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As you pull up outside Aubrey Hall, James is sleeping in Benedict’s lap, and baby Isobel is asleep in your arms, the gentle rocking motion of the carriage soporific. It’s been a long journey from Wiltshire to Kent, and it is now early evening in late summer, dusk beginning to settle in.
“I don’t want to wake him,” Benedict murmurs, gently petting his six-year-old son’s hair.
“It is late,” you point out softly. “If you can lift him without waking him, perhaps we can get both our children to our guest rooms undisturbed?”
“Darling, I do so love your optimism,” he chuckles. “You do know everyone will be clambering to meet our new arrival, especially my mother,” he points out as little Isobel moves slightly in her sleep.
“Can it not wait until morning? Surely they are all busy with evening pastimes, perhaps a spirited round of bridge?” You shrug.
Just then, Violet appears on the front steps, the sound of your approach obviously alerting the household to your arrival.
The jerk of the carriage halting awakens James with a start, and Isobel’s eyes fly open, large and concerned.
“So much for that plan,” your tone is sardonic as you brush your daughter’s cheek reassuringly with your finger. She calms instantly.
“Look at my mother,” Benedict says, briefly waving through the window. “She is practically beside herself to meet the next of her grandchildren.”
She does indeed look ebullient, rocking on her heels.
A few moments later, as the footmen open your carriage, James, as he did eight months earlier at your Christmas visit, leaps out and runs to his grandmother for a hug. She obliges, but as she does so, you can see her attention is on you, craning her neck to catch sight of Isobel.
Benedict assists you out of the carriage with a steady hand and then looks briefly confused as you hand him Isobel.
“Go introduce your daughter to all of her family,” you smile, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I will ensure James does not feel left out.”
The look he shoots you is pure devotion.
“You can thank me later if you like,” you whisper cheekily with a wink, unable to resist flirting with your handsome husband; something about the sight of him holding your daughter so very stirring.
His mouth falls open even as his pupils dilate rapidly. “You say such things before our daughter’s very ears?!” he gasps in mock indignation.
“Oh please, as if that is not the entire reason she exists,” you volley back, twisting your mouth into an amused pout as you walk, shoulders touching, towards the house.
“This conversation is not over, my dear…” he warns in a low tone that makes a tiny thrill zip down your spine just before you pull up in front of Violet with warm smiles.
“Mother,” Benedict beams with pride, “meet Isobel Violet Bridgerton.”
Violet’s hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes are immediately glassy.
She kisses Benedict’s cheek and then looks down at the bundle in his arms, just three months old.
“Oh! She is the most beautiful creature!” She enthuses, “may I?” She gestures to take Isobel and Benedict’s hands her over.
“Hello, my lovely.” Violet coos, all of her attention on the babe as she walks indoors.
James patiently stands aside, and you crouch next to him, producing a bonbon from a sachet in your reticule.
“This is because you are such a wonderful big brother, James,” you smile as his face lights up.
“Thank you, Mummy!” He gratefully takes the treat and your hand as you enter the house.
There is a rapturous greeting as you walk into the drawing room, where the extended family is all gathered.
As you take a seat with James and wrap your arm around him, you watch as Benedict retrieves his daughter from his mother and stands in the middle of the room, holding her proudly in front of his siblings and their families.
“This is my sweet, sweet baby girl, Isobel,” he announces to all but looking down devotedly at her as he says it, running a finger down one of her apple cheeks.
Again, he positively beams with pride as each person showers compliments and congratulations. You are so happy he gets to have this moment that he missed with his son. Your hand flexes on James’ shoulder as you think it.
“What a darling!” Kate exclaims as she and Anthony move in first to take a closer look.
“Congratulations, brother,” Anthony nods. “Mark my words, you shall never sleep another night of your life peacefully now you have a daughter,” he adds dryly as Kate swats his arm.
“Pay him no mind,” she breezes, “Isobel will be no trouble.”
“It’s the suitors I’m more concerned about,” Anthony responds, looking over at his own daughter, barely five, as Kate rolls her eyes at the absurdity of his concerns running at least ten years ahead of time.
“She is as beautiful as her mother, so I suppose I should ensure I stay fighting fit for when that time comes,” Benedict responds lightly, looking over to you.
“Do you not wish to join Benedict, my dear?” Violet asks as she takes a seat opposite you.
You cut your eyes pointedly to James, and she nods her understanding. Being the mother of eight, she is more than aware of the juggling act of ensuring older siblings do not feel left out with a new arrival.
“This is his first… baby girl,” you say pointedly, knowing she understands why you chose that phrasing with James present. “He deserves the spotlight.”
She clasps her hand over her heart, and her eyes are filled with emotion. “I could not ask for a more wonderful daughter-in-law or match for my son,” she affirms, reaching out and grasping your hand briefly.
“Thank you, Violet,” you demure, as both of your eyes cut back to that very man, now standing with arguably his favourite sibling.
“You made a good one there, brother,” Eloise concedes, “as in a girl who does not look at all like you, a man.”
He pulls his trademark face at Eloise, making her grin a satisfied smirk.
“Oh, I don’t know,” you pipe up from across the room, “those are Benedict’s eyes, not mine.”
Initially, when she was born, Isobel’s eyes were like yours, but, as sometimes happens with babies, her eyes changed over the intervening weeks. Now it’s Benedict’s eyes that stare up at you every time she suckles from your body. The very same as it was with James.
Eloise seems to lean in and confirms your diagnosis with a conciliatory nod towards you.
“Ah, well, better luck next time,” she jests and returns to her book, even though you can tell she is secretly proud of her older brother.
Isobel is as good as gold as she is passed around the other family members, Simon and Daphne, Colin and Penelope, and even Francesca and Michael, whom you have only met briefly.
By the time Hyacinth and Gregory bound over, Isobel is starting to fuss, and with a kiss to James’ hair and a murmur that you will be right back, you get up and join your husband, taking Isobel from him and soothing her with a rocking motion.
“I believe someone may be hungry and overtired and getting a touch fussy,” you pronounce.
“Yes, but enough about your husband, what of baby Isobel?” Penelope barbs and everyone laughs loudly; another new Brigderton wife who is more than up to the task of holding their own.
To keep up with the fun, you touch Benedict’s forehead as if taking his temperature. “There there, you are just fine, my darling. Be a good boy for your family,” you joke as they laugh harder.
He leans in. “I’ll be a good boy if you give me that thank you you promised me,” he murmurs in your ear, their laughter drowning out the dusky words.
And just like that, your body flushes warm, and you stare at him enrapt, wanting nothing more than to be alone with him, even as your baby girl fusses in your arms.
“Good Christ. Get a room, you two,” Anthony grouses, but it’s entirely without heat, knowing the passion runs just as deep in his marriage, even with three children now.
“We would love to, brother,” Benedict quips. “Perhaps now would be a good time for you to appoint us a room?”
“Your belongings have already been taken there from your carriage,” Anthony replies smugly. “Third door on your left up the grand staircase. Your children have the adjoining nursery with your nanny, who is already there, as I understand.”
“Thank you, Anthony,” you nod, then turn your attention to your husband. “Stay here with your family; I will feed Isobel and put James to bed,” you smile at him.
“I will be there, anon,” he promises, kissing Isobel on the head and then dropping a kiss on your temple. “And I hope you are very naked when I arrive, darling,” he adds, sotto voce.
Some Moments are very auspicious indeed.