Work Text:
The first lantern was already glowing when Sophie realised her hands were trembling.
It hung from the old apple tree at My Cottage, a small red light against the deepening winter dusk. Along the fence and beneath the eaves, more lanterns waited to be lit. Inside the house, voices carried, laughter, footsteps, the cheerful disorder of a large family gathering.
Benedict came to stand beside her.
“Too much?” he asked quietly.
Sophie looked at the lantern.
“No,” she said after a moment. “Only… I never thought I should see this again.”
The memories were still fresh, the pain and the trauma she was sure would fade eventually but today, especially, it came rushing back, at Penwood, the New Year had never been neglected.
Each year, the house shone with red, gold, white and blue. Guests were received. Wishes were written. white packets were prepared for family, visitors, and servants alike.
The celebration was never absent.
Only Sophie was.
After the Earl’s death, when Araminta forced her into service, Sophie rose before dawn each New Year to help Irma prepare the feast. She folded dumplings, carried trays, and lit lanterns she would not be allowed to admire once the evening began.
She watched Posy and Rosamund receive their packets.
She watched the servants receive theirs.
The first year after her father’s death she reached for one, the tray was drawn back.
“Those are not for you.”
After that, she did not reach again.
It was not the tradition she had been denied.
It was belonging. Sophie knew what Araminta thought of her, that she’d only ever been included before her father died because of his insistence, she was his “ward” as he’d told Araminta, not daughter, ward… even though the whole of Penwood knew the truth.
“Mrs. Bridgerton?”
Sophie jerked, pulled out of her memories. Mr. Crabtree stood with a blue lantern, a small smile on his face, he’d always read her well and knew when she needed to be brought out of her head.
“If you’ll tell me where this one goes, ma’am.”
She steadied herself.
“Along the lower branch, please. Thank you, next to the white, for the Taegeuk pattern.”
Inside, the house was alive with preparation.
Irma commanded the kitchen with flour on her sleeves and fierce determination.
“If anyone says they do not like dumplings,” she declared, “they may go hungry.”
“No Bridgerton has ever done such a thing,” Mrs. Crabtree assured her.
Alfie moved through the rooms with quiet authority. John assisted Benedict with decorations. Hazel hovered near Sophie, adjusting ribbons and pressing a reassuring hand at her back.
“You look nervous,” Hazel murmured.
“I am hosting a viscount, a duke, an earl, Lady Danbury, my mother-in-law, seven children all of whom are under 10 and not to mention the rest of my in-laws ,” Sophie said.
Hazel smiled. “And every one of them already loves you.”
From the doorway, Alfie announced:
“The first carriage has arrived.”
Anthony and Kate came first.
Anthony descended with Neddy holding his hand, while Kate followed with baby Milo bundled against the cold.
Neddy pointed immediately at the lanterns.
“Lights!”
“They will glow tonight,” Sophie promised.
Kate turned slowly, taking it all in.
“Oh, Sophie,” she said warmly. “It’s beautiful.”
Anthony nodded, his approval quiet but unmistakable.
“You’ve done something remarkable.”
Benedict appeared beside Sophie. “She has. I supervised, she wouldn’t let me help after I broke the first lantern.”
Kate laughed. Anthony smiled, his lips twitched at his brother's eager confession and small boast about how wonderfully his wife had done.
The lane soon filled with carriages.
Colin and Penelope arrived with eighteen-month-old Elliot, determined to walk everywhere himself.
Daphne and Simon followed with Auggie, Belinda, Caroline, and little David.
Francesca came with John Stirling, calm and observant.
Gregory and Hyacinth ran ahead before their carriage stopped.
Violet embraced Sophie as though she had always belonged.
Lady Danbury surveyed the decorations and announced, “At last. A celebration with proper ambition.”
The final carriage drew up more quietly.
“Posy!”
Posy hurried into Sophie’s arms, her eyes bright.
Behind her stood a gentle-looking gentleman.
“Hugh Im,” Posy said proudly. “My husband.”
Hugh bowed warmly. “I have been told you are responsible for this evening. I already admire you greatly.”
Sophie squeezed Posy’s hands.
“I am so glad you came.”
By afternoon, My Cottage was full.
Children played under Hazel’s watchful eye. Alfie directed coats and refreshments. John moved easily between rooms. Irma and Mrs. Crabtree ran the kitchen like a well-planned campaign.
At one point, Sophie slipped quietly inside and placed a stack of white packets on the kitchen table.
“These are for you, I wanted to give you yours first” she said.
Irma blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Of course and no one works tonight, you are all partaking in the celebrations. I insist.”
Mrs. Crabtree dabbed her eyes. Alfie attempted to refuse and failed. Mr. Crabtree thoughtfully examined his packet.
Hazel simply hugged her.
At dusk, everyone gathered in the garden.
The lanterns were lit one by one, their warm light spreading through the winter air.
Sophie stood beside the apple tree, the basket of white packets in her hands.
“These customs come from my family,” she said softly. “They had apple trees at Penwood for many years, the new Lord Penwood had an apple tree sent here as a wedding gift and Mr Crabtree has ensured it’s safety and that it will continue to grow for years to come”
She hesitated.
“For a long time, I prepared the celebration without being part of it. This is the first year in many that I have been able to welcome the New Year myself and I just wanted to say a small thank you to you all, for accepting me, for encouraging me, for welcoming me into this family… it’s an honour to be a Bridgerton and be part of this family.”
Silence settled briefly.
Then Violet stepped forward and took her hand.
“My dear,” she said gently, “then we shall celebrate it properly.”
Sophie began distributing the white packets.
To the children first.
Neddy opened his immediately.
Elliot tried to eat the paper.
Gregory asked if there were seconds.
Then to the adults.
No one was overlooked.
Not one. Sophie even had packets prepared to give to the villagers tomorrow but tonight, when the last packet had been given, Anthony cleared his throat.
“We have one more thing,” he said.
The family gathered together.
Penelope nudged Colin. Hyacinth stood very straight. Gregory looked pleased with himself. Violet smiled knowingly.
Then, together, some carefully, some boldly, some with dreadful pronunciation, they said:
“Saehae bok mani badeuseyo!”
Happy New Year.
In Korean.
For a moment, Sophie did not understand as it was jumbled together and for the most part mispronounced. Her hand flew to her mouth.
Benedict leaned close and repeated it softly, carefully.
It was imperfect.
It was beautiful.
“You learned that… for me?”
“We practised,” Hyacinth said proudly.
“Anthony made cards after Ben had the idea,” Gregory added.
“They were very small cards,” Anthony said defensively.
Lady Danbury nodded. “I refused to rehearse and am therefore superior.”
Violet squeezed Sophie’s hands.
“You are part of this family, even before you married Benedict, you were part of it, even when we struggled with the pressures of society, you were important to us all, but this family would not be complete without you. Your traditions are our traditions now, you are a Bridgerton Sophie, the purest of us all” she said.
Sophie wiped away tears as there were murmurs of agreement and Benedict wrapped an arm around her waist and tenderly kissed her neck, as he liked to do regardless of who was watching, a bright smile on his face.
One by one, wishes were tied to the apple tree.
The lanterns glowed steadily.
Children ran between the lights. Posy stood beside Hugh, smiling through tears. Irma laughed with Hazel near the kitchen door. Alfie and Mr. Crabtree observed the garden with deep satisfaction.
Benedict slipped an arm around Sophie.
“Well?” he asked softly.
Sophie looked at the glowing tree.
At the lanterns.
At the white packets of luck, love and blessings for her family. Chosen and Found.
At the family who had learned her language.
For years, she had stood in the shadows and watched other people’s happiness.
Tonight, she stood at the centre of her own.
“This year,” she said quietly, leaning into him, “it found me.”
Above them, the lanterns swayed gently in the winter night.
And at My Cottage, for the first time in many years, Sophie welcomed the New Year not as someone who served the celebration but as someone who belonged once more within its light.