Chapter Text
Aubrey Hall was the loudest noble home you had ever worked in. Or, at least it was now. Not that you had a large basis of comparison, this being only your third post in your career as a nursemaid. When you interviewed for the position you had met the Viscountess Bridgerton, glowing in her second pregnancy, and her firstborn, little Edmund. For the first four years of his life the family had gone without a dedicated nursemaid, with the Viscountess herself taking charge of his upbringing, along with assistance from her housekeeper, her mother-in-law the Dowager Viscountess, and even her husband. It was an unusual circumstance to find parents so devoted to close interaction with their child, but it gave you a good impression about the type of family they were. But now that there was another little Bridgerton on the way, you had been hired to look after the future viscount and his eventual new sibling, caring for them until they were old enough for formal tutelage with a governess.
Your new residence of Aubrey Hall, sweeping, beautiful, and nestled in the hills of Kent, had been peaceful for the first two months of your employment. You quickly fell into a good rapport with Edmund, or Neddy as he preferred, and developed a great admiration for the kind Viscountess. The Viscount also treated you with respect but was often occupied with business. While his brow carried an intense furrow and his jaw was often clenched in the company of others, you were privy to the quiet moments with his son and wife. That was when he revealed his hidden facets, those of a deeply contented family man - playful, loving, and fiercely protective. This was an excellent family, and you were looking forward to spending several years in their orbit.
What they had neglected to tell you beforehand was how prolific the wider Bridgerton clan was. You could have researched them yourself, not that it would have changed your interest in the position, but you did not expect that the entirety of them would descend on the country seat at the close of the London season and start of autumn. Even the eldest daughter Daphne, now Duchess of Hastings, traveled with her family from their home at Clyvedon for a reunion with all the siblings. The Viscountess had given you full notice that the Duchess was bringing her own three children, August aged five, Barnaby aged four though a bit younger than Neddy, and little Caroline, not yet a year old. She had kindly offered to support you with more staff but you were eager to prove yourself and agreed to manage all the children on your own. It was only temporary after all, and you had cared for three children in one of your previous posts, though they were all sisters and you weren’t caring for a baby simultaneously. Nonetheless, you had agreed to rise to the challenge.
That was how you found yourself, a bit dazed as carriage after carriage rolled up the gravel drive, producing one gorgeous chestnut-haired Bridgerton after another. Six younger siblings arriving with the Dowager Viscountess and an army of servants, then the Duke and Duchess with their valet, ladies maid, and brood of their own. The noise of cheer and lighthearted bickering broke out at once, and you kept your bearings by focusing on Neddy, always standing nearby as he was fawned over by his aunts and uncles. When the Duchess introduced you to her children, you delighted in how the two little boys stood so proud and ready for your inspection, the younger clearly imitating his older brother. They didn’t seem to have any objection to you and immediately fell into playing with their cousin while you chatted with the Duchess about Caroline. She placed the little girl into your arms and her tiny eyes sparkled before she buried her face into your shoulder with a giggle.
Rather than task you with whisking the children away, the entire army of Bridgertons wanted to be present together in the drawing room. Your job was nearly being done for you as you watched the youngest aunt and uncle, Hyacinth and Gregory, clatter around and entertain the three little boys with their toys. You rocked Caroline gently as the Duchess invited you to join her and the Viscountess where they sat. The love in the room was palpable.
When the adults began to bow out for various activities, you knew it was time to wrangle the children to their own space. The Duchess smiled sweetly as you balanced Caroline and called the three little boys together, bidding them to say their farewells.
That was when a groan sounded from one of the Bridgertons on a far sofa. “Awww,” he swung around to face you, his bottom lip folded into an exaggerated frown. “I didn’t even get to see them yet.”
Oh my. You had barely been able to register what each of the Bridgertons looked like, or indeed how many there even were, during the whirlwind of everyone’s arrival. This one, one of the Viscount’s brothers, was strikingly similar in appearance and yet more gentle looking. And he was a very handsome man, even with his childish pout.
“Yes,” Another Bridgerton brother piped up beside him, a third copy of the Viscount. “You’ve been hogging them all. We haven’t gotten to spend any time with our niece and nephews.”
“Well, no one is stopping you from entertaining them now.” The Duchess responded primly. “I’m sure that Miss y/l/n would appreciate the help if you wanted to spend time with them in the nursery.” She turned back to you and you could see the kindness and cleverness in her blue eyes. She understood how full your hands were, but also did not want to undermine you.
“Yes,” you confirmed, your voice a bit uneven as you turned back to the first brother. “We can all go up to the nursery now. There are plenty of amusements for everyone.”
“Even a puppet theater!” Neddy crowed, jumping up and down and causing his cousins’ eyes to light.
“Yes, even a puppet theater.” You nodded at the three excited little faces gathered around your skirt.
“Well, then I’d say it’s time for a performance!” The second brother walked over and lifted Neddy under the arms, raising him high enough for the boy to perch on his shoulders, locking his tiny hands under his chin to hold on. “Colin Bridgerton,” he introduced himself to you with a warm smile, which you returned.
As the other, taller brother crossed the room, Barnaby immediately turned to him with outstretched fingers, bouncing eagerly.
“Uncle Benny, up up!”
With a broad grin the uncle knelt toward him. “Barnaby Basset, my brave little man. Come here,” In one smooth motion he lifted the boy, let him clasp his arms around his neck and swung him so that he rode pick-a-back. Then he turned his kind eyes to you. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss y/l/n. I’m Benedict.”
“Mr. Bridgerton,” You cast your eyes down in greeting, but also to keep yourself from staring too long into the blue-grey depths that seemed to hold you in fascination. You surveyed the lot of them, five eager-eyed Bridgerton boys, young and old. “Are we all ready then?”
“Up, up!” Crowed Barnaby over Benedict’s shoulder.
His uncle chuckled. “Indeed, we are going up even further. Upstairs.”
Colin waved August ahead of you all. “Lead the way, good sir.” Dutifully jutting his chin in the air, the eldest little boy marched forward, leading your happy parade through the house and up to the nursery, guided by your whispered directions.
Once you reached your destination, the excited squealing began. The younger boys both wriggled off of their uncles to join August and they tore through the room, Neddy pointing out every toy and hiding place with pride. They quickly clustered around the puppet theater tucked in a far corner and began jumping in place, demanding a performance. Colin and Benedict were only too happy to oblige, gathering chairs for their audience. As you tried to settle the little ones, the uncles pored through a nearby chest of puppets.
“Ah!” Colin exclaimed, “Mr. Punch!” He proudly held aloft an old puppet, red nosed and holding his trademark slapstick.
“Excellent,” Benedict grinned. “I shall be Mr. Punch and you shall be Judy.” He plucked the figure off his brother’s hand and stooped to maneuver into the theater box.
“Hold on! I found it! Why are you Punch?” Colin argued. You had to fight the giggle rising in your throat, watching these grown men bicker like children. Your charges who sat patiently at your side seemed better behaved.
“Because I’m better at the voice.” Benedict shot back casually.
“Well, I won’t be your wife.” Colin spat. “I’ll be the banker or someone.” He began to dig through the chest again.
“Isn’t Punch and Judy intended for one performer?” You tried to sound innocent but couldn’t resist the urge to rile them, they were already too entertaining.
Benedict popped his head into view and smiled, a devastating, lopsided grin that was suddenly the brightest point of light in the room. “We can adapt.”
You nodded and turned back to the children. Caroline was dozing gently in your arms, undisturbed by the excitement around her, and the boys squirmed in their chairs, waiting for the show. Colin found a satisfactory puppet, disappeared into the box beside Benedict and the theatrical began.
It was all you could do not to burst into hysterics hearing Benedict voice Mr. Punch. He was far too talented at the awful, nasally whine of the misguided fool. Whether or not the boys had encountered this character before, their eyes lit up with delight as he introduced himself and then led them on his day full of misadventure. Soon enough, he encountered the banker, voiced in a smug baritone by Colin. At first he duped Mr. Punch by spiriting away bags of money while Punch was counting them, a joke that left the nephews shrieking with laughter. But once Punch caught on, he exacted his revenge by beating the banker with his slapstick. The attack became spirited and the banker even managed to wrest the stick away and began hitting him back. You suspected this was not part of the original sketch, and your suspicion was confirmed when both the slapstick and puppets disappeared beneath the edge of the theater box entirely.
The children grew silent and curious as low angry voices and sounds of a tousle arose beneath the now empty stage and the entire structure began to shake. Lord help you. You thought you were getting two adults to assist in keeping everyone occupied, but now realized you had only added two overgrown children to your assembly. You cleared your throat loudly, which fortunately called the men back to themselves and two chestnut heads peeked over the top of the stage. Colin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Benedict pulled another of his dramatic pouts. You wanted to be cross with them for setting a bad example, but they were so charming even in their quarreling, that you said nothing and just fixed them with stern eyes. They quickly disappeared again and the puppets returned to the stage, made amends, completed their adventure and bowed to the cheerful applause of the little ones. Holding Caroline, you couldn’t clap yourself, but did smile widely as the men emerged and performed dramatic bows of their own, clearly pleased with the happy reception. The subsequent chatter while the boys circled around their uncles’ knees did cause the baby to fuss and you stood to rock her.
“Allow me,” Colin walked to you with a gentle grin. You settled his niece into his outstretched arms and he began to bounce and coo to her contentedly. Again you marveled at the love and commitment evident in each member of this expansive family. Parents so dedicated to connection with their children, and aunts and uncles so invested in their joy. It was rare to find in any family, but particularly in one so wealthy and titled where the upbringing of children was often left to an army of staff. But that was clearly not the way with the Bridgerton family.
You turned to Benedict and were reminded that not only was this family uncommonly kind, they were also all uncommonly attractive. He had herded the boys into playing with carved miniature horses and you joined him in watching over them.
“Colin has a way with babies,” he assured you. “You can trust him with Caroline.”
You returned his smile with gratitude. “Thank you both for being here. It is lovely to see a family that wants to spend so much time together.”
“Well, Clyvedon is so far away, we can’t pass up the opportunity to see these imps while we’ve got them.” He tousled Barnaby’s hair but the boy was too engrossed to look up.
“That was an excellent performance Mr. Bridgerton, despite the unexpected interlude.” He smirked at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. You had seen that look on the faces of children you had worked with before. He was a troublemaker, but likely got away with his misbehavior more often than not. When those traits endured into adulthood, they often spelled something exciting, and perhaps a bit dangerous. “You are frightfully good as Mr. Punch.”
He scoffed but you could see he enjoyed the praise. “It’s nothing. Well, it’s years of practice with my siblings. I was usually the one putting on the shows while we were growing up.”
“You’ve become very skilled at it. The children wouldn’t stop laughing. I could never hope to perform like that.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he leaned in, his kind eyes focused on you. “You’re certainly not like most of the shriveled old nursemaids I’ve met, no offense to your colleagues. You must be something of an actress to entertain children all day.”
The way he addressed you was so open and honest, as if you were a friend and not the hired help. It disarmed you in the most pleasant way, inviting you to be playful and honest too. “How can you know? You’ve only just met me.”
“I expect I’ll get to know you better over the coming days.” That charming smile was going to be troublesome. Despite your better judgment, you sincerely hoped he would.