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While some rush headlong into society and scandal, others observe from afar. Some, having endured their fair share of marriage‑mart entanglements and social catastrophes, are now at liberty to observe, discuss, and to meddle at will. Such is the case of one weary Viscount, whose patience is running ever so thin, and one shrewd Duchess, whose insight is equally boundless. And who together find their artistic brother’s penchant for romance, heroics, and general chaos both entertaining and somewhat exasperating.
Bound, as they are, by duty and propriety, they have both found that letters provide the most suitable means of keeping one another apprised of the proceedings in London, and of sharing ideas that might otherwise go unremarked.
And thus begins a most observant correspondence:
Bridgerton House, London
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Dear sister,
I write to you from Mayfair, where I have been summoned to by our Mother. From what she has said, it appears I sacrificed the peace of Aubrey Hall, and the blissful company of my wife and son, for one of Benedict’s latest whims. Our brother dearest, I regret to inform you, has developed a new infatuation. This time, it is our youngest sisters’ lady’s maid.
Yes, Daph, a maid.
As if a certain imaginary Lady in Silver were not fantastical enough, Benedict has now taken a fancy to a member of our mother’s household staff.
Before you accuse me of misunderstanding the situation, I assure you I am not mistaken, much as I wish I had been. I have already spoken with Benedict myself, and he is perfectly aware of how her social standing complicates matters. He assures me he has thought of everything. In fact, if you can believe it, he spoke at some length about moving to the countryside with her. I, of course, pointed out that such decisions do not affect him alone. The Bridgerton name, unfortunately, has a way of following us wherever we go. My words do not seem to have made an impression.
The others remain serenely unaware of this recent development, which leaves me, and mother, the only souls troubled by the prospect of our brother abandoning all reason in favor of romantic ideals and rural cottages that he will surely tire of when reality comes knocking.
You have always possessed a greater talent than I for speaking to Benedict without provoking his aggravating stubbornness, sister. If you have any advice for restoring a measure of sense unto him, I would welcome them.
At present I find myself wondering why none of my siblings could simply choose ordinary difficulties.
Your brother,
A. Bridgerton
Clyvedon Castle
—from Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, to Viscount Bridgerton
Dearest Anthony,
Your letter has left me both surprised and rather amused, though I suspect you only intended the former.
Benedict, in love with a maid? I confess I find it difficult to picture, though it is not entirely impossible. Our brother has always possessed a keen talent for discovering beauty where others would overlook it. An admirable trait to be sure, and one that makes him a wonderful artist, if occasionally inconvenient in life.
I cannot help wondering whether the matter may resolve itself if given a little time to breathe. Benedict has never responded well to firm instruction. Indeed, you may recall from our lively childhood that the more one attempts to steer him in a particular direction, the more stubbornly he insists upon walking the other way. Therefore, I should advise patience. If this attachment is merely an infatuation, as you believe it to be, and I pray it is, then time will cure it far more effectively than any argument.
I should also like to remind you that although Benedict has always been of a romantic disposition, he is not without sense, however thoroughly it may appear to have deserted him at present.
Do try not to despair. You will be back at Aubrey Hall with Kate and Edmund before long.
Your affectionate sister, who has great faith in your eventual patience,
Daphne
* * * * * *
P.S. I feel inclined to remind you: Penelope, too, has seen this Lady in Silver, so she is very much real, if elusive. You may at least take solace in knowing that Benedict’s affections were never, and are not, entirely spectral.
Bridgerton House, London
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Dear sister,
You will be pleased to learn that your advice regarding patience has been faithfully attempted, and thoroughly failed. Benedict is, if anything, in a worse state than when I last wrote to you. For instance, as his valet confided to me, Benedict has taken to drinking brandy at odd hours and spending evenings staring into fireplaces. I should remark that the new fuzzy growth on his face does not do his features any service either. Personally, I find the whole spectacle exhausting; it is difficult to maintain the composure you so recommend while one’s brother is unraveling thus over a mere dalliance.
Mother has at least informed me that the young woman in question—Sophie, if I recall—is to leave our household in a fortnight. She has secured a position elsewhere, which ought, in theory, to resolve the ordeal entirely.
Kate has written to say that she and Edmund will come to London before long. I cannot imagine this present atmosphere will make for a particularly cheerful household when they arrive, as Benedict is presently conducting himself in a very poor imitation of a tragic poet, which is perhaps exactly what he sees himself as.
Tell me honestly, Daphne. Am I still expected to remain patient?
Your increasingly doubtful brother,
A. Bridgerton
Clyvedon Castle
—from Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, to Viscount Bridgerton
My dear, excessively concerned brother,
Your most recent letter suggests that patience, whilst a noble experiment on our part, may indeed have reached the limits of its usefulness.
If Benedict is wandering the house like some tragic hero, then I suspect the matter has progressed beyond a passing infatuation, if it ever was that. Our brother has always had a romantic temperament, but I have rarely witnessed him indulge in quite so much misery as you describe. Is that not unusual? Poor Benedict. It is difficult to imagine him melancholy.
I was interested to read that the maid is soon to leave the household. Do you know why she sought another position? If she is aware of Benedict’s affections, then her decision speaks rather well of her judgment, do you not think? Removing herself from Bridgerton House would require both sense and a fair degree of resolve. Indeed, if the girl has chosen to depart in order to prevent further complications, I shall find it hard not to admire her for it. You might consider that before condemning her too thoroughly.
As for Benedict, it may now be worth discovering whether this attachment is quite as temporary as you and I first hoped. If he truly means to mourn her impending absence, perhaps the first step may be to understand why.
Simon was most interested in your predicament and, I am afraid, wagers Benedict may yet duel you over the matter in the end. I told him this seems improbable, as Benedict has spent most of his life avoiding conflict of any sort.
Trusting my brothers will not cost me my wager,
Daphne
Aubrey Hall, Kent
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Dear sister,
I pose a most important question: how much money have you staked on my supposed duel with Benedict? I trust the sum is respectable. One would not wish a Viscount to be the subject of a paltry wager.
In other news, I have at last returned to Aubrey Hall, where the company is, in my altogether biased but not incorrect opinion, infinitely superior and the air considerably more conducive to good reason. Kate is magnificent, Edmund is thriving, and I find that a few days in the country does much to restore one’s patience, even when one’s family remains determined to test it.
Unfortunately, Benedict appears to have made no similar recovery. The last report I received from London suggests he continues his pursuit of this maid with unwavering dedication, despite the various practical objections which have been raised. If only he had applied himself with such vigor to maintaining the accounts in my absence.
As you may have heard, preparations are underway for Hyacinth’s recital, an event which I am informed will be both charming and spirited. I love our sister dearly, of course, and wish her immense success at her social event, but between us two, I concede I feel no small relief that my duties presently require me to remain in Kent. A Viscount may endure many trials, but an evening of… enthusiastic performances by the younger set might prove the final one.
Will you be in attendance? If so, I wonder whether you might seize an opportunity to speak with Benedict. From experience, I can say you have always had a specific talent for persuading your older brothers to reconsider their more, shall we say, misplaced convictions. If anyone can persuade him to behave sensibly now, it would be you.
Willing to encourage some sisterly meddling,
A. Bridgerton
Clyvedon Castle
—from Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, to Viscount Bridgerton
Dear Anthony, newly appointed patron of familial interference,
Pray give my love to Kate and a kiss to Edmund, who I trust continues to grow more charming by the day. I cannot wait to see him again, as your stay at Clyvedon this season was ever so brief.
I fear that I must disappoint you in one regard. I shall not be in attendance at Hyacinth’s recital after all. You must keep this under strict confidence for now, but as you have been honest about your concerns with me, I will tell you plainly: Simon and I are expecting another child. We are overjoyed, of course, but the physicians have advised that I take more rest than usual. Travelling from Clyvedon is therefore not recommended any time soon. The family does not yet know; I mean to tell them after the recital on Tuesday.
As for our dear wayward brother, I hope the matter soon reaches some form of resolution. From what you describe, the present situation cannot be comfortable for anyone involved, including Benedict.
I did receive interesting correspondence from Eloise, however, who seems quite distressed by their lady’s maid handing in her notice. According to our sister, this Miss Sophie is most accomplished in languages (four) and history, is well read, has an excellent eye for appreciating art, and has been a most agreeable companion to both her and Hyacinth.
It makes me wonder whether there may be something about the girl we do not yet know. Has Benedict mentioned anything further that you may have neglected to include in your letters? I cannot help but feel we are not yet in possession of the whole of the story.
Resting comfortably while you manage the chaos,
Daphne
* * * * * *
P.S. I think it prudent not to mention the amount of my wager with Simon. I should not wish the information to affect your judgment.
P.P.S. Since you and I shall both be spared Hyacinth’s recital, I imagine the survivors will report back in due course.
Aubrey Hall, Kent
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Dearest Daphne,
It pains me greatly to write with such melancholy news, yet I thought it only right that you and Simon hear it from me directly and without delay.
A letter arrived from London late last night with the distressing news that our brother-in-law, John Stirling, has passed away.
The account was brief, but it seems his passing was sudden. I cannot adequately express the shock Kate and I feel. Though our acquaintance with him was not of the longest duration, he had fastly become a cherished member of our family, and his loss will be deeply felt by us all.
My thoughts, as you will easily imagine, are chiefly with Francesca. I can scarcely bear to think what she must be enduring at present. Mother and the others are with her in London. I myself hope to leave for London shortly, though I fear I may not arrive before the funeral. An urgent matter concerning the estate requires my presence here for several days yet, and the recent stormy weather has rendered travel somewhat uncertain.
I know how strongly you will wish to be with our sister at such a moment, but I must beg you not to think of travelling in your present condition. Francesca would be the first to insist upon it, were she able to do so.
Pray keep her very particularly in your thoughts. She will have need of every comfort we can offer her, even at a distance.
Your brother,
Anthony
Aubrey Hall, Kent
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Daphne,
A brief note only. Mother may already have written to you, but I thought it best to confirm that the funeral has now taken place in London. The rains have been unrelenting these past few days, and I was unable to leave Kent in time. Word reached me this morning that John was laid to rest only two days after his passing, which seems remarkably swift even by such sad necessities.
I regret exceedingly that I could not be present, though I am told Mother and the rest of our siblings were with Francesca throughout.
I shall write again when I have further news of her.
Sincerely,
A. Bridgerton
Clyvedon Castle
—from Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, to Viscount Bridgerton
My dear Anthony,
The past few days have weighed heavily upon me. I find I think of Francesca almost constantly and wish very much that I might be nearer to her in this trying time. Had Clyvedon been a little closer to London, I believe I should have attempted the journey regardless of the physicians’ warnings. I know Simon would not have stopped me.
Mother writes that the family will soon gather for a wake in John’s memory, a Scottish custom, apparently. It is intended not solely for mourning, but for remembering the life of the loved one we lost. There is something very comforting in that idea, do you not agree? John was always so gentle and steady in manner; it seems only right that he should be spoken of with warmth as well as sorrow.
I was also surprised to receive word from Benedict yesterday. It contained little more than kind inquiries after my health and a note to say how I was missed in London, which I found most thoughtful of him. He did not mention it himself, but Mother’s latest letter revealed that he has been assisting diligently with the various matters surrounding John’s estate and affairs in the House of Lords.
I must confess I had not quite expected it of him.
Yet the more I linger upon it, the less surprising it becomes. When Father died, you were so consumed with grief and the responsibilities that were thrust upon you… with Mother lost to mourning, Benedict seemed to make it his task to remain with the rest of us at the time. I remember him sitting for hours with Colin, Eloise, Francesca, and me, playing the most ridiculous tunes on the pianoforte, or else reading stories aloud in voices so exaggerated we could scarcely keep from laughing.
Perhaps he has always had this instinct to bring cheer into our lives when things grow difficult. It may simply be that I had not noticed it properly before.
When next you see him, I do hope you will be kind to him, Anthony. I understand matters between you two have not been easy of late, but surely this is a moment when we must stand together rather than apart. In the face of grief, it seems to me there is little in the world powerful enough to divide us… except death itself.
You must forgive me. I find I have grown quite philosophical in light of recent events. I believe a cup of tea and a visit with August and Belinda, who are undoubtedly engaged in some form of mischief as I write this, will restore me to more sensible thoughts.
With every hope that Francesca finds some comfort among us all,
Daphne
Aubrey Hall, Kent
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Dear sister,
Forgive me; it has been some time since I last wrote. Before exchanging any pleasantries, I must ask: have you received any news from London?
I have just finished reading my latest correspondence and am no wiser than when I began. The contents appear to seem more suited to a novel than to the affairs of our family. It appears you were quite right in your suspicions, Daph. This Miss Sophie is not, it seems, entirely the lady’s maid we all believed her to be. Indeed, the situation with Benedict has now developed beyond any comprehensible point whatsoever.
From Mother’s account, I gather a great deal is presently unfolding in London, and that the family there will very likely require the services of a most capable solicitor before long.
One might almost think tranquility is not a condition God ever intended our family to experience.
In mounting disbelief, and dreading what the rest of you will do next,
A. Bridgerton
Clyvedon Castle
—from Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, to Viscount Bridgerton
Brother dearest,
Yes, I have heard from London, and I scarcely know which letter to believe most, for Mother, Eloise, and Colin have each written in the past two days, and each reveals some new, vital morsel of the drama we are missing. Between the three of them I believe I have pieced together something resembling the truth, though I cannot pretend the story grows less astonishing upon repetition.
Miss Sophie, as it turns out, is none other than the illegitimate daughter of the late sixth Earl of Penwood. I confess I had to read that line twice. But that is hardly the most astonishing part.
Eloise writes that when Benedict believed Miss Sophie had gone away to the Americas, he very nearly attempted to charter a ship in order to follow her there. Imagine it! Our Benedict, sailing heroically across the ocean in pursuit of a lost love.
And yet, according to Colin, poor Miss Sophie was not in the Americas at all but sitting in a London gaol, having been falsely accused of stealing a pair of shoe clips by Araminta Gun. I cannot say I am surprised by that. I never liked the woman, and it seems Mama shares the opinion most firmly.
At present, our family is attempting to settle the matter discretely, which includes seeking the Queen’s approval regarding Miss Sophie’s circumstances. I cannot imagine how Benedict’s romance has advanced to the point of involving the Crown, but I find myself quite entertained by the notion. Truly, the story improves with every telling.
I do wish quite desperately that I could come to London simply to witness, with my own eyes, the sight of Benedict in love. I cannot imagine it properly, yet from the way everyone writes he seems to have turned into quite a hero out of a romance story.
Delighted by the drama,
Daphne
* * * * * *
P.S. I do believe I hear church bells in the distance. What say you, brother?
Aubrey Hall, Kent
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Sister,
Mother, Eloise, and Colin have all written to you with accounts of the affair? Splendid.
Indeed, Kate has received no less than four letters on the subject, while I cannot even recall the last time Eloise wrote to me at all.
I should be grateful if someone would remember I too exist.
In growing irritation, the Viscount who remains forgotten,
A. Bridgerton
* * * * * * * * *
P.S. If the church bells you claim to hear will put an end to this entire ordeal, then I sincerely hope they ring soon. It has been weeks now, and I grow quite tired of discussing Benedict.
Aubrey Hall, Kent
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Dear sister,
I trust this letter will not be the first by which you learn the news, as by now it seems impossible for any development within our family to remain private for more than the space of an afternoon. Nevertheless, I write to inform you that our brother Benedict is now formally engaged. There are, indeed, church bells ringing on the horizon.
It sounds as if things were settled with a degree of spectacle consistent with his character. Evidently, Benedict chose to make his declaration in the middle of the Queen’s Ball. I can only hope Her Majesty has a generous inclination for romance, as our brother seems determined to test the limits of royal patience along with everything else.
In any case, Miss Sophie accepted him, and the engagement has been received with what Kate’s correspondence describes as a mixture of astonishment, delight, and a quantity of whispering that will likely sustain the Ton for some weeks to come. From what I gather, however, the Queen herself has given her approval, which is fortunate, as it saves the rest of us the trouble of attempting to explain Benedict’s behavior to half of London.
I cannot pretend the course of events has been a calm one. Far from it, in fact. You may recall my earlier letters, in which I expressed certain reservations regarding our brother’s judgment. While I maintain that Benedict might have spared the family a measure of anxiety by conducting his romance with less theatrical enthusiasm, it must be said that he appears, by all accounts, quite content in his new happiness. I wish him well.
And thus the matter, which has occupied rather more of my attention these past weeks than I ever intended, has finally reached its long-awaited conclusion. I am most relieved. There are, after all, more pressing concerns much nearer to home which command my interest.
Edmund has spoken his first word.
You will be pleased to learn it was “Mama,” which Kate received with the sort of lively delight one might expect from her. Unfortunately, despite my most diligent efforts over the past three days, he appears resolutely unwilling to repeat the exercise in my direction. I have attempted every encouragement I can devise, yet “Papa” remains stubbornly absent from his vocabulary.
I suspect the boy has inherited more of your second brother’s stubbornness than is strictly desirable.
Your beleaguered brother,
A. Bridgerton
* * * * * * * * *
P.S. As Benedict ultimately did not challenge me to a duel, I assume Simon has lost his wager. You may now reveal the sum.
Clyvedon Castle
—from Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, to Viscount Bridgerton
My dear Anthony,
Your words amuse me ever so much, though I shall attempt to be sympathetic to your wounded dignity. It must be a dreadful thing indeed to discover that the rest of the family is writing to everyone except the esteemed Viscount. I cannot imagine how such a terrible oversight occurred.
Perhaps they feared your reply?
In any case, I hear you have not been quite so uninvolved in the matter as your earlier letters suggest. Mother says that you sent your trusty solicitor to London with remarkable haste, and that he has already begun assisting with the rather delicate business concerning Miss Sophie, Lady Penwood’s false accusations, and a secret dowry.
She also mentioned that you made a journey to town yourself and paid a visit to Benedict. I hope you will forgive me for saying so, but that was most kind of you.
From Mother’s description, it seems you not only offered your support in the legal matters but made it very clear that Benedict and Miss Sophie would have the protection of the family name should the Dowager Countess attempt to create further difficulties in the future. I suspect that reassurance must have meant a great deal to them both.
You may pretend all you like that you are weary of us, Anthony, but actions such as those suggest you care more than you wish to admit.
With immense admiration for your better instincts,
Daphne
* * * * * *
P.S. I believe we are all quite fond of you, Anthony, despite your best efforts otherwise.
P.P.S. I cannot possibly reveal the sum. A lady must keep some secrets.
Clyvedon Castle
—from Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, to Viscount Bridgerton
Anthony,
It has now been several days since your last missive. You must write at once and inform me what is happening.
Are you still in London? What is happening there? How are Benedict and Sophie? I should like to know how they fare, though I beg you not to frighten the poor girl with too much Viscountly scrutiny at your first meeting. She has endured enough already.
You must also promise to behave sensibly with Benedict! I know well the tone you adopt when you believe yourself to be acting the responsible elder brother, and while it may be impressive in the House of Lords, I cannot imagine it will improve matters at home.
Life at Clyvedon is, I regret to say, extremely quiet at present. The physicians insist upon rest, which turns out to involve a great deal of sitting, walking slowly in gardens, and enduring Simon’s endless hovering. You must therefore understand that the events in London have become my principal source of entertainment.
Pray do not deprive me of it.
Your exceedingly bored sister,
Daphne
* * * * * *
P.S. Perhaps you might ask Kate for suggestions regarding a wedding present from me. I fear your own judgment in matrimonial matters has not always been perfectly reliable.
Aubrey Hall, Kent
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
My dear Duchess,
Your last two letters have been received and read, though I cannot say they have improved my opinion of your sense of restraint.
On your remarks regarding my involvement in Benedict’s affairs: I assure you that my actions were nothing more than the expected duties of an elder brother who found himself obliged to prevent a manageable difficulty from becoming an outright disaster. Had certain members of our family exercised greater discretion at the outset, my participation might not have been required at all.
You will also be relieved to hear that I have behaved with perfect civility toward both Benedict and his intended. Despite your dire predictions, the young woman did not appear frightened in the least. Indeed, I will admit—since you seem determined to drag the truth out of me—that Miss Sophie Baek is a young woman of considerable intelligence and a strength of character I suspect will serve her very well within our family. Kate has formed a high opinion of her, and I have little reason to dispute my wife’s judgment.
As for Benedict himself, he appears to have undergone a most remarkable transformation in recent days. Whether this is the natural consequence of impending matrimony or the influence of Miss Baek’s good sense, I cannot say, but our brother has adopted a degree of seriousness which would have seemed quite improbable only a month ago. Perhaps the match is not quite the catastrophe I once feared.
Now, I must address your very impertinent suggestion regarding my judgment in matrimonial matters. You will be pleased to know that Benedict, at least, does not require a special licence in order to marry the woman he loves, which already places his engagement on considerably steadier footing than certain others I could name. In fact, I am pleased to announce the wedding is to take place in three months’ time in Wiltshire, at My Cottage, where the pair intend to reside.
Your brother, who refuses to be bullied by a Duchess,
A. Bridgerton
* * * * * * * * *
P.S. Kate recommends silver for the household. I suggest you follow her advice, as any suggestion I make will most certainly be criticized by the two of you later.
P.P.S. Do you recall the Lady in Silver? She finally has a name: Sophie Baek. Who would have thought?
Clyvedon Castle
—from Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, to Viscount Bridgerton
Dear brother,
I was delighted to learn that Benedict and Miss Baek are formally engaged at last, though I must also admit that it has left me reflecting rather sheepishly upon our earlier correspondence. It seems that between us we spent a considerable number of pages wondering how long our brother’s infatuation might last, when in truth the poor man had simply fallen very seriously in love.
In fairness, I believe we were both misled by Benedict’s usual habits. One grows accustomed to thinking of him as frivolous, which somehow made it easier to dismiss his feelings as passing whims. I begin to suspect he may have been the sensible one all along, which is an uncomfortable conclusion but perhaps not an entirely inaccurate one.
I regret very much that I shall not be able to attend the wedding in Wiltshire. In three months' time,I shall be nearing the end of my current condition, and the physicians have already informed me in firm terms that I am to be bedridden by then.
You must therefore write to me immediately afterwards and provide a full and faithful account of the entire affair. I expect details, Anthony. The ceremony, the guests, the dress, the speeches, and above all Benedict’s expression as he marries the very woman you once feared would carry him off to a life of rustic obscurity.
Do not fear; I shall be equally honest and acknowledge that I too underestimated the matter at the beginning. Still, it is a pleasant sort of mistake to make, particularly when it ends with an engagement instead of a broken heart.
As for the wedding gift, I have followed Kate’s excellent recommendation and commissioned a handsome set of silver for their household at My Cottage. It seems only proper that a newly married pair should possess enough spoons to survive the inevitable invasion of Bridgerton relations. In addition, I have arranged for a small personal present for our soon-to-be sister herself: a pair of diamond earrings. From everything I hear, Miss Baek has already improved our brother beyond recognition, and I feel it only fair to show my gratitude to the young woman responsible for such a miracle. I trust the expense is not too alarming?
Life at Clyvedon remains quiet by comparison. Simon insists this tranquility is beneficial for me and the babe, though I suspect he simply enjoys the novelty of having a captive audience for his opinions. Under such circumstances, I find I rely more than ever upon our correspondence for diversion.
Which leads me to a question: now that Benedict’s grand romance has concluded in the most respectable manner imaginable, would you care to place a wager with me regarding which of our siblings will next provide the family with scandal? My money presently rests upon Hyacinth, though Eloise remains a formidable contender.
Fondly, your sister,
Daphne
* * * * *
P.S. What ever do you mean Sophie is the Lady in Silver, too? Anthony, you are lamentably remiss in your sharing of pertinent details. I shall, of course, write at once to Hyacinth; if anyone can illuminate me on this astonishing development, it is she.
My Cottage, Wiltshire
—from Viscount Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
Dear sister,
The wedding was a most splendid affair. The day was gloriously sunny, the ceremony perfectly executed, and I dare say the bride and groom could not have looked more radiant. To see all our family and friends gathered at My Cottage was a rare delight, even if the sight of the staff in full formal attire attending alongside the guests was, I admit, somewhat jarring. Every face seemed alight with joy for Benedict and Sophie, however, which made the occasion all the more refreshing.
The reception itself was, as you may imagine, a curious mixture of formality and intimacy, given the domestic setting. Yet it proved wonderfully fitting for Benedict and Sophie, who appeared content to let the day proceed without fuss. I cannot recall seeing our brother so relaxed and deeply happy.
We all missed you, Simon, and the children, of course. Sophie was deeply touched by your gifts and the flowers, which now occupy a prime spot on the dining table, admired by all. For further details, I enclose letters from Kate, Mother, and Eloise, as well as a note from Sophie herself. She was utterly overwhelmed—and delighted—by the earrings. Everyone whispered that they were extravagant, but they suited her so exquisitely that I can hardly fault your generosity. After all, you are a duchess, and one must permit such indulgences on occasion.
I shall write again once we have all resumed our usual abodes. Perhaps you and I might begin to consider Christmas plans soon, lest I be caught unprepared for another round of family shenanigans.
In the very best of spirits,
A. Bridgerton
* * * * * * * * *
P.S. Your new obsession with wagers is most impressive, though slightly alarming. I tremble to think: are you being led astray by Simon, or are you leading him?
P.P.S. Spare me the details, actually; I prefer to live in blissful ignorance.
My Cottage, Wiltshire
—from Mr. Benedict Bridgerton to Her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings
My dear, darling Duchess,
First, I must inquire after your health, and that of His Grace, and your lovely children. Are all surviving Clyvedon in good spirits, or have the little devils invented new forms of mischief in my absence? Shall I write to them with suggestions of my own?
As for us, Sophie and I are quite consumed with one another. I can scarcely describe the joy she brings. Sister, I am certain you will find her utterly extraordinary—clever, spirited, and wholly enthralling. I cannot wait for you both to meet.
Even here in the peace of the countryside, however, our family continues to meddle; distance never could dull their reach. Is this how you felt at Clyvedon after your nuptials, dear Daphne? Hyacinth, in her infinite enthusiasm, has already sent a dozen letters to Sophie. A dozen! I find it most vexing that my wife must devote so much of her attention to answering them when I am here, by her side. Eloise too insists on visiting long before my honeymoon is over—I assured her, and now you, that ten months is a perfectly reasonable interval. Yet she seems quite determined to truncate it to a mere five weeks.
Might I entreat you, dear Daphne, to speak with our busybody sisters on my behalf? Persuade them to grant my wife a reprieve? I would be most grateful if they could spare my Sophie a fortnight (or ten) of letters, visits, and general inquisitions, and allow me the luxury of monopolizing her attention entirely. A more selfish man I could scarcely imagine, and yet I care not. I trust you will excuse the impertinence.
I must also thank you, most sincerely, for your invitation to spend a week at Clyvedon. We accept with the greatest pleasure and shall arrive in three weeks’ time, eager to behold the grandeur of Clyvedon, enjoy your company, and allow you to witness firsthand the effect my wife has had upon me, which, I assure you, is profound.
I shall conclude now, as Sophie has just come into the room and I find I have quite forgotten what I meant to say next.
Your most charming, if slightly besotted, brother,
Benedict B.
* * * * * * * *
P.S. Hyacinth has written again. I admire the persistence, if not the timing. Makes one wonder where she acquired such single-minded determination. It is unlike anyone in the family.
P.P.S. Gregory has written from Eton and sent Sophie a miniature oar, for reasons known only to himself. Sophie was charmed; I am not persuaded the correspondence was necessary.
P.P.P.S. Anthony has also written again about a portrait he wishes me to paint of himself and Kate. Pray ask him to desist, too. Artistic inspiration does not respond well to Viscountly pressure.