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Agatha Bridgerton grew up surrounded by love. And tales of true love.
Having seven aunts and uncles on her father’s side, each having found their true love through hardships and obstacles, Sunday family dinners were willed with stories of riding accidents, masquerade balls and interrupted weddings (to only name a few).
For as long as she can remember, she has been told that true love is in her future. That she will meet her soulmate. But now, during her third year out in society, she is not so sure that an epic love story worthy of a Bridgerton is truly in her cards.
Yet she does what is expected of a young, gently bred lady - attending ball after ball, going on promenade after promenade, attending musicale after musicale, entertaining meaningless conversations about embroidery and flower arranging with her fellow debutantes and enduring polite conversation with the most boring and mindless gentlemen London has to offer.
Frankly, it is all very exhausting, even though Agatha knows her parents do not expect her to marry quickly. She knows both her parents will support her in any way she chooses to live her life. But coming from a family where every single one has found their other half and growing up seeing her parents love each other more and more each day, makes her heart want. Makes her want to find someone who also chooses her over anyone else. Makes her want to feel the invisible pull that she can see in her parents. Makes her want to share her life with someone that is just hers.
Having to attend balls and witnessing young ladies get courted all around her, finding love in the most unlikely of places, always makes the grip on her heart squeeze a little more. Perhaps she should try to be more open, but something keeps holding her back. She knows she is not lacking. After all, her father made sure to tell her every single day, for her entire life, how wonderful she is and how much she looks like her mother. And her mother is beautiful with her vibrant red hair and striking blue eyes. Traits that she is proud to share with her mother.
But somehow, the Agatha she is out in society differs so much from the Agatha she is at home. At home, surrounded by the love her parents share and have for her and her three younger siblings, she feels at ease. She can be smart and witty and clever and as much of a child or as much of an adult she wants to be. Agatha feels she can truly be herself. But in society, surrounded by gossip and courtship and judgment and so many opinions, everything feels stifled. Like she has to hide part of herself in fear of not fitting in, of being too much.
Admittedly, she has not always felt this way. Last season most of her friends had found a partner, leaving her the odd one out and subsequently left behind, as they, one by one, moved away to live with their new husbands. Thankfully, she was never really alone, considering her brother Thomas as well as her horde of cousins frequent most balls as well. But it did leave her questioning herself.
So she finds herself doing what she does best lately - skirting around the outside of the ballroom, trying to find a moment for herself, a moment to just breathe. Yet this proves to be rather difficult, as tonight’s ball is hosted by none other than her very own aunt Daphne Basset, the Duchess of Hastings. Meaning she has to dodge not only potentially, mind-numbingly boring conversations with the bachelors of the ton but also her own family - especially her father. Ever since this season started, he has been watching her like a hawk stalking its prey, never quite letting her out of his sight, no matter how often her mother tries to direct his attention elsewhere. Agatha knows he only means well, but his watchful glare seems to intensify with each ball which doesn’t lessen the uneasy feeling that doesn’t seem to leave her alone.
Tonight is no different. After having danced with Lord Carpenter and Lord Chappell right after one another, Agatha finds herself at the sweets table, perusing which biscuit or cake she could nab before trying to find a corner to enjoy a moment of respite. As well as escape her father’s intense gaze, which she can currently feel on the back of her head. Settling on what seems to be a carrot muffin with lemon glaze, she grabbed a napkin and turned around trying to spot the closest exit she could escape through without being caught by one of her family members or being followed by the mother hen that has surely possessed her father.
Looking to her right she spots her brother Thomas close to the giant double doors leading out onto the terrace. Deciding this will be her best bet, she faded to the background, hoping to hide behind the conversing groups and making her way towards her escape. Reaching the doors she stops shortly next to her sibling, laying a hand on his lower arm to gain his attention. Turning her eyes to him, she also spots their parents over his shoulder. “Brother, I require a bit of peace and quiet. Please distract our dear parents so I may have a moment to enjoy some fresh air”, she tells him. Thomas gives her a simple nod and moves further into the room while Agatha slips out onto the terrace.
Looking out into the garden, she notices a little bench illuminated by soft candlelight only a few paces from the house and walks towards it. Sitting down she lets out a content sigh, the music from inside muted by the chirping of cicadas and the quaking of frogs in the nearby pond. Closing her eyes, she takes a few slow and deep breaths, savouring the quiet and calming her nerves.
“Not a devotee of a crowded ballroom?”, a mysterious voice suddenly cuts through the quiet, catching Agatha off guard, yet she does not seem to be startled.
“I am not a devotee of having my father watch my every step as though I am barely out of leading strings,” she answers absentmindedly before opening her eyes and turning her head to see to the owner of the voice.
It is not someone she has seen before yet he seems familiar. He is tall, with broad shoulders and light brown eyes that glimmer with kindness in the flicker of the candlelight. His complexion, similar to the colour of his eyes, is tanned yet his hair is golden. Agatha can admit when a man is beautiful, and beautiful he most certainly is, a kind smile gracing his features as he looks at her with an amused glint in his honey-coloured eyes.
Remembering her manners, Agatha springs to her feet, the muffin tumbling from her lap to the ground making her gasp quietly in discontentment as a blush spreads across her full cheeks. “Forgive me for my callous comment,” she says, lowering her head in a quick bow before the handsome stranger.
“Please, do not apologise,” he says, lowering his head in greeting as well. “I find your honesty refreshing.” His smile broadens and Agatha cannot help mirroring him.
“If refreshment is what you seek, may I suggest finding the lemonade table?” she tells him with a smirk on her face and cheek in her tone. “Although I fear it will have grown rather warm and watery with the ice melting in mere minutes during these scorching summer nights.”
The man laughs, a warm and melodic sound, making her feel as though little bubbles are coursing through her veins causing the fine hairs on her arms to stand up straight. Rubbing her hands over it to soothe the feeling, the man holds out his hand. “May I take you inside for a dance?”
Nodding her acceptance, she lays her gloved hand on his outstretched one and together they make their way back into the ballroom and onto the dancefloor. As the music starts and they begin their dance, Agatha spots her mother off to the side, a fond smile on her lips and a firm grip on her father’s arm, seemingly holding him back from stalking over and interrupting their dance. Shaking her head and smiling back at them, she quickly returns her focus to the man before her, letting herself be led by the music and his firm hand on her back.
And for the first time this season, Agatha is genuinely enjoying herself, feeling lighter and more carefree than she has in weeks. However, as soon as it started it was over again, the music coming to an end, the melodies fading out and being replaced by the chatter and bustling of the guests as the ball comes to a close.
“Thank you for the delightful dance,” the man says as they bow in farewell. “I do hope to see you again soon.”
“I would like that as well,” Agatha says and smiles at him once more, which he returns. Nodding once, he takes a few steps backwards while still looking at her, narrowly avoiding crashing into Lord and Lady Rapp. He stumbles a bit, which makes Agatha hide her giggle behind her hand before he turns and disappears from her sight.
Still laughing to herself, she shakes her head in amusement and makes her way back to the sweets table, hoping to find another muffin before everything is cleared away by the servants. Not two seconds later, she hears her father’s voice.
“Agatha, who was that man?”, Colin asks her, a sense of urgency and slight annoyance in his tone. But she pays him no heed, eyeing the still almost fully stocked table for her target, as her mother reprimands her father softly.
“Penelope, our little girl just danced with a stranger. A man we have never seen before. I need to know who it was.” he says, the annoyance laced through his words having evolved into something akin to panic.
“Love, she is twenty years old.”, Penelope says, grasping one of his hands with both of hers, lacing their fingers together. “Precisely! Which is why-”, Colin replies, voice growing louder but is interrupted by Agatha, two muffins in hand.
“It was just a dance, Papa,” she says, offering one of the pastries to him. “And I enjoyed myself,” she adds with a smile. “Very much so, in fact.”
Colin’s eyes soften as he takes the cake from her. “And besides,” Agatha continues, voice quiet and laced with disappointment. “I did not get his name.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next morning, the whole family is sat in the drawing room. Agatha is lounging beside the window, the book perched on her lap long forgotten as she watches the newly hatched birds in the tree outside, their squawking matching the quarrelling of Jane, Thomas and Colin who are playing cards and arguing whether Jane is hiding cards in her sleeves. On the other side of the room, Penelope is sat next to George as he plays on the pianoforte, laughing happily as they make up melodies together.
There is a short knock on the door, before it opens and Dunwoody appeared. “A visitor is here to see you, Miss Agatha” he announces before opening the second door as she hears footsteps approaching. Just a moment later, the gentleman from yesterday’s ball is standing before her in her own home.
“Good day, Miss Bridgerton. I realise I forgot to introduce myself last night,” he says, bowing to her in greeting. “Auk Debling, Baron of Harewood.”
Agatha opens her mouth to greet him as well but is silenced by a loud clang from across the room, Colin having almost broken his teacup with how hard he slammed it on the table, his dropped biscuit rolling across the carpet and eyes as wide as saucers. Penelope looks similarly shocked, mouth agape, her gaze darting quickly between her daughter, her husband and their visitor.
As if struck by lightning, Colin jumps out of his seat and strides over to them, Penelope moving quickly to catch up to him. “Forgive me, did you say your last name was Debling?”, Agatha’s father asks.
“Yes, that is correct, Sir.” Lord Debling replies, politely holding out his hand for Colin to shake. But Colin looks like a storm is brewing inside him, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed, with the crease between his eyebrows seemingly getting deeper with each passing second.
“Father, are you quite well?” Jane asks, coming to join the four with Thomas, as George sat down on the sofa, happily having stolen the rest of Colins biscuits. “You look much like uncle Anthony does every time someone vexes him,” Jane adds amused.
“You exaggerate!” Colin replies immediately with a sharp tone.
“Ha, you even sound like him”, Thomas adds with a laugh, making Penelope, Agatha and Jane giggle with him while Lord Debling looks confused, a shy and unsure smile appearing on his face.
Colin huffs his chest out even more, hands still firmly on his hips. “Family please, that is not the matter at hand,” he says, shaking his head. Loosening his stance a little he turns back to their visitor, fixing him with a stern gaze. “Debling, you said. Who–, I mean, are you– per chance, related to– uhm,” he stammers slightly, unsure how to word his question.
“I believe what my husband is trying to ask is if you might be related to a Lord Alfred Debling?” Penelope asks in Colin’s stead while putting a comforting hand on his back, trying to soothe his tense muscles.
The young Lord Debling nods and fixes Penelope with a smile. “Yes, I expected you to ask this. As we were leaving last night’s ball, my father did tell me that he was acquainted with the both of you during the 1815 season.”
“Acquainted is putting it mildly,” Colin scoffs under his breath, causing Penelope to elbow him slightly while directing a warm smile at the young man. “Yes, that is true, my Lord. I do hope your father is well.”
“He is, thank you for asking Mrs. Bridgerton. He said to give you his warmest regards.” he said, causing Colin to huff in indignation but before he could reply, Penelope laced her fingers through his, effectively softening his hardened resolve. The young man does not seem to notice and continues, shifting his attention back to Agatha “He is also how I found you, MIss Bridgerton. I realised I forgot to ask for your name last night but my father saw you and your family leave Hasting’s House as our carriage was pulling away. He said it was like travelling back in time and seeing you Mrs. Bridgerton,” he pauses shortly, to regard Penelope with a warm smile before turning back to Agatha. “He said you looked as beautiful and ethereal in the moonlight as your mother did.”
All decorum forgotten, Colin goes rigid. “My wife–,” he starts but is interrupted once again by Penelope. “– is very grateful for those lovely compliments. And I must agree that Agatha is exceptionally beautiful, even if I may be biassed.”
“Mama…,” Agatha says, rolling her eyes but not being able to hide her smile.
“I would have to agree with you,” Lord Debling says softly, causing Agatha’s eyes to widen and a blush to spread from her cheeks to her chest, making that bubbly feeling from last night return.
Beside her, Colin is seething but thankfully stays silent, which may or may not be caused by Penelope digging her nails into the back of his hand a little more forcefully than she ought to, as Jane and Thomas stifle their giggles at Colin’s increasingly reddening head.
Wanting to diffuse the situation once more, Penelope suggested sitting down with tea and cake, hoping that food may help dissuade her husband from looking like he may kill the poor young gentleman. “Please sit, my Lord,” Penelope tells him, before turning to her eldest son. “And Thomas, may you please go and ask cook to prepare some tea as well as some cake and sandwiches?” she asks him, adding with a whisper “Preferably all of your father’s favourites.”
Thomas nods at his mother with an amused smile before swiftly leaving the room. The rest of the group make their way over to the settees, little George’s eyes, who is still content sitting on one of them nibbling on the leftover biscuits, lighting up with joy as he sees his family approach.
Agatha, always her youngest brother’s biggest supporter, smiles widely back at him, sitting herself right next to him, Lord Debling following suit but is stopped by Colin all but leaping into the still unoccupied spot next to Agatha. Which leaves the young man with no other choice but to sit down next to Agatha and Jane on the sofa across.
Penelope and Agatha both glare at Colin but he does not notice, as he is too busy shooting daggers at Lord Debling who looks, for all intents and purposes, absolutely terrified. Although thankfully, the tension in the room is broken soon after as Thomas comes bounding back into the room, followed by two maids carrying large trays of food and tea.
Ever the hungry bunch, each child much like their father in this regard, fife sets of feet immediately jump up, each grabbing a plate and piling it high with sandwiches and pastries. Penelope looks fondly at her seemingly ever starving family, laughing at them bickering over who will get the last eclair. Only for Colin, tall as he is, to reach over them easily and nabbing it for himself with a little self-satisfied grin on his face.
As everyone is returning to their previous seats, Penelope says “Family, please. Leave some food for Lord Debling.” while getting up to hand the young man a plate but is stalled by him putting his hand up in front of her.
“That is very kind of you, Mrs. Bridgerton but it is entirely alright. I had a big breakfast with my parents before coming here and am still feeling rather full from it.” Lord Debling replies, softly patting his stomach with huff and a content expression.
“Would you at least like some tea?” Penelope asks and at the man's confirmation adds “Agatha dearest, would you please help me pour everyone’s tea?”
Both women get up from their seats, Penelope putting a cup and saucer down in front of everyone while Agatha pours the tea. Conveniently though, Penelope does not sit back down between Lord Debling and Jane, but rather right next to her husband. Colin looks at his wife in disbelief, who just smirks at him mischievously as she settles her hand upon his knee while his arm winds around her waist, silently daring him to protest.
The group settles into comfortable conversation about last night’s ball, books and nature. When suddenly Jane gasps. “Lord Debling, did you earlier say your given name is Auk?”
He turns his eyes on the youngest Bridgerton woman, nodding at her.
“Auk? Like the bird?” Thomas asks him, prompting their visitor to nod once more. “Precisely. My father greatly admires the Great Auk. In fact he was on his way to study them in the Arctic but met my mother but two days before his ship was set to sail.”
“So he never went through the North Passage?”, Penelope questions. Shaking his head, Lord Debling replies “No, unfortunately he did not. My mother fell pregnant with me shortly after they first met and he could not bring himself to leave her. He always says ‘I traded my great passion for my two greatest loves’ whenever someone inquires about my rather unusual name.”
All eyes in the room are fixed on him, soft smiles on everyone’s face, except, of course, Colin's, who is still watching the young man like a hawk. “That is very beautiful,” Agatha tells him while lightly touching his arm and smiling sweetly at him.
At this, Colin once more sets his teacup down on the table more forcefully than he should, the clang of the porcelain cutting through the silence. Scooting to the edge of the sofa, he leans his upper body forward, propping his elbows up on his knees and levels Lord Debling with a hard stare and raised eyebrows.
“So, Lord Debling ,” Colin almost sneers as he says the young man’s name. “I remember your father being a devotee of the natural world back in the day. Even going so far as forgoing eating meat. Is that ..”, he gestures in a circular motion towards the young man “... still something your family practices?”
A stunned silence settles over the drawing room, except for Penelope's defeated sigh at her husband’s antics. “Colin, please behave yourself”, she hisses at him through gritted teeth. But he just absentmindedly pats her knee and waves her off, his stare never leaving the young Lord.
“Hm?” Colin prompts once again, raising his eyebrows impossibly higher while taking a bite out of his ham and cheese sandwich.
Lord Debling shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, sitting up straighter and righting his navy blue jacket, settling to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves. “Yes, sir. Our family still abstains from consuming the flesh of dead animals.”
“I see,” Colin replies, leaning back again and stuffing the rest of the ham sandwich into his mouth, stare still fixed on the fiddling man.
After this, the room settles back into comfortable conversation until the afternoon draws to a close and Lord Debling bids his goodbye. “Thank you for this most lovely time, Miss Bridgerton.” he says as he bows in farewell. “I do hope you will let me call on you again tomorrow. Perhaps for a promenade?”
Agatha blushes once more, bowing in goodbye as well, “I would enjoy that very much”. And with that, the Bridgerton’s are alone once more.
A wide smile settles over Agatha’s face and a happy sigh escapes her as she turns around to face her family. “He is lovely, is he not?”, she says dreamily.
Aghast, Colin comes to stand right in front of his eldest daughter, both hands firmly on her shoulders as if he intends to shake some sense into her. “Aggie, you cannot be in earnest. He is a naturalist . You cannot possibly want to be courted by someone who–” he stumbles over his words, “–who’s diet rivals that of a rabbit!”
Scrunching up her eyebrows, Agatha looks at her father confused as her mother steps towards them, gently prying Colin’s hands away from her shoulders. “What your father means is that we are happy to see you so excited.” Penelope tells her, softly stroking her hand briefly over Agatha’s cheek.
“I truly am, Mama.” she replies before leaving, feeling like she is floating while returning to her room.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Over the two weeks, Lord Debling calls on Agatha every day, going on promenades, markets, libraries and museums, always chaperoned by Penelope since she forbade Colin from interfering after that fateful afternoon in the Bridgerton drawing room. Colin however, always found a way to lurk in the shadows, trying and miserably failing to stay inconspicuous. A fact Penelope, ever observant, was aware of but did not comment on, knowing that Agatha will always be Colin’s first little girl in his eyes.
But as time passed, Agatha’s and Lord Debling’s meetings became shorter and shorter. Their conversations becoming more stifled and less carefree. And the glimmer in Agatha’s eyes seemed to dim slowly, the excitement she exuded in the beginning slipping away piece by piece, day by day.
Now, as the season is coming to a close, she seems to retreat back into herself. More of her friends have found their one true love and she had a taste of what could have been. It felt glorious in the beginning. Making her feel lightweight and carefree, but the feeling did not stay.
Her meetings with Lord Debling continued to be comfortable, but it did not leave her wanting more. It did leave her with the same thrill of anticipation the night before. It did not measure up.
So the doubt slowly crept back into her mind, leaving her breathless and restless, tossing and turning for most of the night until she gave up and made her way to her favourite spot in the entire house. The little bench by the window of their library overlooking the back garden.
This is where Colin finds her, a book forgotten next to her, staring wistfully at her own reflection in the dark window, soft red curls illuminated by the moonlight and the flickering candle across the room. For a moment, he stops in the doorway, simply marvelling at his daughter’s beauty and being hit by a sudden sense of deja-vu. The silver gown Agatha is wearing reminding him of the one Penelope wore the night they first kissed.
He lightly knocks twice on the doorframe, Agatha’s head whipping towards him as she quickly swipes away the tear running over her left cheek.
Entering into the library, Colin strides over to the old armoire in the corner of the room. A piece of furniture that they have not used in years because the drawers are rusty and almost impossible to open. Agatha watches as her father lightly slams his fist on the top a few times until the top drawer springs open. He makes a noise of triumph and pulls a box of chocolates out of the drawer, before turning and sitting down next to her, silently offering the sweets to his daughter.
They sit in comfortable silence for a while, neither wanting to speak and break the moment. Until Agatha sighs and turns her head to face her father. “We have decided to stay friends.”, she tells him, catching the quick smile of relief that crosses Colin’s face before he schools it back to a neutral expression.
“You need not pretend you are not delighted that nothing will come of this, father.” she tells him, softly knocking her shoulder into his and grabbing another piece of chocolate from the box.
“You are too quick for me, my love. Observant, just like your mother”, Colin replies, looking into her eyes, affection present in every crevice of his face. He waits for a moment, silently watching her face, watching the gears work in that brilliant head of hers. “What happened, Aggie?”
“Nothing.” she sighs once more. “Absolutely nothing. Which is precisely the problem. The spark simply faded into nothingness.” Another tear rolls over her cheek and with a defeated shrug she adds “Perhaps it is just not meant for me.”
“What do you mean?” Colin asks.
“Love.” Agatha replies. “Perhaps love is not meant for me. I fear–,” she pauses for a moment, sniffling slightly and wiping the tears escaping her bright blue eyes. “Papa, I fear I will never find the famed ‘Bridgeton spark’. I fear I am meant to be on my own.”
Hearing this makes an iron fist clamp over Colin’s heart, the stark reminder of the fears Penelope confessed to him once they married springing to the forefront of his mind. The memories of holding her, comforting her, reassuring her that she is deserving of the love she is receiving. That she is deserving of the love he has for her.
Setting the box of chocolates down on the side table, Colin turns to face his daughter, clasping her hands in both of his. “Do not ever say that. You are Agatha Bridgerton, never forget that. You are the very best of your mother and me. You are beautiful and you are witty and you are intelligent. And you are worthy.” he tells her, eyes fixed on hers, hoping his eyes say what his words cannot.
“You deserve what we all do. You deserve what my mother wanted for me and my siblings and what your mother and I want for you and your siblings. You deserve a love that is passionate and exciting. A love that is thrilling.” he continues, his right thumb softly rubbing the back of her hand, while his left hand cups his daughter’s cheek, wiping at the tears escaping her. “But it may take time, my darling.”
“My love for your mother was not a thunderbolt from the sky, but rather manifested over time. She was my dearest friend long before I realised what she truly meant for me. How ingrained in my soul she really was.” he tells her, a smile spreading over his face as he reminisces in the memories. “Perhaps it will be the same for you. Or perhaps you will open the door tomorrow and fall head over heels for the person delivering our morning paper.” he says, both sharing a teary giggle.
“But what I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, is that love is meant for you, Agatha Bridgerton. Because you are love . ” he finishes with a smile and pulls her into his chest in a tight hug.
“Promise me you will not give up hope”, Colin whispers into her hair, running a soothing hand up and down Agatha’s back. After a moment, she pulls back, rubbing her hands over her face to wipe the tears before wiping them from his face as well. Taking a deep breath, she gives him a small smile and nods. “I promise”, she says, before returning to her father’s embrace, both clinging to the other for a few moments more.
Having calmed down, Agatha sits back up straight. “Next season.”, she starts, levelling Colin with a strong stare. “Please promise me you will stop your mother henning. It is exhausting .”
Taken aback for a moment, Colin quickly laughs and nods his head. “But only if you promise me no more naturalists. Please, Aggie. I cannot give up turkey at Christmas. Or cook’s cottage pie on Sunday.” he starts ranting. “Or ham sandwiches. Or–,” he gasps. “Oh god Aggie, or the annual pig roast at your aunt Daphne’s estate.”
“Papa.” Agatha says with an exasperated laugh, lightly hitting him in the stomach to stop his rambling. Colin only shrugs and joins her laughter, pulling her into another quick side hug before standing from the bench.
“I love you, Aggie”, he tells her, looking down at his first little girl, blue eyes still sparkling like they did the day she was born.
Agatha smiles up at him. “I love you too, Papa”, she replies, closing her eyes as Colin bends down to leave a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Do not stay up too late. And do not read in the dark, you know it is bad for your eyes.”, he says as he is walking towards the door before stopping in the frame once again.
“No promises,” she tells him with that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. So very much like Penelope.
Colin smiles fondly at his daughter, the love he has for her warming his heart.
“I know,” he says. “You are your mother’s daughter after all.”