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September 1822
The end of summer at Aubrey Hall has always been a somewhat melancholic time for Kate. She much prefers the heat of summer to the rainy autumns and frigid winters she is still growing accustomed to after eight years in England, and the changing temperatures also signify that the social season is to begin. While there are things Kate enjoys about London and the season itself, it is hard to beat the peaceful, joyous nature of a summer at their family home.
She is secretly grateful that the life growing inside her - their third child - will give them an excuse to return to Aubrey Hall midway through the season, and she knows that Anthony is too. He has never been one to enjoy balls and formal dinners, and if it weren’t for Hyacinth’s debut in society she suspects he would suggest skipping this season altogether.
Although there is a slight chill rolling in today and she knows they will be loading up the carriage to return to town in only a few short weeks, Kate cannot help but feel incredibly content today. She’s not quite showing yet, but she is certainly feeling the happy glow that comes from being with child, and she has mercifully been spared the morning sickness she suffered from so frequently when carrying Edmund and Miles. It has led her to believe that this might be their first girl - of course Anthony’s sons would vex her from conception, but perhaps their daughter would cut her a break.
It only adds to her joy that the family is gathering to spend time prior to the season and celebrate Anthony’s birthday next week. Benedict and Sophie arrived yesterday, Francesca from Scotland the day before, and Gregory and Hyacinth came with Violet last week. Colin, Daphne and Eloise are set to arrive tomorrow with their respective families, marking the first time that the entire Bridgerton clan will be reunited in months.
Despite how much she loves being here with her husband and children and their extended family, she is grateful for a bit of time to herself as Anthony kisses her goodbye and goes off for a round of fencing with Benedict and Gregory. Violet and Sophie have gone into town to do some shopping and offered to take Edmund and Miles along, the boys not wanting to be parted from their dear cousins Charles and Alexander for too long. The four of them playing together both warms Kate’s heart and nearly bursts her eardrums - needless to say, she is grateful for the moment of quiet.
She lets out a sigh of contentment as she sits on the back terrace, her only companions being a cup of chai and a good book. Well, Newton is there too, but he is not nearly as likely to disrupt her reading as any of her other family members.
Of course, this being the Bridgerton family, it is only a matter of time before she is interrupted. She has no clock nearby, but she believes less than twenty minutes have passed since the men left to go fence in the gardens when she hears voices approaching. As the voices grow louder and she’s able to identify them as Benedict and Gregory, Kate sighs and sets her book down and glances over her shoulder to determine why they could possibly be back already.
Her stomach drops when she sees her husband, flanked by his two brothers, limping toward the house with a pained expression on his face. Without a moment’s hesitation, Kate gets to her feet and sprints down the staircase, eyes wide with panic.
“Anthony, what-”
“I am fine,” Anthony says firmly before she can finish her sentence. “It is nothing.”
“You are limping, so surely it is something,” Kate retorts, eyes scanning his body. She quickly notes the way he is favouring his right leg and dragging the left one along, and she places a hand on his chest to prevent him from taking another step. “Tell me what happened.”
“He landed rather oddly on his leg while lunging at Gregory,” Benedict answers for him, dropping his and Anthony’s épées to the ground and offering his shoulder to his brother once more. “I suspect some damage was done to the ligaments in his knee.”
“I did not realize you were a physician now,” Anthony mutters, shrugging off his brother’s offer of assistance.
Stepping past Kate, he attempts to take to the stairs, releasing a rather colourful string of expletives before he’s even reached the second step.
Gregory sighs, exasperated with his brother’s stubbornness. “Anthony, allow us to-"
“It is not necessary,” Anthony cuts him off. “I am perfectly-"
“Anthony Bridgerton!” Kate exclaims, unable to watch him take one more step with that look of obvious pain on his face and the sweat beading down his forehead from the overexertion. “You will allow your brothers to take you upstairs to our bed, and you will remain there until I arrive.”
She can see the battle in his eyes between his pride and his fear of her wrath. Surely he would not deny a request - nay, an order - from his pregnant wife. She suspects the fact that he is clearly in a great deal of pain and there are two large staircases separating him from their bedchamber tips the scales in her favour.
“Very well,” Anthony says, jaw clenched and eyes shut tightly as he reluctantly allows Benedict and Gregory to take the weight off his leg.
Kate watches as the three men move slowly up the stone steps, following close behind and keeping a watchful eye as they head inside. As they take to the stairs up to the viscount’s quarters, she heads off in the other direction.
Once she’s gathered everything she needs, Kate joins her husband and brothers upstairs with a kitchen maid trailing her. The maid sets down the tray of items she requested on the table and takes her leave as Kate dismisses her with a soft “thank you.” She’s relieved to see that the men have Anthony situated on the bed with his boots off. He looks incredibly petulant and childlike, his arms crossed and brow furrowed as his brothers attempt to get him comfortable.
“Thank you both, I shall take it from here,” Kate says, dismissing her brothers-in-law as though they are staff. She has slipped seamlessly into caretaker mode, the same fierce determination coming over her as every time Edwina was hurt when they were children or Edmund or Miles have been ill. It comes very naturally to her - she thinks she might have been a good nurse in another life.
The Bridgerton men, save Anthony, nod dutifully and make their exit. The moment the door shuts behind them, Kate begins to remove Anthony’s breeches. She barely touches his leg before he shakes his head and jerks away from her.
“Did I hurt you?” she asks, eyes wide with concern.
“No, you - you should not be doing this,” he says stiffly.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Removing your breeches? Since when do you mind if I assist you with that?”
If he does have an issue with her removing his clothes, it must be one he’s developed in the last twelve hours or so since she last did so. She thinks that rather unlikely.
“No, all of this-“ He gestures to the supplies she’s gathered. “You should not be tending to me. Not in your state.”
They have had the argument over what she should and should not be doing while pregnant countless times now over the three times she has been with child, and it is a battle that she has both won and lost many times. While she prefers to stand her ground, she has found it difficult to disobey her husband’s wishes at times when they are so purely for the wellbeing of her and their child. She has agreed not to ride her horse in the later months of her pregnancy, for example, and never at more than a trot. She has agreed to remain in confinement for the period of time the doctor suggests is best for her health before and after giving birth.
In this case, when no possible harm can befall her or the baby and Anthony is clearly in need of her help, there is no chance in hell he is winning.
“Do not be ridiculous,” she scolds him, making another attempt at undressing him that he resists. “Anthony, you are injured-"
“I am fine-"
“And I am perfectly capable of tending to you,” she insists. “Unless you would truly prefer I call your brothers or your valet back in here to do this?”
She holds his glare, refusing to break the eye contact until she sees the familiar flicker of annoyance and, eventually, acceptance. She has won thousands of arguments against him by now, and she’s learned to recognize the signs before he utters a word.
“Very well. But I will remove my own breeches.”
She rolls her eyes at his stubbornness as he pulls off the clothing, wincing at any and all movement to his injured limb. Once the breeches are discarded, Kate takes a seat next to him and helps him raise his bad leg onto a pillow so she can examine it.
The knee is already quite swollen, and when she gently pokes and prods to assess the injury he hisses in pain.
“Sorry, dearest,” Kate murmurs, squeezing his hand briefly. “I do not think we need to call for a doctor. It’s unlikely anything is broken, so there is little he could do for you that I cannot.”
Anthony nods, seemingly relieved that he won’t have to endure any more manipulation of his injured leg by someone with inevitably less gentle hands than his wife.
“Alright, to begin-“ She reaches over to the tray she assembled and grabs the glass she poured of his strongest whiskey. “For the pain.”
He gratefully accepts and takes a much longer sip than he typically would, shutting his eyes tightly as the dark liquor burns his throat.
Kate takes the jar of salve she acquired from the kitchen staff, all of whom swore it was the absolute best for sprains of any kind. She takes a generous amount of the salve and begins to rub it over his knee, gently massaging in small circles. Anthony winces at first, but he eventually releases a groan of relief as the medicine starts to numb the pain.
“Is it helping?” Kate asks, glancing up to meet his eyes.
“Yes,” Anthony breathes. “Thank you, darling.”
Lastly, she takes the bandages their housekeeper located for her and wraps them deftly around his knee, just tightly enough to stabilize the injury and prevent swelling. Once she’s secured them in place, she carefully stuffs one more pillow under Anthony’s leg and sits back, satisfied with her work.
“How do you feel?” Kate asks softly, placing her hand on his cheek and brushing her thumb over his stubble.
Anthony sighs, leaning into her touch and closing his eyes for a moment. After eight years of marriage, it takes only a second for her to be able to read his expression, and it is clear as day that he is troubled by more than the physical pain.
“I feel…old.”
Kate frowns, her hand travelling upward until her fingers sink into his dark brown waves. There may be the odd strand of grey that wasn’t always there, the evidence of years of stress as the viscount and head of the family, but he looks much the same as the day she met him. She would still be hard-pressed to find a more handsome man in any room, and though a man of his rank seldom needs to do any physical labour, he runs around the grounds and lifts up their children (and, on occasion, Kate) with the ease and enthusiasm of someone ten years his junior.
“Anthony, you are not old,” Kate says, trailing her hand down his arm.
He scoffs. “Being unable to go a round of fencing without sustaining a knee injury hardly makes me the picture of youth.”
“You may not be two and twenty like Gregory, but you are only three years older than me, so I would choose your next words carefully,” she teases, squeezing his hand. The frown does not fade from his face. “Is this about your birthday, darling?”
She knows it is going to be a rather significant birthday for Anthony - he is turning thirty-eight, the same age his father was when he died.
He has confided in her in the past that he did not believe he would outlive him, that there was no way his years could exceed those of a man so great, but she can tell that those fears do not plague him as much as they used to. With every year he has spent loving her, loving their children, he seems to be further away from the ghosts of his past.
Still, being here at Aubrey Hall where he lost his father all those years ago must bring back unwelcome memories, and being suddenly reminded of his own vulnerability surely has not helped matters.
He only sighs in response and shifts his body, trying to find a more comfortable position and wincing at the slight jostling of his knee. Sensing his inability to articulate his feelings just yet, Kate does not rush him. Instead, she begins to gently massage his leg just below the swollen area, hoping to relieve some of the radiating pain.
“I know it is a difficult age for you, my love,” she murmurs after a few minutes, when Anthony’s breaths are a bit more even and his face is no longer quite as pained. “And I know that it is especially hard with the baby coming.”
Anthony’s gaze travels to her slightly swollen stomach where she is growing their third child. She knows it’s his worst fear to leave that child without a father, to leave her and their family prematurely.
“I know you have much on your mind, but you must know that a fluke knee injury is hardly a sign of your impending demise,” she says firmly, taking his chin and forcing him to look at her. “You will not only live to meet this child, you will see them grow until they are old enough to have children of their own, and that is a non-negotiable fact.”
One could argue that she has no control over such matters, but Kate Bridgerton is a practical woman. She knows the statistical possibility of Anthony dying at the same young age as his father is very slim. She knows he is very healthy, that he takes good care of himself, and that he would do anything and everything in his power to stay alive for her.
And even if science and logic are not on her side, she believes that fate owes them a long life of happiness after all the loss that they have suffered.
“I know,” he says softly, grasping her hand on his face and holding it tightly. “Of course you are right. I am being foolish.”
Immediately, she frowns and shakes her head. Perhaps his fears are unusual and unlikely to come true, but they are rooted in very real grief that he has carried for nearly twenty years. She does not wish to diminish his pain any more than she wishes to take it away.
“No, darling, you are not foolish,” she says empathically. “Grief is a tricky thing. You suffered a great loss, it was bound to have a lasting impact. And surely the emotions brought about from being here at Aubrey Hall must sting at times, even now-"
She stops herself, wincing as she realizes her poor choice of words. Anthony’s eyes meet hers, and she’s just about to open her mouth to apologize when he begins to laugh.
It starts as a slight chuckle, but it quickly grows into full-blown laughter. She can’t help but join in, marvelling at her ability to accidentally select such an inappropriate yet perfectly fitting verb for the situation.
“Sting, Kate?” Anthony manages to choke out between laughs.
“I apologize, dearest, but I shall blame that one on my pregnancy-muddled brain,” Kate laughs. “And shall refrain from making any further accidental bee puns.”
Now grinning ear-to-ear, Anthony reaches to wrap his arm around her and pull her close. She rests her forehead against his, both of their laughter quieting as they enjoy the closeness.
“Don’t apologize,” he says softly. “It’s remarkable how time and love can allow one to heal enough to find light in the darkest of places.”
“Indeed,” Kate sighs, melting into him and holding him close.
She rests her cheek on his shoulder and closes her eyes as he begins to stroke her back.
“I love you,” he murmurs into her hair, sending a shiver up her spine just like the first time he said it, and the tenth, and the thousandth. She never tires of hearing those words. “Thank you, my darling. Not only for taking care of me, but for everything.”
She smiles as she pulls away to kiss him, their lips meeting harmoniously as he sighs in contentment.
“I love you too, and you are very welcome,” she says sweetly. “And if you agree not to leave this bed for a few days to allow your leg proper time to heal-"
Anthony is already shaking his head halfway through her sentence, the lovestruck grin fading from his face.
“Kate, I have much work to attend to in my study-"
“If you get to regulate me to our bed for a month before and after our child is born, I get to do the same to you when you are injured,” Kate insists, crossing her arms. “It is not up for debate, you shall remain here until I see fit.”
Anthony narrows his eyes at her, his jaw slightly clenched.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
“I could never enjoy seeing you in pain, but perhaps I am getting some satisfaction out of our roles being reversed for once,” she says with a sly smile. “Nevertheless, it is nearly your birthday and I am a compassionate wife, so I will help you find…quite enjoyable ways to combat your boredom.”
While she knows her husband well enough to know he will protest being confined to his bed, she also recalls him being very happy to remain in bed for days on end on their honeymoon and on several occasions afterward. They haven’t had the opportunity since the boys were born, but if she must ply him with sex to ensure his knee heals, she is more than happy to do so.
If she also gets a bit of revenge for the times he’s made her stay in bed during the late stages of her pregnancies, then that’s merely an added bonus.
“Kate,” Anthony sighs, wincing at the pain in his knee as he shifts her from her position half on his lap, “I would love nothing more, but I am not sure I am capable of such activities just yet.”
“Well,” she murmurs, putting on her most sultry voice just to torture him, “what I had in mind will require no effort on your part.”
Anthony groans, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he leans in to kiss her. “God, what did I do to deserve you?”
“An excellent question,” Kate laughs, kissing him back. “And how convenient that we’ve already removed your breeches.”
He groans again as she moves her hand to his drawers. She barely gets the chance to skim his waist before a knock on the door interrupts them. Reluctantly, Kate breaks the kiss and tilts her head back as Anthony sighs in annoyance.
“What is it?” he demands, arms still around her.
The door opens a crack, Benedict poking his head in.
“Soph brought the boys back, I told them what happened and they’d like to see you,” he says, nodding at Anthony. “I wished to ensure you were in a fit state for visitors. I did not think Kate would want them subjected to your choice of language earlier.”
“I am perfectly alright, thank you,” Anthony snarks while Kate laughs. “Send them in, please.”
Benedict opens the door fully and a moment later, two small figures come bounding into the room with the unbridled energy only five and seven year old children could possess. Kate’s heart warms at the sight of her boys, cheeks flushed from running upstairs and their eyes wide with concern for their father.
Sophie is close behind, obviously exhausted from her morning with all the children, and she leans into Benedict’s side in the doorway.
“Thank you for looking after them, Sophie,” Kate says with a smile, reaching out to beckon her children closer. “Were you good for Aunt Sophie and Granny Violet, boys?”
“Yes, Amma,” Edmund says dutifully.
“They were very well-behaved,” Sophie confirms. “We shall take our leave now. I hope you feel better soon, Anthony.”
The viscount smiles at his sister-in-law as the door closes behind them, leaving their family of four - soon to be five - alone in their chambers.
“Be gentle with your father, boys,” Kate instructs softly as the children clamber into the bed with them.
“Are you going to be alright, Papa?” Edmund asks worriedly as he sits at the foot of the bed. He’s a tiny version of Anthony in so many ways, fiercely protective of his family.
“Yes, Neddy, do not worry,” Anthony says gently. “It’s only my knee, I will be back on my feet in no time.”
Miles is already happily settled into his favourite spot on Kate’s lap, looking over at Anthony’s bandaged knee.
“Does it hurt very much?” Miles asks with wide eyes, looking from Anthony to Kate.
Their sweet, gentle youngest son has always shown the utmost empathy to loved ones and strangers alike. Just a few months ago, he asked if they could use the money they would spend on his birthday gift to buy a new kite for a friend of his from the village whose family could not afford one. Of course, Anthony obliged, and couldn’t resist showering their son with gifts nonetheless. It was one of their proudest moments as parents yet.
“Not too badly,” Anthony says. “It is a bit sore, but Amma has been taking good care of me.”
“When I scratched my arm on that branch, I felt better after Amma hugged me,” Miles says, reminiscing on a minor injury of his a few weeks back. “Do you think a hug would make your knee feel better?”
Anthony smiles, reaching his arm out to welcome his son into his embrace.
“Yes, I believe it would.”
Miles happily settles into the space between them and wraps his little arm around Anthony’s chest, squeezing him tightly. Edmund carefully situates himself on Anthony’s other side, nestling into his father.
The sight of her three favourite boys all snuggled up brings tears to Kate’s eyes, not for the first time since she’s been with child. Her heart threatening to burst, she curls up and rests her head in the crook of her husband’s neck, her hand on Miles’ back.
It’s utter bliss, the four of them cocooned in bed with nowhere to be but here. It is only a matter of time before the boys will get bored and run off to play with their cousins, Anthony will insist upon having his work brought up here, and Kate must attend to dinner preparations for this evening, but for now she enjoys the peace of being with her family.
“Do you feel better now, Papa?” Miles asks after a few minutes, wriggling in his spot sandwiched between both parents.
“Yes,” Anthony murmurs, pressing a kiss to his messy black hair. “Very much so.”
Anthony turns thirty-eight a few days later and endures an abundance of old man jokes from his siblings, made all the worse by the cane he’s forced to use while his knee heals, but Kate whispers in his ear that he is the most attractive “old man” she has ever seen. In their bed that evening, she proves how much she meant it.
The following year, when he turns thirty-nine in full health, she proves it again.