Chapter Text
Benedict sat on the edge of his seat, barely waiting for the carriage to stop so that he wouldn’t injure himself while alighting. He pushed the door open at the earliest possible moment, meeting Sophie on the steps of the portico and sweeping her into his arms. He held her to him like a buoy to a man drowning, lips meeting hers for the kiss of life. Her fingers wound into his hair as she melted against him.
The clearing of a throat jolted them from their reunion. “Miss Beckett, I presume?” Eloise asked dryly.
Sophie sprang back as though scalded, blushing from neck to hairline. Slim fingers covered her swollen lips. “Excuse me! I did not see you there.”
“Of course, you didn’t. My brother here did not bother with introductions before ravaging you right here on the steps.”
Benedict rolled his eyes, moving to stand beside his fiancée but keeping a hand on the small of her back. "Eloise, I am pleased to present the woman I am going to marry, Miss Sophia Beckett. Sophie, this is Eloise. Bridgerton sibling number five as you may have guessed from the name."
"Thank you, number two, for your kind introduction." Eloise stepped forward and put her hand out to Sophie. "I look forward to learning more about my new sister. We Bridgertons are a large brood, but we are always ready to welcome another member."
Sophie clasped Eloise’s fingers, the other woman's piercing gray eyes seeming to stare straight into her. She wondered how much Eloise knew about her past, a bastard who had lived and worked as a servant. Did Benedict’s sister think her worthy of joining a viscount's family? She made a conscious effort to bring forth every ounce of manners and breeding she possessed, instilled in her from her youth and copying the ladies she had attended as an adult. Sophie straightened her spine, glad that she did not have to meet Benedict’s family in rags. She gestured back toward the house.
“Please, come in, you must be exhausted from your journey. I have inspected the rooms and I’m sure you will find them adequate; even the servants’ quarters are snug. I will ring Mrs. Crabtree for tea.”
“You seem to have made yourself quite at home.” Sophie felt the blush blooming in her cheeks. “I hope Benedict has warned you of my inquisitive nature, Miss Beckett. You had better tell your housekeeper to have another pot at the ready, for we have much to discuss.” Eloise raised her brows in a pointed expression before stepping past them.
When his sister and her maid disappeared into the house, Benedict pulled Sophie to him for another thorough salutation, reacquainting himself with the feel of her in his arms. He had felt such relief when he saw her framed in the doorway, and he needed to reassure himself that she was indeed real. His hands settled on her hips until she pushed at his shoulders.
"Benedict!" she hissed. "Your sister might see us! And then what should she think of me?"
"She would think we are madly in love, of course." He grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows.
"No, she would think I am some brazen hussy unfit for polite society." Sophie crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "She already seems to think I have overstepped by acting as hostess. I want your family to think well of me. If they don't approve… surely they could find some way to separate us." She turned away, anxiety rising to the surface. She chafed her arms and bit her lip to hold back tears. The crunch of gravel announced his approach, followed by the warmth of his hands on her back, encouraging her to face him.
"That’s not going to happen," he said softly. "We'll go to Gretna Green if we have to, but I will marry you. If you still want me, of course. And if London is too much for you, we can stay here where it's quiet."
"Benedict, I love you and I do want to marry you. But I know how important family is to you, and I couldn't bear to be the reason you lose yours. I don’t want you to have to choose between me and them." She allowed herself to lean into him, hiding her face against his chest. His hands drifted up and down her back, the deep rumble of his voice soothing her.
"Sophie, Sophie, Sophie… My family will love you, I'm sure of it. You don't need anyone's approval, but I can see how much it matters to you. I will endeavor to behave myself." He kissed the top of her head, leaning down to trail kisses along the side of her face. She turned her head, and he took advantage of her exposed lips to kiss her properly. "One more to tide me over," he said with a lopsided grin.
She bumped him with her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Come along, let's get you settled. Miss Bridgerton must be wondering what's keeping us."
Benedict reluctantly followed her into the house; he would have rather enjoyed a few more private moments. He dashed upstairs to brush off the dust of travel, then made his way to the drawing room. Eloise was alone, poking about the room.
“Where is Sophie?” he asked.
Eloise raised her eyebrows. “I believe she is in the kitchen. She asked if I was hungry, and instead of ringing for the housekeeper, she seems to have taken up the task herself.”
Benedict sucked his teeth and nodded. He would have to break her of that habit. He did not want his wife to lift a finger ever again; she had done enough work under Araminta to last a lifetime. If Sophie went to such lengths any time they had company, people would think her eccentric. “You must think it rather strange—”
“On the contrary, I rather admire her independence.” Eloise met his look of astonishment with a level stare. “Mother would have fits if I ever did more than lift a teapot. Pouring the tea is one thing, but boiling the water? To step foot in the kitchen? Benedict, don’t you ever tire of having everything done for you?”
Sophie appeared in the doorway, wringing her hands. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and smiled nervously. “I’ve laid out some things in the dining room. We truly didn’t expect you until tomorrow, and the Crabtrees have gone to visit their daughter. I must admit, I am glad you returned because the house is far too quiet.”
Eloise flashed a wide smile at her. “I am glad to find you so capable, Miss Beckett. Lord knows my brother needs looking after. Lead the way!”
“I’m afraid it isn’t much, Miss Bridgerton, but I hope that it will tide you over until breakfast.” Before turning back to the hall, Sophie bobbed a brief curtsy as she would for her mistress. Eloise swallowed a laugh, causing her to blush.
“Please, Miss Beckett, do not curtsy! We are to be sisters. In fact, I insist that you call me Eloise.”
The former maid smiled, her nerves calming at this token of friendship. “Please call me Sophie.” She felt tears welling in her eyes and turned quickly to blink them away. “I have bread and fresh butter, cold meat, cheese, and apples. Oh, and a pie. Simple fare, really. And tea, of course. Or would you like wine?”
Eloise chose her place at the table and looked over the repast in wonder. Sophie chewed her lip, nerves tangling again.
“Delightful!” the brunette declared. “I hate those stuffy dinner parties with all the silver and fussy food. This looks quite comfortable.”
Sophie sank into the chair adjacent to Benedict at the head of the table, across from Eloise. “Your maid came down to the kitchen in search of the housekeeper. I fixed a tray for her and sent her up to choose her room. I’m afraid your brother has yet to hire a full staff.” She looked to Benedict for reassurance.
Benedict took her hand and raised it to his lips, brown eyes radiating warmth. “This is more than enough for tonight. I would, however, like some wine. Ah-ah,” he tutted, shaking his head when she made to rise from her chair. “I am sure that I can fetch a bottle of wine from my own cellar. I’ll return in two shakes. Eloise, be gentle.” His sister raised her brows above her wide gray eyes. Her innocent look did not impress him. He added sternly, “I mean it.”
Sophie watched with trepidation as he left the room. What an odd thing to say.
“Well, Sophie, tell me about yourself.”
She turned her head to meet Eloise’s sharp gaze. “Oh, I’m not sure what I might say that Benedict has not already told you.”
“Best to start at the beginning then.” Benedict’s sister folded her hands atop the table, prepared to give her undivided attention.
Sophie’s mouth fell open with a silent gasp. “I grew up in the north,” she hedged. She could tell that her usual story would not satisfy Eloise. And what had Benedict shared? Best to stick as close to the truth as possible, then. “I moved to London with my stepmother after my father died. She could no longer keep me, and with no marriage prospects, I set out to make my way in the world.” She faltered at Eloise’s gasp.
"Make your own way? You just… left?" Miss Bridgerton stared at her in wonder. "On your own? No prospects? Lud!"
Sophie chewed her lip. The other woman's shock made her wonder if she ought to have kept her mouth shut. Her eyes darted to the door, hoping that Benedict would return soon and save her from further missteps. He clearly had not told his sister about her past as a servant. Sophie’s mind raced, searching for something to say that would put Eloise’s mind at ease, but she didn’t want to lie to her. She was frozen, mouth agape, while the wheels spun uselessly in her mind.
Eloise clapped her hands. “I applaud you, Miss Beckett. How brave and clever you must be! I cannot imagine haring off into parts unknown with no plan for the future. To be frank, I should like to, but it is not in my nature. I must at least have some destination in mind.” She leaned forward. “What made you choose Wiltshire?”
“It was the furthest I could get with the little money I had,” Sophie said weakly. She expected to be met with censure, and this admiration turned her completely upside down.
“And what did you do when you arrived here?” the brunette pressed, gray eyes wide with interest.
“I sought work as a housemaid.”
“A housemaid! Surely one as gently bred as you obviously are would be a fine candidate for a lady’s maid or companion to an elderly widow.”
“Ah—yes—well—you see…” Sophie paused to take a calming breath.
“Do you know, I had no idea where to find the wine cellar?” Benedict presented his prize with a flourish. “Never noticed the door in the floor. Then again, I’m never in the kitchen.” He frowned thoughtfully.
“Brother, I was just having the most enlightening conversation with your darling fiancée.” Eloise watched him struggle with the corkscrew, leaning back out of harm’s way. When it popped free, she held her wine glass out to him. “You didn’t tell us that she was in service.”
“It’s complicated,” the couple said in unison, with an added oath from Benedict when he realized he had splashed red wine on the white tablecloth.
“To be sure.” Eloise’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “I would love to hear the whole story.” Her piercing gaze turned from one to the other.
Sophie looked to Benedict for direction. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “It is entirely up to you, my dear. I have told the whole thing to Anthony and Mother already, and Eloise is bound to ferret it out eventually. Only Colin hears gossip sooner.”
Eloise squared her shoulders and Benedict prepared himself for a lecture. “That is only because Colin is a man, and therefore has the freedom to go where he pleases, when he pleases, instead of needing a blasted chaperone.”
Sophie gasped at the curse from the young lady’s mouth. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of Miss Bridgerton, a gently bred lady from a wealthy noble family who didn’t balk at dining with a housemaid? Sophie had never imagined such a creature. The other woman was forthright, to be sure, but also kind. She was going to enjoy getting to know Eloise. Biting her lip, she glanced at Benedict, whose smile conveyed reassurance. “Very well then,” Sophie began and launched into her story.
Eloise’s face expressed a great depth of feeling at every turn, interjecting to decry the injustices that Sophie had experienced at the hands of her stepmother. When Sophie arrived at Benedict’s rescue from Cavender, Eloise delivered a tirade of such furious language that raised her brother’s eyebrows. Sophie wished she had been there that night; Eloise seemed willing and able to give Phillip Cavender the thrashing he deserved.
Eager to shake off unpleasant memories, Sophie turned to her betrothed. “Benedict, you must tell me about your trip to London.”
“There isn’t much to tell, really. I spent a total of four days on the road with minimal stops. It was boring and uncomfortable, but I wanted to return to you as quickly as I could.” He caught up her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles, ignoring Eloise’s snort. “My conversations with Anthony and Mother seemed to go over well. They did not raise any objections. Mother is quite keen to meet you.” Benedict gave Sophie’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“As is the rest of the family,” Eloise interjected. “My sisters and I were very curious about you when Benedict told us you had nursed him back to health.”
“Enough about my trip,” Benedict said quickly. “I’ll not have Eloise overwhelming you with tales of exuberance. You will meet them yourself soon enough. How have you been keeping yourself busy while I was away?”
Sophie looked curiously from Benedict to Eloise. Are the Bridgertons as fearsome as all that? “I spend most of my time here, helping Mrs. Crabtree as much as she allows. Sometimes I read, or embroider.” After some hesitation, she explained her second encounter with Lady Mornington. Eloise whooped in a most unladylike fashion.
“Well done, Sophie! I am pleased to find you so spirited. You’ll need every bit of that vim and vigor to keep the rest of us from running roughshod over you.” Her gray eyes sparkled with mirth.
“Well, I think that’s enough wine for you tonight,” Benedict said briskly. “We spent a long day on the road, and I look forward to a proper rest in my own bed.” He rose from the table and stretched, waving a hand when Sophie began to gather up the plates. “Surely Mrs. Crabtree can attend to those in the morning.”
Sophie let out a gasp of abject horror. “Are you mad? The dining table will be overrun by mice if we leave this out. Mrs. Crabtree would put any maid who left such a mess out of this house in an instant.”
“You are not a maid,” he reminded her gently. “You are not in my employ, nor are you under Mrs. Crabtree’s jurisdiction. You needn’t trouble yourself with this work.”
Sophie set her jaw and lifted her chin. “I will not leave them.”
Benedict glanced at his sister for help, to no avail. Instead, she said, “Here, Sophie, allow me to help you.” Eloise raised one brow, her stormy gray eyes daring him to challenge her.
“Oh no, Miss—” his fiancée began.
“ Eloise. I insist.” She bent down to collect the wine glasses.
Benedict looked between them and decided to keep his nose out of it. Heaven help me, the two most stubborn women in England are under one roof! With a deep sigh, Benedict pitched in to help with the clean-up. “I suppose I should have learned by now that I cannot change your mind once it is made up.”
Sophie blushed, dropping her eyes. But her shoulders were still stiff. “No, you cannot.”
Benedict caught Eloise’s raised brow, lips parting with a question. He gave her a hard stare and a slight shake of his head. For a wonder, her mouth clicked shut. She must be tired . More likely, she was biding her time to catch Sophie alone. Benedict ground his teeth. He was beginning to regret bringing Eloise here.
The trio managed the clean-up quickly, despite Eloise’s fascination with the kitchen. Benedict could only imagine what Lady Violet Bridgerton would say if she could see her children playing at scullery maids. She’d probably faint dead away. That thought brought him up short. He glanced at Sophie, her graceful neck bent as she scrubbed at a dish. He had been relegated to drying duty, which allowed him to observe his intended and his sister, giggling together as Eloise proudly washed her own dish. Surely love and laughter, this warm feeling in his chest, the overwhelming sense of peace and joy and home , was more important than the opinion of any stuffy old sods in London. Benedict felt something inside him ease, a tension he had carried so long that it had been forgotten. His steps were so light that he practically floated up the stairs to bed. Eloise’s gray eyes glittered as she turned for her room, leaving the couple alone on the landing. He and Sophie parted at her door after a good night kiss; her green gaze held his, the gap in the door slowly diminishing, her wide smile sending him off to sleep.