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Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 4
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Pairing: Regency!Anthony Bridgerton x Modern!Fem Reader
Summary: Dancing and dubious decorum
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: 18+ for the series but for this part, nothing. I will put this up on Ao3 and Wattpad so please do not repost my work elsewhere
Author’s Note: Our first ball! Please do enjoy! Thank you to @fayes-fics for serving as beta and @eulalielatibule for the inspo for this fic
Chapter 4: Of Balls, Bruised Toes and a Waltz
London, 1813
You enter the grand ballroom of Harley House and try your best not to gawp in wonder. Though you’ve read innumerable accounts of what a ball during the Regency era was like, seeing it in person is a whole other affair. You take in the glittering light thrown by the chandeliers, pausing at the entrance to wait for Lady Danbury, who approaches and studies you with a keen eye.
At her nod, you walk with her to the table that holds the dance cards for the eligible young ladies to wear. Your employer helps tie it in place as you glance at the order of dances for the evening, noting there are no surprises.
Lady Danbury had somehow procured one of the dance cards in advance, and you had spent several hours that afternoon practicing each one with Coral until you were not only proficient but excelled at each turn, all under the watchful eye of your employer.
Dance card firmly in place, Lady Danbury introduces you to your hosts, Lord and Lady Harley. You make small talk for a few moments, and then she’s steering you away, making more introductions than you can keep track of.
Your card already has a few names on it when Lady Danbury brings you over to the Bridgerton family. Lady Bridgerton is adjusting the sleeve of Daphne’s dress with Benedict and Colin standing behind them, looking very much like an intimidating pair of sentries guarding their sister’s honor.
Mother and daughter look happy to see you and Lady Bridgerton smiles and glances back at her sons.
“Benedict, Colin, you shall both write your names on Miss Addison’s card,” she says in a tone that brooks no disagreement.
In unison they chime, “Yes, Mother.” Both move forward to do just as their mother has ordered. You try to hide your smile, but Daphne starts laughing, and you follow suit as Colin first writes his name next to the Scotch Reel, after which Benedict adds his next to the Quadrille.
You’re wondering if it’s polite to enquire where Lady Bridgerton’s eldest son is when he ambles over, two cups of lemonade held in his hands.
“My apologies, Mother, the line for refreshments was quite long.”
He gives a cup to his sister and then turns to you and Lady Danbury, offering you both a bow. As he rises, you notice his eyes are firmly on your decolletage, even as he brings himself up to his full height.
You know you should be polite and not antagonize this man you’re meant to save, and yet there’s just something about him that makes you want to needle him.
He’s still gazing at your cleavage, even as his mother glares at him.
Placing a gloved hand over your bosom, you say, “Pardon me, My Lord, but my eyes are up here.”
The five others around you go silent as the Viscount raises his gaze to look at you, an absolutely unrepentant glint in his eye.
“But I shall forgive your impertinence,” you continue, raising the wrist towards him that holds your dance card, adding, “If you put your name on here.”
Anthony Bridgerton raises an elegant brow. “Surely the impertinent one is you, Miss Addison, attempting to solicit a dance from me.”
You hear Colin snort a laugh behind you, but you remain unfazed.
You wiggle your wrist for effect. “Lord Bridgerton, this is no attempt. You shall write your name on my dance card, for surely it would be ungentlemanly if you did not.”
At the word ‘ungentlemanly’, the Viscount glances at the people assembled around you, all of whom are pretending not to listen in on your conversation.
He lets out a put-upon sigh and then, rolling his eyes, writes his name on your dance card, after which he downs the cup of lemonade in his other hand in one gulp.
Lady Danbury taps her cane and then directs you away to greet more people whose names you are sure not to remember.
Before you know it, the dancing has begun. You dance various sets before Colin Bridgerton comes and finds you. The Scotch Reel is a merry, if not elaborate, dance that leaves you both laughing by the end. After a brief rest, it’s time for the Quadrille with Benedict Bridgerton, who you find is lighter on his feet than you expected.
You’ve danced several more times and are having a glass of lemonade and a quiet conversation with Lady Danbury when a man approaches. He seems nervous, tugging on his fingers as he bows in greeting.
You note the sweat on his brow as he glances at your employer, clearly waiting to be introduced. She gives him one of her inscrutable looks, staying silent for a beat longer than necessary before stepping forward to give the introduction this poor, slightly damp man is looking for.
“Miss Addison,” Lady Danbury begins slowly, “Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Harley, Lord and Lady Harley’s second son.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “He shall not inherit anything of consequence.”
Mr. Harley turns slightly pink as she gestures towards you, “Lord Harley, this is Miss Addison.”
You bow your heads towards each other. Mr Harley reaches out for your arm, now resting at your side.
“I would…would…like to add…my name to your dance card, Miss Addison,” he stutters. You catch Lady Danbury not so subtly rolling her eyes as you extend your arm out and he scrawls his name, claiming your next dance.
Lady Danbury leans towards you and whispers, “Mind your feet, My Dear.” Before you can ask her what she means, Mr. Harley is placing your arm through his and leading you away.
As you make your way towards the dance floor, you glance at your card and see that the dance that follows is the waltz you goaded Lord Bridgerton into signing up for.
As you take your places, things look promising, with Mr. Harley executing a perfect bow and then the opening step, taking your hands and spinning you in the correct direction.
But then sadly, it’s all downhill from there. Even as he counts the steps out loud, he still manages to turn you both the wrong way, nearly sending the couples on either side of you careening into the spectators on the edges of the dance floor.
In addition to not having any sense of timing or direction, he steps too close into your space and treads on your toes. Repeatedly. By the time the dance ends, you’re longing for a pair of steel-toed boots and a hard hat.
Mr. Harley looks relieved as the final note plays and spares you a brief head nod before scurrying off, leaving you alone on the dance floor. Around you, couples begin to take their positions for the waltz. You look for the Viscount, but can’t see him anywhere.
You’re about to step off the floor when a bare hand takes your white- gloved one in theirs. You look up at Anthony Bridgerton as he pulls you towards him, your bodies mere inches apart as the music begins again, this time a lively waltz.
The dance has barely begun when Lord Bridgerton leans in closer. He sounds far too amused when he asks, “How are your toes, Miss Addison?”
You offer up a wry smile. Solemnly, you tell him, “I’m afraid they shan’t be the same again.”
He nods, a mock sympathetic look crossing his handsome features. “My apologies, Miss Addison, Harley never was light on his feet.”
You huff out a laugh. “Of that, My Lord, I, as well as my toes, can attest to.”
The Viscount lets out a laugh that seems to catch him off guard, as well as the couple swirling nearest to you.
You pass the next few turns in silence. As you study him, the more you have to admit that perhaps his sideburns are not as stupid as you once presumed.
“Do you find my visage pleasing, Miss Addison?” His tone is both amused and sultry.
“My Lord,” you sigh, “I believe that no one finds your visage nearly as pleasing as you do.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I assure you, Miss Addison, a great many number of women do.”
You smile sweetly. “And thus, your reputation as a Rake is confirmed.”
His smile is sharp as he responds, “My dear miss, I never purported to be anything else.”
You take a final spin, and then the music ends, with you curtsying to him as he bows towards you. Offering his arm, he leads you back to Lady Danbury, who gives you both a rare smile.
He bows again, and just before he walks away, you reach out to touch the sleeve of his jacket and say, “Thank you for not letting my final dance be with Mr. Harley, My Lord.”
He stares down at your hand before looking back up at you. “I wish your bruised toes a speedy recovery. Thank you for shaming me into a waltz. It’s been some time since I’ve danced one.”
You remove your hand from his arm, tucking it into your side. Offering him a wry smile, you say, “It was my pleasure, My Lord. I look forward to cajoling you into dancing with me again sometime soon.”
Quietly, he says, “I look forward to it, Miss Addison.” And then, as if surprised by his own words, he glances at Lady Danbury and, with a clearing of his throat, he offers up another bow and then briskly walks away to join his family.
You’re still staring at his retreating back when Lady Danbury leans in to say, “Well done, My Dear. Well done indeed.”
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 3
Taglist Form
Series Masterlist
Ao3 Link
Wattpad Link
Bridgerton Masterlist
Previous Next Chapter
Pairing: Regency!Anthony Bridgerton x Modern!Fem Reader
Summary: Meeting the family and verbally sparring with the Viscount
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: 18+ for the series but for this part, nothing. I will put this up on Ao3 and Wattpad so please do not repost my work elsewhere
Author’s Note: We finally meet the Bridgerton fam! Please do enjoy! Thank you to @fayes-fics for serving as beta and @eulalielatibule for the inspo for this fic
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.
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 4 Sneak Preview
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You’re wondering if it’s polite to enquire where Lady Bridgerton’s eldest son is when he ambles over, two cups of lemonade held in his hands.
“My apologies, Mother, the line for refreshments was quite long.”
He gives a cup to his sister and then turns to you and Lady Danbury, offering you both a bow. As he rises, you notice his eyes are firmly on your decolletage, even as he brings himself up to his full height.
You know you should be polite and not antagonize this man you’re meant to save, and yet there’s just something about him that makes you want to needle him.
He’s still gazing at your cleavage, even as his mother glares at him.
Placing a gloved hand over your bosom, you say, “Pardon me, My Lord, but my eyes are up here.”
The five others around you go silent as the Viscount raises his gaze to look at you, an absolutely unrepentant glint in his eye.
“But I shall forgive your impertinence,” you continue, raising the wrist towards him that holds your dance card, adding, “If you put your name on here.”
Anthony Bridgerton raises an elegant brow. “Surely the impertinent one is you, Miss Addison, attempting to solicit a dance from me.”
You hear Colin snort a laugh behind you, but you remain unfazed.
You wiggle your wrist for effect. “Lord Bridgerton, this is no attempt. You shall write your name on my dance card, for surely it would be ungentlemanly if you did not.”
At the word ‘ungentlemanly’, the Viscount glances at the people assembled around you, all of whom are pretending not to listen in on your conversation.
He lets out a put-upon sigh and then, rolling his eyes, writes his name on your dance card, after which he downs the cup of lemonade in his other hand in one gulp.
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects, Chapter 4 is coming Sunday Night
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 3
Taglist Form
Series Masterlist
Ao3 Link
Wattpad Link
Bridgerton Masterlist
Previous Next Chapter
Pairing: Regency!Anthony Bridgerton x Modern!Fem Reader
Summary: Meeting the family and verbally sparring with the Viscount
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: 18+ for the series but for this part, nothing. I will put this up on Ao3 and Wattpad so please do not repost my work elsewhere
Author’s Note: We finally meet the Bridgerton fam! Please do enjoy! Thank you to @fayes-fics for serving as beta and @eulalielatibule for the inspo for this fic
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 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 in 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.
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 3
Taglist Form
Series Masterlist
Ao3 Link
Wattpad Link
Bridgerton Masterlist
Previous Next Chapter
Pairing: Regency!Anthony Bridgerton x Modern!Fem Reader
Summary: Meeting the family and verbally sparring with the Viscount
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: 18+ for the series but for this part, nothing. I will put this up on Ao3 and Wattpad so please do not repost my work elsewhere
Author’s Note: We finally meet the Bridgerton fam! Please do enjoy! Thank you to @fayes-fics for serving as beta and @eulalielatibule for the inspo for this fic
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.
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 2
Taglist Form
Series Masterlist
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Bridgerton Masterlist
Previous Next Chapter
Pairing: Regency!Anthony Bridgerton x Modern!Fem Reader
Summary: A more than understandable reason to freak out occurs
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: 18+ for the series but for this part, nothing, it's more set up. I will put this up on Ao3 and Wattpad so please do not repost my work elsewhere
Author’s Note: And now we’re movin’ (through time) Please do enjoy! Thank you to @fayes-fics for serving as beta and @eulalielatibule for the inspo for this fic
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.
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 3 Sneak Preview
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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 seems to notice and gives you an up and down assessing look.
Of course, he’s checking you out, this epitome of a Regency Fuckboy.
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects, Chapter 3 is coming Monday Night
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 2
Taglist Form
Series Masterlist
Ao3 Link
Wattpad Link
Bridgerton Masterlist
Previous Next Chapter
Pairing: Regency!Anthony Bridgerton x Modern!Fem Reader
Summary: A more than understandable reason to freak out occurs
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: 18+ for the series but for this part, nothing, it's more set up. I will put this up on Ao3 and Wattpad so please do not repost my work elsewhere
Author’s Note: And now we’re movin’ (through time) Please do enjoy! Thank you to @fayes-fics for serving as beta and @eulalielatibule for the inspo for this fic
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.
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 2
Taglist Form
Series Masterlist
Ao3 Link
Wattpad Link
Bridgerton Masterlist
Previous Next Chapter
Pairing: Regency!Anthony Bridgerton x Modern!Fem Reader
Summary: A more than understandable reason to freak out occurs
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: 18+ for the series but for this part, nothing, it's more set up. I will put this up on Ao3 and Wattpad so please do not repost my work elsewhere
Author’s Note: And now we’re movin’ (through time) Please do enjoy! Thank you to @fayes-fics for serving as beta and @eulalielatibule for the inspo for this fic
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.
Buttons, Bee Stings and Butterfly Effects: Chapter 1
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Pairing: Regency!Anthony Bridgerton x Modern!Fem Reader
Summary: The new property manager arrives, takes stock and meets their new employer
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: 18+ for the series overall, but for this part, nothing, it's all just set up. I will put this up on Ao3 and Wattpad so please do not repost my work elsewhere
Author’s Note: Here we go! I did promise Chapter 1 would not be far behind the Prologue, and here it is. Please do enjoy! Thank you to @fayes-fics for serving as beta and @eulalielatibule for the inspo for this fic
Chapter 1: Kent, England, Modern Day
You enter into the main hall of the great house, so named Aubrey Hall, according to the notes you’ve been given. The large, old-fashioned ring of keys you used to enter the house jangles in your hand as you walk around, taking stock of all the details, noting the extensive restoration that has taken place in nearly every room you go into.
As a property manager, you’ve been hired by the owner of the estate, a woman whom you've yet to meet in person but can imagine perfectly just by the brusque tone of her texts and emails.
As far as you can tell, your employer has no familial connection to the original owners. Based on the land records you looked through before taking the job, the estate had been in the same family since ancient times, before being abandoned in the late 19th century, only to be purchased by your employer’s family in the 1920s and restored in the years since.
In her first enquiry, she declared she was looking for someone with extensive knowledge of Regency and Georgian life and architecture and had been directed towards you. It was indeed your specialty, having cultivated a fascination with that time period as a young woman through novels and movies and turned that interest into a career as a Specialized Property Manager.
Your company is small, just you, your cousin, who is your secretary and the small ground crew you kept on. And thus, you were surprised the owner sought you out, but nonetheless, you were happy to take the contract, even if it came with an odd condition.
You were to reside in the house while you catalogued the contents of the estate, assessing both the quality of the renovations done over the last eight decades and the property’s fitness to be used once again as a residence, whether private or commercial.
The drive from London to this part of Kent takes you an hour and a half. Normally, you prefer spending the day working and then going home to sleep in your own bed, but your new boss was so insistent that you be in residence during the job that she wrote it into the contract as a non-negotiable term.
You walk into what must have been the original family’s sitting room. Light pours in from large windows with heavy, pale blue and gold curtains tied back by gold-braided rope.
The room is sparsely furnished, with a large, inviting couch upholstered in pale blue fabric sitting squarely in its center. You run a hand over the sturdy white-painted wood, and you can tell instantly that, while it is an original piece from the early 19th century, it’s been heavily restored sometime in the 1950s, based on the sheen of the glaze used to seal the paint.
A pianoforte sits in the corner of the room, half covered by a cream-colored tarp. It’s a beautiful piece, all original and in immaculate condition, as if waiting for its owner to wander in from the garden and pluck out a few notes.
Looking up, you see more tarps covering the walls, marking out nine large rectangles lining the facades. Both professionally and personally curious, you pull down the coverings. They fall in a line, one by one, as if connected.
Dust kicks up and then settles as each portrait is revealed, the fabric falling to the floor. You go to the couch, where you had dropped your tote bag, which holds two books sent to you by your new employer.
The first is a ledger, started by Anthony, the 9th Viscount Bridgerton in 1810 and finished in 1815 by his brother, Benedict Bridgerton, who had refused to take on the title but led the family after his elder brother’s death.
The second book is the diary of Eloise Bridgerton, dated from 1812 to 1815.
Reading the diary of this woman who lived over two centuries ago is like reading words written to you by a best friend. Her private thoughts and opinions are delightfully forthright, and more than once she has you laughing and wishing you could have met her.
As you walk around the perimeter of the room, you study the portraits. The first eight display individual men and women dressed in mourning clothes, their names displayed on little gold plaques.
The ninth and final one is different from the rest. A man stands in repose, resting one foot on a chair. He’s dressed in a blue jacket and white trousers. A cream-colored top hat held in one hand, his dark mop of curls is mussed while he gazes out from the portrait, looking smug. He’s handsome, you decide, even with the terrible mutton chops.
There’s no need for you to glance at the name plaque; you are certain this was the 9th Viscount. Information on Anthony Bridgerton is sparse, and in truth, the most information you glean about him comes from his younger sister’s diary. She wrote of how he left home one day, just before dawn, with his best friend, the Duke of Hastings, only to return mid-morning slung over the other man’s shoulder, barely clinging to life. A doctor was called, but little could be done, and the Viscount died later that night from a fatal gunshot.
Though she didn’t know the details at first, one of Eloise’s older brothers later confessed to her that Lord Bridgerton had been involved in a duel defending the honor of his mistress, and the other participant was a far better shot than the viscount.
Eloise Bridgerton’s diary continued for another two years after his death, but something had changed; her tone was subdued, her opinions dulled by the loss.
You’re still staring up at the portrait of Anthony Bridgerton, so lost in thought that you don’t even notice someone else has entered the room until you hear the tapping of a cane on the floor.
You turn to see a woman, tall and elegant, dressed effortlessly in a black designer pantsuit. She’s leaning heavily on a cane with carvings of wisteria etched into the ebony wood. You don’t even have to ask her who she is.
You extend a hand to her. “Hello, Lady Danbury.”
She squints at you before she takes it in a firm grip. “Ms. Y/l/n, it’s good to meet you in person at last.”
She continues to hold your hand as she looks you up and down, her face inscrutable. When she releases you, she nods and murmurs, “Yes, you’ll do nicely.”
You raise an eyebrow and stutter, “I…I’m sorry?”
She glances at you once more and then casts her eye around the room. “For this job, you’ll be perfect, I have no doubt.”
Before you can thank her for the compliment, she’s turning on her expensive heels and calling out for you to follow her.
For someone using a cane, she moves with astonishing speed throughout the house, pointing out details you had missed on your initial tour.
Lady Danbury at last comes to a stop in a kitchen beside the sitting room. “I added this in the early 2000s. It was once the butler’s pantry and linen closet, but I was tired of trudging up and down the stairs to the main kitchen every time I wanted a cuppa.”
For a former closet and storage room, it’s quite spacious. The room is painted a cheery yellow accented with pale blue. The refrigerator, double-oven, induction stovetop, microwave and dishwasher are all stainless steel. On the counter sits an electric kettle, a coffee maker, a French press and an espresso machine. A high, marble-topped island sits in the middle of the room with a pair of well-cushioned barstools in front of it.
Lady Danbury brings you back to the sitting room. Going over to the couch, she reaches into a shopping bag, from Louis Vuitton you note, and hands you a large, leather-bound book the size of an encyclopedia, with the words, “Bridgerton Family Bible” embossed on the cover in fading gold leaf.
“Read this tonight, before you go to sleep,” your employer orders you in a clipped tone. You heft it back over to the couch, placing it down beside Eloise’s diary. Lady Danbury’s eyes fall upon it, and for a moment, you swear she looks sad before her gaze shutters, and she looks back up at you. She reaches into her pocket briefly, then holds her closed palm out to you.
You place your hand under hers, and she drops something small and cold into it. You look down to see it’s a gleaming brass button with some sort of design carved into it.
“This is a token of my appreciation,” Lady Danbury says to you, adding, “You ought to keep it on your person tonight, for good luck.”
You continue to study the button in your hand. Smoothing your thumb over the raised design, you tell her, “One can never have too much luck.”
Your new employer says nothing for so long that you look up to find her once again studying you with that inscrutable look. When she finally speaks, her words surprise you.
“I believe, Ms. Y/l/n, that we shall work exceptionally well together.”
She leaves shortly after, promising to see you in the morning.
The day has gotten away from you, you realize, as you look out the open curtains at the setting sun, that you haven’t even had a chance to decide on where you’ll sleep for the night.
The bedrooms were out of the question, as none of them had any actual beds, and the few that had couches in them looked fairly uncomfortable. The former servants’ quarters were completely bare, and even the rooms in the guest wing held just a few tables and chairs.
Which left just two rooms. The first was what Lady Danbury had referred to as The Viscount’s Study. It was remarkably restored with a beautiful wooden desk and a comfortable-looking couch. The room smelled of cedar and old books, in the best way. Two of the walls held floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books, both old and new.
The other room was the sitting room with its beautiful blue and white couch and the pianoforte in the corner.
And all the family portraits lining the high walls.
You can’t explain it, but you feel a pull to stay in the sitting room. You find a table lamp in the study and plug it in to use as a bedside lamp.
You go back to your car and bring in your luggage as well as the blanket and pillows you had taken from home. You have always been particular about pillows, and after so many disappointments while traveling, have decided it is just best to bring your own whenever possible.
You set up the couch as a bed and, over a large cup of Pot Noodles, begin to read the Bridgerton Family Bible as Lady Danbury had told you to.
It’s less an actual bible and more a history of the family itself. Names and birthdates are inscribed into the inside front and back covers in various inks and hands, some faded, some clear, starting in the 1100’s and ending in the late 19th century.
You read until the words begin to blur together. Sliding the heavy book onto the floor beside the ledger and Eloise’s diary, you pull the button out of the pocket of your pajama pants. Holding it up to the lamplight, you notice that what you thought was a random pattern is actually a looping script with the letters “BL.”
You put the button back into your pocket and flick off the light, falling asleep to the thought of wishing that whoever “BL” is, they do indeed bring you luck.
You wake up the next morning, without your comfortable blanket and pillows and with sunlight streaming in from the windows, when you had definitely closed the curtains the night before. After rubbing the sleep from your eyes you stare around you at the fully furnished sitting room, every piece freshly-polished and wholly original. Looking up, you can see all the portraits on the walls, save for the one of The Haughty Viscount, are completely different from the ones watching over you the night before. As you slide off the couch in shock and onto the lush, pale blue carpet, you feel completely justified in yelling out, “Where in the bloody hell am I?”
