and her subsequent week of unnatural slumber, had softened the ton somewhat. How Anthony had known where to find Kate that awful morning was a mystery probably best left unsolved, but find her he had, and the ton had been abuzz with the shocking scandal of it all. Then, against every stricture to the contrary, he and Kate had chosen to dance in public at the Featherington Ball. Violet had burned with shame at the sight of every other couple quitting the floor to avoid being tainted by association. So when the Queen had essentially commanded everyone to return to the dance floor, Violet had been both shocked and immensely relieved.
She had not been shocked when she, Anthony, the Sharmas, and Lady Danbury had been summoned forthwith to a private audience with the Queen that very night in a drawing room at Featherington House, whereupon the Queen commanded the lot of them to put this whole affair to rest. She did not give a fig about what the ton would whisper at the prospect of a rushed wedding. The deed would be done at once, or there would be hell to pay. Although Violet rather thought her son was overreacting now, she recognised that every effort had to be made to ensure that this ceremony went as planned.
She tilted her head thoughtfully, considering the quandary. How could they ensure Miss Sharma would agree to the vows?
"You do not suppose we can convince the parson to remove the word, do you?" Anthony asked, pacing once again in short spurts, like a tiger trapped in too small a cage. He had one hand on his hip and the other buried in his hair.
"Not a chance," Violet muttered, having already discarded that possibility. She suddenly lit up. "But I know just the thing!"
