Chapter Text
It was the fifth time Benedict found him sleeping on his desk. He picked up the empty glass that was still clutched in his hand and helped him to sit properly on his chair. Usually the ritual ended there but then his brother looked at him and told him that he had been calling her name. It wasn't a reproach; Benedict knew the futility of such a thing. It was just to caution him.
It had always been Miss Sharma, or the sister whenever Anthony was thinking of her. Then it changed to she or her. But they were not enough. From the creases of his mind a soft Kate would come forward until it prevailed. A scathing irony; she would never truly be Kate to him, so she became Kate in the only way available; in the solitude of his thoughts. Now it was escaping into the real world. Another barrier was shattered. Benedict was right to worry. Soon Anthony would share a bed, a life, with his bride. Longingly calling her sister's name was going to be a problem to which he had no solution.
If I ever learn how to control my breathing, then perhaps I can even learn how to not need to call her name, he told his brother, until then...
The end of the sentence was a generous refill of his glass.
At the engagement ball Miss Edwina had the misguided idea that he should dance with Kate. Anthony was standing before that young woman and he could not fathom that he was marrying her. It was the wrong thing to focus on, because her ridiculously naive suggestion threatened the delicate peace they had managed that evening, but he could not bring himself to stop thinking how inconceivable it was that he would be calling wife, a woman he didn't see any differently than any of his sisters.
Benedict, gave up waiting for him to say anything useful and tried to persuade Miss Edwina all by himself. She did not heed his subtle warnings and briskly moved towards her sister. From the other side of the room he could see Kate grabbing Miss Edwina by the elbow and guiding her to a small room nearby. He followed even though he didn't know why. Hearing that conversation would be a vicious punishment and the very first thing Kate said proved him right.
In a severe tone she was reminding her sister that all that had been asked of her to do to bring the much desired proposal and secure the wedding was done and done well, implying that her role in the whole affair had ended. For her the sight of him was as unwelcome as it had been on the first days of their acquaintance and therefore dancing with him was out of the question.
Miss Edwina tried to change her sister's mind by telling her that it was expected of them to dance, but from his fiancée's startled reaction he understood she was met with less tact than she had been accustomed to. The fact that Kate had not spoken a single word to him since the ball at Aubrey Hall was brought to Miss Edwina's attention. A thing she contemplated briefly but dismissed its importance. It had to be instinctive, he guessed. Something inside her mind fought to not register any of the warnings. The lack of any communication between him and Kate was unusual and it should have made Miss Edwina question their motives behind such cold alienation. He almost faulted her for that self-imposed ignorance. But then again it matched his own cowardice.
Kate emphasized that if she had to dance with a male Bridgerton one of his brothers would have to suffice. Dancing with his youngest brother would make for a sweet moment, she suggested but the bitter desperation in her voice indicated that the would rather dance even with the spirit of his dead father than with him.
Anthony's whole body turned to stone. If anyone would cut his veins no blood would run from the wounds.
Miss Edwina attempted to placate her with words about family when invoking her sense of duty had failed. It was a mistake. In a harsh outburst Kate stated, fighting against her tears, that he would become Miss Edwina's husband, but he would never become her family. Miss Edwina apologized in a weak voice and he was left to wonder if the true meaning of what had transpired just then had reached her. If it did, she did not let on. There would be no deliverance that night.
Before the sisters would return to the ballroom, Benedict motioned for him to leave. What could you even do if you were to stay? His brother asked.
What indeed.
He wanted to fall on his knees before Kate and beg her to never send him away. He wanted to hold her and kiss away the tears from her face. He wanted to tell her that the broken heart in his chest beat only for her.
But he couldn't.
Not because those gestures would be lacking true sentiment or because it would be beneath him to make a spectacle of himself with no regard for his station and reputation. But because Kate would not allow it.
What he could do was to entrust her protection to his brother. Benedict would dance with her and then he would make sure she was undisturbed for the rest of the evening, away from anyone's idle chatter or intrusive gossip. He promised so.
After that night Anthony avoided any visit to the Danbury House and if he absolutely had to be there he would remain at the door.
Suddenly, excuses started to flood the Bridgertons for Kate's absences from any event and gathering. There were letters, they were told by Miss Edwina, that Kate needed to reply to and interviews for various positions of governess she was interested in. Miss Edwina's over-displayed enthusiasm was proof she had understood that her sister and her intended would not even be in the same room together, even if she remained uncertain of the why. Lady Mary and Lady Danbury silently acknowledged that the matter was closed.
Everyone in his family nodded and smiled at every mention of Kate's plans and asked Miss Edwina to convey their warmest wishes. Even Hyacinth and Gregory played their parts well. Since their return from the countryside, much to their disappointment, because they had grown to like Kate and that menace of a dog she loved so much, his younger siblings had been told not to expect her and not to ask any questions about her. The older siblings, equally fond of her, needed no such instructions. The true reason was the best kept secret among them. They learned to keep their dismay hidden, even if it wasn't always possible.
Once, he overheard a conversation between Daphne and Benedict where she voiced her concern for Kate's decision to leave. His brother did not know much about how an unmarried woman's life would be, but he expressed the certainty that Kate's would be a fulfilling one. A lonely one, his sister replied, away from everyone she knew and loved.
Away from me, Anthony thought. He was selfish enough to tell himself that she had loved him too, even if it was her greatest regret.
It wouldn't have to be a lonely one, though. Anthony tried to ease his guilt with the thought that companionship could be found with other like-minded women. Perhaps, he thought darkly, she would even find love. Yes, there was a great danger that this devastating blow would be in his future. At every turn, she had rejected the idea, but there was no guaranty that once she'd become unburdened by the responsibilities which had forced her to live for others, she would not search for love.
A parade of gentlemen would undoubtedly court and revere her as she deserved. And she might respond to one of them. To the luckiest of men, she would be free to offer her hand and it was irrational to believe that there had been anyone else in the whole creation as criminally idiotic as he had been to not seize any opportunity to be with her.
She would not be Miss Sharma anymore.
Would she even inform them? Would they ever receive a carefully written letter mentioning an engagement or worse, a marriage? At that thought, his throat went dry. Marriage was unacceptable. Because marriage was so finite. An engagement on the other hand... An engagement could be broken. Any number of reasons could result to it. As her sister's husband, Anthony could object to it. He could find legitimate reasons to prevent it, if only he had enough time to act. Because of course he would. If any such letter would find its way in his hands, he would try anything in his power to stop the wedding from happening.
Good God. One hypothetical announcement in an imaginary letter and he had almost formed a plan to stop a non existent engagement.
The absurdity of that line of thinking, though, did not frighten him as much as the possibility of Kate seeking happiness away from him did, so he allowed himself the sense of entitlement that as her sister's husband he had some power over the matter.
Of course as her sister's husband it might had been within his rights to deny her, on certain grounds, the permission to marry, but after that what? Could her sister's husband express his burning jealousy, his undying desire for her, lay an indefensible claim on her, love her and make her his without shame?
No. No, he couldn't. So, very wisely and with great effort he stopped himself from spiraling down that path or he would end up insane.
He buried himself in work, instead. The estate and his parliamentary obligations would have his undivided attention. Even in their household, anything that had to be done, important or tedious, he'd do it himself. There could be no moment free for such dangerous speculations any more.
It worked for a few days.
Fate was a cruel mistress, though.
One day he was passing by Madam Delacroix's shop and through the window he saw Lady Mary showing fabric samples to someone. When that person came into view he saw the beautiful face that his dreams were made of. Normally he would have left, but normalcy was a medicine that cured nothing those days. So, in he walked.
It could have been a heightened sense that warned her of any danger or a bloody curse that condemned him to eternal torment; he did not know what had caused it, but the minute he approached Lady Mary, Kate was gone. Had she been an illusion, a trick of his tired mind? No, her intoxicating scent was all around him in the store. Kate had been there, but she was gone. Anthony mumbled a greeting, asked dutifully about his intended, muttered a few pleasantries, offered a feeble excuse for not being able to stay any longer and then he left.
But that greedy monster inside him was not defeated. It was becoming ungovernable and now it struggled to be released.
…
One morning, his mother announced to him that, at Lady Danbury's request, she would host a dinner for the two families, one week before the wedding. It would be a nice opportunity, his mother said, for the two families to get together, including the Sheffields. The niceness of another evening of pretending, especially with the Sheffields, was lost on him so he countered that it was pointless since the upcoming wedding would seal whatever loose bonds still remained. His mother told him that Lady Danbury insisted on the importance of that specific evening and as if that made any sense he accepted it.
Not knowing what to hope for or from where that hope sprang, he asked if everyone would attend. No, she told him. There was no need to elaborate. Just when he believed it impossible, his heart sank in deeper despair. One week and no hope.
The day of the dinner arrived and he took his seat at the head of the table looking at faces who expected a lot from him, but he felt that he had given too much already; any more and he would be left an empty shell of a man. As the dinner progressed with toasts and stories and laughter he found himself melting into the background until it felt like someone else occupied his life and that man's choices he could not understand, explain or suffer anymore.
After dinner, instead of following the others back to the drawing room, he went to his study. On his way in, he poured himself a drink and loosened his cravat. A gift for his intended was set on top of the ledgers he had been checking earlier. It was put on his desk by his mother after she had chosen it, purchased it and brought it home.
He ignored it and walked to the bookcase. A few heavy tomes on the shelf hid the small round black velvet box he was looking for. When he opened it, an emerald ring that used to belong to his grandmother glittered softly as he moved it closer to the dim candlelight. It had never been a special piece to him. Apart from the ring that was already on Miss Edwina's finger, he had had no use for jewelry. That family heirloom from his mother's side would have remained at Aubrey Hall until Benedict would need it for his bride, but for sentimental reasons his mother wanted to move a few things back to London and the emerald ring was one of them. Anthony had been present when she was unpacking them and all it took was one look at the ring and he immediately thought of the woman who should wear it as a token of his love and devotion. He kept it in his study and since that day at Madam Delacroix's many times he brought it out and tortured himself with the same image and then he put it back to its hiding place.
This time he put the emerald ring in his pocket.
He emptied his glass and made himself presentable.
The footman at the entrance of the house was surprised to see him approaching, but he opened the door without delay. From there his steps took him on the street, and then Anthony moved in the direction of the Danbury House.