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Sophie still couldn’t believe her luck in life, she had been married to Benedict a week now and as they lay in the bed of the seaside cottage on their honeymoon, she felt perfectly at peace with the world. They had gone into the little sleepy town two days prior and Sophie had made Benedict buy paints. He had been skeptical but had agreed on the condition that the first painting he would paint would be of Sophie.
Sophie had been reluctant having never had a portrait done but the way that Benedict had leaned in and whispered “ Please ” in her ear and caused a shiver to run through her entire body that she had nodded and agreed.
Benedict had just asked to her to sit and read and he would paint her like that and so that’s how they spent the last two days. Despite it being June, the weather was appalling, Sophie had been caught in a rain storm the morning before and it had ended in a rather lovely bath and a little romp afterwards before they had come down into the parlour, Sophie had lounged on the chaise and Benedict had sketched out his drawing, his brow furrowed in concentration, little eye creases forming around the edges of his eyes as he worked.
Sophie loved watching him work, when he was really deep into a moment, and concentrating on something he would poke his tongue out from the corner of his mouth and furrow his brow. It was more interesting than her book.
The house keeper had brought in some tea the second day and Sophie had poured them both their cups and given Benedict some biscuits and had to remind him at regular intervals to either have his tea or eat his biscuit as he was lost in his sketch.
It was probably an unconventional way to spend their honeymoon but it suited them perfectly, they were so content in each other’s company that they could spend hours just sitting with each other, not speaking or Sophie reading aloud to Benedict, in a way that reminded them both of their time in My Cottage and often Sophie would ask questions about the Cottage.
Like how much land it had with it, and if there were any Tenants, she’d panicked slightly when Benedict said 4… but then explained that one of them was Mr and Mrs Crabtree and the other three were just as lovely as the Crabtree's and were sure to love her, regardless of her background, she had relaxed.
As the evening drew closer on that first day, she’d asked him, in an effort to bring him back from his painting as he had his brow raised as though he was displeased with what he had done, “would we be having separate rooms”
Benedict’s reaction had been immediate, he had dropped the brush he was using and hauled her over his shoulder and stalked off to their chambers for the duration of their stay and proceeded to show her exactly why they would not have separate chambers, Sophie giggled into his ear after they were spent and cuddling in the bed “I was only teasing my love, I knew you would not wish to be apart but you were looking awfully serious and I had to distract you”
Benedict smirked at her “next time to just tell me to take you to bed my love, that will do”
“And if I wish to have you on the sofa again?” she giggled playing with the hairs on his chest.
Benedict growled and rolled her atop of him and pressed his lips to hers “then just say… husband I need you”
Sophie wiggled her bottom against him with a grin “well Husband… I need you” she grinned as her lips found his and then got lost in another again.
The next day was spent much in the same way Sophie watched as Benedict took his brushes carefully to the canvas and started to create his piece. Sophie was lying reading some poetry aloud to Benedict as he worked
“You say you love; but with a voice
Chaster than a nun’s, who singeth
The soft vespers to herself
While the chime-bell ringeth—
O love me truly!
You say you love; but with a smile
Cold as sunrise in September,
As you were Saint Cupid’s nun,
And kept his weeks of Ember—
O love me truly!
You say you love; but then your lips
Coral tinted teach no blisses,
More than coral in the sea—
They never pout for kisses—
O love me truly!
You say you love; but then your hand
No soft squeeze for squeeze returneth;
It is like a statue’s, dead,—
While mine for passion burneth—
O love me truly!
O breathe a word or two of fire!
Smile, as if those words should burn me,
Squeeze as lovers should—O kiss
And in thy heart inurn me—
O love me truly!”
Sophie sighed as she finished repeating the recently published words of John Keats, she knew not everyone would appreciate his words but she’d felt every single word she’d read and she’d seen Benedict pause and smile at her when she finished as he placed his paint brush down to pause in his work.
Sophie got up and made her way to sit on his lap “am I not allowed to see yet?” she asked as he moved the canvas away from her as she nestled herself onto his lap, both revelling in how perfectly she fit in his arms, confirming what they both knew already. They were perfect for one another, a perfect fit. Two halves of a whole.
“No of course not my dear, I simply moved it to allow you to get in. I did not wish for you to get paint on you” he grinned.
Sophie looked down at her arms, which had specks of paint on her “would you look at that… i have paint on me from my husband” she teased as he picked the canvas back up.
Sophie turned slightly and expected to see a portrait of herself but what she saw absolutely took her breath away “Oh Ben… it’s…” she felt tears welling in her eyes “it’s so beautiful”
It was a drawing of the moment they had met, her on the stairs in Bridgerton House, eyes wide with wonder as he had his head bowed in greeting and offering his hand to her. The entire thing looked, magical, even half completed.
“Do you think so? I… I am not sure. I feel it is missing somethin-” she broke off his criticism with her lips.
“It is perfect. It shows our first meeting, it radiates that magic of the moment… it’s so perfect, even in its half complete state” she said pressing her lips to his again, his arms wrapped tighter to pull his wife closer to him as their lips moved in sync with one another, their hearts beating as one, lost in their own world.
“I love you so much Benedict” she whispered against his lips as she rested her forehead against his, her green eyes staring lovingly into his chocolate orbs.
“I think I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you… You are everything I have ever wanted, everything I ever need. My present and my future” he said lovingly, his heart bursting with love and adoration as he held her close and pressed his lips back to hers.
He scooped her into his arms and stood up “do you know what my favourite piece of poetry is?” he asked he stood up with Sophie in his arms.
She shook her head and he pressed his lips to hers again before he recited the words of Lord Bryon as he walked her through the house to their room
“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade more, one ray less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!”
He finished as he stood Sophie by the edge of the bed and began to slowly undress her “it reminds me of you… I memorised it after I met you…” he said brushing a tear from her cheek.
“Oh Benedict” she sighed, god could this man be any more perfect. Reciting bloody Byron to her as he stripped her naked, he lay her back on the bed as he disrobed himself and climbed onto the bed with her. “I love you so much” she said as he slid himself into her. Fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.
Their lips murmuring each others names and “I love yous” over and over into the evening and into the night.
The portrait didn’t get finished during their honeymoon but as soon as they returned to My
Cottage Benedict finished the painting and Sophie hung it in pride of place in their main drawing room.
The start of their love story, portraits of their growing family would eventually join it, but that, the very first piece Benedict ever painted, held a special place in both of their hearts and the hearts of the their children. It was the start of their fairy tale stories Sophie would tell them as they crowded around the fire, Charlie was 6 when he realised it was his parents in the painting and the fairy tale their mama told them, was actual a real life fairy tale.
After many arguments between the siblings the painting would eventually go Violet who hung it in her entrance hall, many buyers would try and buy it, offering obscene amounts of money but it was a priceless piece to the Bridgerton's and would never be sold. It was her father’s first ever piece and the start of her parents legendary love story and priceless. They risked everything to be together and their love won out in the end, conquering all challenges along the way. Their story ran through the generations of Bridgerton’s Charlie, Alex, William and Violet would tell of their parents love story to their children, and their children would pass it on. A truly priceless piece of art and truly remarkable love story.