Chapter 6
In Which Our Heroine Checks Our Hero's Privilege
The Bridgerton family home was a six-story limestone townhouse (*cough* mansion *cough*) nestled between Madison and Park Avenues. It was the sort of house Kate had walked by in the past and idly thought I wonder who lives there?
Well, now she had her answer.
Kate entered through the front door behind Anthony, and her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings.
The house was everything light, airy, and inviting, done up in warm neutral beiges and browns, while still managing to scream luxurious and expensive and inordinately plush.
(Kate hadn't felt this poor since she first started at Grosvenor and quickly realized that girls routinely carried bags that costed more than her laptop).
"Nice place," she told Anthony in the understatement of the century.
"Thanks," he said, shucking off his wool coat and hanging it up before expectantly holding his hands out.
Oh, he was going to hang up her jacket as well. Kate handed it to him, wondering if the butler had the day off.
After this, she followed Anthony through the hall, noting the odd backpack and various shoes littered on the ground. The hallway led to an enormous, oddly-pristine kitchen, complete with a table that seated ten. They were not alone, however. Perched on a barstool at the marble-top island was an older woman, seemingly perusing the latest issue of Vogue. She was clad in a diaphanous blouse and chic, wide-legged trousers. A multicolored panel necklace served as a statement piece and completed the look admirably.
Kate was beginning to see where Daphne got her sartorial style from.
The woman registered their presence and hopped off the stool before striding towards them.
"Anthony, sweetheart," she smiled, embracing her much-taller son. "How was school?"
"Good. You're home early, mom," Anthony noted.
"The board meeting wrapped up before lunch. Thank God for your Aunt Billie- if she wasn't so good at cutting rambly, old men off, we'd be there until dinner." She gave a light, tinkling laugh before her pale-blue gaze fell on Kate.
"Anthony!" she scolded lightly. "Where are your manners? You haven't introduced your friend."
"Whoops," Anthony said, unrepentant. He waved vaguely at Kate. "This is Kate, mom. We're working on a project together."
A glimmer of recognition sparked in his mother's eye.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Bridgerton," Kate said politely.
"Oh please, honey, call me Violet!" Mrs. Bridgerton trilled. Daphne sailed in at that moment. and delicately plucked a single cookie from the island. "Because she's not a regular mom," she told Kate, deadpan. "She's a cool mom."
Anthony groaned and looked heavenwards. "Why?" he asked the ceiling frustratedly, as if he blamed it for his family's reference to the cinematic masterpiece that was Mean Girls.
"Anthony has told me so much about you," Mrs. Bridgerton informed Kate. Daphne nodded vigorously behind her mother as if to second this.
"Has he?" Kate smirked and turned to Anthony. "Why Anthony, I'm beginning to think this is a recurring pattern."
Anthony flushed brilliantly in response, and muttered something unintelligible.
It was kind of cute (not that Kate noticed).
Mrs. Bridgerton took the opportunity to slide the plate of steaming-hot chocolate chip cookies towards Kate.
"Have some cookies, sweetie. They're fresh. You have until…" she consulted her timepiece, "three-thirty to eat your fill."
"What happens at three-thirty?" Kate asked, reaching out to take one.
"COLIN," Daphne, Anthony, and Mrs. Bridgerton said together in tones of exasperated fondness.
Right, the food monster of a brother.
Kate took a bite of the cookie and let the flavors of bittersweet chocolate, browned butter, and sea salt wash over her tongue.
"This is really good, Mrs- uh, I mean Violet," she told Mrs. Bridgerton.
"I'm afraid the credit goes to our cook," Violet said cheerily. "The only thing I'm worse at than cooking is baking."
Anthony snorted and looked pointedly at Kate as if to say I told you so. "Remind me to tell you about the Apple Pie Debacle of 2015-"
"-That particular incident was Hyacinth's fault!" Violet cried.
"Hyacinth was seven, Mom," Anthony said dryly. "What's your excuse?"
Violet sniffed. "My son, the debater," she said in long-suffering tones before turning to Kate. "I'm sure you don't give your mother this much trouble, do you?"
"Oh, considerably more," Kate assured her.
Violet burst out laughing. "You're a funny one, aren't you?" she said, tittering. "Anthony kept ranting about how smart you were, but I-"
"-Mother, I think we're going to go now," Anthony broke in huffily, before his mother revealed any more incriminating information. He marched out of the kitchen with as much dignity as he could muster, and Kate, who did not want to get lost in this behemoth of a house, had no choice but to follow.
"Keep the door open, Anthony," Violet sang out from behind them.
Anthony only groaned again.
"I don't think I can do this right now."
"Yeah, me neither."
Kate and Anthony had absconded to the third-floor library, a dark, dimly lit room that managed to fulfil every dark academia fantasy at once: wood-paneling and built-in shelves, a giant mahogany desk, a freaking chandelier, and ornate curtains that looked like they hadn't let in light since the Victorian era..
They had pulled up their project documents and were staring at the exhaustive feedback from their outline with increasing dread and weariness.
"I'm just so tired," Kate said with a great sigh.
"College apps wearing you down?" Anthony asked, eying her with some amusement. It didn't escape Kate that said eyes were sunken and slightly violet-hued.
"Apps, essays, freaking alumni interviews-"
"Alumni are the worst," Anthony agreed. "Them and all the essays. Where are you applying?" he asked her.
"Well, I'm applying to the SUNYs, and a couple private colleges, but the dream is Georgetown."
"Really? You're not aiming for an Ivy?"
Like Kate hadn't heard that one before. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, Georgetown could have been an Ivy but it was too Catholic for the rest of them to handle."
Anthony grinned. "Careful, Sharma. Their good Episcopalian ears are burning." He gestured to the line of portraits lining the study's walls.
"Are all of them your family?"
"Most of them."
Kate pointed to a portrait at random. It was a young woman, possibly around their age, maybe a little older. She was clad in a stunning, pale-blue gown, and enough jewelry to make an emperor blush with embarrassment. "Who's she?"
"Edith Bridgerton," Anthony told her. "She ended up marrying some old, English fart for his title, and he got her money."
"Symbiosis," Kate said thoughtfully.
Anthony snorted. "If you mean they were both parasites feeding off of each other."
"And that stellar-looking gentleman over there?" Kate pointed at a walrus of a man with the most luxuriant, handlebar mustache she had ever seen.
"Archibald Schuyler Bridgerton the Second," Anthony recited. "Ran a bunch of factories. The Pinkertons's best employer, if you get my gist."
Kate winced. "To break strikes, I'm guessing. Fun guy."
"Oh yeah, a real barrel of laughs, that one. Apparently he was this close to bribing his way into becoming Treasury Secretary, but McKinley passed away."
"Stabbed in the nick of time," Kate couldn't help but joke. Despite the apparently-ludicrous propensities of Anthony's ancestors, Kate couldn't help but be a little jealous. To have such intimate access to this slice of history, your own history… that was a luxury beyond price.
"What are you going to do after college?" Anthony asked abruptly. Kate wondered if this was a deliberate attempt to steer their conversation back to her. She'd always gotten the sense Anthony was reluctant to talk about his grand family, that he was too well-bred to brag unlike some of the other jerkwards at Grosvenor.
But Kate took in Anthony's strangely earnest look and decided to humor him.
"Come back to the city, work for the progressive movement at a grassroots level, go to law school, and work as a public defender, etcetera, etcetera." Kate recited her plan like she had done a thousand times in her mind, lovingly cherishing every facet, dreaming of the day she could finally make something of herself.
Anthony was gaping at her. "That's…" he trailed off, clearly taken aback.
She smiled, self-conscious. "A lot, I know."
Anthony shook his head vehemently. "No, I was going to say that's impressive."
Now it was Kate's turn to be taken aback. Was that… a complement from Anthony-freaking-Bridgerton?
"And which Ivies are you planning on applying to?" Kate asked Anthony, mostly to mask her own incredulity.
"Columbia."
Kate's brows raised. "Just Columbia?"
"Yup."
"You must really like the city."
Anthony gave an indolent shrug. "It's expected of me."
Kate didn't know what to make of such a grand statement as that. Sure, it was expected, but it would be a relatively easy expectation to fulfill. After all, legacy admissions and Ivy League schools pretty much went hand-in-hand.
"And afterwards?" Kate asked, too curious to back down.
"Work for my Aunt Billie. Then take over the Bridgerton Corporation one day." His words were delivered in a rote fashion, like he was reciting as well, but without any of Kate's enthusiasm.
"Look at that, you've got everything planned, just like me," Kate said wryly.
"The difference, Sharma," Anthony said sharply, "is that you planned everything yourself."
"As opposed to?" Kate asked, even though she knew the answer now.
When Anthony spoke, his words were unmistakably bitter. "People like to pretend this shit doesn't happen anymore, that eldest sons are fucking heirs and that people still inherit Fortune 500 companies because of the family they were born into, but I've pretty much had everything handed to me on a fucking platter including my future."
How curious. Despite all Anthony had been given in his lifetime, he resented it. He resented the power, the fortune, and perhaps even the name, because he knew- in his heart of hearts- that he'd done nothing to deserve it.
And he was afraid to acknowledge that.
Kate had never met anyone quite like him, never met anyone who inspired such contrary emotions in her- incredulity and amazement, all at once.
Kate finally spoke.
"I don't think I can be sympathetic to that," she said.
She watched Anthony's reaction, wondering if she'd gone too far. Had he wanted something else from her- a friendly ear, perhaps? Someone to tell him "of course you deserve all this" and "I'm sure you will be great"?
Because she couldn't do that.
She respected him too much to do that.
Anthony peered up at her, and to her relief, his gaze only showed curiosity and something else she could not quite make out, but it definitely wasn't anger.
"Because you know what you can do?" Kate continued.
His black gaze met her own.
"Use your privilege for something good."
(Later, Kate would think that expression on his face, the one she could not make out, was shock, maybe even awe, like what she'd said was a revelation, that she was a revelation-).
I swear, If privilege had a name, it would be Anthony Bridgerton 😂.
In my head, the Bridgerton Corporation is basically Condé Nast, but possibly a bit more diverse in its subsidiaries.
As always, feel free to drop by my tumblr, which is also hptriviachamp.