sarah waris

But just imagine;

The day felt both long and short at the same time. Short because one moment you were in your room with your lady’s maids putting your hair up and patting rouge on your cheeks and the next you were taking a man as your husband in a church. It felt almost as if everything happened in a blink of an eye that you could hardly remember being walked down the aisle with everybody’s eyes on you, thanking the Heavens that your memories failed you or else you’d be rather mortified with all that attention.

And long because you had to wait for the sun to shy away from the skies to be alone with your newly pronounced husband.

You had gone into the room earlier than Benedict to freshen up. The lovely new nightgowns that were especially made for your honeymoon laid beautifully on the bed by your maid. You slip into one, marveling the details of the fabric. Upon looking yourself in the mirror, a soft gasp escaped your lips, not realizing how certain nightgowns could accentuate parts of your womanhood. You could hardly recognize yourself in the mirror, especially now that your hair flowed freely down your back.

You sat on the bed, waiting patiently for your husband to come into the room. He had told you that he would need to settle a few things before he joined you but that was ages ago, it felt like, and your nerves were getting the best of you. Curiosity won over and you put on a robe atop your gown, not even bothering to button or tie it up and head out of the room. The hallway were dimly lit, only a few candles left burning as you walked the length of the hallway.

As you were about to descend the stairs, you realize a male figure was walking up. And there he was, Benedict Bridgerton. His jacket and vest were off, as was his bowtie. His hair was disheveled as if he had run his hand through it multiple times in exasperation. And the undone collar of his shirt made the butterflies in your stomach flutter even more as you realized this was the man you had married earlier.

“There you are,” you exclaimed softly, startling him slightly.

Benedict raised his head and locked eyes with you and for a moment he stood there looking up at you in awe and silence. You could feel his gaze running up and down your body as if he was not sure if you were there or just a mere illusion.

You blinked a few times and slowly the crease on your forehead deepen in confusion.

“Is everything okay?”

Benedict replied with a slow smile and shook his head, chuckling softly in disbelief. “I just can’t believe I wasted so much time downstairs when you had been waiting for me upstairs looking like that,” he admitted.

Realizing your hadn’t even conceal your nightgown, you quickly pulled your robe over your chest.

A chuckle escape his lips as he climbed up the remaining steps, closing the gap between the two of you.

“My apologies.... Mrs. Bridgerton,” Benedict said softly as his arms touched your hips and snaked behind your lower back, pulling you close to him. “Had I known...” he started before shaking his head. “No, there are no excuses. What shall you do with me for leaving you alone for so long?” he teased, his eyes glimmering as he looked down at you with a smirk.

Pushing back your nerves and reminding yourself this was the man of your dreams, one that promised to love you till your dying breath and you had no reason to be nervous around him, you replied: “I see you’ve gotten slightly undressed yourself, Mr. Bridgerton.” You ran your palms softly on his arms and made its way to his neck, touching the undone collars and stealing a touch or two on his neck. He closed his eyes at your touch and a part of you jumped at the idea of the effect you had on him.

“Mrs. Bridgerton,” he whispered as he brought down his lips to your ear. “You have now idea how you have bewitched me.”

As if he knew your legs would give out on you, his arms scooped you up just in time and his lips silenced yours before you managed to squeal. You could feel his strong arms around your body as you wrapped your arms around his neck and all the while as he made his way down the hallway to your room, his lips never left yours.

It was late. You know that. You’ve been tossing and turning for the last hour. The sound of crickets and other nocturnal animals kept you company in the darkness. Your eyes had been open and adjusted to the dark long enough that you could make out the beautiful ceiling and well-decorated room.

Giving up on sleep, you sighed loudly and got out of bed, pulling on a robe to cover your nightgown. You usually had no trouble sleeping over at the Bridgertons’ when your family was away. You had rather preferred to be in a house full with people whom you thought as family than an empty house with servants and lady’s maid as company, hence, the Bridgertons’. Alas, sleep eluded you that night and after enough tossing on the large bed, you light up a candle, opened the door slowly, and walked down the long hallway. You thought perhaps a breath of fresh air outside by the swings could probably chase the anxiety away. Perhaps Eloise would be there; God knows she loved to have a smoke or two in the middle of the night.

But as you walked down the hallway heading to the stairs, the door to one of the rooms was slightly ajar and light escaped and spilled out. Curiosity got the best of you and you quietly tip-toed and peek in.

There sat Benedict in front of a wooden easel by the window. The light in the room was enough to capture his rugged appearance, disheveled but handsome nonetheless. His collar was open, his hair slightly tousled; he had probably run his hand through it a couple of times for it to look that way. He looked completely at ease with a glass of wine in his hand, his attention completely focused on the paper, or so you thought.

“You could come in, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice a little too loud against the silence of the sleeping house.

Ashamed that you got caught snooping, you walked into the room with your head down, your cheeks ablaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” Benedict chuckled, cutting you off. “You’re not disturbing me. Couldn’t sleep, could you?” he asked, finally setting his eyes on you, putting something down onto the easel.

“No.” You walked to the sofa across from Benedict, setting the candle on the table in front of you. “I really didn’t mean to disturb you while you’re drawing.”

“Stop. You’re not,” he gave you a warm smile. His nodded slightly to the sofa. “Since you’re here, you might as well sit and stay still.” Benedict began resuming his drawing.

You were confused. If he was to draw you, shouldn’t he changed to a new piece of paper? Regardless you stayed put. From time to time Benedict’s eyes travelled from the paper in front of him to you. You felt rather exposed, sitting with a man in your nightgown, in a room, unchaperoned. But this is Benedict. You have known him since before your debut. You’ve never thought of him as a potential husband. Partly because he had declared more than once that he was not looking or interested in marriage.

A few minutes passed as you two sat in silence. Finally, not withstanding the quiet and his gaze on you, you sat straighter and sighed rather loudly.

“Right! I’m sure its done by now?”

You got up from the sofa.

“Good god no, not yet, please don’t,” he begged as you made your way to his side.

“You had plenty of time, Benedict,” you said, even though it had just been mere minutes. A small laugh escaped your lips as you stood behind him. And then your eyes fell onto the beautiful drawing he had made. The details of it says that he had been working on it for a while. It was a sketch portrait of you, in your favorite dress; the white one with the light floral embellishment by the hems. The dress that you wore at your debut two years ago.

“How-,” you started. You couldn’t find the right words to utter your disbelief. “I believe I wore that 2 years ago! How could you remember?”

Benedict was still sitting down on his bench so you two were eye to eye. His piercing eyes forced yours to meet his, pulling your gaze away from the portrait. You had a silly huge grin on your face and tears pooling in your eyes. You couldn’t believe someone would remember such intricate details about you from 2 years ago. Being on the marriage mart this long tend to make you feel invisible. And as you look into those beautiful almond-shaped eyes looking at you adoringly, you saw it. You were far from invisible to him.

His charcoal-stained hand found yours as his eyes held your gaze, trying to gauge if this was what you wanted. When he found no resistance, he wrapped his big hand around yours, gently, but firm.

“It took me a while,” he started, his voice soft. “I think I know now why I was never interested in anyone before.”

You took in a breath, not exactly sure what was happening.

“I started drawing this since you came to stay with us a couple of days ago. And for the life of me, I could not remember who it was or where this memory was from, but I just couldn’t stop drawing.”

His other hand slowly made its way to your face, moving his soft fingers across your cheek.

“But when you sat there, I could finally put a face to this portrait. It’s you.”

His fingers continued to caress your cheeks, making its way to your hair, and slid down behind your ear, tucking your hair back.

“It’s always been you,” a faint whisper escaped his lips. Had you not been standing in front of him, so close that you could almost feel his breath on you, you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

Your heart was thumping in your chest, your eyes unable to blink, scared that you might lose this moment.

Benedict slowly interlace your fingers with his. With the other hand, he had placed them strategically behind your head and you could feel him pulling you closer to him. You couldn’t believe what was happening. 2 years with not one proposal tempting enough for you to accept and now this. Perhaps this was what you were waiting for all along; a man mad enough for you to sketch you out from an old memory he had remember of you, albeit subconsciously.

You felt as if your lips was glued shut, but as his lips found yours, it awoke to the sensation. Your free hand moved up to his beautiful face, holding it in place as he deepen the kiss.

It felt natural and right to be there, held by him, as he covered your face with soft kisses. You let out a heavenly sigh as he pulled you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his arms moved to wrap around you, holding you to him. “Marry me,” he said, his lips moving on your neck.

Not sure if you had heard it right, you pulled back so you could look at him. “What did you say?”

He smirked, the kind of smirk that says he knew you had heard it, but wanted him to repeat it anyway.

“I said. Marry me.” His steady gaze held yours, his face perfectly serious with a hint of playfulness, as if challenging you to ask him to repeat again.

Your smile was big enough that you felt your cheeks hurt.

Even before the thick, dark doors were pulled open by the house butlers, you could already hear the voices of guests and the live music playing beautifully. 

The room was huge and brightly lit as guests danced in the middle of the floor gracefully. Your eyes wondered from puzzled faces to more friendlier faces who were welcoming you and your family with their polite smiles. You had thought the people of high society would be filled with snobs, but no, your aunt and uncle, and most of the people at the ball proved otherwise. 

You had moved to London in the middle of the (society) season because your parents had had enough with your rambunctious ways in the village. They thought a season or two in society with your aunt and uncle could perhaps change your ways and attract you a suitable husband. They weren’t wrong.  A week of continuous etiquette classes with your aunt, the tutors, and your helpful cousin, and you were off to an evening ball at a viscount’s home in a beautiful gown with patterns and laces you had never dreamt of wearing. You turned your head as you followed your aunt around the room and your cousin smiled an encouraging smile next to you, giving you an ever-slight nod. She was confident that you would attract at least several pairs of eyes (both mamas and their bachelor sons) since she had donned you with her favourite ribbons and shoes. 

Your eyes slowly scanned the room as your aunt stopped to talk with several people. You gave them a small curtsy when you were introduced before your eyes went back to the graceful dancers and the beautifully-dressed people. Your gaze stopped at a group of people and you hear your cousin whisper in your ear. 

“That’s the Bridgertons. That one is Anthony; the viscount. He is Kate’s husband,” referring to the lady your aunt was currently conversing with. 

“Who is the tall gentleman next to him?” you inquired. 

“Ahhh, that is Benedict Bridgerton. A very talented artist, I heard. Unfortunately, it seems none of the ladies here has ever attracted his attention.”

As your cousin finished the last sentence, Benedict’s head turned to your direction. His hand was holding a gold-trimmed glass that he had put to his lips, making his eyes even more piercing than before as he looked at you. When he pulled the glass away, you saw that he was smiling at you.  

“My dears, shall we go get something to drink? I’m parched,” you heard your aunt’s voice pull you out from the reverie Benedict’s eyes had caught you in. 

“Yes, mama.”

Your aunt seemed to be people’s favourite as she had a neverending line of people waiting to get into a conversation with her. It was probably because your cousin was one of the most beautiful singles in the room, but she had sworn off men after her first (and last, so she said) heartbreak. The Ambitious Mamas (so your cousin called them) will never give up trying to make your cousin their daughter-in-law, though. You wouldn’t either; she was incredible. Your cousin excused herself and pulled you away from the crowd. 

“You looked like you were about to drown with all those questions about me, and you,” she had said as she pulled you to a quieter edge of the room. 

“I was more anxious at the fact that I hardly did the talking about me,” you admitted, chuckling. 

Your cousin laughed. “I think that calls for another drink. I’ll be right back!” 

And there you were, alone in a corner, in a room full of people you did not know. 

“Good evening,” a voice came behind you and you turned rather quickly, shocked at the sound of a male’s voice seeing as no one had talked to you directly the whole night besides your cousin.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled. 

Dumbfounded, your eyes couldn’t believe that the man you had seen across the room earlier was now standing right in front of you. It didn’t help that he was more handsome closer than afar.

When you still did not speak, he tried again. 

“I haven’t seen you before,” he noted, his blue eyes showed confusion with a dash of curiosity. “Are you not from London?” 

You were panicking, your mind grasping for words to form sentences so you could speak. Finally you said, “You are a Bridgerton, yes?” 

“I see my reputation precedes me,” a crooked smile broke out on his face. 

“My cousin had pointed your family out earlier, so I remembered,” you replied softly, not particularly sure how to speak with a gentleman, much more a handsome gentleman such as him. 

As if sensing your anxiety, he offered you his hand. 

“May I have this dance?”

Yes, dancing would mean there would hardly be any room for you to say the wrong words. 

It was unusually sunny for a typical day in London. You were sitting down in front of your mirror as your lady’s maid fixed your hair for the tea party in yet another Duchess’ garden. A small smile crept up her lips before you heard:

“There. All done.”

You touched your hair. Though you cannot see it, you could feel the intricate details of your dark curls, pulled back and twisted and turned to make a beautiful pattern at the back of your head and the remaining length of your hair caressed your neck and shoulders. You mirrored your lady maid’s genuinely happy smile.

“Thank you, Elise.”

Your family weren’t late, but as you walked into the garden, a beautiful space surrounded by lushes trees and colorful flowers, almost every eye turned to acknowledge your arrival.

Your family of 5 parted; your Mama joining the other Ambitious Mamas, along with your two elder sisters and your father gave your hand a supportive squeeze before joining the other gentlemen across the fountain. No, you wouldn’t join your Mama as the effort to not roll your eyes would just be tiresome. You rather be alone in a gardenful of socialites.

So you started to take a turn about the garden, admiring the Duchess’ bloom and as you were gently caressing the rose’s petal, a voice came from your back.

“Miss?”

You turned rather abruptly.

“You scared me!”

Benedict chuckled.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to,” he started. “I was just wondering if I could accompany you on your... walk,” he smiled sheepishly. “I’m sure I would make a better company than my sister’s roses.”

He had such light green eyes, yet piercing; a contrast to his dark curls.

“You are the Duchess’ brother,” you said, matter of factly before realizing you had just pointed out what he had just announced. “I mean of course you are.”

He flashed another smile, this time it was a smile that was trying to hide a laugh.

“Yes that would be me. Mr. Benedict Bridgerton,” he intruduced himself as he took your hand and planted a soft kiss.

As if it wasn’t hot enough, the spot on your hand where his lips touched burned hotter than the day, and blood rushed to your cheeks.

“My dear, there you are!” Your mother’s voice pulled you out of your reverie as she rushed to you with your father.

Introductions were exchanged and your Mama started listing down all your accomplishments to Mr. Bridgerton, selling you off like a chicken at a market. You could not help but bring your gaze to the tall handsome man in front of you. He had turned his head and chuckled softly as he looked at your father shaking his head and rubbing his temples, obviously getting tired of your Mama’s plans to quickly wed you off.

“Yes, thank you, my lady, but I believe we were about to take a turn about the garden. If you could excuse us,” Benedict finally said, offering you to take his arm.

A few steps away from your family, and you let out a huge sigh of relief. “I thank you for the rescue, Mr. Bridgerton. And I do apologize for my Mama’s behavior.”

“Not at all,” he smiled, turning his head to look at you. “Though, seeing as you are incredibly thankful for my save, I think you owe me a dance at Lady Danbury’s ball tomorrow night,” he teased.

You could feel his eyes on you, still. Though his tone was light, it would seem that he was still waiting for a reply from you.

Finally you summoned all the courage you had in you, pushed past the butterflies in your stomach and met his eyes, your head slightly titled due to the height difference.

“Yes, you can have as many dance as you want, Mr. Bridgerton,” you said rather softly, not sure if he had heard it.

If the edges of his lips could reach his ears, it would.

It was yet another season for society to put their most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes into the Marriage Mart and that means more nights of balls, dancing, and courtships filling the columns of Whistledown, along with the latest scandals.

Like any other ladies, your anxiety grew stronger the longer you stayed on the shelf. It wasn’t because the ton lacked gentlemen who would make suitable husbands, no, but it was because after a few callings and promenades around the lake, you found that there is nothing more to them than their name and title (and perhaps money). To some, financial security is the only requirement for one to accept the proposal, but not you.

You had hoped to skip this season like you did last because everyone knew as the years go by, you are only getting closer to being a spinster, and at this point, you felt rather hopeless that you’d ever find a man that would make you happy. But alas, your mother had decided that one year away from society was more than enough for her daughter and therefore, there you were, at yet another ball, day after day.

You were standing by the corner of the room, trying to avoid the men whom you had once refused, but had strong persistence and determination like Mamas during the season. The lovely music filled the room as chaperones fill in each other on the latest scandal and as you were trying to appreciate the graceful dancers, a rather loud group of men laughing caught your attention. You turned your head, intending to show how annoyed you were with their happiness, when one of them looked up, a huge grin on his face, his eyes twinkling from the laughter.

All the annoyance dissipated as you stood there mesmerized by the smile. The man looked away after giving you a small nod and returned his attention to his group. You blinked a few times, pulling yourself out of the reverie.

“Something caught your eye, my dear?” Your mother asked as she made her way to you.

You almost laughed out loud, rather unladylike. Somehow mothers have the best intuitions.

“I’m alright, mother. I was just going to grab another glass of lemonade.” You walked away after giving your mother a reassuring smile, hoping it was quick enough for you to get away before she pushed another gentleman along your way.

As your hand grabbed a small glass, you heard a voice behind you and you had to assume that he was talking to you as there was no one else at the table.

“Can I have the next dance, miss?” The voice had asked. It was deep and unfamiliar, so thank the Heavens, it was not from men whose proposals you had turned down.

You turned around and there he was, standing there waiting for an answer, looking breathtaking as he did a few minutes ago.

[this is somewhat the continuation from the previous imagine]

Another day, another cup of tea and biscuits with the Bridgertons in their informal drawing room. At this point, the Bridgerton House felt more like home than your own.

As you entered the drawing room, seven pair of eyes looked up at you, but there was only one that caught your attention. The gentlemen in the room didn’t brother getting off their seats, except for Simon and another man, who still had his manners and treated you like a lady when the rest see you as their younger sister. You made your way to the chair that is facing the gloriously bright windows and sat next to Eloise. As she started to rant on about something in her notebook, your eyes couldn’t help but look up intuitively for you felt that someone was peering at you. And gosh you hate it when you are right.

Your eyes locked with a one Benedict Bridgerton who had resume his lazy posture on the chair opposite of you. As if he could read your mind daring him to stare you down further, he tilted his head sideways; rendering you an enigma, yet something in his gaze said that you were the most pleasant enigma he has ever stumbled upon. Little did he know the way he looked at you was affecting you in ways you’d rather not feel while in the presence of the other Bridgertons and the Duke and Duchess of Hastings! You felt your cheeks grow hot and your stomach, well you’re not too sure how you’re going to munch down the lovely biscuits in front of you anymore.

You hadn’t realize how long you had been staring into the eyes of the beautiful man across you until you realize Hyacinth’s shocking expression looking at you and Benedict, back and forth as if she had finally managed to solve the puzzle with the long lost last piece.

A throaty chuckle escaped Benedict’s lips as he stood up and smoothed the imaginary crease on his shirt.

He cleared his throat, loud enough that Lady Bridgerton who was in deep conversation with Daphene catching her up with the latest scandals, turned abruptly to look at Benedict.

“I have an announcement to make,” Benedict declared proudly before turning to look at you with the most wicked grin that he knew would make your legs weak had you not been sitting down.

“I am engaged.”

Gasps and hands flew to almost everyone’s mouths in the room.

“My dear, pray tell, who is the lucky lady?” Lady Bridgerton inquired with the utmost curiosity. She had pushed almost every eligible bachelorettes in his direction but from her observations, none had caught his eyes, or heart.

Without another word, he walked to your side and asked for your hand, bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss as his penetrating eyes held yours.

Another round of gasps, with Hyacinth clapping her hands together, feeling rather proud of herself that she had figured it out first.