Chapter Text
A benefit of a big family was there was always someone around for babysitting duties. Enough grandmothers, aunts and uncle to take care of the children whenever their parents needed.
Violet and Mary were naturally the top of Anthony and Kate’s list. The doting grandmothers would do anything for the three babies and rarely complained or turned down the opportunity to take care of them.
Hyacinth had fallen head over heels for baby Charlotte the day she was born and was always the first to offer assistance. Though after a few hours the teenager had normally had enough and was more than willing to hand her back.
Gregory was wonderful with the boys. He still had the energy to tire them out so was always a good help, especially to get through the evening and have them tired enough to go to bed. The teenage Bridgertons were more than glad to stay with their mother while she minded their nephews and niece.
Fran was normally the next choice, as long as she was home from uni. Her calm air rubbed off on the boys and she was normally able to get half of the cleaning and washing done as well as watch them. Edwina was similar though not always as able to help out due to her busy schedule. Eloise claimed she liked to help but honestly a few hours with the children was all she could take. But she did it, maybe with a little complaint.
Colin would claim to be the world’s best babysitter. Over FaceTime. Full of promises that he’d always been on call when he was home. Claims that were not completely true. The last time he was home he managed two hours of minding the boys before he called his sisters.
Daphne and Simon were always a good help but naturally with baby Amelia Anthony and Kate didn’t like asking them.
The day Edmund was born Sophie had said that she’d be there whenever they needed. And she had kept that promise. She was the one who would drop everything if anyone called. Being too helpful was in her nature.
Out of the whole family there was only one person that neither Bridgerton parent trusted with their children. After one too many accidents and a few near misses followed by a hurried ‘I didn’t think..’ Benedict was not allowed to be alone with the children. Something that everyone agreed upon, except the man himself.
When Anthony and Kate announced they were going on holiday for a week Kate had already planned a schedule to ensure everything was kept on track. She was scarily organised after all. Everyone knew that Kate was in charge and very few dared go against her.
The week was going swimmingly right up until Sunday afternoon – the day before the Bridgerton parents were to return home. It was Francesca’s shift. She had flown down from Edinburgh early on the Saturday to mind the trio of children and was now waiting on her mother to relieve her so she could make it to Heathrow for 9pm.
Fran had classic radio playing as she tidied the kitchen after dinner – the boys were playing with their train set, well Neddie was while Miles was determined to wreck it, and Charlotte was in her bouncer watching brightly coloured fruit dance across the tv screen.
Fran’s mobile buzzed and she grabbed it. Daphne.
“We have a problem,” her eldest sister said. That was never good.
“What is it?”
“Mum’s sick. She called hoping I could do tonight. But I can’t. Simon’s got that business trip so I need to be here with Amelia.”
“I can’t stay. I’ve got my recital tomorrow afternoon.”
“I know. I know. Eloise has her final exam in the morning. Edwina and Mary are in Manchester at her parents…” Daphne trailed off and Francesca groaned. She leant against the kitchen counter. She knew what was coming.
“Sophie?” She asked as a last resort.
“Can get there for 11. But she can’t do tomorrow morning,” Daphne said.
“So it has to be…”
“Ben.” The two sisters spoke at the same time.
“Kate said no,” Francesca reminded. The last time the second Bridgerton was left in charge it ended in disaster so he was quickly never allowed to spend time alone with his nephews or nieces again.
“If you have them in bed all he has to do is sit there,” Daphne said rationally.
“And in the morning?” Fran replied.
“Sophie. And she can drop Neddie to daycare and,” she hadn’t thought about the other two. Any other day and she knew Sophie would have cleared her schedule; that was the thing about her best friend and soon to be sister - she’d do anything for family, and that’s why Daphne wasn’t letting her cancel her meeting.
“Maybe he can’t do that much harm,” Fran said, trying to be optimistic.
“He might be busy,” Daphne said. Fran wasn’t sure if she wanted that or not. In one way it would be good, they wouldn’t risk Kate’s wrath but then they still had the problem of who would babysit the Bridgerton children.
“He won’t be,” Fran said. “He’s been waiting for this.”
“Sophie said he keeps checking his phone,” Daphne said.
“He did say sorry.”
“And only the oven went on fire.”
“Maybe it’ll be fine,” Fran said.
“I’ll call him and tell him to be there ASAP.” Fran nodded and hung up.
Bath time. Bed. Simple. If she had them all settled it would be fine. She set her sights first on the baby with a smile.
“Change time Miss Charlotte.” She picked her up and stroked under her chin which made the eight month old giggle.
It was just after seven when the second of the siblings arrived at the house and Fran smiled as the boys shouted in delight at seeing their uncle. He was a clear favourite relation - the girls believed it was because he had a similar mental age when he wanted to.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” She checked, ten minutes later as she buttoned up her jacket. Benedict sighed and nodded. He looked towards the sitting room where the boys were sitting watching Thomas and Friends.
“Will you just trust me?” He asked.
“No,” she answered honestly. “They both go to bed at 8. Their milk about half seven. Put them in the microwave for thirty seconds. Any longer it’ll burn them. And Sophie will be here by eleven.”
He nodded; she’d already told him all this twice.
“It’ll be fine,” he promised.
When Daphne called earlier Benedict knew something was wrong and the nerves in her voice were obvious. He was quite worried until she revealed they need him to watch Anthony’s children. And he’d jumped at the chance. He knew he hadn’t the best track record but this was his opportunity to prove them wrong. That he wasn’t the world’s worst babysitter. He’d actually claim he was pretty good; as long as he had Sophie with him at least.
“Just don’t try and cook,” Fran said, standing in her toes to kiss his cheek. Benedict laughed. He didn’t even do that at home if he didn’t have to. He didn’t have the best relationship with ovens.
An hour later Benedict was proud of himself – the boys had went to bed easily enough after their milk, and he found himself on the couch with some super hero movie on the tv as he scrolled on his phone deciding what takeout food to get delivered.
Pizza. Pizza was always a good choice. He ordered a large one with chips for himself and another portion of chips for Sophie. She wouldn’t have eaten but his fiancée (he wasn’t sure he’d get tired of that word) didn’t like cold or reheated pizza.
He’d just sat down to eat it when he heard the door creak open.
“I’m thirsty,” Neddie said, walking up to the arm of the couch. His uncle looked at him and nodded. The pizza box was placed on the table and the two went into the kitchen. Neddie sat at the table and Benedict poured him a glass of water. Once it was gone Benedict picked the little boy up and carried him upstairs.
“Night Neddie,” he whispered, tucking him in. Neddie rolled over under his covers and Benedict smiled. He looked between the cot and the bed. The boys reminded him of himself and Anthony when they were young. Sixteen months difference between both sets of brothers. And like Miles, he had been told he was the more annoying one.
Benedict went back down but wasn’t sitting long when the door opened again.
“Uncle Ben?” Neddie was down again. “I can’t sleep.” The man looked at the boy, with a feeling that this was becoming a game.
“Go back to bed Neddie,” he said.
“I’m not tired. Belly sore,” the little boy replied, coming over and curling on to his lap. Who was he to complain, he was too cute to say no to. He shifted him a little and rubbed the dark curls that were just like his own. Bridgerton genes were strong – they all looked like their father and that trend was continuing into the next generation.
It was just after eleven when the key turned the the lock of the front door. Sophie stepped inside, kicked her shoes into the shoe rack and sat her bag on the stairs.
“Ben?” She spoke softly, walking up the hall.
“Living room.” She smiled at the scene as she walked in. Neddie was lying asleep using his uncle’s lap as a pillow and his hands were holding tight to a much larger one.
“He fell asleep.”
“I can see. Why don’t you take him up?”
“Didn’t want to wake him.”
“I don’t think you will.” Benedict nodded and very carefully moved to gather the toddler and stand up. While he made his way upstairs Sophie quickly tidied around the room and took the milk bottles and empty pizza box to the kitchen.
“I got you chips,” Ben said when he returned. “I’ll heat them up for you.”
Sophie pulled two plates and glasses from the cupboard and set them on the table for the rather late meal.
“Ready for tomorrow?” Sophie stopped for a second then nodded. She’d been perfecting the pitch for her play for weeks and now she just needed to convince the producers to fund it.
“They’d be crazy if they don’t give you a chance. It’s a perfect play.”
The microwave beeped and when Benedict opened it the smell of chips wafted out.
“Ow. Hot,” he hissed, pulling the bag out then dropping it on the counter as fast as he could.
“Of course it is,” Sophie giggled. She sat at the counter, tying up her blonde curls.
“Did Prince Charming hurt his little fingers.” He ran his fingers under the tap and she had to roll her eyes. There was no way they were that warm.
“A little. But I’d take any injuries for my Cinderella.”
Sophie blushed slightly and Benedict grinned at the reaction and then reached for the paper bag once more to pour the chips between the plates. He sat beside her and started filling her in on his evening with his nephews and niece.
After a few minutes of her showing little interest in replying he slowed down. Benedict knew that he had a habit of rambling on to her, but Sophie usually pretended at least that she was listening. But tonight her green eyes were staring at her plate, which was hardly touched.
“So then we watched an X movie. I know they’re one and three. But who knows what they’ve discovered Anthony and Kate doing… Ok. Soph. Now I know you’re not listening to me.”
Sophie hummed, shook herself slightly then looked at him.
“Sorry. I’m just tired,” she said, with a yawn. He frowned slightly, not quite believing her. Yes it was late, but this wasn’t the first time recently she’d been distant.
“Are you alright?”
“Just tired. We should go to bed,” she said, standing up.
“What do we do in the morning?” Benedict asked.
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” was her reply, as she put the dishes in the dishwasher and walked out of the kitchen. Upstairs they looked in on the three sleeping Bridgertons and then she opened the door to the main bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Benedict whispered.
“Bed.”
“But that’s Anthony and Kate’s room.”
“It’s the only room with a bed.”
“I’m not sleeping with you in my brother’s bed.” Sophie turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. At midnight - having been up for eighteen hours, and knowing she would be up again in under six, a bed was a bed. It wasn’t like they were going to do anything in it but sleep.
“That’s fine. You can sleep on the couch or the floor. I don’t really care.” She walked into the room, leaving him in the hall but he joined her a minute later as she was pulling her pyjamas out of her bag.
“Where do you think Anthony keeps his pyjamas?” Benedict asked.
“You don’t wear pyjamas.” Sophie climbed into the bed and rolled on to her side looking away from him.
“I’m not sleeping naked in my brother’s bed.”
“I thought if would have been something you’d go for,” Sophie said after a minute, a cheeky smile hidden on her face.
“What?”
“Brother’s bed. It seems to fit into the weird Bridgerton sex places that you all like.” Benedict’s eyes widened and suddenly the idea did become a little easier. He also liked the idea of picturing his older’s brother’s face - he’d burn the sheets and buy a new bed. Though he knew she was teasing him; Sophie wasn’t offering anything in her half asleep state but nonetheless he stripped quickly and lay beside her.
“This still feels weird,” he muttered, she moved backwards until she was against his chest.
“Just go to sleep.” He kissed the side of her head, but couldn’t resist letting his hand slide up under her pyjama top.
“Benedict.”
Better than an alarm clock Charlotte Bridgerton woke up at quarter past six and cried until her door opened and aunt walked. Her cries quietened as Sophie opened the curtains and then walked over to lift her.
“Good morning Princess.” She kissed her nose and Charlotte nuzzled into her shoulder. “Your mummy and daddy are coming home today. They’ve missed you. And wait till we show them your new tooth.” Sophie talked quietly as she laid her on the table to change her nappy. Above the changing table were three framed prints; prints that probably hung in the nurseries of thousands of little girls round the country after being bought by Home Comforts. But Charlotte had the originals, drawn by her uncle more than a decade ago.
Childhood Princess. That’s what Benedict had named the collection.
Sleeping Beauty - Sophie on the window seat in the Aubrey library, asleep with a book on her lap.
Cinderella - Sophie losing a trainer as they ran through the park, gripping on to Daphne’s hand balancing.
Rapunzel - Sophie sitting at the dressing table braiding her hair.
There had been more since then; three unique ones hung in Amelia’s nursery.
“Ok then my Charlotte, what are we wearing today?” Sophie took a lilac dungaree set off the rail and carried it and the baby downstairs.
By he time the actual alarm clock went off at half seven Charlotte was fed, breakfast was ready for the boys and their clothes for the day were sitting out.
“Mummy and Daddy home today?” Neddie checked, as Benedict lifted Miles into his high chair.
“Yes. This afternoon.”
“After school?”
“After school.”
“Oh. The password is Newton to pick him up,” Sophie said, stopping in the kitchen door.
“Password?” Benedict asked.
“Child protection. The adult picking up the child from daycare needs a special word.”
“I walked home from school alone when I was five,” Benedict replied.
“Different world. I’ll let them know you’re getting him though. I’m going to get ready then we’ll go Neddie.”
“You haven’t had breakfast,” Benedict said.
“Not hungry,” Sophie called back from the staircase.
“What if you faint during the meeting?”
“I won’t.”
“Sophie. You’ll get sick if you don’t eat.”
Sophie ignored his concerns. She’d skipped breakfast the last few days so she wouldn’t be sick in the mornings. He just obviously hadn’t noticed. Anyway she wasn’t nervous for the pitch. It was the secret appointment afterwards. The one that Daphne would kill her over if she cancelled.
“Sophie?” Benedict sighed when she didn’t reply. She could be as stubborn as him sometimes and it wasn’t worth pushing that morning.
Just before eight Sophie and Neddie left and Miles and Charlotte were left with their uncle, who now had about four hours to fill with them. Currently they were watching tv but they couldn’t do that until lunchtime. Well they probably could but it wasn’t good for them. Sophie had mentioned something about groceries. Surely he could manage that. He went with her food shopping often enough.
Benedict pulled out his phone to text Sophie.
Benedict: Could I take them shopping?
Sophie: You can try. Just keep them both in the trolley.
Sophie: Buy a banana at the start. It’ll keep Miles distracted for a bit. Or get him the little mini trolley. He loves them.
Sophie: Get an Uber back
Sophie: Get us something for dinner x
Benedict: I will
Sophie: On the bus now. Will call you when I’m on the way back
Benedict: 👍
Twenty minutes later he was locking the house with Charlotte in the baby carrier on his back and Miles buckled into his little reins backpack. Benedict kind of felt like he was walking a dog but it was easier than holding the toddler’s hand. They walked through Mayfair to the Marks and Spencer’s on Oxford Street where he transferred them both to a trolley with a smile. He did as Sophie said and the first thing he grabbed was a banana for Miles to attempt to open and then eat. Charlotte was contented looking around, and he could hear the little old ladies walking past commenting on how adorable she was.
“Out?” Halfway around the shop Miles was growing tired of his trolley confinement and was itching to walk around. It was quiet and Benedict couldn’t see a problem with letting him walk beside the trolley. But he had forgotten something important. That his second nephew was prone to mischief.
As soon as he was put down he ran as fast as his little legs could carrying him, only stopping to turn back and look at his uncle; he knew his uncle wouldn’t shout in public.
“Miles. Come back.” He took off down the freezer aisle and Benedict sighed. He turned quickly and hoped he could cut him off at the end of the next aisle. And then he heard the crash. He turned up the next aisle to see broken jars and tomato sauce covering the ground, along with a Miles ready to burst into tears and a barely legal employee who didn’t seem to know what to do.
“Miles! God I am so sorry. I’ll pay for all the damage,” Benedict said, quickly lifting Miles back to the trolley.
“It’s fine,” the boy mumbled, before walking away to find a mop.
“That’s why you need to stay beside me.” Benedict normally prided himself on never feeling overly embarrassed but as he finished the shopping and paid he wished the floor would swallow him. He felt like everyone was looking at him and the chaos his nephew had caused. His stress levels only heightened as Charlotte started whimpering in the trolley.
“Hey. It’s okay Princess.” He stroked her cheek as she cried. “Stop crying Charlotte. Maybe home for a nap?”
It was barely ten o’clock but it wasn’t clear which Bridgerton needed the rest more - the baby, the toddler or the uncle.