Chapter Text
"What is going on down there?" Violet Bridgerton stepped onto the terrace at Aubrey Hall, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow across the sprawling gardens. Below, her three eldest sons—Anthony, Benedict, and Colin—stood suited for fencing. Their swords gleamed in the light as they prepared to engage in what seemed to be a spirited duel. It was a familiar sight to Violet, a testament to the Bridgerton brothers' preferred method of settling disputes.
"It appears to be yet another 'discussion'," Penelope replied with a knowing smile, standing beside her mother-in-law.
"About what this time?" Violet asked, her tone both bemused and resigned. She had long since learned that her sons' quarrels were as much a part of family life as the breakfasts they shared.
"They did not tell us that piece of information," Kate added, seated next to Penelope. She had an amused glint in her eye as she watched her husband gesturing animatedly toward his brothers. The trio had passed the women just twenty minutes earlier, their voices filled with the usual competitive edge that signalled some disagreement was about to be resolved in the most Bridgerton way possible.
"Anthony can't always get his way," Colin had muttered with a slight grin as he strode by, Benedict and Anthony flanking him. The determination etched into Anthony’s face, however, suggested he would certainly try.
Kate and Penelope had wisely chosen not to get involved. Bridgerton affairs were best left to the men. They knew it was more efficient (and far more entertaining) to let them settle things on their own terms.
"I've always found it best to let them fight it out," Violet said with a chuckle, settling herself into a chair as she prepared to watch her sons engage in what she suspected would be an amusing, if not graceful, duel. None of her boys were particularly inclined to back down from a challenge, which led to these entertaining displays.
"Did they fight a lot as children?" Kate asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She had been thinking of her own son, Edmund, who was currently up in the nursery. Would he one day engage in such spirited contests with a sibling? Anthony had expressed his desire for a large family, and Kate could easily picture little Edmund with a brother or two to spar with.
"Oh yes," Violet replied, her laugh light and full of memories. "Gregory and Hyacinth’s squabbles are nothing compared to what Edmund and I had to mediate with those three," she added, gesturing toward Anthony and Benedict, who were now circling each other with determined expressions. The metallic clash of their swords echoed through the garden as they parried and lunged with skill honed from years of fencing.
"Benedict was taller than Anthony by the time he was seven, and he loved to taunt him about it. But Anthony was always stronger," Violet reminisced. "The black eyes and bruises those boys gave each other... They pushed each other through a window once." Her tone was casual, but Kate and Penelope's eyes widened in shock.
"They what?" Kate exclaimed, horrified at the thought of her husband and brother-in-law crashing through a window.
"That downstairs window, right there," Violet said, pointing to the day room. "They were both fine," she added, reassuringly. "Anthony landed on the shrubbery. Benedict... well, he landed on Anthony. And wouldn’t get off his head for at least ten minutes."
Kate and Penelope exchanged glances, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"Colin didn’t fight as much with them," Violet continued, her eyes softening with fondness for her mischievous middle son. "He was a few years younger, and far more clever about avoiding direct confrontation. He and Daphne used to instigate trouble between Anthony and Benedict, riling them up just to watch the chaos unfold."
Penelope shook her head with a smile. "I can't imagine Elliot ever engaging in such fights. He’s far too pleasant." Her thoughts drifted to her always-smiling baby boy, so sweet-natured that the idea of him in any sort of battle—even a playful one—seemed utterly foreign.
As if on cue, the sound of a gentle voice broke through their reverie. "Are they fighting again?" The women turned to see Sophie standing in the doorway.
"Sophie, you should be resting," Kate said immediately, rising from her seat to guide Sophie into it. The swell of Sophie’s pregnancy was clearly visible, and though she wore it well they could all see she was tired – even if she wouldn’t admit it. Kate gently pushed her sister-in-law into the chair with the firmness of an elder sister, which was what she was to the younger girl.
"I’m tired of resting," Sophie sighed, her hand absently resting on her belly as she watched the duel. The sight made her smile, despite herself. There was something endlessly endearing about the Bridgerton brothers, even when they were acting like little boys.
Violet chuckled softly. "Rest or not, Sophie, you’ve come just in time. I have a feeling this will be over soon—once one of them inevitably cheats."
"And that is when the real battle will begin," Sophie replied, a playful glint in her eye as she recalled the argument from Christmas Day. That particular skirmish had erupted over the last mince pie, which Daphne had slyly eaten while her brothers had been too engrossed in bickering to notice.
"How are you feeling?" Penelope asked, her voice gentle as she reached for Sophie's hand, her concern evident in the soft squeeze she gave it.
Sophie sighed, her hand moving to her swollen belly. "Tired and sore, I must admit. The sooner this boy makes an appearance, the better… I believe he’ll be early," she confessed, her voice carrying the weight of certainty that only a mother could possess. A knowing look passed between the women. Sophie wasn’t just speculating about the baby’s arrival being early; she knew it for a fact. It was a secret she and Benedict had kept, but one that would soon be impossible to hide—anyone paying attention would realise the timing didn’t quite match the date of their wedding.
"A boy?" Kate asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
Sophie nodded, her lips curving into a soft smile. "I just have a feeling," she said, rubbing her belly in small, absent circles. "Benedict wants a daughter, though."
Violet chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, I would quite like a granddaughter for a change," she said with a teasing tone. "Four grandchildren, and all boys so far. A little girl would be nice to spoil for once."
Kate laughed, leaning back in her chair. "Next time," she said with an air of confidence.
“You?” Penelope asked, with a smile.
“No!” Was the quick reply. “Not yet.”
“I still cannot see the problem,” Anthony grumbled, lunging forward with precision, but missing Benedict’s shoulder by a hair.
"Being eldest doesn’t give you grounds to claim everything," Benedict retorted, sidestepping smoothly and delivering a quick prod to Anthony's shoulder with his foil. He lowered his weapon with a smirk, having won that point.
“Yes, it does,” Anthony shot back, his brow furrowing as he straightened up, clearly unamused by his brother's challenge.
“It shouldn’t,” Colin chimed in from the sidelines, leaning lazily on his sword as he watched the back-and-forth with an amused expression.
"Edmund will be the next Viscount. Therefore, he deserves the name," Anthony stated with a sense of finality, adjusting his stance as though that settled the matter.
Colin’s brows lifted in reluctant agreement. If Elliot had been first he’d have named him Edmund without a second thought. But Anthony and Kate had gotten there first. "That is fair. I’ll give you that," he admitted. "But you can’t claim Mother’s name."
“Why not?” Anthony snapped, his patience wearing thin.
"Because you haven’t a daughter yet," Benedict countered, his tone as sharp as his foil, making a playful jab at his brother's unrelenting stubbornness.
"Neither have you," Anthony shot back, raising an eyebrow as though challenging him to refute it.
"Yet," Benedict said confidently, flashing a grin. "This time next month, I will be holding Violet Bridgerton, and that is final."
Colin couldn’t help but chuckle, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes gleaming brighter. "And if Sophie were to have a boy?" he teased. "He’ll still be Violet? Poor lad, imagine the teasing."
Benedict laughed but was undeterred. "It’s a girl. I know it’s a girl," he said, his voice filled with certainty. For the past months, every time he imagined their child, he could see a little girl with black silken hair, just like Sophie. The thought had lodged itself so firmly in his mind that anything else seemed impossible.
Anthony let out a sigh, rolling his eyes, clearly unimpressed by his brother’s unwavering confidence. “You sound like you’ve already decided,” he muttered.
“I have decided,” Benedict replied. “Now, I think I’ve won this round. Your turn Col.”
Colin twirled his sword absentmindedly in his hand, pondering the possibilities. “Pen and I could very well have a girl next,” he mused aloud, as if testing the waters.
“Well, at that point it’ll be too late,” Benedict said smugly, his unwavering confidence in the gender of his child clearly starting to grate on his brothers. Anthony and Colin exchanged a glance, silently united in the hope that Benedict’s certainty would turn out to be misplaced. The thought of him having a boy—after all his insistence—was growing more appealing by the second.
“Say you do have a son,” Colin pressed, the glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “So, we do this all again next time? Another round of fencing to determine the right to Mother’s name?”
Benedict shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unbothered by the possibility. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he replied smoothly, unwilling to entertain any alternative outcome just yet. He straightened, giving Colin a challenging look. “Now, are you fighting him for the name or not?”
Colin let out a mock sigh of reluctance, but his lips twitched upward in amusement. “Fine,” he said, stepping forward and raising his foil with a flourish. “Let’s get this over with, then. Though I’m not entirely sure this is worth a bruising.”