Bridgerton Imagines

Fallin' For You // A.B.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Warnings: female reader, injuries, minor injuries, nothing overly serious, worried Anthony.

Word count: 1.9k

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For all of the education allowed to women of your station, even your governess would be shocked at the litany of swear words leaving your lips as you do your best to limp across the stretching, green lawn of Aubrey Hall.

A morning walk. A lovely, morning walk where you could observe the grounds of your marital home – that was all you wanted, all you had really planned of your day. You weren't to know of the tree root sticking up from the ground; its limbs gnarled and mangled as it stretches out across the forest floor.

You felt something rip as you fell to the ground; your left ankle trapped within the tree root, a pained yelp leaving your lips as you scraped the palms of your hands on the rocks littering the floor. Wounded pride, wounded hands, wounded ankle – you took a quick inventory of your injuries as you let the tears fall in privacy before dragging yourself to your feet, briefly wondering how much more damage you would do to your ankle before making it home.

The closer you get to the grand seat of power of the Bridgerton family, the straighter you force your posture, determined to hide the worst of the pain until safely hidden away in your bedchamber where you could release the waiting sobs and cries of agony. The main door is too far away, and the thought of limping to the heavy wooden doors almost sends you to the floor once again. Instead, you hobble to the side entrance to the kitchen where not even the delicious aroma of shortbread could keep the tears at bay.

"Lady Bridgerton!" The cook, Mrs. Black gasps as she catches sight of your muddied gown and the pained expression on your face. "Are you okay? Should you be walking?"

"I'm alright, Mrs. Black," You smile painfully, attempting to ignore the piercing pain spreading through your foot and ankle.

"You'll tell me anything!" She cries, flapping her teatowel at you. "I'm going to get Jenkins. Do not move," She warns, fixing you with an unimpressed but concerned look.

"I don't think I could if I tried," You admit, leaning against the wooden frame of the doorway for support, relieving your injured ankle of your body weight.

You let your eyes slip closed, letting yourself fall into the pain for a single moment, slowing your breathing as you feel the first tears slip down your cheeks.

"Lady Bridgerton!" Jenkins' concerned shout has you opening your eyes, meeting the aged grey eyes of the butler that had looked after you since the first days of your marriage to Anthony. His eyes run over you quickly, assessing the situation with a speed decades in services has gifted him. "Do you think you can walk to my office?" He asks quietly; his voice almost a whisper.

Mrs. Black answers for you; her Yorkshire accent becoming thicker the more upset she becomes. "Walk! The poor girl can barely stand! Walk, my great aunt," She mutters, rolling her eyes as she settles her hands on her hips.

Jenkins closes his eyes for a count of three; letting Mrs. Black have her rant before shaking his head with exasperated fondness. "Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Black – would you please help Lady Bridgerton to my office."

The order is given, and the respected butler turns away, heading to his office to grab a chair and something for you to rest your ankle on.

Mrs. Russell and Mrs. Black each take an arm, holding you steady as you hobble your way to the butler's office.

The room smells like old paper and tobacco; it puts you at ease as you settle into the chair already set up for you in the middle of the room. Jenkins remains close to his desk; his eyes fixed on your ever swelling ankle.