friendly neighborhood writer friend

Benedict, within a few days of them being married, told Sophie that he would make it his mission — one of many as her husband — to teach Sophie how to sleep in. He claimed that it wouldn't be too hard, especially since lesson one of sleeping in was to tire her out with their late night activities. Even Sophie had to admit that she had no problem with how late into the night they often went — but no matter how late their couplings had gone on, she still got up along with the sun.

Slowly, Sophie made her way out of bed, ignoring the growing anxiety in her stomach. Her mind spun as she tried to think of any reason why Benedict would have possibly gotten out of bed so quickly and without her even noticing. No matter how confident she was that Benedict loved her, it was hard to shake away the anxiety that this could all be taken away from her. That Araminta might pop up at any moment and take her back to Penwood house till she worked herself to death.

Sophie stood up and shrugged on her discarded nightgown from the night before. She needed to investigate what was going wrong herself. Waiting around idly would do her no good, so she made her way through the house to search for her dear, missing husband. 

Our Cottage was quiet as she stepped out into the hallway. At times, it was still hard to believe sometimes that this beautiful home was hers. She loved the cottage since she first saw it despite the rain and the uncertainty of where she would go after being fired by Philip Cavender. All of her fondest memories were here in the country. It was the only place where her father would accept her, love her openly. It was the place where she and Benedict slowly fell in love with each other. 

She slipped through the doorway of his studio, peeking her head in. “Benedict?” Sophie called out, only to get no response. The room was just as he left it the night before, paintbrushes and half-finished projects scattered everywhere, the faint scent of oils still lingering in the air. 

By the time she made it down to the kitchens, Sophie’s stomach was churning. There was no reasonable explanation for his absence. All she hoped was that the Crabtrees could provide some insight as to where her husband was gone.  

Only, she was greeted by the smell of freshly baked goods. Every morning Mrs. Crabtree — usually with the help of Sophie — would make breakfast, but this was far beyond their usual feast. There were meats, baked goods, and deserts all prepped as though they were planning on inviting the entire royal family to break their fast with them. 

And there, surrounding the kitchen table, was Benedict and Mrs. Crabtree in a state of disarray. Or at least Benedict was in such a state with jam staining his sleeves despite being rolled up to his forearms and flour dusted across his cheeks. Mrs. Crabtree looked down at the mess he seemingly made with a mixture of disappointment and amusement.  

“Benedict, what are you doing here?” An amused smile spread across Sophie’s face.

Benedict looked up at her from the mess of bowls and mishmash of ingredients. His face softened, a crooked smile forming. “Mrs. Bridgerton, you were meant to be asleep still,” he said, crossing the kitchen in two quick strides. “I had planned to wake you properly, but I see my lessons have been going entirely ignored.”

He reached around Sophie’s waist, drawing her close to give a kiss on her cheek. There was a boyish expression across his face, full of excitement and mischief. Whatever he had done, he was certainly pleased about it. 

“What is all this?” Sophie asked. 

“Ah, yes, well” he said, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, “you were not meant to discover this so soon. I intended for this to be far more elegant, but it seems my talents do not lie in the culinary arts.” 

Sophie shook her head. “I still don’t understand. You did not need to do all this.”

Benedict’s expression became serious. “Of course, I did.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Happy birthday, my love.”

Sophie gasped softly. “Benedict…”  

“You once mentioned that you never truly got to celebrate it, and that is just entirely unacceptable,” Benedict explained. “You deserve to be cherished, well really any day, but especially on the day you were born. I could not in good conscience let another pass without ensuring that I have corrected this injustice. I take my duties as your husband with the utmost seriousness in case you haven’t realized and that includes spoiling you on your birthday.”

Sophie felt her eyes start to sting. “This is far more than necessary.”

“Nonsense.” Benedict drew her close to him again, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Besides, this is only the start of what I have planned. You have helped prepare breakfast far too many times, so it's only fair if I return the gesture by preparing entirely by my own hand.”

Mrs. Crabtree let out a hum of disagreement. 

“With minimal supervision,” he quickly added. “I didn’t think you would appreciate me burning down our home for your birthday so I asked Mrs. Crabtree for help.”

Mrs. Crabtree responded, “Mr. Bridgerton still has much to learn when it comes to cooking. He has made a complete mess of my kitchen and I believe he burned at least two of the fresh loaves I made.”

“Mrs. Crabtree, you wound me.” Benedict grasped at his heart. 

“That said,” Mrs Crabtree continued. “I will admit this was all his idea and he did insist on doing as much as possible on his own.” 

Sophie stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Mrs. Crabtree in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Mrs Crabtree. This is all truly wonderful.” 

Mrs. Crabtree hugged her back. “You are most welcome. Happy birthday, my dear.”

Benedict was right. When she first moved in with her father, she would receive a few gifts, but largely still go unnoticed. By the time Araminta took over her life, was forgotten by everyone except perhaps Irma and Alfie. Even then, birthdays were more so just a reminder of the passing of time rather than being an opportunity for any real celebration. 

Yet, Benedict not only remembered her birthday, but decided it was worth celebrating. That she was worth celebrating.

Together, they moved their meal into the dining room. Benedict finally allowed Mrs. Crabtree — as well as Mr. Crabtree — do most of the work for him by carrying the plates and trays to the table. It was far from the most refined meal Sophie had ever seen, but it was clear how much detail went into everything from including her favorite fruits to the flowers decorating the table. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited our family to join us today,” Benedict said in between bites of the, slightly, burnt pancakes he had made (which Sophie raved about anyways, telling him they were the best she’s ever had).  

Sophie froze. It still caught her off guard when she was reminded that Benedict’s family was now also her family. 

“Not all of them,” he quickly added. “Just my mother, as well as Eloise and Hyacinth. We can celebrate with the rest of them when we go to London in a couple of weeks, but I knew they would have my head if I did not invite them to celebrate with us on the actual day.” 

“They’re coming here? Just for my birthday?” Sophie asked. 

“If you don’t want them here, then I’ll send them away. This is your day and I will not force you to do anything you don’t want,” Benedict reassured her. 

“It’s not that I do not want them here,” Sophie said. “It’s only… I’m surprised.” 

“Surprised?” 

Sophie nodded. “It’s foolish, I know. But I cannot help but be surprised that they are willing to come all this way just for my birthday, especially with the season starting soon and—”

“Sophie,” Benedict interrupted, reaching across the table to take her hands in his. “My family is not coming here because they feel obligated to. They are doing it because they love you.” He gently kissed the top of her hands. “You are so easy to love, Sophie. I wish you could see that.”

“I do.” Sophie smiled at him. “Or at least, I am trying to.”

Benedict kissed her hands once more. “That’s all I ask of you. Especially since I plan on spending the rest of my life proving it to you. You could have some mercy on your poor husband, you know.” 

Sophie laughed. “Oh dear, what a terrible fate.”

“There are certainly much worse fates out there than being blessed with the most perfect wife,” Benedict said. “I, for one, am very happy with the life I’ve been given.”  

Benedict placed his hands along the sides of her face, holding it as though it was the most precious thing in the world to him, before placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Even after months of marriage, Sophie still felt that flutter deep down in her stomach as Benedict kissed her. It both felt like a surprise and the most familiar thing to her. It took barely a second, before her lips responded to his, slowly increasing their pace. 

She almost didn’t hear someone clear their throat. 

‘Both of them turned, their lips bright red and swollen, to see Mrs. Crabtree standing in the dining room with her arms resting on her hips. 

“Mr. Bridgerton, I believe there is still much to do,” Mrs. Crabtree said. “Besides, I don’t imagine you want your meal to spoil right in front of you.” 

“Right, of course.” Benedict smirked, as though he felt no shame for intimately kissing Sophie at the table. 

Sophie felt it hard to be ashamed as well, instead feeling overjoyed and amazed at how wonderful her birthday or, more accurately her life, was turning out. 

She smiled at her husband, before returning to the meal he so thoughtfully put together. 

---------------------------------

Benedict wasn’t entirely sure how he was able to pull breakfast off. 

Sure, he had the Crabtrees help and it was far from perfect (he already was considering ways he could make it up to the new scullery maid for the mess he had made), but it made Sophie happy. That’s all that mattered. 

He will forever remember the way his wife’s face lit up as she realized what was happening. Sophie often didn’t believe that she deserved nice things or even the most basic kindness. It was his mission in life to make up for all the horrible years she’d spent under Araminta’s “care,” and remind her everyday how lucky he was to have her as his wife. 

Besides, he needed to learn how to pull his weight around the house more. He refused to be one of those husbands disinterested in how his household was run. Sophie already did far more than she needed to as the lady of the house, it was only fair if he tried to relieve some of that weight off her shoulders. He decided that learning how to make breakfast would be an excellent start, but what he didn’t realize was how messy it would be. 

Still, Sophie loved it. He knew she was lying when she said the burnt pancakes were perfect, but the joy on her face was undeniable. 

It wasn’t long after when the three Bridgerton women arrived at Our Cottage, gifts in hand as they hugged Sophie tightly and all wished her a happy birthday. 

“Sophie, you must open my gift first,” Hyacinth said. The family had gathered around in the drawing room, surrounding Sophie as though she was the Queen. “I am absolutely certain you will love it, I went to the market and—” 

“Perhaps, we should let Sophie open her gifts, but you spoil what we all got her,” Eloise interrupted. “Though, I certainly will say I believe you will find what I got you far more appealing and informative.” 

“I’m sure I will love them both,” Sophie said. “I am simply grateful that you two are here and cared enough to bring me anything at all.”

“Well of course, Sophie! We love you and are thrilled you joined our family. You were the best lady’s maid we ever had” Hyacinth declared as if it was the most obvious fact. 

“She was the first lady’s maid we had and we’ve only had Liza since,” Eloise corrected.

“Well, Liza still does not do my hair nearly as well as Sophie did.” 

“Hyacinth, be respectful towards Liza,” Violet admonished. 

“I’m, for one, grateful to have yet another intelligent sister-in-law,” Eloise added. “Sophie is by far one the best read women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Or most men for that matter, she’s certainly read more than you, Benedict.”

Benedict rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Thank you, dear sister. I believe since this is my home that you three have invaded, it is only right that I get to give Sophie my gift first. Well, one of my gifts.” Later today, he’ll show her the newest painting he had been working on in his studio as well as some things he was saving for that night when they went to bed (and certainly would not want to discuss in front of his mothers and sisters). 

“Benedict, you need not to give me anything.” Sophie shook her head. “You’ve already made me breakfast.” 

“Of course I did.” Benedict kissed her on the cheek. “I shall be right back.”

Benedict quickly made his way back to the kitchen where Mr. Crabtree was waiting for him, the gift almost ready except for the top of the box still needing to be placed on top. 

“Is it time, Mr. Bridgerton?” Mr. Crabtree asked. 

Benedict looked into the box and smiled. “Yes, I want to give it to her now.” 

Mr. Crabtree nodded, before placing the top of the box and handing it over to Benedict who made his way back to the drawing room. His family were still laughing about something or other before Sophie noticed the green box with a white bow on top in his arms. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” he said as he placed the box in front of her. “Open it!” 

Sophie gave him a smile full of childlike glee before removing the top of the box. As she looked inside, she gasped.

“Benedict…”

She reached her arms inside before pulling out a small golden puppy with the biggest, sweetest brown eyes anyone had ever seen. Wrapped around the golden curls on its floppy ears were two little Bridgerton blue bows. 

“You got her a dog!” Hyacinth shouted, standing up from the couch. 

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious,” Eloise said, though clearly she was just as enamored by the dog as everyone else. 

Sophie hugged the dog closely to her chest, to which the dog only snugged in closer as if it already knew that Sophie was to be their new mother. She looked up at Benedict, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Sophie whispered. 

“You don’t need to say anything.” Benedict moved closer, wrapping his arms around both her and their new dog. “Seeing you happy is all that I wanted.” He paused. “You…you are happy right?” 

Before he could truly start panicking, Sophie quickly nodded. “Of course I am! How could I not be?” 

In that moment, Benedict felt as though he was a good husband; a husband worthy of Sophie and her love.

The idea of getting her a dog had been on his mind for a while now. She never told him explicitly she wanted one, but one day after spending the day at Bridgerton house with Anthony and Kate, Benedict could tell that Sophie was equally enthralled by both Neddy and Newton. She spent the day cuddling them both, telling both the human and the furry Bridgerton how much she loved them. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she not only wanted children — something he already knew as they’d talked extensively about it — but a dog as well. 

Still, he wasn’t entirely confident in his plan. He didn’t want Sophie to feel like she was given another chore, as he knew how much care went into having a dog, and he wasn’t sure how the Crabtrees would feel about him bringing a dog into Our Cottage. Children, they would be fully supportive of, but a dog…it seemed his best option was to ask for forgiveness, not permission. 

So, he studied up. He never considered himself to be the best student, but he found it easier when the topic was important to him. He learned as much as he could about what went into caring for a dog. Secretly, he wrote to Kate asking for her advice, which she always responded to thoroughly and enthusiastically. By the time he went to the kennel to choose a dog, he was confident that he could take care of one. 

It was the least he could do. Sophie could have asked for the moon and he would have spent the rest of his life trying to get it for her.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Sophie asked. 

“A girl. I knew she had to be ours the moment I saw her. She was by far the sweetest in the litter, but I could tell there is some mischief in her.” 

“She’s perfect, I love her already.”

“I’m happy to hear it. What would you like to name her?” He asked. “Our Dog?”

“Benedict, we are not going to name a dog ‘Our Dog.’ Absolutely not.”

“You thought Our Cottage was a charming name.”

“Yes, but that is for a house not a living creature.” Sophie scratched behind the dog’s ear, pondering what a good name for such a perfect puppy would be. “I think I’d like to name her Gaenari. It’s a Korean flower, her coat reminds me of the yellow petals.”

“Gaenari Bridgerton it is then,” Benedict declared. 

“Sophie, can I please hold her?” Hyacinth pouted her lip.

“Of course, you can.” Sophie passed the dog over to Hycinath, who immediately cooed over the dog’s sweet nature.

With the Gaenari free from her arms, it gave Sophie the opportunity to bring her attention entirely back to her husband.

“Have I told you that there is truly no man that is a better husband than you are?” Sophie placed her hands along his waist. 

Benedict smiled. “I believe you have mentioned it once or twice, but I certainly don’t mind hearing it again.” He pulled her in closely, kissing her once more. 

With that, Benedict knew he had done well. He also knew that he would never hold back for any of her future birthdays. The happiness he felt radiating off of her was intoxicating, there was simply no better feeling than knowing that he made his wife happy. Even when they are tired taking care of their many children and dogs, he would always find the time and energy to show her the love she deserved on her birthday. 

Sophie rolled her eyes, but smiled. “You can not know for certain. Besides, all of your siblings had sons first. It seems to be a trend amongst all of you.”

“Which means it is time we give my mother her first granddaughter.”

“It means the next generation of Bridgerton’s is simply destined to be a bounty of boys.” Sophie pondered for a moment. Despite her insistence that their first child was to be a boy, she too could not get the vision of a little girl with dark hair and bright eyes out of her mind “If it were to be a girl, which I do not think it will be… how would you feel if we named her after your mother?”

Benedict's hand stilled against her stomach, his eyes widened as he turned his head to look at her.

“What?” He whispered.

“Well, she has done so much for us and Violet truly is a beautiful name,” Sophie explained. “Anthony and Kate already have a child named after your father, don’t you think your mother deserves the same?”

For a long moment, Benedict simply stared at her. Without saying a word, he reached up and gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind Sophie's ear before cupping her cheeks in the palms of his hands. Benedict leaned down and captured her lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

“You truly are extraordinary,” he murmured as he rested his forehead on hers. “Thank you, my love.”

Sophie laughed quietly, her nose brushing his. “What for?”

“For everything.” His hand returned to her stomach. “You and our child have filled my soul with more love than I ever could have imagined. Your love is the greatest gift I could have ever imagined.”

He bent down until his lips rested against the growing swell of her stomach, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“And you,” he whispered to their little child, “are going to be loved more fiercely than you will ever know.”

“You know,” she teased, “our child cannot actually hear you yet.”

“Perhaps not.” He kissed her stomach once more for good measure. “But I intend to tell her every day for the rest of my life.”

She had never doubted for a moment that Benedict would make a wonderful father, but watching him now, she knew their child would never spend a single day wondering if they were loved. Unlike her, their child will be surrounded by constant love and affection.

Benedict’s reassurance only seemed to make things worse. “But it’s the exact same!” Violet insisted.

Sophie just smiles, brushing a hand through her daughter’s hair. “It’s not the same.”

“It is.” Violet sniffles.

Sophie shakes her head. “It’s similar, but… I didn’t leave a glass slipper behind. Your father kept my glove.”

“You ran off before I could give it back!” Benedict argued. “Besides, I needed a way to find you again.”

“It was my necklace that made you realize who I was,” Sophie said. “The glove was just token you kept hidden in your jacket.”

“But when papa found the missing glove in your drawer, that’s how he certain that you were the Lady in Silver,” Violet said, reciting the story she had heard so many times before. Slowly, she seemed to calm down. Maybe her parents weren’t lying after all.

“That’s right, my sweet girl.” Sophie hugged her daughter tightly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Every bit of it happened the way we always told you.” Sophie looked up at her husband. “I’m not sure I could have imagined a more perfect story for myself.”