Summary:
Anthony Bridgerton plans a ball at Aubrey Hall to celebrate his upcoming engagement. Before the event, he and his mother have a conversation.
Violet Bridgerton always enjoyed a good surprise. However, when her eldest announced his intention to marry last season, his approach surprised her. She had assumed that she would enjoy playing matchmaker between him and many ladies of the Ton and watched him fall in love.
And now, Anthony had taken it upon himself to host the engagement party at Aubrey Hall, nestled in the serene countryside, far from the prying eyes and gossip of the Ton. It was a carefully chosen venue, befitting the occasion's significance as the family celebrated the imminent expansion of their circle with the addition of a new member. The much-anticipated engagement ball was just a week away, and the Featheringtons were due to arrive the very next day. Their timely arrival would provide an opportunity for the two families to become better acquainted before the joyful festivities commenced.
Anticipation hung in the air, accompanied by the hope that the family would continue to grow in the years to come, welcoming many more members. As she envisioned the future, she pictured herself and her husband surrounded by the laughter and warmth of their grandchildren.
She ached for him. She mourned for him and the loss of his boyhood when her husband passed away unexpectedly. And now her dear Edmond would miss out on another major family event, their eldest son's wedding. She never imagined that her life would look like this when she became pregnant with her youngest girl. Violet never imagined that her son would become cold and distant.
Violet couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions as she watched her son take charge and make decisions on his own. She was proud of him for making his way in the world but also felt a pang of sadness that he no longer heated her guidance in matters of the heart.
She had gathered flowers to place on her beloved's grave, a tradition she started whenever they visited the countryside. They had other traditions, her and her husband, but this was the new tradition that started after his passing.
"Anthony?" Violet moved slowly along the pathway, the mid-afternoon sun casting long shadows over the gravestones.
The air was warm and carried the scent of blooming flowers, creating the perfect ambiance for a summer day. Even in the shade, there was a comfortable warmth, and a gentle breeze provided a refreshingly cool contrast to the sun's rays.She wore a light, pale blue-green dress and an embroidered overcoat—something light that fits the season, an older day dress of hers.
"Anthony," she called as she smiled at her son, meeting him just steps from his father's grave.
"I can take my leave," Anthony stood as he seemed to notice her approaching her husband's grave. She could imagine that he appeared to be lost in his thoughts when staring at the grave.
"No, stay," Violet walked over and stood next to her eldest. She stops for a moment, standing beside her eldest, sitting in the silence of the day.
Anthony nods and then goes to sit on one of the benches.
"Lilacs were his favorite," she commented as she moved forward, picking up the dead and wilted flowers at the base of the grave and replacing them with the freshly picked ones in her hands.
She stood up and walked away, then sat on the benches that had been placed the day they erected her husband's headstone, providing a place for the family to remember their fallen family member.
She observed Anthony clad in a sophisticated dark navy suit with a matching cravat. Violet couldn't recall the last occasion when Anthony had donned a lighter or more vibrant shade of blue, except when wearing formal attire.
But currently, she was at a loss. She did not know how to attempt to talk with her son about what had occurred over the last few months or so. Violet could not anticipate that Penelope Featherington would become Anthony's bride. In the depths of her thoughts, she had long envisioned the girl as the ideal match for Colin, foreseeing her as his future wife. Therefore, when they revealed their engagement, she was caught off guard, feeling a sense of surprise and bewilderment. She was at a loss for words and actions as Anthony insisted on getting married. She feared a repeat of last season's heartbreak and failed engagement.
"Dearest, I hate to see you like this," She paused, trying to find the right words, "So weighed down, …. courtship, the consideration of a proposal, and choosing the person you wish to spend the rest of your life with."
"My darling boy, it should be a time full of joy." Violet continued with a slight smile.
With a tranquil expression on his face, Anthony softly uttered, "I am content," conveying a sense of deep satisfaction.
"Mm."
After a few moments of silence, "I'm fulfilling my duty to this family, Mother," he stated matter-of-factly, "That is what takes precedence above all else." Anthony sat beside her, gazing at the woods as if trying to see beyond them to the lake.
Violet grew upset at the statement.
She had poured her heart and soul into raising her children, instilling in them the values of hard work, kindness, and perseverance. Violet sacrificed her dreams and desires to ensure they had the best opportunities in life. As they grew older, she watched with pride as they pursued their passions and carved out their own paths to success.
But above all, Violet longed for her children to find partners who would love and support them unconditionally, just as she had done. She prayed that they would build strong, loving marriages that would stand the test of time, bringing them joy and fulfillment for years to come. As she looked back on her own life, filled with love, laughter, and cherished memories, she knew that she had given her children the greatest gift of all - the foundation for a happy and fulfilling life.
"Just because you are dedicated to this family does not mean that there should be no room left for love, Anthony!" She softly shouted. "Your father took his role as viscount seriously, but he also loved deeply. I know that is what you want too. I know that, deep down, it is what you have always wanted." She reaches out to him, placing her hand on top of his.
"You're quite certain how well you know me," Anthony bit back with a smirk.
"I know how sweet and earnest you were as a boy, always with a kind word and a joke." She looked over at Anthony. "But then, after your father died, a wall went up inside you as if love had become… some weakness instead of your greatest strength. And that is not you." She stated while shaking her head and squeezing his hands slightly.
She had always been aware of her son's stubbornness and occasional lack of insight, but she never imagined he could be so short-sighted. She longed for him to experience the deep, abiding love that she had always known.
"You…You deserve the feeling that I had the moment your father placed that ring on my finger. It was a promise, not just of the sacred commitment that we were making to one another, but a sacred love. A love so wonderful that it's surrounds you." Violet finished.
Anticipation filled her as she waited, every breath shallow and taken with care.
"Love, such as yours, shall have no place in my marriage," Anthony vowed. Pausing for a moment, he gazed at her, and she anxiously waited, hoping for some further explanation or reassurance.
"You cannot mean that," Violet replied in disbelief, sadness washing over her.
"I seek an amiable partner with whom I may share a pleasant life, …. untouched by heartbreak and the ravages of grief." He replied.
"You were barely even there… after he died. You seemed barely present, like a hollowed-out shell haunting the hallways of the house." Anthony continued, "And yet, I, myself, am cursed to remember every waking moment." He paused, his expression shifting as myriad emotions swept across his face. Once again, she was overtaken by a mix of emotions, feeling both swept up and saddened as she observed him. "I could never… I could never be the cause of such pain, no matter how cruel and hard-hearted everyone else may find me to be."
"Anthony," she barked out a laugh, "cannot be serious." In the depths of her sorrow, a well of emotions rose within her, so intense that it seemed she could either burst into tears or erupt into laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all.
She noticed how his knuckles' skin whitened and his jaw tightened. She watched as Anthony sat there for a moment before pulling away his hands from hers.
"I will take my leave now," he said, his voice rigid and his posture tense as he stood.
She observed his tense and stilted departure, feeling the waves of icy anger emanating from him. She intended this conversation as a caution against making decisions like this too casually and logically. She had seen the occasion in the past. She had hoped that when it came to his marriage, he would use his heart over his head. She was concerned that he was repeating the same mistake he made last season with Miss Edwina. She was aware of him being jilted at the altar, her and her elder sister's departure for India, and their return this season.
Violet couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. She had done all she could to prevent him from making the same mistake again, but it seemed that he was determined to follow his own path, no matter the consequences. She could only hope that he would come to his senses before it was too late.
Violet made her way back to the house after spending most of the hour conversing with Edmund at his grave. The summer sun had taken its toll on her as she sat on the weathered benches, gradually wearing her down. She came back with the drooping lilacs in hand. Due to the heat, she had already had to replace them twice over the last few days.
She watched as their vibrant purple petals wilted in the heat. As she entered the house, the cool air enveloped her, providing some relief from the oppressive heat outside.
Violet made her way to the kitchen, setting the lilacs in a vase filled with water. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as she looked at the flowers, a reminder of the fragility of life and the fleeting nature of beauty. Edmund's death had left a void in her life that seemed impossible to fill. They had been friends since childhood, and his sudden passing had left her feeling adrift, like a ship without a rudder.
"Humboldt?" She called as she entered the house, "Can you please dispose of these?" she asked.
"Will do, my lady." Humboldt, dutiful as ever, took the wilting flowers from her hands and nodded.
Violet paused momentarily, thinking back to her conversation with her eldest son, Anthony, and how he had walked away in anger. She had hoped the time she had spent away had calmed him slightly so that she might approach him again about the topic.
"Humboldt?" She asked, "Where is Anthony?"
Humbolt paused briefly with the wilted lilacs in his hands and, with a sigh, said. "He is in the sitting room, my Lady." He answered.
"Thank you, Humboldt." She nodded.
Violet knew she had angered him. This topic was sensitive for him, but he needed to understand that there was more than one way of doing things and that love didn't have to be sacrificed.
She would patiently weather his outbursts, his wild imaginings, and the storm of his emotions.
She walked down the hall off the entranceway and towards the sitting room, which had not changed for almost twenty-five years since she had become the Lady of the household. She began decorating soon after she was married and wanted Aubrey Hall to become their family home.
Violet wanted to create a comfortable and inviting atmosphere in the sitting room, so she carefully selected a color scheme inspired by the opulent world of Bridgerton. The walls were adorned with various shades of Bridgerton blue, creating a sense of elegance and sophistication. The furnishings were chosen to be simple and pale, allowing the blue hues to stand out and take center stage. The room's eastern-facing wall allowed the sunlight to flood in, casting a radiant glow on the chrome accents and adding a touch of brightness to the space. The result was a sitting room that exuded a perfect balance of warmth and luminosity, making it the perfect place to relax and entertain in style.
Violet decided that she would confront him again and make him talk to her about this. While she believed Penelope to be a lovely girl and an excellent match for some other eligible gentlemen, she still didn't believe that she was the right match for Anthony. Maybe, instead, she would be a better match for Colin.
She came upon the brown wooden door leading to the sitting room and studied herself for this conversation, thinking she was better prepared for the second round.
"A…Ant?" she started to push on the door slightly before she pulled back.
From the slight opening of the door, she caught the muffled sobs and quiet weeping. Unnoticed, she listened in on the sorrowful sounds coming from the sitting room while the lively sounds of children's music lessons and games filled the rest of the house.
Violet opened the door again and attempted to peer through her slight opening to the bright and vibrant red hair of Penelope Featherington.
Miss Penelope Featherington was sitting at the edge of one of the couches, dressed in a muted green day dress that was slightly embellished. She had been facing away from her. She seemed to be cradling the head of her eldest son as he wept into her shoulder. She saw a gloved hand cradle the other side of his head, pressing into her shoulder as sobs shook through his body.
"Shhh…shhh." She could hear Penelope murmur softly. She watched from the opening as the head of brilliant red hair began to rock forward and back. "Shhh…shhh."
"It is going to be okay," she breathes. "Take a deep breath. You are going to be okay."
She observed with a heavy heart as the Featherington girl gently cradled her eldest boy in their cozy family sitting room. Recalling the rare occasions when he had shed tears or displayed emotions beyond anger and dissatisfaction, she realized that genuine smiles, ones that reached his eyes, were a rarity.
It was evident to her that he had constructed emotional walls to navigate through life. While her own world had paused when her husband passed away, her children's lives continued, and he became their pillar of support when she couldn't be.
"Shhh...shhh." She heard Penelope murmur softly again, watching as the head of brilliant red hair began to rock forward and back once more. "Shhh…shhh."
"It is going to be okay," she whispered. "You are going to be okay."
She found him in the study at Aubrey Hall. The sun had set, and Anthony was now sitting in the study, managing paperwork by the light of candles. It had been a few days since he had broken down with Penelope in the sitting room. Violet cautiously knocked on the door to the study, slowly moving toward the entryway.
"I will be finished in a moment, Mother." Anthony looked up from his desk and then back onto his work. "We shall not be late."
He was struck by the sight of her donning a delicate, pale lavender hue decorated with embroidered damask designs reminiscent of the gown that Penelope would be wearing that evening.
He was finalizing the tenant agreements for this quarter. He wanted to get everything sorted out before his honeymoon. Anthony had promised Penelope a two-month trip to Venice and Paris. He wanted to ensure that everything would run smoothly while he was away and that there wouldn't be too much chaos when he returned.
"It is not that," Violet spoke softly. He could hear her a few paces away from his desk.
As his mother continued to interfere with his decisions, he felt a growing weariness. At the start of the week, he had assumed that his mother would approve of his engagement to Miss Penelope. However, it soon became apparent that she thought his engagement to Miss Penelope was no different from his previous engagement to Miss Edwina.
She attempted to pull him into a conversation about his arrangement with the youngest Featherington the day after they arrived. After their conversation, he nearly collapsed in the entryway of Arbury Hall. The fury that coursed through him as he walked away from her left him paralyzed and unable to speak. Once the anger subsided, a wave of sorrow washed over him. The barriers he had constructed to hold back the overwhelming emotions of sadness, anger, and grief had crumbled, catching him off guard. He was fortunate that his family was occupied with music and merriment, engaging in activities elsewhere. His plan was to rush to a secluded room and let out his sorrow, allowing tears to flow freely. Afterward, he take some time to compose himself before returning to the familiar Anthony they had grown accustomed to.
As he made his way to the secluded room, he could feel the weight of his emotions pressing down on him, threatening to consume him. The memories of their conversation replayed in his mind, each word cutting deeper than the last. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed.
Once inside the room, he let out a gut-wrenching sob, the sound echoing off the walls. Tears spilled down his face, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. He allowed himself to feel the pain, the heartache, the grief.
He didn't intend to disrupt her day, yet there she was, seated in the room, engrossed in one of the romance novels from the library. She didn't express any emotion. All she did was approach him, embrace him, and make him sit before he could fall. Just held him for what felt like hours, though it could've been just a few minutes. It wasn't the first time she had encountered him like this, and if things progressed as he hoped, she would likely witness a lot more of that in the days ahead.
Anthony took his time, but eventually, he felt ready to engage with others. Despite his seemingly impassive exterior, inside, he was a whirlwind of emotions.
He could hear her sigh from his desk across the room.
"I have been watching you all week. I…I told myself I would support your choice, but I must admit, I am finding it quite difficult to continue to stay silent," his mother started.
"You have been anything but silent," Anthony replied, looking up from his desk from the paperwork he was completing.
"This is your betrothal, Anthony. Your marriage." She punctuated. "To the woman who shall replace me as head of this household, I might add."
"You question Miss Penelope's suitability for the role," Anthony was extremely frustrated even though the courtship had proceeded according to plan, and both he and Penelope had agreed on the timeline. It seemed that they had not entirely convinced others around them that they were truly "deeply" in love. Or at least they had not convinced his mother, who had a sixth sense about these kinds of things.
At that moment, he set aside the paperwork and focused on the conversation before him.
"I question the example you are setting your siblings, marrying a woman for whom you clearly hold no great tenderness or love," Violet uttered.
Frustration bubbled within him, yearning to break free in the form of a piercing scream directed at his mother. Despite his earnest attempts to follow her advice, his efforts had ended in utter failure. Love had knocked on the door of his heart not once but twice, leaving it shattered and fragile each time.
How could she comment that he showed no tenderness or love towards Penelope? In the past few weeks, he displayed his tenderness and love for her in a more subtle manner than his mother had anticipated. The affection he felt for Penelope wasn't intense like a blazing fire, but rather gentle and steady like a slow-burning flame. It was a warmth that provided comfort and light without posing any danger of consuming everything in its path.
It's possible that she found it difficult to come to terms with the fact that the intense, passionate love she felt wasn't something that everyone could experience. Throughout their courtship, he had been extremely attentive and caring towards Miss Penelope, and she had reciprocated his affection. According to some of his family members, it appears that they believed their relationship was based on friendship rather than deep, profound love.
"Why will you not accept that the love match between you and father was the exception, not the rule?" Anthony asked.
Silently, he was pleading with her just to leave it alone. He was truly content with the arrangement he had. The woman he had chosen to become his bride, the future mother of his children, was not only a beautiful woman. She was also intelligent, driven, and ambitious, but above all, she was kind. That was more than he could save the majority of the ladies of the Ton.
Penelope Featherington prioritized staying updated on the latest developments in politics, finance, and social events. She diligently followed current affairs, regularly read news sources, attended relevant events, and engaged in discussions with experts in each of these areas. She had achieved success in areas he hadn't even considered. Her determination and talent showcased her exceptional abilities in building her own business. And now he was just so utterly devastated and just how poorly he had showcased that to his family.
"Because I wish for you two to know the ecstasy of an exceptional marriage," Violet whispered. She must have sensed underlying anger seething underneath the surface.
"You should be excited to marry Miss Penelope, but from all I've seen, you act as if you are heading to the gallows instead. If this is not what you want, you must say something now, Anthony, before—" his mother voiced.
"But this is what I wish," Anthony cut her off. And I will not beg off the engagement," he announced.
Anthony realized that she may have been misinterpreting the dynamics between him and Penelope in the past week. Amidst the flurry of planning for the engagement, wedding, and honeymoon, the situation had become increasingly complex. His frustration grew as he navigated the intricacies of being a Viscount about to be married.
"But a woman may." His mother continued, "It happens all the time with young ladies, swept up in the dizziness of receiving a proposal before the reality of marriage becomes clear. If Miss Featherington were to call off the engagement, no one would find fault with her. And you would not be dishonoring her in the slightest, releasing her from the obligation before any vows were exchanged."
"She does not wish to end the engagement," Anthony insisted.
He briefly wondered whether he should tell his mother that Penelope's reputation was compromised. He had taken her virtue and her virginity months ago, and if anyone discovered the truth, he would be obligated to marry her. However, he dismissed the thought.
"But does she know your true feelings on the matter?" his mother asked.
"She is aware and is in agreement." He answers, "And what matters is my responsibility, which has always been to wed."
"My darling… If you have doubts, do not simply set them aside." Violet said. "This is the most important choice you will ever make. And it would break my heart to see you spend the rest of your life in regret. I dare say it would break your father's heart, too."
Anthony's mind raced as he grappled with his rising fury. Taking a moment to compose himself, he closed his eyes and drew a deep, steadying breath, willing his anger to ebb away.
"Mother, enough. This wedding will happen, and I wish to speak of it no longer," Anthony said finally.
"Anthony, please." Violet pleaded.
"I find myself unable to..." He paused, "I simply cannot. Penelope is...she's perfect. Perfect for this family and perfect for me. I can't bear to risk my heart again...I just can't do it." He finished as he caught a twinge of unknown emotion in her eyes.
"Please leave. I will be ready momentarily."
He watched as his mother stood still at the edge of his desk before she turned and walked away.
Anthony let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples in frustration. He would need to inform Penelope of this development and ensure that the few weeks leading up to the wedding displayed more of their affection towards each other to calm his mother's mind.
Anthony blinked a few times as he gathered his thoughts, inhaling deeply before finally rising to his feet. He carefully shrugged into his dark navy coat, meticulously brushed off any stray, nonexistent pieces of dust, and confidently made his way toward his own engagement party.
"Three more weeks," he murmured to himself as he walked the halls, "Just three more weeks.