doe-eyed baby doll

Chapter 3: Family and Fallow Fields

London, 1813

Two days later, you’re sitting in an open-air carriage with Lady Danbury and Coral, who, due to the secrecy of your mission, is now acting as your lady’s maid. It’s early afternoon, the acceptable time for non-suitor calling hours. You’re on your way to be introduced to the Bridgerton family and to say you are nervous is an understatement.

You’re at turns both excited and utterly terrified to meet the family of whom you’ve read so much about. Lady Danbury must sense your unease because she leans in and says, “My dear, with your acting experience and knowledge of this time and its customs, I have no doubt you will do very well at this first meeting.”

As you spent the last few days acclimating yourself to jumping back in time two centuries, your employer had revealed to you that she had spent the early part of the season talking about the daughter of a distant, departed friend who had come into a substantial sum of money and property, Miss Addison, who she had graciously agreed to sponsor for the remainder of the season.

The carriage comes to a stop and the driver hops out, producing a step stool before opening the door and helping the three of you down. As you reach the top step of Bridgerton House, the door is opened by the butler. Once inside, you follow Lady Danbury to the sitting room while Coral makes her way to the staff area.

Silently, you note that custom dictates that visitors wait to be admitted entrance by the family, but clearly your employer does not stand on ceremony. In fact, you hide a smile as the poor butler scurries ahead of her to proclaim your arrival.

Out of breath, he announces you, mere seconds before Lady Danbury crosses the threshold of the room with you following a respectable distance behind her. Everyone stands and you give a deep curtsy as she introduces you to the family.

As you rise and survey the room, you nearly want to cry as you look at the faces of those you’ve read so much about, but only seen their likenesses in portrait form. Seeing them all in the flesh is jarring and yet you feel overjoyed.

Tamping down your nerves, you sit on a pale blue and white striped settee beside Lady Danbury. As she makes each introduction, you nod and take in the individual in question.

Benedict Bridgerton is sitting awkwardly on a bench seat, looking as if the very idea of sitting up straight is offensive to him. Beside him is Colin Bridgerton, who, after greeting you, buries his nose in a book. You can just make out the words, “A Classical Tour Through Italy,” written in swirling gold leaf on the cover.

To your left sits Lady Violet Bridgerton and both her eldest and youngest daughters, Daphne and Hyacinth.

On your right is young Gregory Bridgerton, who looks like he’d prefer to be absolutely anywhere than in the sitting room. And then beside him is Eloise Bridgerton. She’s younger than you’d thought she’d be. She’s studying you with such intensity that you find yourself looking up at the portraits on the walls just to escape her penetrating gaze.

Lady Bridgerton informs you that her second youngest daughter, Francesca, is not in residence, having been invited to spend the season with an aunt in Bath.

An hour passes with tea, biscuits and pleasant conversation as you spin the story you and Lady Danbury have agreed to as Miss Addison’s history. When you mention being an orphan and the last of your family line, Lady Bridgerton reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. You feel guilty accepting her kindness under false pretenses but then remind yourself that gaining the family’s trust is the ultimate goal if you are to save them.

Daphne mentions how excited she is for that evening’s ball. You smile and agree, adding your own enthusiasm for this, your first London ball. You catch Eloise rolling her eyes out of the corner of your eye, even as Hyacinth jumps forward in her seat to chime in her excitement on both of your behalf. You’re discussing gown colors when, without ceremony, the final member of the family arrives. 

Anthony, Lord Bridgerton, strides in, dressed in a dark blue jacket and white trousers. Very snug trousers, you can’t help noting as he sits on the couch between his brothers and proceeds to manspread, causing the other two to shift to either side of the couch.

He twirls a familiar looking cream colored hat in his hands. It seems to take him a moment to register you and Lady Danbury. 

When he does notice you both, he drops his hat into Colin’s lap, who responds with a quiet, “Oi!” before elbowing his eldest brother in the side. You cover your mouth with a gloved hand to hide your smile, but the Viscount notices and gives you an up and down assessing look.

Of course, he’s checking you out, this epitome of a Regency Fuckboy.

Your employer ignores his lack of tact and introduces you to him. He offers you a laconic wave, after which you watch in amusement as his mother glares at him before pasting on a smile and nodding at you, all while continuing to glare daggers at her oldest son.

More tea is brought, and you break into small conversations, with snippets of the ones you’re not involved in reaching your ears.

As you discuss the recently published “Pride & Prejudice” with Eloise, who is starting to warm to you, you can’t help but overhear the viscount discussing plans for Aubrey Hall with his brothers. He’s talking about letting some of their plowable fields sit empty for a few years and you can’t seem to stop yourself from directing a question towards him.

“Pardon me, Lord Bridgerton,” you begin, as he turns to you. “Do you mean to let your fields sit for a long-term fallow, or a short-term?”

Anthony Bridgerton squints at you for a moment before sitting up to gaze at you fully, interest piqued.

“Why do you ask, Miss Addison?”

You take a deep breath to respond, suddenly aware that all the other conversations in the room have ceased.

“I only ask, Sir, because I heard you mention just a moment earlier that you have already let your fields fallow for several years before this current planting season. Surely with the unseasonable amount of rain Kent has received this year, the soil is quite nutrient-rich and in no need of resting for at least another two to three years.”

Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath, their gazes cutting between you and the Viscount. Even Lady Danbury is sitting back, ramrod straight on the couch, that inscrutable look on her face.

Lord Bridgerton is fully sat up now, gazing at you with a keen eye. “It is clear,” he says slowly, “that you, Miss Addison, have quite the forthright opinion on how I choose to manage my family’s fields.”

You sit up to your full height and spare just the briefest of thoughts that it might not be the wisest thing to do so, and yet stare right back at him anyway. 

“You’ll find, Lord Bridgerton, that I have forthright opinions on a great many subjects, of which I am happy to jot down for you, should you find yourself in need of them.”

Benedict Bridgerton lets out a laugh, which causes his brother to glare at him, before looking back at you.

Lord Bridgerton stands and, in a clipped tone, says, “I assure you, Miss Addison, I shall not.”

Taking up his hat, he walks to the door, but then stops and turns around. Quietly, he asks, “Did we truly receive a large amount of rain this season?”

You bite back a smile. “Over 180 centimeters to be exact, My Lord, and there is still planting time left aplenty to sustain more.”

Anthony Bridgerton clears his throat and nods towards you and Lady Danbury before turning on his heel, leaving just as abruptly as he arrived.

The carriage ride back to Danbury House is quiet, with your employer watching you, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

Tapping her ebony cane on the floor of the carriage, she asks you, “Was any of what you said to the Viscount true?”

You nod and tell her, “It is. For my degree, I had to take a class on Regency Agriculture. It was deadly dull, but for some curious reason, that fact about the specific amount of rainfall that Kent received in 1813 has stuck with me.”

Lady Danbury looks impressed. “Curious indeed,” she says enigmatically before adding, “You certainly caught Anthony Bridgerton’s attention, as well as impressed the family. Well done, Ms Y/l/n.”

You don’t even try to hide your smile at receiving her compliment.

Next Chapter

Chapter 2: A Small Slip in Time

Kent, England, 1813

“Where in the bloody hell am I?”

No sooner do you yell those words, sitting on the floor of a fully furnished, authentically decorated Regency sitting room in your oversized sleep t-shirt and shorts, than a familiar, stern voice calls out to you.

“Honestly, Ms. Y/l/n, there is no need to shout,” Lady Danbury says as she enters the room. You stand and stare at her in shock. Her modern designer outfit has been replaced with a beautiful, purple Regency dress and jacket, a matching hat resting on an elegant coiffure. 

“No need to shout?” you sputter, gesturing wildly around you at the room and finally at her. “What is all this? How did you bring this all in while I slept without waking me up?

Lady Danbury reaches into her coat and pulls out an elegant sterling silver flask. She hands it to you as she gives you a stern look and says, “Sit.”

You do as you're told and sink down on the couch, the closed flask held tightly in your fist. Your employer steps back and drops down onto a plushly upholstered chair across from you. Resting her ebony cane beside her, she folds her hands and, after casting a long glance about the room, looks back at you with another one of her inscrutable looks.

“Ms. Y l/n,” she starts but then stops and sighs before restarting, “Y/n, everything was not brought in while you slept. The truth of it is, you arrived here when you awoke.”

You, too, look around the room, the fully-realized vision of the bones of a room you fell asleep in the night previous.

Carefully, you ask her, “Arrived here, how?”

Lady Danbury gestures to one of your pockets with her chin. “The button I gave you yesterday, it brought you here.”

You reach into that pocket and feel the round disk under your fingers. “And where is ‘here’, exactly?”

Lady Danbury leans back in her seat and studies you for a moment, as if gauging what your reaction might be to whatever she tells you next. “‘Here,’ is Aubrey Hall in Kent, England, in the Year of Our Lord, 1813.”

You look around you at the portraits on the walls, the sconces, chairs and even the couch you’re sitting on. The 1950’s varnish is gone, and what is in its place is the milky, water-based finish used in the early to mid-19th century.

Without a word, you pull the top off the flask and take a very deep drink of what turns out to be excellent whiskey.

As you numbly take in what Lady Danbury has just told you, she presents you with period-appropriate attire, which her maid Coral helps you get into.

You’re ushered into the Danbury carriage, Coral beside you, still making adjustments to your skirts with your employer sitting across from you. Both women watch you carefully as you digest the information you’ve been given and take in your new, yet familiar surroundings.

You’re about an hour into your bumpy journey back to London from Kent when you utter the first words you’ve said since leaving Aubrey Hall.

“How did this little button bring me back to 1813?” You pull it out of the small reticule that had been given to you. As light streams in from outside, you can see that the once shiny button is now dull and feels heavy in your lace-gloved palm.

Lady Danbury sighs, “To speak plainly, I am not certain. All I know is that the buttons I possess have been imbued with powerful properties that enable the bearer of them to travel either backwards or forwards in time to a specific date.”

As if sensing your next question, she pulls a small, hinged box that has the lustred sheen of an abalone shell. She doesn’t open the box, but the way she looks at it with reverence, you can tell how important it is to her.

“They were left to me by someone incredibly dear,” she tells you.

“BL,” you say softly, recalling the initials carved into the small metal disc you’d placed in your pocket before going to sleep.

Lady Danbury sighs, “Lord Benjamin Ledger.” 

She wraps the box in colorful silk and carefully places it in the reticule beside her. Her gaze cuts to her maid, who glances at you, then they exchange knowing nods. It’s clear, you observe, that these women have a long history together.

“Lord Ledger,” your employer begins, “Is the maternal grandfather of Anthony Bridgerton. He left me the buttons for the express purpose of preventing his grandson's death by duel and thus saving the rest of the family.”

Her voice breaks on the last word, and despite yourself, you reach across to take her hand, which she allows.

“As I know you’re aware,” she continues, “the family never recovered from the 9th Viscount’s death.”

You swallow thickly. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

Lady Danbury looks down at your entwined hands in her lap. “Ms. Y l/n, I hired you under slightly false pretenses.”

At your arched brow, she rolls her eyes and corrects herself.

“Very well, I hired you under completely false pretenses. I needed a woman with your knowledge of the time period, with its intricate social customs and way of life. I know that, in addition to being a Specialized Property Manager, you hold a degree in History, specifically the Regency and Georgian Eras. I also know you were a member of your local am dram society from the age of seven until you left home for university, and even then, you joined your school’s acting troop.”

You release her hand and sink back against the cushions. “You know an awful lot about me,” you say carefully.

“Please don’t be alarmed, my dear. I have been searching for a very long time to find the perfect woman who can assist me in saving the Bridgerton family.”

Your nerves must show on your face because Lady Danbury sinks back in her seat. 

“This is surely a lot to take in. If you truly don’t think you’re up for it, or just don’t wish to help, I can turn the carriage back around and return you to your anchor point so that you can go back to your proper time.”

Brow furrowing, you ask, “My anchor point?”

Lady Danbury nods. “Yes, your anchor point, the place that you fell asleep and woke up in, is now tied to where you must be to leave and return to your given time period.”

You realize she means the couch in the sitting room. “Lucky then that the house is currently unoccupied. What if I was unable to fall asleep or wake up there?”

Lady Danbury’s smile is enigmatic. “There was no luck involved. I purposely chose a date to send you back when I knew the family was in residence in their London home.”

Coral chimes in, “And I made sure the groundskeeper was so occupied at the pub last night that he'd be too hungover to notice anyone in the house this morning.”

You let out a laugh that has both women smiling.

“To answer your second question,” your employer says, “Your anchor point is non-negotiable. Unless circumstances change.”

“What circumstances?” you ask.

“Circumstances.” The finality of Lady Danbury’s tone brooks no further inquiry.

Sitting back, you let the countryside roll by. You can sense both women watching you, awaiting your decision.

You think of the Haughty Viscount, the portraits of his family in their mourning clothes, years after his death. You think of the grandfather whose mysterious powers made it possible for you to be here, in the time and place you’ve always dreamed of. You think of Eloise Bridgerton and her diary, of how you long to meet her.

Maybe you can help fix things. Maybe you’ll fail. But maybe you’ll succeed.

“Very well,” you tell the women in the carriage with you. “What can I do to help?”

Hours later, you arrive at Danbury House. Your employer introduces you to her housekeeper as “Miss Y/n Addison, the heiress who will be staying with me for the rest of the season.”

As you settle into what will be your room for the next few weeks, you find gowns, gloves, shoes, jewelry, accessories and undergarments, all of which fit you perfectly.

Gazing at your reflection in the mirror, you wonder if you’re truly up to the task. 

At least you have Lady Danbury and the canny Coral by your side, no matter what tomorrow brings.

Next Chapter

3 years old

It was dark outside and normally Katherine would be asleep by now. But her Papa had a surprise he wanted to show her.

"Come along, Kitty. See this? It's called a telescope. Can you say telescope?"

"Tella-scope!"

"Good girl, my smart Katherine. This telescope lets you see the moon up close. Do you want to try it out?"

"Papa, the moon's in the sky."

Papa laughed at her very blunt observation, as if she thought he was being dumb.

"Right again, it is in the sky."

"Then how do we see it up close?"

Papa picked her up and brought her closer to the telescope, letting her touch it and observe it. "This is very special, because the moon is so far away the telescope makes it appear bigger. It's like the magnifying glass in my study, but the glass is in here." He pointed to the eyepiece and watched fondly as little Katherine touched the glass with curiosity.

"Do you want to look through it, darling?" When she nodded he positioned her and helped her to look through the eyepiece. After a few moments of adjusting, Kitty let out a squeal.

"I SEE THE MOON!!!!" Papa grinned and held her tighter.

"Well done, Katherine! What does it look like?"

"Is so biiiiiiig!" Papa loved when she got as excited about space and the moon as he did. He laughed and kissed her cheek, making another happy squeal pour out of her. "It has holes in it!"

"Mhm, those holes are called craters. Craters happen when big rocks bump the moon."

"How do rocks bump the moon?" Katherine looked back at him and noticed him smiling fondly at her. He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.

"Darling girl, you are so curious. Never stop that curiosity." Katherine smiled big for him and hugged him tightly as he began telling her more about how space and the moon works.

6 years old

Katherine loved Saturdays, because it was the day that Mama and Papa took her into town for a walk around the park. The fancy park too- Hyde Park. The one where all the beautiful people were.

She would look around in awe at all the fancy clothes the people wore and imagined herself in them. Papa had told her once that he was a second son of a second son. He was not noble, did not have a lot of money, which was fine with him because he got to pursue his love of science. Kitty liked looking at the stars with him at night (papa called them the diamonds of the sky,) but sometimes she thought the diamonds on Ladies' necks were even sparklier.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the many stores lining the streets and she spotted another little girl with her family coming out of the toy store… With a new doll! She remembered the doll she had back home, one she had for a few years now. She was lovely, with hair like hers (although a bit messier) and a big red ribbon in it and a dress that was a little bit stained from taking her outside. This new doll the girl was holding was so shiny and her clothes and hair were perfect.

"Papa!" She cried out and tugged at his hand. "I want a doll!" Her little finger pointed at the girl, her eyes big and pleading with him. Papa gently lowered her hand and then took hold of it.

"Kitty, what about Grace at home? You love her! She would be so sad if you brought another doll home." That made her pout and shake her head, her eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. She only had one doll while other girls she played with had as many as five! She loved dolls so much, why couldn't Papa just get her another one?

"I don't want Grace, she's old and her hair and clothes are messy. I want that doll!" She tried to point again but this time Mama took hold of her other hand and shook her head.

"Katherine, Papa said no. Come along, let us continue our stroll." Her pout only deepened and when she didn't move, Papa picked her up and she whined. Her eyes glued onto the girl and her doll, looking so happy as she laughed and twirled around in front of the store. She narrowed her eyes and clenched her little fists as her chest tightened.

She just really wanted that doll!

10 years old

Katherine took to debutante lessons quite easily. She was such a charming girl, graceful, and full of spirit. Most of her father's money had to go towards his work, so Katherine had to rely on her Mama for her lessons. Thankfully, she was quite the expert.

"Ah, Katherine, hold your chin up more when you twirl. Remember to always keep your posture high." She was learning a country dance, one of the many dances she would have to learn when she debuted. Her mother was a debutante, and she promised Kitty that one day she would be too.

And oh boy, was she looking forward to that! She'd wear ballgowns every night, have diamonds around her neck and in her hair, and she'd marry someone from the royal family and get all the gifts she could ever dream of!

With a proud smile, Kitty fixed her posture and repeated the twirl as her Mama clapped. Footsteps were heard and Kitty stopped twirling, smiling when she saw her Papa come into the room.

"Do not stop on my account, darling girl! I want to see you dance!"

"Perhaps you should dance with her? She needs to practice with a partner after all." Mama smiled as she suggested, and Katherine nodded eagerly as she held her hands out to Papa.

"Dance with me!" Katherine giggled, the sound music to her father's ears, as he came over and bowed with a flourish before taking her hands as they began dancing again. Katherine was proud to show off her fine dance moves to Papa.

"What a beautiful dancer you are!" She beamed at his praise and nodded in agreement, always the confident little one.

"Thank you, I can't wait to be a debutante! I'm gonna be a queen one day, you know!"

"A queen? Well, you certainly are my little princess." He chuckled softly, but Katherine pouted- she was being serious!

"No, I really am! I'm going to marry an heir and become a queen, because queens get everything they want!" She sounded so sure of herself, like she just knew that it was going to happen. Her father paused for a moment and shared a look with his wife before looking at Katherine again, his smile kind and patient.

"Queens do get everything they want, but they also work very hard, Kitty. Ruling over an entire country is no easy feat." Ugh, not another one of his lectures. Katherine audibly groaned her frustration.

"Well, I just want to wear dresses and look pretty all day long." Papa gave a playful gasp and put a hand over his heart.

"But what about your studies? You love science, don't you want to study with me?" She could tell he expected her to agree with him, and it was true- she did love science and astronomy. But married women weren't scientists, and scientists didn't make lots of money.

"No, I just want to be a Lady." The seriousness in her voice made Papa's face falter slightly. He cleared his throat and forced a small smile, and Katherine felt her stomach clench strangely. She felt… Bad.

Mama stepped in, always the peace maker. "Come now, perhaps we should stop dancing. Let us get a snack and have a rest." Katherine nodded in agreement and went to sit down on the sofa, watching as Papa silently made his way out of the drawing room.

16 years old

The day Katherine got invited to a recital ball, meant for future debutantes and bachelors, to say she was over the moon would be an exaggeration. It was being held by a girl of similar age, one Miss Eleanor Sheffield. Someone she admired from afar, seeing her out in Mayfair with her fancy dresses, her fancy shoes, her fancy hair. This was her chance to finally become her friend and secure a tightly knit friend group when the time came to debut into society together.

Her excitement abruptly ended when she got the horrible, terrible, absolutely worst news imaginable.

"What do you mean I cannot have the dress? Papa, this will ruin everything for me!" She screeched in her overly dramatic way. Papa winced at the cry before she sighed in frustration, trying to get Kitty to be reasonable.

"Now Katherine, there are plenty of other beautiful dresses you can wear-"

"NO! I hate you, you never get me anything that I want!" That was just very clearly not true. Mr. Rowley provided for his wife and daughter the very best that he could. He gave his high-maintenance daughter what he could when he could- sometimes even having to forgo something for his important studies just to see a smile on her face. It was hard, but he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

"Katherine." His voice was low and soothing, but his face showed his upset. He always used that voice when she was having a fit. But God, she was 16 years old. She was almost a woman. Why hadn't she grown out of this? "That was entirely unkind and not at all needed. I am very disappointed in you." Kitty absolutely hated that word, "disappointed." Disappointed was worse than angry. It meant she did something genuinely wrong- in her eyes, anger was something that could easily be remedied. Anger was temporary. But disappointment? It always cut her deep. Why didn't people understand? Was it so hard for them to comprehend that she needed this?

She stared at him for a few moments, her face scrunched up in anger. Finally, she cried out in her frustration and stormed off to her room, slamming the door behind her.

A few days later, she was surprised with a different dress- still very beautiful, but it was from the previous season making it slightly less fashionable. It was not the one she wanted, the brand new one from the fancy modiste shop. But she supposed with some of her jewelry she could make it work. She gave him a hug silently, unable to apologize. Admitting she did wrong made her feel worse, but thankfully her Papa accepted her hug as apology enough. He was such a good father.

At the recital, Katherine was bright eyed and excited. Her papa acted as her chaperone, and the two of them walked in as she held his arm. She stood up straight and tall, her chin tilted up confidently. The invitation said to act as if this was a real ball, so she was going to exactly that. Father and daughter were introduced to the room, and Katherine curtsied elegantly. Eyes were on her, and she was positively beaming. She was so happy.

"Katherine Rowley, you came!" Eleanor said, and Kitty's eyes lit up. She looked up at her Papa, who was smiling at her, and she stepped forward.

"Eleanor Sheffield, you look beautiful." And she really did. Her dress was dazzling underneath the chandeliers and her skin looked so glowy and her hair was perfect. She was stunning.

"Thank you," Eleanor smiled sweetly, but her eyes looked over Kitty's dress, assessing her. "You look beautiful too… But your dress, could you not have gotten something new?" Katherine's stomach dropped. She looked down at her dress, the same dress that she settled for because her father could not afford the brand new one. Her chest tightened and her jaw clenched as she looked at Eleanor agan.

"It is new." She said, voice dripping with strained, clearly fake politeness. "My father bought it for me." Eleanor slowly nodded, but she was not buying it.

"It may be new, but I recognize it from last summer. One of my friends was wearing something very similar, if not the exact thing." She said casually, frustratingly calm meanwhile Kitty had a hurricane inside her. Her father recognized the signs of a Kitty Meltdown and politely excused them. He started to guide her away, but Kitty snatched her arm away from him and glared up at him.

"You've embarrassed me." She hissed out, eyes tearing up. "This was supposed to be my night, and you've ruined it!" Mr. Rowley frowned at her words and shook his head, gently trying to get Kitty to look at him.

"Darling I am sorry that Miss Sheffield was so rude. But you musn't listen to her, you look beautiful and you can still have a fun night."

"No, I cannot enjoy this night, I want to go home." She demanded and he sighed deeply.

"Katherine, we are already here. I paid for this dress. You can't just leave. Do you want me to told to Lord Sheffield-"

"No, I want to go!" Her voice was raising, and people were starting to look.

"We will miss the chaperone dance." He tried again, it was something she had been looking forward to. She glared up at him, her fists trembling at her side.

"I do not want to dance with you." The way she said it, as if he were the most horrible man on earth, made his heart break. He loved his daughter so much, but he missed how sweet she was when she was younger.

What happened?

"Very well, Katherine. We will go."

21 years old

Things were just getting worse and worse for Katherine. She was supposed to be debuting in the spring, finally able to go out into society and find a rich spouse and be happy. That was the way things were supposed to go. But, clearly, her family and the universe were against her.

She was sitting in front of her parents, they had called for a family meeting. She hated family meetings, they were almost always about how bad she was.

"Katherine," her father started, sighing heavily. "Sit down and just listen for a moment. I know you were looking forward to debuting, but I must insist that you wait at least one more year. We simply do not have the funds for all that we will need, and your behaviour…" He trailed off, looking at Yi for help.

"Your behaviour is abysmal. You do not behave like a young lady." Her mother said. Their words made Kitty's chest ache and her stomach twist. She stared at them, her mind reeling with all sorts of thoughts. She wanted to scream and explode, but they had just told her that that very thing was, apparently, abysmal. After a few seconds of staring, her father sighed again.

"Say something, Kitty." Her eyes only narrowed at him, her arms crossed over her chest. Dear God, she was giving them the silent treatment now. Her mother chuckled humorlessly and shook her head at the childish display.

"This is what we mean, Katherine. You are a woman, but you still behave as if you are a girl. How do you expect to find a Lord or Lady if all you do is scream and throw tantrums?"

"Maybe," Kitty finally spoke up, standing now as she glared at her mother and father. Such traitors. "I would behave like a lady if you both treated me like one! How are the nobles meant to take me seriously when I look like this?" She motioned to her beautiful but not nearly fancy enough for her dress. "I am a laughing stock! You have told me how important it is that I marry well and yet you force me to look like a common wench!"

"Katherine-" Mr. Rowley started again, but it was no use. His wife and daughter were arguing, very loudly. Such was common these past few years. His house hold was turning into shambles, and he couldn't help but feel it was all his fault.

"I hate you all!" Kitty screeched and stomped her feet against the floor as she stormed off. Yi left to their bedroom as well, leaving just him.

He found Katherine in her room, crying into her pillow. "Kitty," his soft voice said as he sat down next to her. His hand soothingly rubbed her back as her cries made her body shake. "Your mother and I are just worried, darling girl."

"Well I am worried too!" She whimpered and rolled over to face him with a sad pout on her face. "I am worried that I will never marry and I will end up a horrid, lonely spinster!" Mr. Rowley frowned and shook his head, gently helping her to sit up. He grabbed her handkerchief nearby and began dabbing at her face tenderly.

"That will not happen. You are a smart girl, very funny, accomplished, beautiful." She noticed he left out the word 'nice,' and it just made her lower lip wobble even if his compliments did make her feel a little better.

"Everyone hates me, Papa." She whispered with glossy eyes, her voice quiet. "I hate me. I have no friends, no real friends anyway. I just want to be married, I-I want… I want to be loved.." Her voice trailed off as she leaned against her papa, her face mushing into his shoulder now as more tears overcame her.

Mr. Rowley's heart broke for her daughter. He shhh'ed her and gently rocked her side to side in his arms as he let her cry out her saddness, rubbing her back continuously. "You are loved, Kitty. You are terribly and abundantly loved."

22 years old

Numbness was all that she was. Papa had died so suddenly, complaining of a headache and then just… Not waking up. It devastated the household and so much changed over night. The head of the household was gone and left nothing behind for his family. He was young so there was no will written up, and he unfortunately died before resolving the debts that accumulated over the years.

Debt caused because of her, no doubt.

Her eyes were always bloodshot from crying, and her body ached everywhere. Her mother was no better off, especially since they had to let go of several staff, leaving only the essentials.

Kitty moved on autopilot. She should have been delighted when her mother informed her she was going to debut.

"We need to find you a spouse now. Someone to help us." Her mother told her as she prepared her for her entrance, wearing a lovely white gown and a giant feather in her hair.

For once, she didn't care about dresses or jewelry or fancy balls. She just wanted her papa. But the lack of money scared her- When he was alive, things were steady. They were comfortable. And now they were in danger of losing their home since it was technically not left to either of them.

Her first ball was more beautiful than she ever dreamed. It was sparkling, it was decadent, it was perfect. She glided across the floor elegantly, remembering to be on her best behaviour. Papa would have been proud of her.

As she danced with a young Lord, she noticed a man talking to her mother. The Earl of Shrewsbury, she had been told later on. Katherine felt horrified- He was so old, surely he didn't want to marry her? But then she saw the way he looked at her mother, the way she smiled at him.

Interesting.

Time passed and while she was friendly with enough people, she got no offers for marriage. Her mother, however, was a different story. Lord Cornelius Thorne proposed to her, and she accepted.

Just like before, everything changed so very fast. They moved out of their old home into the Thorne estate. Her mother went from Miss Yi Rowley to Lady Yi Thorne, Countess of Shrewsbury. And Katherine, she was Miss Thorne. Her new father took her on as his own, insisting that he wanted to take care of her like he did his own children.

She cried at that.

And she cried again when her new father gifted her a luxurious and beautiful new dress set. A dress with matching hat, gloves, shoes, and jewelry. He told her it was from the modiste shop she always had longed to go into.

"Anything for my beautiful girl." He had said. And Katherine threw her arms around him, crying as she said a gleeful, "thank you, Papa!"