Foundling

by GoodGirlWinnieFoster

Summary:

When Lady Whistledown is blackmailed into raising an abandoned baby, Benedict steps up to help Penelope with her secrets. The couple sets off on a road trip journey to Gretna Green that transforms their relationship and creates a family.

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First chapter was written for the 2025 Rare Pair Week, Family Affairs day!

Chapter 1: Secrets

Summary:

Penelope's friends help her with the abandoned baby.

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Penelope, dressed in the dark cloak of Lady Whistledown, looked left and right as she crossed the street to her hired hack. Her most recent gossip article crinkled lightly from its hiding place against her heart, its pages filled with the Ton’s secrets and scandals. “To Chancery Lane Printers, Driver,” she ordered with a fake Irish lilt.

 

“Aye, Miss.”

 

She opened the door and climbed into the carriage, then hummed questioningly when she spotted a bundle waiting for her on the seat. It appeared to be a pile of blankets or perhaps a coat, wadded up and forgotten. She sat on the opposite bench and tapped the roof to alert the driver of her readiness.

 

Throughout the darkened streets of London, she stared at the object across from her, pondering its origin and puzzling out what to do about it. Not that it was her responsibility, of course, but her personality would not allow her to ignore such an engrossing mystery.

 

She grabbed at the fabric, intending to study it in the dim light. The bundle resisted her gentle tug. Frowning, she pulled on the fabric harder, uncovering a small face.

 

Shoving her hand in her mouth to stifle a scream, she panted and stared down at the object with horror. Eventually, the logical part of her brain began working again, her heart rate slowed, and she concluded that the forgotten bundle was nothing but a child’s doll.

 

It was then that she noticed a small piece of paper that had fallen to the floor. She held it up to the overhead lantern so she could read it. “Lady Whistledown, keeper of the Ton’s secrets. Here is another one to add to your collection. Attempt to find me, and I will expose your identity to the Queen.”

 

Out of habit, Penelope glanced around to the right and left, fearful of discovery, but she was still alone in the carriage. Alone with someone’s secret.

 

Her hands shook as she picked up the bundle and brought it to her chest. Gently, she unwrapped the object in disbelief that someone had abandoned their baby in her hack. The child’s clothing was made from the softest linen edged with lace and even her clouts were clean.

 

This secret shame, this baby girl, had been cared for previously, perhaps even loved. She wasn’t a foundling as much as she was a treasure. One that had been entrusted to Lady Whistledown.

 

She scrunched her eyebrows, concerned that the baby hadn’t awakened even when exposed to the cool night air. She should be wailing in protest, but the child was too quiet, too still.

 

“Wake up, Little One,” Penelope whispered, trying not to panic.

 

When the baby didn’t respond, Penelope placed her finger under the child’s nose. A soft breeze reassured her that the child wasn’t dead. She swaddled the baby again, then tapped the roof of the carriage to get the driver’s attention.

 

“Change of plans,” she yelled in her Irish brogue. “Take me to the Granville house.” She knew Lucy Granville from her late night conversations with Genevieve, the Ton’s modiste and her friend, and trusted that the older woman would know what to do.

 

The driver called out his acknowledgment of the directions and turned the carriage back towards Mayfair. She thought about asking him if he knew anything about the child, but she feared the results if word got back to her blackmailer. Fortunately, they weren’t far from the Granville home and arrived within minutes.

 

Penelope paid the driver and rushed to the door, using her cloak to hide the precious secret in her arms. Sir Granville himself answered her knock. “My lord, is Lucy- Lady Granville- home? I need her help.” In her breathless search for safety, she had forgotten to use her fake accent.

 

The wide-eyed debutante had never been a guest of Sir Granville’s parties, as far as he could remember, but she looked frightened and kept glancing over her shoulder like she might be in trouble. He opened the door widely and motioned her inside, resisting an urge to place an arm around her shoulders protectively.

 

“I am Sir Granville, but you should call me Henry if you call my wife Lucy,” he said casually as he led her further into the house. “My dear,” he called out as they entered the sitting room, “you have a visitor.”

 

Lucy Granville stood up from the settee, where she was sitting with Genevieve, and walked over to her young friend. “Miss Featherington?” She tried not to let too much shock show in her face at seeing a debutante without a chaperon.

 

Anxiously, Penelope’s eyes darted to the other people in the room, afraid of revealing her secrets to a crowd. Only four people lounged in the room, drinking wine and enjoying each other’s company.

 

She watched as her host took his seat next to Benedict. Of all the people who could have been in the room that night, did it have to be a Bridgerton? A flutter of panic nearly caused her to run out the door, but Lucy’s voice brought her back to the urgency of the visit.

 

“Penny, what is the matter?” Lucy insisted, placing a hand on Penelope’s arm, and looking her over worriedly. “Are you hurt?”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Penelope could see Benedict sit up and exchange a look with Henry. It was clear from his face that he expected something horrible had happened to his little sister’s best friend, and he was prepared to protect her.

 

With one hand, she moved her cloak away from her arm, exposing the baby to them. “Something is wrong.” The admission caused her to choke as tears pricked her eyes.

 

Lucy ushered her friend further into the room with a hand around her shoulders. “Put the baby down, so I can look at it.”

 

The two men and the modiste cleared a couple wine bottles and glasses from a short table between the couches, and Penelope laid the child on the table. Without thinking about it, she sat down at the spot closest to Benedict, at the end of the baby’s feet.

 

“She has not cried once or made any sounds,” Penelope explained.

 

“Is she yours?” Henry asked gently.

 

“No! Yes! No!” the debutante spat out in rapid succession.

 

Benedict laid a supportive hand on her back and gave her a soft smile. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “They won’t judge.” He put his other hand to his chin, frowning as he tried to figure out how it was possible.

 

Surely, if the child was hers, he would have noticed the pregnancy before this night. He had been very busy with art school, though, and the culture surrounding it. Perhaps he had missed something important from not being at Bridgerton House very often.

 

“I found her tonight.”

 

Lucy crouched down beside the table and slowly unwrapped the baby. “She is breathing,” she announced quietly, her hand on the child’s small chest.

 

“Laudanum,” Genevieve added, nodding sagely. “It’s a whore’s trick to keep the baby quiet during working hours.”

 

“So, she is not sick?”

 

The modiste shook her head. “Not if this is her only problem.”

 

“She will need to eat when she awakens, though,” Lucy reminded them. “Do you have a way to do that?”

 

Overwhelmed, Penelope shook her head as the tears finally fell. “I do not know anything about babies.”

 

Benedict grinned at her enthusiastically. “Fortunately for you, I am an expert.” As older brother to six siblings, he had held and comforted many babies throughout his life.

 

“I think you will discover that your tits are useless for this occupation, Benny,” Henry quipped, his eyes merry with wine.

 

Ignoring his friend, Benedict scooped the baby into his arms and snuggled her close. “Hello, Darling,” he cooed, running his fingers along the child’s hair and cheek. “You are safe now, Little One.”

 

He tore his eyes away from his newest inspiration to ask, “Does she have a name?”

 

Penelope shook her head. “I don’t know.”

 

“You should give her one,” Lucy urged.

 

“Something strong,” Henry added.

 

“It should start with a P, like her mother.”

 

Penelope frowned at Benedict for his suggestion, surprised that he called her a mother. “Persephone?” she asked, unsure of anything tonight.

 

“Goddess of the underworld. Very strong.” Henry nodded his approval.

 

“Bringer of new things.” Benedict smiled and looked tenderly at the baby. “What do you think, Darling? Are you a Persephone?”

 

“A queen,” Genevieve asserted, grinning in triumph.

 

“Am I correct in assuming you do not have a way to feed the child?” When the debutante shook her head, Lucy addressed her husband, “Henry, do we know anyone who could wet nurse?”

 

Henry thought over their acquaintances and the models from the art school. “Our gardener’s wife has a toddler. Perhaps she still has milk?”

 

Lucy nodded. “I believe she might. More importantly, her child will not suffer too greatly from being weaned at this time.”

 

“How did you find Persephone?” Genevieve asked, pouring herself more wine and reclining back onto the settee.

 

Penelope pulled the handwritten note from her bodice and passed it to Lady Granville. “Someone is using a baby to blackmail Lady Whistledown,” Lucy announced, shaking the note in anger.

 

The other people in the room reacted with concern, but Benedict scratched his head. “But, why would they give the baby to you?”

 

Genevieve grinned with delight as she watched the Bridgerton brother put together the mystery. She exchanged a playful look with Lucy, stifling her giggles with a hand over her mouth.

 

“Are you Lady Whistledown?” he asked carefully, his voice full of hope, excitement, and incredulity.

 

Hiding her face by turning from him, Penelope nodded. “Yes.”

 

“You all knew and didn’t tell me!” Benedict accused, looking at his friends with betrayal.

 

“Sorry, Benny, but it wasn’t my secret to tell,” Henry replied with a shrug, patting his friend’s knee.

 

“Penelope!” Benedict screeched in excitement. “I had no idea!”

 

She turned towards him shyly, surprised by his reaction. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Do not apologize! You’re brilliant!”

 

“You’re not mad?” she asked timidly, expecting his anger to erupt at any moment.

 

“Of course not! I am astonished! All this time, you were a Creature of the Night, and I had no idea!”

 

“I knew,” Genevieve taunted, sticking her tongue out at him.

 

“What?” Benedict complained.

 

Penelope shrugged. “She is one of my delivery helpers.”

 

“I want in, too!” Benedict suddenly realized he was yelling with a sleeping baby in his arms, but Persephone didn’t stir.

 

Genevieve grew serious as the Bridgerton artist finally settled down. “How did your drop off go tonight?”

 

“I never got to the printer. Persephone was in my hack, and could not think about anything after I read the note.”

 

“I can bring it to the printer.”

 

“I would appreciate it,” Penelope said quietly, extracting her article from her bosom. “You know I hate to miss an issue.”

 

Lucy stood and soberly handed the note to her friend. “You should read this first.”

 

The modiste skimmed the letter before passing it to Henry, who processed it aloud. “You’re being blackmailed with someone’s secret. It’s more than a scandal- it’s ruination.”

 

Benedict’s mouth lost all merriment as he took the paper from his mentor. He read it, his jaw tightening with every sentence. Swearing under his breath, he added, “Bloody cowards!”

 

The room went quiet after his outburst, everyone contemplating the next steps. “Usually, foundlings go to the orphanage,” Henry suggested quietly after a few minutes.

 

“You would condemn Persephone to a loveless life?” Genevieve accused, personally affected by the suggestion. Not only had she grown up as an orphan, she also had the most contact with them as a lower class person. “I will raise her.”

 

Lucy immediately protested, “You will lose your business.” No one in the Ton would frequent a modiste with a bastard, leaving Genevieve with no way to support herself and the baby.

 

“I must keep the child, or the blackmailer will go to the queen,” Penelope reminded them, pressing her fingers against her eyes.

 

“Poor child,” Henry muttered, watching Persephone sleep in his friend’s arms. Smiling softly, he thought about how naturally Benedict held the infant, how content the libertine artist looked with an innocent bundle in his arms.

 

“Penelope will raise the baby- it is the only solution. But, to do so as a single woman is social ruin.” Lucy also started at the Bridgerton boy, noticing how easily he had tucked a wayward curl behind Penelope’s ear, as if he soothing her was a normal as breathing.

 

They fell into silence again, as Genevieve’s eyes also fixed on Benedict. His pointer finger brushed against Persephone’s tiny fingers, while Penelope leaned towards him in awe. “You would not have to raise her alone if you had a husband.”

 

Henry and Lucy snapped their eyes towards the modiste in fake outrage, but Benedict appeared unaffected. The three friends had a nonverbal conversation, while they waited for the Bridgerton to react. There was only one answer, but Benedict needed to figure it out on his own.

 

“Penelope, would you take me as your husband?” Benedict finally whispered, seemingly holding his breath for her response. Although he hadn’t planned on marriage in his future, tonight’s dilemma felt like as good of a reason as any to wed. He didn’t anticipate Penelope being a burden, either, as she was already familiar to him and loved by his entire family.

 

Her head came up rapidly in shock. With all the events of the night, she still wasn’t expecting that question. “What?”

 

Benedict gently picked up her hand, caressing it with his thumb. “I would be honored to marry you and raise Persephone are my daughter.”

 

Penelope could see the sincerity in his eyes, but her mind was swirling with a million thoughts. Through the fog, she was only aware of his thumb on her hand, tender and reassuring. She allowed herself to bask in his touch, closing her eyes to think about an entire life of such steady support.

 

Mistaking her delay for hesitation, Benedict spilled out a panicked explanation. “Unless you would rather marry Colin. I believe he would do the right thing if I explain it to him. I know he would make a good husband for you and would come to love Persephone, as well.”

 

The moment he mentioned Colin, Penelope began to shake her head sadly. Only when Benedict finished his speech did he notice her distress. “What is it?” he asked her quietly, his thumb stilling to squeeze her hand.

 

“Colin only sees me as a friend.”

 

Benedict nodded with a small smile. “I know I am not your first choice, but I am willing to be your husband. I promise to support you, cherish you, and give you freedom to grow.”

 

“You are my choice, Benedict.” She pressed her thumb into his hand firmly. Although she didn’t know what their marriage would become, she trusted him and felt safe in his presence. He was certainly a much better option than the disparate geriatrics her mother was always threatening would marry her if she didn’t find a younger man.

 

“It is at least ten days to Grena Green,” Henry began, his creative mind zooming with possible problems. “Even longer with an infant.”

 

Lucy nodded, adding to her husband’s assessment. “The wet nurse should be able to do all the baby care, but you will also want your lady’s maid and a valet or footman. Do either of you have servants willing to travel?”

 

Benedict resumed his tender caress of Penelope’s hand. “I have a valet, and we can take my private carriage. It would be more comfortable than a hack.”

 

Everyone’s eyes turned to Penelope for her answer. She shook her head. “We only have Mrs. Varley, our maid of all work, since my father died.”

 

“I have a maid at my bachelor house, who would come with us.” Benedict suggested, shifting the baby his arms slightly to get more comfortable. Unwittingly, he also moved a little closer to his future wife, his voice pitched low to confide in her. “She is a sweet girl- I think you will like her.”

 

Penelope nodded, her face showing shell-shock at the details of her future. “I trust you, Benedict.”

 

A strange, warmth swirled in his belly. “We should leave in the morning.”

 

“I agree,” Lucy interjected, standing up and pulling the cord to call her servants. “Penelope, please allow me to handle the details of your journey. I will get someone to care for Persephone, and you should sleep for a few hours. Benedict, would you like a guest bed or do you plan to go home”

 

“I will leave to get my own household ready and return with the carriage at nine tomorrow.”

 

“What about the young lady’s family? Will they not worry?” Henry had aided many lovesick students to make the trip to Gretna Green, and the specter of their parents was always an issue.

 

Genevieve and Benedict exchanged a look of sadness, knowing how Lady Featherington would respond to the scandal. “If my door is closed, My Mother will not seek me out,” Penelope admitted, her voice surprisingly calm compared to the words she was saying.

 

“Will she not notice you at missing at meals?” Lucy asked, unable to understand parental neglect like her friend was describing.

 

Penelope shook her head. “She will be pleased that I am fasting and taking my weight loss seriously.”

 

Beside her, Benedict stiffened with anger. “You will never be overlooked again,” he promised, his eyes blazing with a desire for justice.

 

Genevieve drained her wine glass and set it down, floating towards Penelope. “I am going to drop off your article and head home.” She bent to kiss her friend on her forehead. “Good luck, Sweetheart.” Lucy walked her to the door.

 

A maid entered the room and was addressed by Henry. “Sorry for disrupting your night, Rachel, but we will need you to wake the rest of the household. First, please escort Miss Featherington upstairs to a guest room.”

 

“It does not feel right to leave Persephone or to sleep while others work. This is my mess- I should figure out how to clean it up.”

 

Benedict passed the baby to Henry, so he could take Penelope’s hands in both of his own. “This is my mess now, too. Allow us to help you. Persephone will be alright tonight, and you will be a better mother to her tomorrow if you sleep well tonight.”

 

Tears filled her eyes again as she nodded.

 

He gently laid his hand on her cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb. His eyes went to her lips for a moment, contemplating kissing her good night. Instead, he brushed his lips lightly against the back of her hand before helping her stand. “Go with Rachel, and I will see you in the morning, my dear.” He smiled at her softly as he spun her toward the maid.

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<><> NOTES <><>

- The trip from London to Gretna Green (according to Google Maps) is 316 miles. A carriage can only travel 20-30 miles per day, which means that a trip to Gretna Green would take over ten days!

 

- Before the days of commercial formula, the options for infant feeding were limited. Sometimes, goat milk was used, but the nutrition isn’t as good as human milk. Specialized drinking cups with spouts were available to hold the expressed milk, but keeping them sterile was an issue.

 

- If the biological mother wasn’t able to breastfeed, the best option was a wet nurse. Once a woman is lactating, she can continue to do so indefinitely, making wet nursing a lifelong occupation. It was a comfortable, indoor job that paid well and allowed for travel.

Chapter 2: Just Friends

Summary:

The couple heads for Gretna Green with Persephone. Benedict gets to show off his knowledge of baby care, and Penelope teases the Rake about salty reading material.

Notes:

Thank you so much for all of your love and support for the first chapter. It was very motivating to add the second one. I hope you also enjoy it!

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Benedict, his carriage, and a cluster of servants arrived several minutes after nine that morning, entering the Granville house with apologies and a good-natured sense of adventure. He found his future wife pacing anxiously by the door, the baby tightly held in her arms, becoming more desperate every minute.

 

“Good morning, Penelope,” he said with a smile, stepping in front of her to stop her useless marching. “Are you ready for an adventure?” He bend down to kiss Persephone on the top of her head. “Morning, Sweetheart,” he mumbled in the baby’s ear, his voice warm and affectionate.

 

“You are late, Benedict,” she scolded, shifting the child in her arms, unfamiliar with the extra weight.

 

“I am sorry, my dear. It took me longer to get ready than I expected.” He held out his hands for Persephone, waiting patiently for Penelope to trust him with their daughter. With a sigh, she passed the baby to him.

 

Henry and Lucy shared a silent laugh at their two friends’ argument. “We sent a maid to your house, Penelope, and bribed Mrs. Varley to pack you a trunk,” Lucy explained, nodding to a footman to carry it outside. “We also packed a trunk for the baby with clothing and clean clouts. Your wet nurse, Winnie, will see to Persephone’s needs for however long you plan to employ her.”

 

Penelope nodded to a young woman. “Thank you, Winnie.”

 

“And, I have brought Charles to be our footman and Rae for your comfort, Penelope,” Benedict added, looking as ease with this new situation as he ever did in Bridgerton House.

 

“I think everything is in order then.” Lucy moved forward to bid farewell to her friends, as Henry did the same. Together, they walked to new family outside and watched as they piled into the carriage.

 

The two maids sat on the bench facing backwards, their hands folded in their laps demurely, while Penelope took the bench opposite. Fortunately, the carriage was spacious and allowed for a small gap between her and Benedict when he joined her inside, still holding the baby.

 

“Is everyone well?” he asked, looking his four travel companions over to check their comfort. It wasn’t so different from traveling with his sisters at this point, just a group of women to shepherd.

 

They all nodded, so he tapped the roof to start their journey. “Any of you must inform me of your needs, so I can see them fulfilled.” He looked at the maids when he spoke, but he meant his words for Penelope specifically. “I know that traveling with the baby will be slow, but do not hesitate to call for a stop yourself or make some other indication of your state.”

 

“Thank you, my lord,” Winnie said, dipping her head. It had been difficult to leave her toddler this morning, and she hadn’t stopped hearing his voice pleading with her to stay. She knew, however, that she couldn’t allow the other baby to starve, and the Granvilles had compensated her well for her sacrifice.

 

Penelope looked at the child sleeping in Benedict’s arms and frowned. “Has Persephone awoken from her drugged sleep?”

 

“Yes, my lady. The little miss has eaten twice already. She has an eager suck and took to me well.” The infant hadn’t eaten as much as the toddler usually did, though, and Winnie was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Hopefully, the child would relieve her soon.

 

“I understand that you have a child of your own, Winnie,” Benedict began conversationally, speaking to the maid as easily as he spoke to members of his own class. “Boy or girl.”

 

“A boy, my lord. Jamie.” She choked on his name a little.

 

“Penelope, may Winnie hold our daughter, or would you like to have a turn?”

 

“I will leave her to the experts,” Penelope quipped, waving the baby away.

 

A flicker of a frown passed by Benedict’s face. He was concerned about her state of mind, but this wasn’t the appropriate place for an important discussion. After passing Persephone to the wet nurse, he pulled a book out of his bag. “I was late this morning because I stopped by the bookstore to buy you a travel companion.”

 

Penelope tilted her head to look at him, looking a bit like a confused kitten, which he found adorable. “You bought me a book?”

 

“I know you and Eloise both love to read, so I thought you might need something to enjoy on the trip. We can buy more in different towns that we pass so you will never be without.”

 

“My Mother says too many books will confuse my thoughts.”

 

Benedict pulled a face, his crow’s feet wrinkling in a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Fortunately, your mother is not in charge of you any longer. I am.” He raised his eyebrows, daring her to argue with him.

 

A flame of indignation rose up in her, but she tamped it down quickly. “I suppose you want a Bluestocking,” she replied dully, without an ounce of sass.

 

“I promise- it will not be as torturous as it sounds.” He meant is sincerity, but he spoke it as a jest. “Just try the book. If you hate it, I will buy you another.”

 

A new book was too tempting for Penelope to ignore for long. “I was not expecting you to be so considerate,” she whispered, taking the book and caressing it like a precious object.

 

“Really? Are we not friends?”

 

<><><><><>

The first stop to change the horses and Persephone’s clouts went smoothly, making everyone feel optimistic about the journey. After the initial stress about traveling with a baby, Penelope found it to be easy and hardly an inconvenience at all. She devoured the book Benedict had purchased for her, ignoring her travel companions almost completely as she lost herself in a different world.

 

Unfortunately, everything shifted in the mid-afternoon. Persephone decided she was done being calm and content. Something had happened to her the night before, and she had awaken into a completely different world where nothing made sense. Now, she found herself in a bumpy, confining vehicle and was very upset about it. Her unhappy fussing soon erupted into a full, high pitched scream.

 

The more things Winnie tried to do to soothe her, the unhappier she became. “I am sorry, my lady, but I do not know what else to try,” the maid apologized, nearly in tears herself. “She refuses my breast, balls up her fists in anger, and will not allow herself to be rocked. My own Jamie was never like this, my lady. Perhaps she is sick.”

 

Rae put a comforting arm around her travel companion. “Sometimes babies cry,” she reminded her gently.

 

“Can you please pass me the blanket?” Benedict asked, putting the book he was reading away in his bag. Rae hurried to obey, and he laid the item on his lap at an angle, draping the corners over his legs. “Now, give me the baby.” His voice was calm and lighthearted, seemingly not bothered by the upset child at all.

 

“Yes, my lord.” Winnie looked at Penelope to see if she would stop her, then leaned forward to hand her charge to the gentleman. She felt embarrassed and expected her new master and mistress to react angrily about her failure.

 

He smiled and thanked her. After checking to ensure that the baby’s clouts were still clean, he set Persephone on his lap and began to wrap her in the blanket tightly. Once she looked like an adorable, angry burrito, he picked her up and kissed her head.

 

“It’s alright, Persephone,” he said quietly, shifting her in his arms so she was laying on her side in his arms, facing away from him. “You are safe, Little One.”

 

The infant didn’t appear to hear her new father’s tender words, but the other women of the carriage watched him with interest.

 

Next, Benedict began to jostle Persephone in his arms and loudly shush in her ear. At first, the baby continued to wail, which grated on everyone’s nerves, while he seemed to be only adding to the noise. Eventually, though, Persephone began to feel safe in his arms and comforted by the things he was doing.

 

Penelope dropped her book into her lap as she watched Benedict’s confident handling of the baby. As she stared in amazement, the upset little girl dozed off in his arms. “How did you know what to do?” she whispered, staring at the peaceful face of a now sleeping child.

 

Benedict continued his jostling, but slowly stopped shushing. “Hyacinth used to cry at all hours of the day and night, her indignity over being the child born into turbulent times disturbing our house of mourning even further. Not that I blame her.”

 

He paused a moment, gradually bringing his body still and adjusting Persephone to sit more comfortably in his arms. “The Nanny taught me a few tricks, and I began spending time with Hyacinth to help the nursery staff. Eventually, I became the only one who could soothe her.”

 

“It’s like magic,” Penelope breathed, smiling gently at her future husband.

 

Benedict pulled one of his signature bashful faces, looking slightly embarrassed by her words. “I can teach you,” he suggested, hoping his future wife would desire to spend time with him and help their daughter.

 

Something about the look in his eye caused Penelope to blush. “Thank you,” she whispered, ducking her head.

 

The maids gave each other a knowing look.

 

“Would you like me to hold her again, my lord?”

 

“No, thank you, Winnie. She is not a burden.” Benedict relaxed into the back of the seat and closed his eyes. “You should try to rest, as I suspect this little one might keep us awake tonight.”

 

<><><><><>

As long as he thought of himself as an older brother in charge of a carriage of younger sisters, Benedict found his role easy to fulfill. He knew how to periodically call for stops so the ladies could attend to their needs, how to instruct footmen to serve refreshments before anyone got peaked, and how to keep everyone entertained with witty stories. The baby wasn’t too challenging either, after the unpleasantness that afternoon.

 

In the early evening, they stopped at their final inn for the night, and their situation suddenly became reality. He herded his group into the noisy building, holding Persephone proudly while escorting Penelope on his arm. It felt natural, until he spoke to the innkeeper.

 

“Good evening, sir. I am Carl Sullivan,” the man said, expertly assessing Benedict’s clothing and responding with an appropriate bow. “How can I serve you tonight? My wife has a hearty lamb stew or eel pies for supper. Will your family also be requiring a room for the night?”

 

Benedict looked overwhelmed for a moment when the innkeeper spoke of his family, as usually Anthony handled the details. “Uh… yes,” he hesitated, blinking a few times as his mind whirled with the implications of his new status. “We will need two rooms for the night, plus accommodations for a team of horses, footman, and driver.”

 

Carl checked the book he kept under his arm and nodded. “Yes, my lord. Would you like supper?” With a crook of his finger, he called a maid to his side and ordered her to prepare the rooms.

 

Leaning down to speak directly to Penelope, Benedict asked quietly, “Do you prefer the stew or the pie, my dear?”

 

Penelope looked at him with surprise, expecting that he would have answered for her, as most people had done her entire life. “The stew, please.”

 

He smiled at her, then turned back to the innkeeper. “I will take a bowl of stew as well with small beer for each of us. My servants may have whatever they would like to eat and the men may have two drinks each.” He fished a few coins out of an inner pocket of his waistcoat and handed them to the man. “We can settle up the rest in the morning.”

 

“Very good, my lord.” Carl tucked the coins into his own pocket, making note of their amount in his book. “If you would like to have a seat, I will have my maid bring out your supper.” He motioned to a table, then hurried away to put in their order.

 

Benedict addressed the servants, passing the baby to Winnie. “Persephone seems to be content for now, so you and Rae should have your supper. Charles, please get the keys from the innkeeper and place our trunks in the room before you take your leave.”

 

Everyone nodded, but waited until their master led the new mistress to their table before moving to their next tasks. Winnie and Rae selected a table on the opposite side of the room, while Charles approached the innkeeper.

 

“You have been very quiet, Penelope,” Benedict commented, frowning at her with concern. “Are you alright?”

 

“I am still processing the events of the past day. I’m sorry for not being a more interesting travel companion.” She worried her hands in her lap, clearly unsure of her new position with Benedict.

 

“It has been a whirlwind! My head has been spinning.” He made a silly face, which caused her to giggle a little. The sound stirred a place in his chest and made him feel more like himself. Turning the mood was one of his primary roles in the Bridgerton family, along with keeping his mother from discovering Anthony’s potential scandals.

 

“It feels like the plot of a book, but I have never read one this dramatic. All day, I could not stop thinking about Persephone’s mother. To feel so ashamed of your secrets that you entrust your child to a stranger- it’s heartbreaking.”

 

He locked eyes with her and promised, “Persephone will never feel that shame. She is my daughter now and will only know love and acceptance.”

 

Tears pricked her eyes at his solemn words, for they were greater truths than Penelope had ever experienced herself. She dreaded what her mother would say to her when they finally returned home. “You’re astounding, Benedict.”

 

Her voice was earnest and soft, slipping out from between her lips almost by accident. He swallowed hard, mesmerized by how the candlelight reflected in her damp eyes. An insane desire to wrap his arms around her and kiss away her tears flickered across his mind, teasing him with the possibility.

 

Unfortunately, the moment was broken by a barmaid dropping a wooden tray onto the table in front of them. They both jumped and focused exclusively on their food. “Lamb stew and small beers for two,” the maid barked, hurrying away before the couple could thank her.

 

“I fear you may become weary of stew before we get to Scotland,” Benedict quipped, stirring the brown mush with his spoon. He gave it an experimental lick, while Penelope watched. “It tastes better than it looks.” Having left his high society table manners back in Mayfair, he used a crust of.bread to scoop up a bigger bite of soup and chomped into it with a hum of pleasure.

 

Penelope couldn’t set aside her training quite as easily, so she dipped up a dainty amount with her spoon. “Perhaps a bit salty, but better than expected,” she commented, smiling at him.

 

“Eat as much as you would like- I will not judge.” He grinned at her, taking a large bite. “Are you enjoying your book?”

 

“Yes, it is perhaps a little more salty then I was expecting.”

 

Benedict dropped his spoon and jaw in surprise. “Penelope!” he exclaimed quietly, with mock horror. “You minx!” His eyes danced with delight at her comment.

 

“I am quite shocked that you would purchase such a book for an impressionable debutante!”

 

He threw his hands in the air in surrender. “The shopkeeper never informed me of its content.”

 

“Did you tell him that you were buying it for a lady? He probably assumed it was for you- a worldly rake with libertine ideas.”

 

Her words were spoken playfully and truthfully, but he frowned at them. It hadn’t bothered him a few days ago to be considered a rake- he didn’t understand why today it stung. He pushed his objections out of his mind and continued his jesting. “What is in the book that is so salty?”

 

She got very serious. “I do not know if I can tell you, sir, for I am an innocent girl.”

 

“A girl on her way to Gretna Green,” he whispered, leaning close to her and smiling rakishly.

 

“Alright. I will tell you, but you must not think less of me.”

 

He looked hurt. “Of course not, Penelope. If anything, you should be upset with me for buying you such a book.”

 

She moved closer to him, their meal preventing them from getting close enough to cause scandal. “The book is salty because it takes place on a ship.”

 

“Penelope!” he gasped and laughed loud enough to draw attention.

 

She giggled in delight from tricking him, then became serious again. “Lots of salt water.”

 

All the strange tension of the past day melted away with their laughter, and the two future spouses finished their meal as friends. They hadn’t had the opportunity to speak together without interruption in the busy Bridgerton House, and they discovered they had much in common. Penelope felt safe and optimistic as she took his arm to head upstairs.

🪶 👶 🎨

 

<><> NOTES <><>

- Benedict’s baby soothing method is the “5 S’s” from Happiest Baby. When my own child was an infant, I watched the training DVD and learned how to comfort her. The methods have existed since the beginning of humanity, but it was invaluable for my foster babies.

 

- The line in the story about Persephone going to sleep in one world and waking up in another is how I describe foster care transitions for infants. Everything they know changes while they dream (and they learn to not trust sleep).

 

- Penelope was reading “Gulliver’s Travels,” which was published in 1726 and heavily features boats.

 

Chapter 3: The One Bed Trope

Summary:

The couple spends their first night in an inn while on their way to Gretna Green.

🪶 👶 🎨

Benedict unlocked the door to Penelope’s room, sticking his head inside to look for intruders. “I am going to check on Persephone and send Rae to help you change.”

 

She nodded. The room as larger than she expected, full of worn furniture and scuffed floors. She had never stayed in an inn and hesitated at the door.

 

“Charles checked for bugs, and the room is clean.”

 

“Bugs,” she squeaked, whipping around to look at his face. Surely, he was teasing her again!

 

He frowned at her confusion. “Yes, bugs like fleas, lice, and bedbugs.”

 

She shivered. “You’re sure?”

 

“Yes, I trust him. Go inside and look around yourself. I will find Rae to help you.” She looked so vulnerable that he struggled to leave her even for a moment.

 

He didn’t like how the other men were watching her while they ate. Locking her door, he went down a set of stairs to the room the maids were sharing with the baby.

 

He knocked on the correctly numbered room, stepping back as Rae answered the door. “Penelope is ready to change,” he informed her, passing her the key and whispering the room number.

 

“Yes, my lord.” Rae dipped her head to him and rushed to her new mistress’s side.

 

Winnie came to the door next and greeted her master. “Did you need something, my lord?” She watched him warily, unsure of his character. He had a reputation as a rake, but Winnie hoped he would respect her marital status.

 

He didn’t like seeing the fear in the maid’s eyes and took another step backwards. “How is Persephone?” he asked with a relaxed smile.

 

“Sleeping, my lord.”

 

“Very good. Please keep your door locked and remain in the room until morning. Do you have everything you need?”

 

“Yes, my lord.”

 

He had intended to spend time with his daughter while Penelope got ready for bed, but now he didn’t know what to do to fill the time.

 

Although he intended to share a room with his future bride, he didn’t want to disturb her rest and planned to slip in the door when she was already asleep. If he timed it correctly, he could catch a few hours of rest without her realizing he was nearby.

 

<><><><><>

Penelope heard the lock click and spent about half a second feeling trapped before she relaxed. Throughout her light conversation with Benedict at supper, her Lady Whistledown observation skills were on high alert. She wasn’t sure if he had noticed the men watching her, some of them calculating or lustful, but she felt safer behind a locked door.

 

The roar of men’s voices downstairs was unsettling, and she paced the floor of her room while she waited for the maid. Benedict hadn’t discussed the sleeping arrangements, but she assumed Rae would share her bed, an added protection against unwanted male attention.

 

Only a few minutes passed until she heard someone at the door. She grabbed a candlestick to use as a weapon, planting her feet and preparing to strike the intruder.

 

Rae slipped into the room, as Penelope lowered her weapon sheepishly. “My lady, may I help you change for bed?” When the mistress nodded, the maid opened her trunk and pulled out her nightgown.

 

A knock sounded against the door, causing both of the women to jump. “Excuse me, Penelope,” Benedict said after Rae admitted him into the room. “I wanted to get my sketchbook, and then I will go downstairs for a drink while I draw.”

 

“Alright?” She cocked her head in the adorable kitten pose again, not understanding why his plans involved coming into her room.

 

He grinned at her and opened the second trunk, which Penelope had seen but not comprehended earlier. Fortunately, the sketchbook was on the top of his packed clothes, so it took him hardly any time at all to retrieve it.

 

“Lock the door after I leave, as I do not trust the other men here with your safety. Rae, when you are finished here, please bring me the key before you head to your own room.”

 

“Yes, my lord.” The maid followed him to the door and locked it behind him, slipping the key into her apron.

 

Benedict’s actions caused a swarm of questions in Penelope’s mind, but she didn’t have the energy to puzzle out the answers. She allowed Rae to undress her, help her into the nightgown, and braid her hair for the night.

 

“Do you require anything else, my lady?” Rae asked as she folded down the blankets and helped her mistress sit in bed.

 

“No, I will read for a while. Please extinguish all the candles except the one nearest me.” Penelope opened Gulliver’s Travels, eager to continue her salty book. She smiled to herself when she thought about the look on Benedict’s face when she teased him.

 

<><><><><>

The candle was burning low when the door opened again. Immediately, Penelope extinguished her light and picked up the candlestick as a weapon. She waited to see what would happen, ready to strike.

 

A second candle floated into the room as if carried by a ghost. More curious than frightened, Penelope watched the shadow person as it moved about the space. She heard the thud of shoes, saw a choppy dance of clothing being removed, then the being laid down on the floor.

 

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice harsh in the still night.

 

The shadow creature sprang to his feet. “Penelope? I thought you were asleep.”

 

“Answer me, Benedict Bartholomew Bridgerton!”

 

He shivered at the sound of his name in her mouth, excited and afraid of her power. Biting back a request for her to say it again, he came to stand beside the bed instead. “I am your husband, so I am sleeping in your room. But, I am also a gentleman, so I am sleeping on the floor.”

 

By the light of his candle, her white nightgown glowed while other parts of her were shadowed. He wondered what would be revealed if he had more light. Then, he noticed her weapon.

 

“You are not my husband!” she scolded, in a whisper-yell that brought out his defenses.

 

“To those men downstairs, I most certainly am! Or would you prefer I left you unprotected?”

 

“I am not unprotected,” she argued, waving her candlestick in his face.

 

Effortlessly, he plucked it out of her hands. “Now you are,” he taunted.

 

“Give it back!” She made a swipe for it, but he moved it out of her reach easily, his height giving him the advantage.

 

“No, you do not need it. I am here to protect you.”

 

“Why do you insist on being so… you!”

 

He laughed mockingly. Then the light shifted, and he remembered that his wasn’t fighting with one of his sisters. He swallowed hard.

 

“It is very late, and we have another long day of travel.” He moved back to his spot on the floor, where he only had his coat as a pillow.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Benedict sighed. “Going to sleep.”

 

“On the floor?”

 

“Yes,” he said, his voice betraying his exasperation. “I will not bother you or demand anything from you. I am a gentleman, and you are perfectly safe with me.”

 

“You should sleep in the bed,” she suggested, folding down the blankets on the other side.

 

“No, you can take the bed. I will be alright.”

 

“You will be in pain tomorrow. Join me in the bed.”

 

Benedict sat up, shocked by her proposition. “Are you sure?” Sweet, innocent, gentle Penelope was asking him into her bed? He lightly slapped his face to see if he was already dreaming.

 

She giggled, the sound floating in the room like music, drawing him like a siren. “Of course. I trust you.”

 

“I trust you, as well,” he replied lightly, moving to the empty side of the bed. Before he climbed into it, he checked with her feelings one more time. “Are you absolutely sure, Penelope?”

 

“Benedict Bartholomew Bridgerton! Stop stalling!”

 

Shocked by her use of his full name again, he scrambled into to the bed like a naughty child to the tune of her giggles. He flopped himself onto his back and pulled up the blankets, maximizing the comedy to smooth over any awkwardness.

 

Her laughter died as their unusual position make her feel unsure of how she should behave. They both laid stiffly next to each other, careful not to touch. She only lasted a few moments before she started giggling again.

 

“What is so funny?” he whispered, struggling to find anything humorous in their unsettling situation.

 

“It occurred to me that this was my first time having man in my bed, but that you have done this many times.” She rolled to her side facing him and propped herself up on her elbow. “Although, I do not even know what men and women do in bed besides sleep.”

 

“I was trying not to think about that option,” he groaned, pulling on his hair.

 

“Why? Is is awful?” She scooted a little closer to him in the dark, leaning into the privacy of the moment. “You know, Ton Mamas do not tell their daughters anything,” she pouted, dancing around a subject that she didn’t understand. It wasn’t her intention to tease or mock him- she just wanted to know why he was a rake.

 

Her orange blossom perfume wafted into his nose like an invitation. One that he was trying valiantly not to answer. “We need to talk about many other things before we get to that subject and we should sleep first.” He turned his back on her and fluffed his pillow exaggeratedly.

 

“Alright. Good night, Benedict.” She leaned forward and kissed his hair before laying down facing the room.

 

“Good night, Penelope,” he whispered affectionately. Of course, she was correct that he had often shared a bed with a woman, but they usually engaged in other activities.

 

He tried to lay still, hyper-aware of every breath she took. To distract himself, he imagined painting Persephone’s portrait and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 

<><><><><><>

The first thing Penelope realized the next morning was that she wasn’t in the same position as she was when she went to sleep. Some time during the night, she had rolled towards Benedict and snuggled her face against this back, which smelled of cedar, peppermint, and something else she couldn’t name. She never wanted to separate from the cozy spot.

 

Both of her arms were tucked tightly against her chest, but her feet were entwined with his legs. She rubbed her foot against him curiously, marveling at how different it felt from her own.

 

A low groan of sleepy interest rumbled from Benedict’s chest. He reached behind himself and caressed her bare leg where the nightgown had ridden up in the night.

 

Penelope’s skin began to tingle where he touched her, frightening her with sensations she didn’t understand. She jerked away from him, rolling into a ball on the other side of the bed.

 

His hand searched for her body, but was unable to find it. “Where did you go, Babe?” he whined, reaching with his hand and flipping onto his other side. As he wrapped his arm around her stomach, he crowed, “Found you!”

 

She froze, unsure what he was doing or how she should respond. Nothing he had done felt painful or possessive, just a little confusing. “Oh!” she exclaimed in a high pitch as he slid his hand up towards her breast. She pushed it away like it was a snake.

 

Startled by her reaction, Benedict finally opened his eyes and propped himself on his elbow.

 

In the light of day, he saw everything he couldn’t see the night before. Pillowy curves. Soft, touchable skin. Red, frizzy hair that poked out from her braid. Gulliver’s Travels on the table beside the bed.

 

“Bollock!” he exclaimed under his breath, leaping out of bed and running to the far side of the room. “Penelope, I am so sorry!” He stood facing the corner, cursing himself in his head and waiting for her to get out of bed and right her nightgown.

 

She came up behind him and put a hand on his arm. “I don’t understand what happened. Are you angry with me?”

 

He dropped his head as he shook it. “No, Penelope. This was not your fault.” He dug his nails into the palms of his hand to punish himself for touching her.

 

His balled up fists did nothing to convince her that he wasn’t upset. “Please tell me what happened? Why won’t you look at me?” Tears gathered in her eyes. Waking up next to him had been so pleasant, but she didn’t understand what went wrong.

 

“We need to talk, but not yet. I will get Rae to help you dress and meet you downstairs for breakfast.”

 

He tucked in his rumpled shirt and added his waistcoat, stuffing his jacket and cravat into his trunk. Normally, he would be properly dressed immediately after waking, but they were far from Mayfair and his mother’s table.

 

The moment he locked the door, Penelope deflated into a chair, covering her eyes and sobbing. Benedict was her friend, her rescuer, her future husband, but somehow she had disappointed him already. She replayed the events of the morning, but none of it made sense.

 

“My lady, are you alright?” Rae hustled to her mistress’s side the moment she saw tears and handed her a handkerchief.

 

“Something happened in bed this morning, and I do not understand why Benedict is upset with me.”

 

A thousand possibilities swam in Rae’s head. She knew her master was a rake with a capitol-R, but he usually didn’t make women cry. He was gentle and generous, never raising his hand to them or hurting them in any way. She quickly swiped her eyes down Penelope’s body, searching for evidence of abuse.

 

“Would you like to tell me?” the maid asked her gently.

 

“We slept in the same bed last night.” Penelope looked at Rae, expecting her to be shocked by her admission, but the older woman just nodded knowingly. “He touched my stomach, then got angry when he realized I was the one in his bed.”

 

“Perhaps he was just surprised?”

 

“Or maybe he hates me!” She sobbed into her hands again, completely dejected. Her mother had spent so much of her life telling her that she would never marry that she saw Benedict’s seeming rejection as proof. A vine of dread clinched her heart as she thought about what would become of her without the Bridgerton’s support.

 

When she settled down again, Rae suggested softly, “Shall I bring you a breakfast tray? It would give you some extra time before you have to face him.” When her mistress nodded in agreement, Rae touched her arm soothingly and left to do her bidding.

 

<><><><><>

Benedict didn’t bother with clean clothing that day, unable to figure out how to change without disturbing Penelope. Surely after the horrors of the morning, she never wanted to see him again.

 

When she invited him to sleep with her the night before, it felt like a silly game, a dance across the boundaries that normally existed between men and women of the Ton. Just another memory to add onto their scandalous trip. A late night sleepover between friends.

 

It would have been fine, a perfect way for the couple to spend time alone, if he hadn’t forgotten who he had in his bed. He treated her like a common tart, after promising that he was a gentleman. Cursing himself, he downed a shot of whiskey with his breakfast.

 

If someone had treated his sisters so dishonorably, he would have challenged the cad to a duel. Penelope had no one to protect her except himself, but it turned out that he was the villain. He wondered if she could trust him again.

 

For the first time in his life, his status as a rake got in the way of the relationship he wanted with a woman. This was all so complicated! He knew he had frightened her and probably ruined their future together.

 

They were only a day away from London, less since they traveled with an infant. Perhaps there was still time to send word to Colin. His jovial, adventuresome, virginal little brother would be a much better fit for the gentle and sweet Featherington girl.

 

He looked up from his self-loathing to see Winnie coming down the stairs with the baby in her arms and waved them over with a smile he didn’t feel. “Hand her to me, so you can eat before we leave,” he ordered, holding out his arms.

 

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied with a respectful bow and a warm smile, gently setting Persephone against his chest. “She has eaten this morning and is ready to travel.” The wet nurse waited for further instructions, but Benedict’s attention was already lost on the baby.

 

“Hello, Little One,” he cooed, staring into her big, blue eyes. He smiled at her with adoration, watching her little tongue poke in and out of her mouth. “Papa missed you.”

 

The moment he gave himself the familial name, he remembered why he asked Penelope to marry him. Genevieve’s voice breaking over the fate of this orphan. Henry’s pronouncement of ruination for the debutante. Lucy’s knowing smile when she suggested they marry. Penelope’s fear and bravery.

 

Lady Whistledown.

 

The blackmail.

 

The secret to keep.

 

If he called himself a man of honor, he couldn’t walk away from these two girls who needed his protection. He couldn’t expect his little brother to take the burdens he was unwilling to carry. He couldn’t leave Penelope alone to face the scandal, the ruin, the shame.

 

After handing Persephone back to Winnie, he rented a horse to ride for the day. He wanted to keep his distance from Penelope, reestablishing the boundaries he should have kept between them from the beginning. Although he saw the hurt in his future wife’s eyes when she entered the carriage, he was determined to be the gentleman she expected.

 

Of course, they needed to discuss their upcoming marriage, but they had several more days before crossing into Scotland. Maybe their awkwardness would be solved by the time they arrived at the anvil, even without conversation. He gripped the reins more firmly in his hand and signaled the driver to begin their day.

🪶 👶 🎨

Chapter 4: Nel-op-pee

Summary:

Benedict rides out his feelings in a rainstorm and makes a shocking confession to Penelope.

🪶 👶 🎨

Penelope clapped her book shut and tossed it on the bench next to her, the place where Benedict was supposed to be sitting. Gulliver’s Travels reminded her of him and the stupid conversation they had the night before about salt. She didn’t want to think about him any more.

 

Winnie looked at her mistress with surprise, then turned to Rae for answers. The lady’s maid communicated the message that she would explain the situation later. They dropped their eyes back to their laps, leaving Penelope to her petulant mood.

 

The debutante sighed aggressively. “Winnie, you are married, right?”

 

“Yes, my lady,” she answered carefully, unsure what her mistress was wanting to know. Although she hadn’t been privy to information about the issues between the two nobles, she had observed their behavior.

 

“Are all men idiots?” Penelope demanded, her eyes flashing with anger.

 

Winnie hesitated, not wanting to impugn her master and risk her job. “No, my lady.”

 

“The Bridgerton men seem to be especially gifted with stupidity, then.”

 

“I do not know, my lady.” Winnie glanced at Rae, silently asking her for help.

 

“Trust me. They are dunderheads, every one of them, from the viscount to the adolescent. Complete fools!” She dug into her own travel bag and pulled out the novel she had packed for herself and some Pontefract cakes to grind with her teeth.

 

<><><><><>

The rain cascaded down on Benedict’s head as he rode alongside the carriage, superfluously adding to his already drenched countenance. He had endured hours in the downpour, so a few more wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t like he could get any more wet.

 

Through the storm, he could hear Persephone’s angry wail, but he knew his cold, wet body would only make her more upset if he tried to help. It pricked his heart to hear her cries, and he imagined she was calling for him.

 

Fortunately, the women were sheltered within the cabin of the vehicle, snuggled under blankets with hot bricks at their feet. He was the only fool still outside, as the carriage driver had pulled the awning over himself and the footman to shield them a little.

 

All day, he thought about Penelope and what had happened between them. It wasn’t his intention to reject her, but he also wasn’t sure what they were to each other. For years, she was just the girl next door, the best friend of his little sister, a yellow addition to their family. She had been on the periphery of his world, accepted and wanted, but not really of consequence to his life.

 

He had been busy helping his oldest brother manage the household, herding his younger siblings for his mother, soothing hurt feelings, and she had just been there. Not really a guest, not quite a sister, just present. An extra mallet in the Pall Mall game, another spot at the table, one more girl to add to the collection of siblings.

 

He hadn’t paid much attention to her until suddenly he did. Perhaps it was the day she looked over his shoulder and complimented his drawing, her orange blossom perfume and red curls tickling his nose. Maybe it was the day she whacked his Pall Mall ball into the lake and giggled at his look of betrayal. Or the day he watched her curtsy before the queen and enter society with her head held proudly.

 

Almost as soon as he began to notice the girl next door, he realized that his younger brother was beginning to show interest as well. Colin had already established himself in her life as her friend, but after her debut, he began to flirt with her in earnest. He claimed her hand at the ball, chased after her attention in public, and called her by a nickname. So, Benedict stepped back.

 

Then, the idiot broke her heart nearly marrying her cousin. Fortunately, Lady Whistledown- Penelope- wrote the article that exposed the fraud. Instead of winning him back to her side, the embarrassment drove Colin to flee. He continued his lightweight courtship by writing her letters while he was away.

 

Penelope told him that Colin didn’t see her as anything but a friend. A treacherous part of Benedict rejoiced at her words, gladly ready to claim her for himself. He knew he could very easily take her as a wife, since his heart had been waiting for permission to love her. His own flaming sun.

 

He smiled despite the cold and the rain, warmed by thoughts of drawing her to his chest and protect her from further pain. Then, his face fell when he remembered how her hand had pushed him away that morning, rejecting his amorous advances. It had been an accident on his side, an instinct from waking up beside a woman, but he needed to know if he had scared her or repulsed her.

 

He fixed his eyes on the gray horizon and continued clomping forward towards the dry inn, a warm bath, and a soft bed. Tonight, he would get a room for himself and put all the women together. He wasn’t in the mood to speak with Penelope yet, nor would he force conversation with another shared bed.

 

<><><><><>

When they arrived at the inn, Benedict left the women to their supper, while he went upstairs for a bath. His body felt like it was made of lead, and he attracted a lot of attention among the patrons for his pathetic appearance. He felt so miserable from being wet and cold all day that he could hardly care about anything but getting dry and warm again.

 

Penelope watched him drag his body towards his room, a frown of concern on her face. She and the servants were gathered around one table, enjoying a hot stew and warm cider. The inn was cozy and dark, but didn’t feel as foreign as the last one. Further away from London, the guests mostly consisted of families or tired, respectable men on their way home from the city.

 

She chatted with the servants in her Lady Whistledown accent, happily asking them questions and laughing at their stories. At first, they were surprised by her transformation from shy debutante to bold maid, but soon forgot about her true origin and began to treat her like one of them.

 

After they had drank a few cups of cider and eaten their fill of stew, Penelope asked the innkeeper for a tray to take up to Benedict. “Me master told me t’ bring ‘is supper up after ‘is bath,” she explained, looking to the others for validation when a servant brought the order to the table.

 

Rae and Winnie smiled at each other, knowing he never made such a request. “I am sure he will appreciate it,” Rae said, nodding to her mistress. “We will be in room five when you are finished.”

 

Penelope lifted up the tray, surprised by its weight, as she was inexperienced as a servant. The stairs presented another challenge, her long skirt threatening to trip her with every step. She wondered how her maids did this job and make it look so effortless. Perhaps this is why her maids had slightly higher hemlines on their dresses than she did.

 

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she called out, knocking on his door. “Supper tray, sir.”

 

Benedict lifted his head with great effort, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “Come in.” The moment, he spoke, he allowed his head to fall down again. He couldn’t remember when he had been so tired.

 

Opening the door awkwardly, while hoping that she didn’t drop the tray, Penelope asked, “Where’d ye like it, Sir?” She entered the room and nudged the door shut with her foot.

 

He tried to sit up, but failed.

 

Penelope rushed to his side, setting the tray on the table beside the bed. “Benedict?” She tried not to focus on the way his nightshirt had ridden up his body, exposing most of his leg, but she did notice how it seemed to stick to his skin. He looked so pale, she became frightened. “Benedict? Are you well?” she demanded in her own accent, Lady Whistledown’s disguise forgotten.

 

“Hale and hearty,” he droned unconvincingly with a lazy, weak smile.

 

She hesitated just a moment before laying her palm on his forehead. It was hot and clammy.

 

She started to walk away, but he grabbed her wrist. “Stay with me,” he begged pathetically, pulling her hand back to his head. “You feel good.”

 

“You have a fever, Benedict,” she pronounced, tugging her hand away from him. “I need to get some water.”

 

“Stay,” he pleaded again.

 

“I will be right back.” She fetched the linen wash cloth and wash bowl and placed them on other bedside table. Awkwardly, she carried the pitcher and carefully poured water into the bowl. She wet the cloth and wrung the excess water, hoping she was doing it correctly.

 

She had never cared for a sick person before, but she had seen maids take these steps. They usually didn’t sit on the bed with her, but she didn’t see any other option for seating. She placed the cool cloth on Benedict’s forehead, hoping it would help to bring down his fever.

 

He opened his eyes again. “Nel-op-pee!” he slurred. “You came back!”

 

“How long have you been feeling ill?” She dipped the cloth in water again and began to gently wipe the sweat off his face.

 

He hummed with delight, bringing a blush to Penelope’s cheeks and a warm swirl in her stomach. It was both pleasant and unseemly.

 

“Benedict!” she hissed after a few minutes.

 

“What” he whined.

 

“How long have you been ill?” she demanded impatiently.

 

“Days and days,” he replied unhelpfully in a dreamy voice.

 

She wiped down his nose and across his lips, noticing for the first time how soft they looked. Daringly, she allowed her thumb to brush against them, testing her theory.

 

He began humming again. Embarrassed by her reaction to him, she turned to refresh the cloth, using it this time to wipe down his neck and behind his ears. She touched his forehead again, concerned that he felt hotter than a few minutes ago.

 

“Nel-op-pee,” he sang, dragging out her name. “I lov-v-ve you.”

 

“You do not know what you are saying, Benedict” she scolded him, her face reddening even more than before. “You’re ill.”

 

He stuck his lip out in an adorable pout. “Yes I do. I love you!” He giggled. “Oh, that rhymes. I’m a poet!”

 

“I brought you some stew. Would you like to eat?” She kept her voice stern and professional, shaken by his confession. He must be out of his mind with the fever and not realize what he was saying, right?

 

“I can’t eat, for I am lovesick.”

 

“Would you like a drink, then? I brought cider.”

 

“You’re pretty. I should paint you.”

 

“Benedict, you need to rest now.”

 

“I have drawn my Nel-op-pee but not painted her.” He raised his hand and waved it towards his trunk. “A whole book of Nel. Nel. Nel. My Nel.” He smiled at the word on his lips, enjoying the way it tasted.

 

“If I fetch it for you, will you sleep?” She needed to get away from him and think about all he had said. Now, they had even more to discuss at their next meeting!

 

He grinned and nodded his head like a child. “Book, sleep.”

 

She checked his head one more time, giving him an affectionately exasperated smile, before moving to his trunk. Fortunately, the book had its own pocket in the lid and easy to locate without digging.

 

She held it out to him. “Here is your book. Now, go to sleep.”

 

He pushed it towards her. “Look, Nel. You.”

 

Holding her breath in anticipation and unsure what she would discover, she timidly opened the sketchbook to a random page. It was a charcoal portrait of her reading by the window. She gasped, amazed at the likeness.

 

“I see you.” He put his hand on her arm.

 

Tears filled her eyes as she turned to another page. This one was just a close up of her hands as they wrapped around a tea cup. The opposite side was a sketch of her hair, arranged in a lose braid. “Benedict, these are beautiful.”

 

“Don’t cry, My Nel.” He caressed her arm gently and let her cry.

 

She set the book on the bed, afraid her tears might ruin the pictures. “You promised to sleep,” she reminded him, placing her hand over his and moving it off her arm. “Feel better, Benedict.” She kissed her fingers and touched it to his forehead.

 

Hesitating a moment, she looked around the room, trying to decide if there was something she should do before she left. She picked up one candle to help her get back to her room, and blew out all the rest. ‘Good night,” she whispered as she slipped out the door.

 

<><><><><>

“My lady? Are you alright?” Rae asked, getting out of bed as Penelope entered the room. She wasn’t expecting her mistress to return to their room that night. Mr. Bridgerton had been very strict about the women wandering around the inn, so Rae was surprised that he allowed his fiance to do so.

 

“Do you have any willow bark tea?” she whispered, looking shy about her request.

 

Rae’s face grew soft as she compassionately replied, “Yes, I can fetch you some in a moment. Do you need need help getting cleaned up?”

 

“Cleaned up?” Penelope frowned in confusion.

 

“Do your maid pack your apron?”

 

Penelope realized what Rae had concluded. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed, feeling embarrassed at the maid’s assumption. “I am not flowering. I asked for the tea because Benedict- Mr. Bridgerton- has a fever.”

 

“The tea should help. What else have you tried?”

 

“I placed wet clothes on his head, but the fever seems to be getting worse. He is delusional, saying things that do not make sense.”

 

“I will tend to him. Stay here and sleep- I am sure he will be better in the morning.” Rae helped her young mistress change into her nightgown and tucked her into the second bed. “Try not to worry,” she admonished her, taking the candle and leaving the room.

 

Penelope laid in the bed, but found that sleep didn’t want to come. The confusing feelings she had about Benedict were even more prominent now than they were earlier in the day. She thought about all the times she had seen him in Bridgerton House with a sketchbook on his lap. Every time she looked over at him, feeling his eyes on her, he would pretend he hadn’t been watching her.

 

Colin’s flirtatious affection had always been loud and meaningless. A sibling rivalry in a family that thrived on competing with each other. The more attention Penelope gave to one of the other Bridgertons, the more Colin would tease the line between friendship and courtship.

 

She used to think he meant the words and the touches, little affirmations of her value as a woman. She had even thought herself in love with him for several years, caught up in imaginary romance. Then, he had returned home from his first grand tour and declared her as ineligible for his affection. Not a woman worth courting.

 

Tonight, Benedict had revealed a quiet romance happening in the background of his brother’s loud flirtation. She wondered how long it had been patiently waiting for the right moment to unveil itself. The sketchbook appeared to be nearly full and the cover was well-worn and soft, indicating hours of hidden longing.

 

In the silence, Persephone began to fuss and rustle as she woke for a feeding. Winnie got up immediately, whispering soothingly to the baby, and changed her clouts quickly. The child’s cries grew more frantic, until finally sighing contentedly. Sitting up against the headboard of her bed, Winnie rocked the infant sleepily.

 

“Winnie?” Penelope whispered into the darkness.

 

“I am sorry for waking you, my lady,” the maid apologized. “Persephone should not awaken again until morning.”

 

“It’s alright. I was already awake.”

 

“Is there something you need, my lady?” Of course, the maid wished to return to sleep as quickly as possible once the baby was contented, but it was also her job to attend to her mistress if Rae wasn’t available.

 

Penelope bit her bottom lip, trying to gather the courage to express what was on her mind. “Can we speak for a while?”

 

“If you would like, my lady.”

 

It felt strange to continue laying in bed while the other woman was sitting up, so Penelope leaned against the wall, buried in the blankets, and hugging her knees. “Winnie, you are a married woman, right?”

 

The maid frowned. They had already covered this ground. “Yes, my lady. Three years.”

 

Penelope added wringing her hands to biting her lip. The questions she wanted to ask her so audacious that she wasn’t sure she would be able to get them out of her mouth. She turned over different ways to phrase her inquiries, too embarrassed to say what she actually wanted to know.

 

“What do men and women do in bed besides sleep?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. She pulled the blankets over her face, convinced she would get scolded for her question.

 

Winnie sighed thoughtfully, surprised that her mistress would bring up such an intimate subject. She also was confused by the topic, as she thought experience with it was the reason for their flight to Gretna Green.

 

“Please? I do not know of anyone else to ask.”

 

Mothers of the Ton usually gave their daughters as little information as possible before their weddings, since too much knowledge might taint the husband’s perception of his virginal wife. Before that night, debutantes were kept carefully guarded and protected from even the tiniest hint of marital relations. Winnie knew it wasn’t her mistress’s fault that she felt the need to ask questions- she just wondered how to begin.

 

“It’s alright, my lady. Your curiosity is very normal,” she began with gentle reassurance, hoping Penelope could hear her affectionate smile. “In bed, the couple may engage in marital relations.”

 

She paused, hoping the words would trigger her mistress to fill in what she already knew. To delay the inevitable a little longer, she moved Persephone to her shoulder and lightly patted her back.

 

“Marital relations are the continuation of the things you do and the feelings you have while kissing,” she added, once again hoping that Penelope had enough knowledge to fill in the blanks.

 

“I have never been kissed,” Penelope admitted quietly.

🪶 👶 🎨

 

<><> NOTES <><>

- Pontefract cakes are disks of chewy, black licorice.

 

- I’m really sorry if you are actually Irish. I found an “Irish accent” translator on the internet to use for the few phrases I put in Penelope’s mouth.

 

- The sketchbook of ideas and the concept of quiet admiration came from Loving the Unseen by A Flower in the Sun.

 

- In history, a woman’s period was called her “flowers” as a euphemism. Willow bark is the raw source of salicylic acid, which is the main ingredient in aspirin, a pain and fever reducer. Women of this era wore menstrual aprons to deal with their flow (watch this Abby Cox experimental historian video for more information).

Notes:

We may just be tiptoeing through the tropes now (haha). Which one should I do next?

Chapter 5: Shopping Adventure

Summary:

The couple talk about nicknames for each other, then Benedict sends Penelope on a shopping adventure.

After talking into the night with Winnie, Penelope slept until late in the day, only emerging out of her blankets when the warmth in her room grew too stifling to stay cocooned.  Her first thought was worries about Benedict, so she went to find him as soon as possible after waking.

 

Charles answered the door, since the footman had taken over his master’s care so Rae could rest.  “May I help you, my lady?”

 

Penelope twisted her hands in front of her, suddenly nervous about seeking out her future husband.  “How is Mr. Bridgerton this morning?”

 

“Let her in,” Benedict ordered weakly.

 

The footman stepped aside to allow Penelope space to enter the room, bowing his head to her in acquiescence.  “Please let me know how I may serve you, my lady,” he said kindly, stepping outside the room and closing the door behind him.

 

“Nel,” Benedict called out, reaching towards her.

 

She wondered how much he remembered about last night’s discussion, besides his new nickname for her.  “How are you feeling?”  She started to put her hand on his forehead, then withdrew it awkwardly, sitting in a chair near his bed.  Aside from the fact that they were alone and he was in bed, it was all very proper.

 

“My fever broke during the night.”  His voice sounded scratchy and weak, and he paused to take a sip of tea before continuing.  “Thank you for sending Rae to me.”

 

“You scared me,” she scolded, trying to look at him sternly but failing.

 

“Sorry.”  He gave her one of his classic silly faces, uncomfortable with her sad expression.  His throat burned, but he was determined to see her smile again.  “How else was I supposed to get your attention?”

 

“Stubborn fool!  What were you thinking allowing yourself to get sick?”

 

“I allowed myself to get sick?”

 

She waved her hand at him in exasperation.  “You know what I mean!”

 

“Do you?”  He watched her try to figure out what to say to him next, her eyes flashing with passion.  It was mesmerizing.  “Could I paint you?” he asked, studying her intently.

 

She blushed and fidgeted with her hands in her lap.  His request reminded her of the sketchbook full of observations, which made her feel self-conscious.  “Mr. Bridgerton-”

 

He put his hands to his heart as if he had been stabbed in mock horror.  “Why, Nel?”

 

She found his intimacy overwhelming and grasped at anything to put some space and normalcy between them.  “Benedict, I-”

 

“Nope,” he interrupted with a grin.  “I demand a nickname, too.”

 

“Ben?”

 

“Boring!”

 

“Dick?”

 

“Penelope!”  She looked confused, and he smiled to himself at her innocence. 

 

“Ned?”

 

“Nel and Ned.”  He held out his hand to her and waited until she placed hers on top before pronouncing, “Perfect.  Now, what were you going to say?”

 

She stared down at their connected hands, distracted by the way her small one fit in his larger one.  Her skin felt tingly, and she wondered if Benedict- Ned- could feel it as well.  “I forget,” she whispered, after a long moment.

 

He squeezed her hand, enjoying the look of surprise that crossed her face.  Her skin was so cool and soft, even better than he had imagined when he sketched it all those times previously.

 

“You should go on an adventure today.  See what you can find and report back to me.  Take Charles for protection and Winnie for propriety.  I am sure Persephone would enjoy an outing as well.”

 

It hurt to talk to her, but he couldn’t keep himself silent, eager to hear her voice as well.  He could rest when she left him alone.

 

“She misses you.”

 

“Give her a kiss for me, alright?  I miss snuggling her.”

 

“You are so good with her, a natural.”  Without realizing it, she had begun to stroke the back of his hand with her thumb soothingly.

 

“Do not be afraid to love her, Nel.”  His tender admonition lost some of its power when he sneezed.

 

She giggled.  “I cannot believe we have a daughter.”

 

“We,” he whispered, pulling their connected hands to his cheek.  “Together.”  He kissed the back of her hand, caught up in a daydream about their family, one he never imagined would be possible.

 

She startled at his boldness.  “Oh!”

 

He released her hand.  “Charles!” he yelled, straining his sore throat.

 

The footman opened the door immediately.  “Yes, my lord?”

 

“You will accompany Miss Featherington into town with Winnie and Persephone as chaperons.  Please bring my money bag to me.”

 

While the servant hurried to obey, Penelope protested, “I have pin money, Benedict.”

 

He cleared his throat.

 

“I have no need of your funds, Ned.”  She put extra emphasis on the last word and scrunched up her nose.

 

“Someday, I am going to kiss those wrinkles away,” he promised, giving her a rakish grin as she blushed.  He thanked Charles for the bag and pulled out several coins.  “You may not need the money, but you will allow your future husband to provide for you.”

 

He placed the coins in her open hand, pressing them into her palm like a kiss.  “Please?”

 

“Alright.”  She smiled indulgently, closing her hand around the money.

 

<><><><><>

In the end, it was decided that Winnie would have an easier time caring for the baby and the invalid at the inn, and Rae should chaperon Penelope.  Their driver brought them into town and parked near the shopping center.  It was smaller than the warehouses of London, but a reasonable size with real shops instead of just stalls.

 

“Where to first, my lady?” Rae asked, as Charles fell into line behind them.

 

Penelope had a list of items she wanted to seek out, mostly for Benedict.  “The bookshop is directly across the street, so we should end there.  Do you think they have a fruitier?”

 

“I am not sure, my lady.  Perhaps we should begin walking and see what we can find?”  So far, the young mistress had treated all of them every well, and Rae was feeling optimistic about future employment in the Bridgerton household.

 

“Mr. Bridgerton did demand that we have an adventure.”  She smiled at the mention of his name.  “I had better have some good stories to tell him.”  She set out eagerly, her head swiveling as she took in all the activity around her.

 

It was clear that the population wasn’t as well off as the Ton of Mayfair, but they engaged in many of the same pastimes.  Courting couples strolled arm in arm, maids trailing behind as chaperons.  Small groups of unmarried women dashed from store to store, giggling about gossip and spending their pin money carelessly.  Stiff business men marched down the street, looking too busy to notice the children weaving around their feet.

 

“Let’s stop into this confectionery,” Penelope suggested, stepping into the sugar-heavy air of the sweet shop.  With a little coaxing, she got her servants to confess their favorite treats, buying them before either understood why she had asked the question.

 

“Thank you, my lady,” Charles said as she handed him a packet of barley water candies.  He held it in front of him, feeling a bit foolish.

 

“Yes, thank you.”  Rae tucked her candied ginger into her reticule beside the peppermint sticks for Winnie.  The wet nurse had confided in her that she was struggling with nausea lately, which the peppermint or ginger should help.

 

Penelope folded the envelope of lemon drops and placed it into her bag, before leading the group to their next stop.  They stopped at the haberdasher for a few ribbons, a stationer for writing supplies, and a florist.

 

“Oh good,” she exclaimed with a sigh.  “A fruitier.”

 

Charles arms were getting pretty full of her purchases, but he still managed to open the door for her.  Immediately, their senses were overwhelmed by the heady smell of ripe fruit.  She noticed a pineapple that had been given pride of place in the center of the room, indicating the success of the shop.

 

The fruit seller came out from behind the counter, assessing their spending potential smoothly as he approached them.  A well-dressed woman with two servants was a rare customer in his stop, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste.  “Good afternoon, my lady?  How may I serve you?”

 

“I am looking for some healthful foods for a sick friend,” Penelope announced, overwhelmed by all the options.

 

“The King’s Pine is the very best,” he assured them with a sweep of his hand towards the majestic fruit.

 

“Um, pineapple is much too dear for someone with only pin money to spend,” she contradicted gently, looking around the shop.  “Perhaps some oranges?”

 

The seller tried not to look disappointed.  “Oranges are a lovely option.  Shall I box up a dozen?”

 

“Three, please.”

 

“Three dozen?”  His eyes gleamed with hope at her large order.

 

“No, sorry.  Just three total.”

 

<><><><><>

“Those better not all be for me!” Benedict scolded as Penelope entered the room with her arms full of items.

 

She covered her blush with a question of her own.  “How are you feeling?”

 

“Better.  We will leave in the morning.”

 

Boldly, she dumped her pile of treasures onto his bed and sat at his feet.  “And this time you will ride in the carriage,” she ordered pointedly, wagging her finger at him, “where you can rest.”

 

He smiled at her sass.  “Yes, my lady.”

 

She stared at the gifts between them, contemplating which one to give him first.  “I noticed your throat was bothering you earlier, so I got some lemon drops for you to suck.  They are my favorite way to take the sugars when I am sick.”

 

“Perhaps you should keep them,” he gently pushed them back towards her, reveling at the chance to touch her again.  His hand lingered a little longer than necessary before he noticed and broke away.

 

She blinked a few minutes as if waking up from a dream, her eyes wide and innocent.  “I also bought you an orange, which I hear is helpful in preventing further illness.”  She had given the other two oranges to the servants to share, a rare treat for them.

 

“Once again, I am going to have to insist that you keep it, as it is more important to keep you healthy.”

 

“Benedict-” she pouted, holding the fruit out to him.

 

He shook his head.  “Say my name.”

 

“Ned.”  She rolled her eyes at him in exasperation, but he just grinned.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Take the orange.”

 

“We will share it,” he declared, allowing her to drop it into his hand.  “Did you buy anything for yourself, or am I going to have to give you more money?”

 

Ignoring his question again, she smiled at him teasingly.  “You are not allowed to reject this gift, as no one else in our party has any use for it.”  She passed him a sketchbook.  “I thought you might want to fill this one with pictures of Persephone,” she suggested, knowing that he already had one for her likeness.

 

For a second, Benedict looked as if he might cry, so deeply touched was he by her thoughtfulness.  “See, this is why I love you, My Nel.”

 

She gasped, covering her mouth as she blushed.  He had admitted his feelings the night before when he was delusional, but she didn’t expect him to ever speak of them again.  “Love?” she whispered, her voice cracking with disbelief.

 

“O once I loved a bonnie lass, and yes I love her still, and while that virtue warms my breast, I’ll love my handsome Nel.”  He allowed the poem to express what he didn’t know how to say for himself.

 

“A bonny lass I will confess, is pleasant to the eye, but without some better qualities she’s not a lass for me.  But Nelly’s looks are blythe and sweet, and what is best of all, her reputation is complete and fair without a flaw.”

 

He looked at her with such tender affection that her heart melted within her.  Tears gathered in her eyes to hear him express such passion.  She wasn’t sure how to respond to his raw love, still confused about her own feelings, but she allowed him to continue.

 

“She dresses also clean and neat, both decent and genteel; and then there’s something in her gait makes every dress look well.  A gaudy dress and gentle air might slightly touch the heart, but it’s innocence and modesty that polishes the dart.  ‘Tis this in Nelly pleases me, ‘tis this enchants my soul; for absolutely in my breast she reigns without control.”

 

He finished the recitation, then looked a little embarrassed by his outpouring of emotion.  She probably wasn’t ready for such an admission, and he hoped he didn’t scare her away again.

 

“I got a little carried away with ol’ Bobby Burns there,” he apologized, trying to pass off his heartfelt poetry recitation as a mire coincidence.

 

She laughed and sobbed at the same time, picking up the last gift that she had bought, a collection of Burn’s poems.  “I guess you do not need this,” she said, feeling silly for buying something that he clearly already memorized.

 

“Not true,” he replied, snatching the book out of her hand quickly and hugging it to his chest.  “It’s perfect.”

 

“I also bought a new book for myself, a journal, a travel writing set, and some ribbons.  Plus, sweets for our servants and flowers for the innkeeper’s wife.”

 

Benedict never wanted to kiss anyone more than he did in that moment, hearing her recite the kindnesses she had done for people who would never pay her back.  Rubbing his fingers against his bottom lip, he smiled at her.  “For absolutely in my breast she reigns without control,” he repeated softly.

 

“I…”  She started and then stopped, unsure how to tell him what she was thinking.  It was all so new!  Only a few days ago, she was an overlooked débutante on the wall of a ballroom.

 

With the utmost tenderness, he whispered, “It’s alright, Nel.  You do not need to say anything to me yet.”  He stopped to watch her nod in agreement and relief.  “Would you please read to me for a while?”  He held the book out to her like an invitation.

 

The temptation to run to her room and write about all of her feelings was strong, but she smiled at him instead and took the book.  “Do you have a favorite?”

 

“I just told you- Handsome Nel, the ruler of my heart.”  He saw her discomfort and immediately apologized.  “Start from the beginning, my love,” he instructed her with a soft smile.

 

He made a sound of frustration and cursed under his breath.  “I’m sorry, Penelope.  I did not mean to continue speaking romantically, but it is like a floodgate has burst in my heart.  I spent so long loving you in secret and watching my brother toy with your affections, and now I finally have you all to myself.  Not that you owe me anything-”

 

She put her hand on his foot to stop his spiral.  “It’s alright, Ned.  I understand.”

 

He thanked her and laid back against the pillows, closing his eyes as she read.

 

<><><><><>

Benedict fell asleep almost immediately, but it took Penelope a few poems before she noticed, as her thoughts were distracted by the man in front of her.  She felt like she was chasing soap bubbles, each idea popping before she completely understood it.

 

His attention was flattering, his smile charming, and his touches soothing, and she felt safe with him.  She knew she felt affection for him, but was it enough for marriage?  Could she love him as a wife?

 

After noticing that Benedict was unresponsive to her reading, she closed the book and watched him sleep for a moment.  He had always been Eloise’s affable older brother, the viscount’s right hand, and the heart of his family, but soon he would take on another title- husband.

 

She flushed as she thought about sleeping next to him again now that she knew what else people could do in bed.  A flutter of something unexplainable teased in her belly when she remembered way his hand felt on her stomach.  She wondered if that feeling had anything to do with kissing.

 

Part of her wanted to stretch out next to him and place her head on his heart where his arm was raised to accommodate her.  After his confession, she was sure he wouldn’t reject her, but the bigger part of her wasn’t sure she was ready to cross that line.  She wondered if perhaps a kiss would help clarify her feelings.

 

She wished they could finally talk about their expectations, but it wasn’t possible with his illness.  Tomorrow morning, they would be back inside the carriage with an audience and wouldn’t have privacy until that night.  She didn’t want to wait that long to reply to his confession of love.

 

She opened the door to ask Charles to get the new travel writing desk she bought that day.  When she finished penning Benedict a letter, she returned to the room she shared with the maids.  She slept well after getting the convoluted thoughts out of her mind and placing them neatly onto the paper.

 

<><> NOTES <><>
- A warehouse was the early version of a shopping mall, with multiple stalls in a large building.  I picture something like a flee market, but the goods were high quality, not bargain or used items.

- A fruitier is a seller of fruit, as you may have been able to figure out from the story.  In the Regency Era (and the 200 years previous), pineapples were Europe’s most expensive fruit and owning one was a sign of prestige.  They were so coveted that people used to rent them for parties or even just carry them around as a status symbol.  They only became cheap after the invention of steamships, when the wealthy turned their attention to a new food- celery.

- “Take the sugars” means to eat sweet treats and candy when one is ill.  It was thought that the sugar would revive the spirits and improve one’s outlook.

- Benedict recited the poem “Handsome Nell” by Robert Burns.  I changed some of the spelling to make it flow better, as if he was telling it to her rather than reading it.

Chapter 6: The Letter

Summary:

Benedict reads the letter that Penelope wrote for him. That evening, the couple reminisces about her place in his family as he shows her more of the drawings he made of her.

🪶 👶 🎨

Benedict noticed the tidily folded note on the table beside his bed the moment he opened his eyes.  With a generous amount of dread and a slight tickle of excitement, he propped himself against the headboard to read it.

 

Dear Benedict Ned,

As I sit down to write this letter, my mind is swirling with all the things I want to say to you.  I hardly know where to start.  Perhaps I will begin by begging you to be patient with me.  I am overwhelmed with the changes in my life, suddenly a mother and soon a wife, and feeling inadequate for both.

You know that I am just plain, uninspiring, overlooked, forever in yellow Penelope Featherington.  I had given up on the fairy tale of marrying a Bridgerton when Colin made it clear that he only thought of me as a friend.  I never dreamed another brother, particularly one as worldly and charming as you, would even notice me.

I wish I could say that I easily believe in your love, but it feels impossible to me.  You are noble to marry me rather than allow me to fall into ruin; however, I do not expect you to treat me as a wife.  Your kindness is enough.  I know I do not deserve anything more.

 

It wasn’t signed, as if she couldn’t decide how to end such a vulnerable letter.  Benedict’s eyes caught on different phrases, rolling them over in his head.  She thought herself undeserving of his attention, time, and affection, so he determined to show her the truth.

<><><><><>

Benedict ordered his footman aside, so he could help Penelope into the carriage.  “Good morning, my heart,” he said, pausing to kiss the back of her hand and holding onto it a little longer than necessary.

 

“You must be feeling better, since you are back to your old charming ways.”  She spoke lightly, waving off his tender actions and affectionate words as his personality.

 

He grinned at her, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling merrily.  “Is it working?”  She narrowed her eyes at him and wrinkled her nose, which he took as a warning to stop teasing her for now.

 

“Stop it,” Penelope hissed at the two maids as she entered the vehicle and sat down across from them.  She had heard them giggling quietly during her exchange with Benedict.  They were getting far too invested in the supposed romance happening between the two nobles.

 

“We didn’t say anything,” Winnie argued with fake innocence, hiding her smile behind the child in her arms.

 

“Ready for the day, Everyone?” Benedict called out as he took his seat.

 

“Yes, my lord,” the chorused.

 

“Nel?”  When she nodded, he reached towards Winnie, intending for her to pass him the baby.  “Persephone!” he greeted cheerfully, earning himself a smile from the infant.  “Papa missed you!”

 

All of the women watched him kiss and adore the baby, their eyes soft with tenderness.  Penelope thought for the hundredth time how natural he looked in the role, how the child fit into his life like a missing piece.  

 

He spent much of the day coddling the baby, clearly pleased to see her again.  There was something special about their bond, but Penelope still felt like an outsider.  Surrounded by an audience all day, the couple didn’t get a chance to discuss their relationship until that evening.

<><><><><>

“Nel, will you come to my room for a little while?” Benedict asked as they headed to their rooms after supper.  “I have something I would like to show you.”

 

She looked to Rae to see if she had any opinion about the impropriety of them being alone without a chaperon, but the maid just grinned and shooed her mistress towards his room.

 

“Alright, Ned,” Penelope conceded, giving him an exasperated, but fond, smile.  “For a little while.”

 

Nodding to the maid, he offered Penelope his arm, completely unnecessarily since they were almost to the room.  He tucked her against himself firmly, his tension easing at the rightness of having her close again.

 

Once inside, he led her to the settee and got his sketchbook out of his trunk before sitting down beside her.  “You said in your letter this morning that you were uninspiring and overlooked.  This book proves that you are neither.”

 

She instantly recognized the sketchbook from the night he was sick, but it appeared that he didn’t remember showing it to her.  Opening it again impacted her just as much as it did the first time, filling her with a sense of wonder.  “You saw me,” she whispered, echoing his words from that night.

 

“You inspire me.”  He leaned towards her as she flipped through the pages of the book.  “I love watching you interact with my family,” he began, pointing to a picture where she and Hyacinth were making daisy crowns.  “You always seem unafraid of the competition or the chaos.”

 

She laughed.  “Sometimes, I fear being treated too much like one of your sisters, and Gregory will put a frog in my bed or a snake in my shoe.”

 

“He adores you too much to harass you properly.  Besides, I will protect you from any mischief.”

 

“I often found myself admiring how you took care of them as an older brother and wishing for someone like you to protect me.”

 

He pulled a face, uncomfortable with the idea of treating her like a sister.  “I am not always a good brother.  Remember a few Christmases ago when I dared Gregory to eat the entire anise seed cake?  He cast up his accounts and had to be sent to bed.”

 

“Yes, but,” she countered, pointing a finger at him and grinning, “you helped him get cleaned up and read to him for the rest of the evening.  I have heard him tell the story as a joke, and he loves to brag on how you took care of him afterwards.”

 

He turned the page of the book to one of her and Eloise on the swings.  “This is one of the few places I can get El to stay still long enough to draw her.”

 

“She does get a bit wilder in the country.”

 

“You mean, feral.”  They laughed.  “I think we are all more ourselves at Aubrey Hall.”

 

“It is my favorite place in the world!” she exclaimed with a carefree smile.

 

“You will like My Cottage, then.  I thought we could settle there for a year or so, venturing only as far as Aubrey Hall to meet up with the family for the annual Pall Mall competition.”

 

“We would not want to miss that,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  All of the best and worst parts of the Bridgertons came out during the game.  It could be very overwhelming sometimes.

 

“I drew a picture of you playing with us.”  He took the book from her and flipped through it until he found it.  “You always look so serious when taking your shots, with your adorable, little tongue poking out at the corner of your mouth.”

 

He stared at her mouth as she blushed red from embarrassment.  She hadn’t realized she made such a face.  “It is a serious thing to play Pall Mall with your family!” she argued passionately, eager to take the focus off her tongue.

 

He nodded intently, while his eyes flickered with amusement.  “You always picked the blue mallet when we played, as if you knew you would someday be one of us.”  He finally let his smile break through, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

 

“I picked blue when Anthony treated my like a guest and allowed me to choose first.  I got the pink one if he treated me like family, since I was not fast enough to compete with all of you.”

 

“This year, I kept getting distracted by the way your fiery hair looked in the sunshine.”  He began to reach a curious finger towards one of her curls, then pulled it back as if burned by a flame.

 

I could tell!  You played very poorly, my lord.”

 

“I spent hours trying to figure out which colors I would use for your hair.  It is a most vexing problem!  I would like to paint you someday soon, perhaps after we settle in our cottage.”

 

“I know.  You told me he night you had a fever.”  She continued to look through the book, marveling at all the details he captured of her and all the times he was present to draw her.  She had known he was drawing, but she didn’t realize she was the subject.”

 

A look of embarrassment flickered across his face.  “What else did I say?”

 

She looked down, unable to meet his eye as she repeated his words.  “You said you love me.”

 

He put his hand over hers on the book, caressing it mindlessly with this thumb.  “I do.”

 

She shyly looked at him, then dropped her eyes again when she saw the tenderness in his eyes.  Anxiously, she bit her lip, afraid of angering him with her hesitant response.  “I think I want to love you, too.”

 

“We have a lifetime together, my heart.  There is no rush.”  He picked up her hand and sandwiched it between both of his own.  “Just allow me to walk beside you, to protect you, and to help you raise our daughter.  The rest can come in time.”

 

She nodded.  “Thank you, Benedict.”  He released her hands, and she turned to another page.  “When was this?” she asked, pointing to a picture of herself with her head thrown back in laughter, her curly hair falling over her back like a waterfall.

 

“Last Christmas.  We were playing charades, and Anthony was getting exceedingly more frustrated when he could not guess the answer.  Eloise and I kept throwing out increasingly ridiculous ideas, confusing Gregory and distracting Colin from his performance.”

 

“I remember.  It was peak Bridgerton chaos.”

 

“I burnt my fingers really badly that night playing Snap Dragon against Colin.  Once again, I was focused on something that burned even brighter than the brandy.”

 

“Do you ever stop flirting?” she asked with mock annoyance.

 

“Not if I can help it.”  She giggled, but it turned into a yawn that she tried to hide from him.  He knew he should allow her to sleep, but he was reluctant to separate from her.  It had been so pleasant talking about her memories of his family.

 

She looked down at the book again, noticing a picture of a pianoforte keyboard with four hands on it.  “Who is playing with me?”

 

“Francesca.  You played carols together during twelfth night.”

 

“I am a poor partner for all of your sisters as they are much better musicians than I.”  She stretched out her fingers and looked down at her hands.  “My fingers are too short to be good at pianoforte, but my mother insisted I learn.”

 

He shook his head and held up his hand with his palm towards her.  Gently, he grabbed her wrist and guided her to place her hand against his, lining up their fingers.  “I think your hands are perfect.  Would you play a duet with me?”

 

“You play?”

 

“Our governess taught all of us, but I preferred drawing.  I think I can remember enough to plunk out a song with you.  Would you make music with me?”

 

She dropped her eyelids demurely, blushing.  Something about the way he said the words and the intensity in his eyes made her feel like perhaps he was trying to convey a hidden message to her, but she didn’t understand what he meant.  All she could focus on was the sparks passing between their hands.

 

“Palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss,” she whispered, almost in a daze.  She let the moment linger, and he seemed content to prolong their contact.

 

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” he added, continuing the Shakespearian scene in the same reverent tone.  Then, catching himself staring at her lips, he pulled his hand away from hers.  “Sorry,” he said quickly.  “I should not have-”

 

“Benedict, will you kiss me,” she whispered, looking at her lap.

 

His mind immediately screamed “yes!” but he schooled his face not to show his eagerness.  “Are you sure?”

 

She took his question for rejection.  “It wouldn’t have to mean anything, and we never have to do it again-”

 

“Penelope, I do not expect affection from you.  It’s alright if you do not want to kiss me for the entirety of our marriage.”  He might literally die without them, but he didn’t want her to feel pressure to perform a certain way.

 

“I have never been kissed before,” she admitted, her voice small again.  “Is it nice?”  She was a bit intimidated by Benedict’s catalog of knowledge, convinced she would never measure up to all of his previous lovers.

 

It didn’t surprise him that she had no experience in this area- debutantes were supposed to remain untouched until their wedding.  “Are you sure you do not want to wait until Gretna Green?”

 

“No, I do not want my first kiss to be in front of strangers.  Please, Ned?”

 

He nodded, shifting his position a little to face her.  Gently, he took the book out of her hands and set it behind him on the settee.  “As you wish,” he whispered.

 

Her heart pounded as she waited for him to move, unsure what to expect, but trusting him to be honorable.  He laid his hand on her cheek, and her lips parted instinctively.

 

He had kissed many women, but never had he given anyone their first kiss.  His hand trembled from restraint, as he battled with himself not to rush it.  He leaned towards her slowly and brushed her lips with the tiniest press of his own.

 

Peace flooded Penelope’s body, a sense of rightness and comfort that she couldn’t quite name.  It felt like coming home.  She moved her hand to his cheek and pushed forward to catch him as he retreated.

 

A soft sigh broke from Benedict when her lips touched his again and color exploded into his world.  He had kissed many women, but never had a kiss altered his essence so profoundly.  After patiently waiting, quietly sketching, and lovingly hoping, he at last had her in his arms.

 

As much as he wanted to show her all the wonders of pleasure and passion, he knew he needed to be patient.  Reluctantly, he separated from her, removing his hand from her face in a trance.  He wanted to speak with her, to ensure she was well, but all words had left his mind.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly, slipping out of his grasp before he realized what she had done.

 

The quiet latch of the door awakened Benedict from his stupor with a finality that sunk his heart.  She was gone.  He rubbed his hands against his face and sighed, pushing back a flood of questions.

 

What did “thank you” mean?  Why did she leave immediately?  Did he scare her?  Was the kiss too long or too short?  Should he have been more gentle or more passionate?  Did she like it?  Would she want to kiss him again?  

 

Never before had it mattered to him if the woman he was pursuing enjoyed every aspect of his seduction.  As long as they continued participating, he pushed forward, not forcefully but with his own satisfaction as the goal.

 

Now, he stressed about every little detail of the relationship.  It mattered to him that he not only kept moving their courtship forward, but also that each moment was perfect for her.  The exact right amount of touching, passion, restraint, pacing, etc, all balanced perfectly to ensure her comfort and security.

 

He cursed under his breath, debating whether to chase Penelope to her room and discuss the kiss.  He cussed again.  Grabbing his sketchbook and pencil, he headed downstairs for a drink or two.

<><><><><>

“Was it everything you expected?” Winnie asked, winking at Penelope as she entered their room.  The two maids were sitting on the bed as the wet nursed fed Persephone.

 

Rae swatted her friend’s arm.  “Leave her alone.”

 

“How- how did you know?”  Penelope floated to the dressing table in a daze and sat at it as Rae came up behind her to begin pulling the pins out of her hair.

 

“You look like a girl who just had her first kiss and is thinking about her next one,” Winnie teased, grinning at her mistress through the mirror.

 

Rae squeezed Penelope’s shoulder supportively.  “You do not need to tell us anything, but we will listen if you want to talk.”

 

“I have no words.”

 

“If you are this shaken, imagine how rattled Mr. Bridgerton surely is!  That man has been sweating with ardor for you since we left London!  Someone had better check that his fever didn’t spike again.”

 

“You are too bold, Winnie!” Rae scolded, but laughed along with the wet nurse’s joke.

🪶 👶 🎨

<><> NOTES <><>

- “Forever in yellow” is a quote from the Bridgerton unofficial musical song “Penelope Featherington.”

- Benedict as a piano player is a nod to Luke Thompson, as is the quote from Romeo and Juliet (Act 1, Scene 5).  It is my wish for season 4 that we see Luke playing piano, quoting Shakespeare, and speaking French- all talents he talks about in *this* interview.

- Snap Dragon is a parlor game, typically played at Christmas, where raisins are placed at the bottom of a shallow bowl of brandy and the alcohol is lit on fire.  The players take turns reaching into the flames to pluck out a fruit.

Notes:

They kissed!!! 💋

Chapter 7: My Hero

Summary:

Benedict plans a picnic.

Notes:

When I wrote the first chapter of this story for Rare Pair week, I hadn't realized there would actually be a story hidden in here. Thanks for sticking around to discover it with me. This is the longest chapter of the story, so I hope you find plenty to enjoy!

🪶 👶 🎨

Penelope felt a little strange the next morning, unsure what Benedict meant to her now that they kissed.  He wasn’t the Bridgerton brother she had always dreamed of kissing, but she didn’t find the experience unpleasant.  She had laid awake most of the night questioning herself and analyzing her feelings towards him.

 

They had only a few more days until they would reach Gretna Green and the place of their wedding, and it felt important to Penelope that she figure out how she felt about Benedict before then.  He had been very vocal about his love for her, but she also knew that he wouldn’t pressure her for more of herself than she was comfortable.

 

Benedict began the day determined to not push his future wife to declare her feelings to him or even express an opinion about their kiss.  Since his mind could only think of questions to ask her about their relationship, he bit the inside of his lip and only addressed her in the most polite terms.

 

They rode the first few hours with very little interaction between them.  Instead, they both focused on their books and tried to ignore the awkwardness in their relationship.  The maids eyed them suspiciously, exchanging amused looks as they passed Persephone between them.

 

“I had not realized the north of England would be so beautiful,” Benedict mused, finally breaking the silence.  “We are very fortunate to be able to take our time going to Gretna Green.  Most couples do not have the privilege, because they have to worry about being caught by relatives.”

 

“Are you saying that you are pleased our families care so little about our whereabouts that they will not try to chase us down?”

 

He made a silly face when he realized that she took his comment in a completely different direction than he had intended.  “No, I am pleased that we have the time today for a picnic.  What do you think, Nel?”

 

“If it pleases you,” she replied carefully, her Mother’s voice echoing in her head and reminding her to be demure.

 

His lips curled flirtatiously.  “What pleases you, my love?”

 

She turned to look out the window, pretending she needed to think about her answer.  The wildflowers carpeted the ground on either side of the road, their colorful heads swaying in the gentle breeze.  He was right- it was the perfect day for a picnic.

 

“Alright,” she conceded, with mock annoyance.

 

They rode for a little while before Benedict tapped the roof of the carriage.  “Rae, there is a blanket under each of the benches, if you would bring them both.”  She nodded as Charles opened the carriage door.

 

Within minutes, they were seated in two groups- Penelope and Benedict in one and the servants in the other.  Persephone was unwrapped from her swaddle and laid on the blanket near Benedict, while Rae and Winnie worked together to serve the picnic.

 

“You planned this,” Penelope accused, gesturing to the massive basket the maids were unpacking on the other blanket.

 

He caught her hand playfully and kissed the back of it.  “Of course, I did.  I am courting you properly.”

 

“There is nothing proper about this madcap rush to Gretna Green.”

 

Smiling at her cheekiness, he leaned closer to her and whispered, “Fine, then I am seducing you.”  She blushed and turned from him as he grinned.

 

Turning his attention to Persephone, Benedict dangled a flower in front of her.  She swatted at it with uncoordinated muscles and kicked her legs, happy to be free from her swaddle.  They babbled at each other and smiled, caught up in their own world.  “Persephone-nee,” Benedict sang.  “My pretty, little Peony.”

 

Penelope watched them interact, calmed by his confidence and gentle voice.  She marveled that he attached to their foundling so quickly, accepting the child into his life as easily as picking up a pencil.

 

He noticed her eyes on them and offered her the flower.  “Persephone just wants to see you and hear your voice.  It really is that simple.”  He gently moved the baby so she was facing Penelope more directly and smiled encouragingly.

 

“Hi, Persephone,” Penelope said, feeling a bit silly talking to someone she knew would not answer back.

 

“It’s alright, Nel.  Babies are very good listeners.” 

 

“I feel like a fool.”

 

“I mean it- you can tell them whatever you want.”  He leaned over the baby to prove his point.  “Peony, your mama is very beautiful.  When she smiles at me, my heart stops beating for a second.  When she kisses me-”

 

“Benedict Bridgerton!” she scolded, shooting a worried look towards her chaperons.

 

He laughed.  “See, you can say anything.”  She scrunched her nose at him, and he almost lost focus thinking about kissing those wrinkles away.  He recovered with a shake of his head and urged her, “Introduce yourself.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, but focused again on the baby.  “I am Penelope Featherington, your mama.”  A lump formed in her throat when she said her title, surprising herself with the intensity of her emotions.  “We are a motley family, thrown together by chance-”

 

“Fate.”

 

She sighed and rolled her eyes at his correction.  “Thrown together by fate.  I do not know what your life was like before I found you, but you are safe with us.”

 

Benedict swallowed hard, touched by her words.  “And, I will take care of both of you,” he promised.  The couple stared down at the baby, the weight of their responsibilities and complicated emotions rendering them motionless.

 

“My lord,” Rae interrupted softly, reluctant to spoil the moment.  “Your picnic is prepared.”

 

“Thank you, Rae.”  Benedict jumped up and held out his hand to help Penelope to her feet.  They walked a short distance to where the servants had laid out the other blanket and a tray of food.

 

“Lemon tarts, strawberries, cucumber sandwiches,” Penelope began, unable to keep the awe from her voice.  “All of my favorites.  Did you plan this?”

 

“I told you, I have been observing you for a long time.”

 

Penelope wasn’t sure what to do with the flutter in her heart.  After years of being the overlooked wallflower, it was strange to have someone express such knowledge of her.

 

<><><><><>

Their meal ended with Benedict laying on the blanket in a completely relaxed, lovesick poet position, staring at Penelope as she bubbled out commentary and stories without artifice.  He was perfectly content to watch her face as she talked, smiling softly at her happiness.

 

“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said when she realized she had been monopolizing the conversation.  She reigned herself back and pulled demureness on like a mask.  “My Mother is always scolding me for speaking too much.”

 

Her change was so abrupt that he sat up and grabbed her hand.  “Do not apologize for being yourself, Penelope.”  His voice was tight, squeezing her fingers in an effort to make her understand his message.  “Please?”  He loved seeing her so open and joyful, and it hurt his heart to watch her shrink into herself.

 

She squirmed under his intense gaze, looking towards the group of servants as a distraction.  “It is getting late.  We should probably continue our journey.”

 

Relaxing his grip, he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.  “Must we?”

 

He gave a pathetic pout, sticking out his bottom lip, causing her to smile at him indulgently.  “What if I told you that we can have picnics after we get married too?”

 

“Do you promise?”

 

She giggled at his pleading voice.  “Only if we actually get married.”  He leaped to his feet so quickly that she laughed again.

 

“Charles, pack up the picnic and inform the driver of our departure,” Benedict ordered, full of energy now that his movement had a purpose.  “Winnie, see to Persephone, and Rae, please attend to Miss Featherington.”

 

With a silly, courtly bow, he held out his hand to help Penelope to her feet.  “My lady?”  He kissed the back of her hand.  “Onward to our wedding day.”

 

“Shall I escort you to pick wildflowers before we depart, my lady?” Rae asked, stepping near the couple again as their chaperon.

 

Penelope nodded as Benedict held her hand a little longer.  “Take as long as you need, my love.”

 

His boldness to speak so openly about something so private embarrassed her and caused her to blush.  Penelope hurried away from him before he could say anything else shocking.

 

Rae led her far away from the carriage, where the men wouldn’t see her.  Even after several days on the road, attending to her needs outdoors was her least favorite part of the journey.

 

Benedict began helping the servants and making inquiries about everyone’s welfare.  He was particularly concerned that Winnie have everything she needed for the baby, as that was an aspect of travel he hadn’t dealt with before.  Several times, he found his eyes drifting towards the direction where Penelope had wandered, anxious to know that she was safe.

 

A high pitched scream tore through the peaceful afternoon, propelling Benedict to sprint in the direction of the alarm.  His heart pounded with fear, wondering what danger had befallen his beloved.  Fortunately, he spotted them quickly.

 

“What happened?” he yelled, still running towards them.

 

“I stepped into a hole and hurt my ankle,” Penelope replied, her voice tight with pain.  Rae held her upright with an arm around her shoulder.

 

Benedict threw himself at Penelope’s feet, pressing his hands to the foot she was clearly favoring.  He tried to be gentle, but she whimpered at his touch.  “Can you walk on it?” he asked, looking up at her face with eyes full of compassion.

 

She set her injured foot down carefully and tried to take a step, crying out in pain again.  Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook her head.

 

Benedict hugged her to his chest, holding her upright with an arm around her back and petting her hair with the other.  “It’s alright, my love.  I will take care of you.”

 

She wept against him, allowing his cedar and peppermint scent to fill her nose and comfort her.  “I’m sorry,” she muttered over and over, feeling foolish for getting injured and guilty for adding another burden to his life.

 

“No, my love.  No.”  He pushed her away from his chest so he could look in her eyes.  “It was an accident.”  Without warning, he scooped her into the bridal carry, grinning at the feel of her in his arms.  “I always wanted to do this,” he enthused, his eyes crinkling with happiness.

 

“Put me down, Benedict!” she fussed, wiggling and flailing to convince him to allow her to walk again.  “I’m too heavy!”

 

He laughed and shifted her in his arms so she was facing him, pressing her chest against his own.  “You are not too heavy!  Now, stop fussing, or I will be forced to hold you closer!”  He hugged her tighter for a moment to prove his point.

 

“I do not think you will win this argument, my lady,” Rae interjected from the sidelines, then pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

 

“She’s right, you know.”  Benedict lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’m never letting you go.”

 

A shiver passed up Penelope’s spine as the possessiveness in his words.  No one had spoken like that to her before.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, intertwining her fingers over his cravat.

 

Benedict dipped his head down and brushed his lips against hers.  “I love you,” he said for her ears alone.  He smiled with rakish delight as he felt her melt into his arms.  His fingers itched to trace paths along the silky skin under his fingertips, to allow his hands to kneed the soft flesh currently filling them.

 

“My hero,” she said with a smile and a touch of sarcasm, as she was still uncomfortable with being rescued.  “So bold, so daring!”

 

“Are you mocking me?  Because I will drop you,” he threatened, loosening his grip for half a second before pulling her tight again.

 

She screeched in fear, then laughed when she realized he was teasing.  In retaliation, she tugged on the short hairs along his neck, surprised by how soft his hair felt against her fingers.  Boldly, she anchored her hands deeper into his hair, fisting handfuls of it and using it to pull herself more securely against him.

 

“To my carriage, Brave Knight!” she ordered, throwing a hand up like she was commanding a calvary charge.

 

“As you wish, my lady,” he replied, striving forward.

 

<><><><><>

When they resumed their journey, Benedict asked Penelope to allow him to examine her injury.  He helped her lift her leg onto his knees, frowning as he noticed how large the ankle had gotten already.  Taking care not to move her foot even a little, he gently slipped off her shoe and tucked it beside him.

 

“Is your knee and leg comfortable?  Elevation should help with the swelling and pain, but I can fix your position if it is making you hurt more.”

 

“No, I’m alright.”

 

He began to fold her skirts up her leg, careful to maintain her modesty, but working methodically to expose her stocking.

 

“Take care, Mr. Bridgerton,” Rae warned cheekily.

 

Benedict nodded to her gravely, then returned his attention to Penelope.  “May I?” he asked, his fingers hovering above the ribbon at her knee.  When she nodded, he expertly untied the ribbon and tucked it into her shoe where it wouldn’t get lost.

 

His hands returned to her leg.  “Nel, I would like to look at your ankle.  May I remove your stocking?”

 

She bit her lip and nodded, overwhelmed by the competing feelings warring for attention in her body.  Her ankle throbbed with pain, nearly unbearably, but she was also very aware of his cool fingers slipping under the edge of her stockings.  The look in his eyes was similar to how he looked before they kissed, and she wondered why.

 

Her heart pounded with anticipation.  She had been undressed thousands of times, but she had never felt as naked as she did at that moment.  His hands caressed down her leg, stopping to pull the fabric away from her swollen ankle.

 

Benedict froze when she hissed in pain.  “Sorry, my love,” he muttered, glancing up at her face.  He swore in his head when he saw the tears gathering in her eyes.  “I am almost done,” he promised.  As slowly as possible, he pulled the stocking off completely.

 

“Oh, my love!” he whispered in horror, running his fingers over her swollen and bruised ankle with the lightest touch.  Tapping the roof of the carriage to get the driver’s attention, he called out, “We need to stop at the next inn,”

 

“Yes, Mr. Bridgerton,” the servant agreed.

 

“Ned, will you read to me?”  She hadn’t meant to sound so whiny, but she was worn out from the pain.

 

Benedict grinned at her use of his nickname.  “Of course, Nel.  Should I read poetry or a novel?”

 

“The novel you bought me.”

 

“The salty one?” he teased, receiving the book from Rae.  “Shall I start at the beginning or do you have a bookmark?”

 

“From the beginning, please?”  She shifted her body a little and closed her eyes, intending to only focus on his voice in an effort to block out the pain.

 

“As you wish, my love.”  He opened the book and began reading, “I was born in Nottinghamshire and was the third of five sons.”

 

<><><><><>

When they arrived at the inn, Benedict left them in the carriage while he made arrangements with the innkeeper.  Tonight, he had decided that he wasn’t letting Penelope out of his sight.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to relax without knowing she was well.

 

It was that strange, quiet hour just before supper, so not many people saw the nobleman carrying his bride upstairs with her foot scandalously uncovered.  Penelope was still embarrassed by the extra attention, but she was grateful they didn’t have an audience.

 

Within the hour, she was sitting in a bed, surrounded by pillows, sipping on a hot cup of willow bark tea.  Winnie and the baby were comfortably accommodated in another room, Rae was attending to her mistress, and Benedict had asked that supper be brought to their rooms for their convenience.

 

Charles returned with a local surgeon, who examined Penelope’s ankle and declared it injured but not broken.  He wrapped it tightly, advised them to keep it elevated, and offered her some laudanum, which she refused.  He left the inn with a heavy bag of coin and a nobleman’s endorsement.

 

“Are you sure you do not want some laudanum, Nel?” Benedict asked after the surgeon left.  He brushed his hand across her forehead to smooth back her curls, but mostly as an excuse to touch her.

 

“It does not hurt as badly now.  I just feel so foolish.”

 

He took her hand and held it in both of his own.  “Why, my love?”

 

“I am not one of those silly debutantes that fake injuries or enjoys the extra attention.  I merely tripped and twisted my foot.  It was a stupid accident.”

 

“I never thought you were a silly débutante,” he argued, his eyes softening.  “Not once.”

 

He retrieved the sketchbook from his trunk and opened it.  “I was so proud of you the day you debuted.  The other women looked frightened, but you walked into the room with your fearlessness and curiosity on full display.  You captivated me.  See?”

 

He held the book so she could see the picture he drew of her that day.  Her face was tipped up towards the portraits on the wall, intelligence in her eyes, and a confident pose to her body.  “You studied the palace like an artist, focusing on the bouncing light, the play of colors, and the shape of the architecture.”

 

“I nearly forgot to bow to the queen,” she interjected swiftly, trying to make him see how foolishly she had behaved that day.

 

“You were the queen,” he insisted, kissing her hand, “and I wanted to fall at your feet in supplication.”

 

She shook her head.  “No one noticed me, not even when Prudence fainted.”

 

“I noticed you.  I have always noticed you.”  He cupped her chin and leaned towards her.  “You fill my sight until there is nothing else.”

 

His eyes stared into her own, unwilling to break contact.  She tipped her head back, bringing her lips into his line of sight.  He moved until their lips were nearly touching and then stopped, waiting for her to push him away.

 

Her heart pounded as his cedar and peppermint scent surrounded her.  It was quickly becoming her favorite smell.  Remembering the feel of his hair from earlier in the day, she slipped her hand around the back of his neck and combed it with her fingers.

 

He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt himself relax.  “I’m under your spell,” he whispered, rubbing his head against her hand.  “You enchant me.”

 

She push his head until their lips met, emitting a small, contented sigh when they finally kissed.  His hand left her chin to nestle behind her ear, pulling her closer and subtly shifting their positions to allow for a better angle.

 

“Follow me,” he breathed against her lips.  Before she could ask him what he meant, he had captured her mouth again, moving his lips against hers.  Tentatively, she copied him.  “Yes-s-s!” he groaned, surging towards her again.

 

She tried to keep up with all the new things he was teaching her, but she soon found herself overwhelmed.  His kisses had begun to wander away from her lips, which her caused her to giggle at the new sensations.

 

Her sounds of delight were his fuel, tempting him to try different ways to elicit laughter.  “I love you,” he breathed against her ear.

 

She shivered in anticipation and moved her injured leg subconsciously.  The moment she cried out in pain, he pulled away from her, his face serious.  “Penelope, what happened?”

 

“You’re trembling,” she observed, concern for his wellbeing heavy in her voice.  She had never seen a man so undone.

 

Benedict was shaking, as the blood rushed through his veins.  “I will be alright.  Are you well?”

 

She nodded.  “I moved my leg too quickly.  Sorry for ruining our evening.”

 

“No.  It’s alright, my love.  Would you like me to read to you again?”

 

“Could you also ask Rae to make me another cup of tea?  It seemed to help the first time.”

 

“Of course.”  He kissed her forehead, then left the room to find the maid.

🪶 👶 🎨

<><> NOTES <><>

- “Picking wildflowers” is a euphemism for relieving oneself.

- Benedict reads from Gulliver’s Travels

- Surgeons in the Regency era were men who had gotten their medical training through apprenticeship instead of academically.  

Chapter 8: Left-Handed Painting

Summary:

Another day on the road. Benedict arranged to have her to himself so he could talk to Penelope alone.

Notes:

This is a very dialog-heavy chapter full of banter, sweetness, and arguments. Longest chapter yet!

🪶 👶 🎨

The next morning, Benedict called his staff into his room for a meeting.  “Until Miss Featherington’s ankle is healed,” Benedict explained, “we will use two carriages.  Little Persephone and her attendants will continue riding in the Bridgerton vehicle, while Penelope and I shall have the other one to ourselves.”

 

Rae  opened her mouth to object, but Benedict put out his hand to stop her.  “We do not require a chaperon.  Thank you, Rae.”  His voice was a bit clipped, despite his polite words.

 

Penelope slapped him lightly on the arm.  “Do not be rude!”

 

Benedict pouted.  “Sorry, my love.”  The maids looked at each other with smiling eyes, while Charles made a whipping motion with his hand where he hoped his employer could not see.

 

“Rae, please help Winnie with the baby today.  I will be fine with Mr. Bridgerton, as I know he will be a perfect gentleman.”

 

Benedict nodded his head enthusiastically.  “Yes, a gentleman.”

 

“Just as he was in my bed last night,” Penelope added, her eyes twinkling with mischief.  

 

The proudly titled Rake blushed at the implication of her words.  In truth, he had only ensured that her leg was elevated, all of her needs were met, and stayed beside her so answer her call.

 

After a few awkward moments, Benedict cleared his throat and finished giving instructions.  “Charles and Rae, please accompany me to prepare the second carriage.  My love, I will return shortly.”  He kissed her forehead and strode out of the room.

 

<><><><><>

When Benedict returned, he was pleasantly surprised to see Penelope holding their daughter and talking with her animatedly.  He froze at the door, unwilling to break up the adorable scene.

 

“- and Auntie Hyacinth is going to love you most of all,” Penelope explained, bopping the baby on the nose.  “She is sweet and loving and has an excess of energy for chasing you around and teaching you all the best games.”

 

Penelope looked up and noticed him watching her, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her one-sided conversation.  “I was just introducing Persephone to all of your siblings.”

 

He crossed to them and put his hand on her back, leaning over to kiss Penelope’s hair and then Persephone’s head.  “I will have to make her an alphabet book to help her learn them all.  A is for Anthony.  E is for Eloise.  And so on.”

 

“What happens when you get to I?”

 

“I will add a picture of Igor, the hunchback who lives in the walls of Aubrey Hall.”

 

He spoke so seriously that she snapped her head up to search his face.  “What?”

 

“Eloise never told you about Igor?” he asked with pretend shock and horror.

 

“No!” she giggled, a little nervously.  She thought back to all the times she had stayed with the Bridgertons at their country house and wondered if she had missed the signs.

 

His face broke into a big grin, complete with eye wrinkles.  “Good, because he’s not real.”

 

She poked his side, her voice protective and firm.  “You are not allowed to scare our daughter!”

 

Her little, sharp finger hurt, but Benedict laughed at her feisty behavior.  He snatched her finger and brought it to his lips, kissing it.  “Never,” he whispered, expertly causing her to blush.

 

Turning his attention to the servants, he addressed them as if nothing extraordinary was happening between the couple.  “Winnie, we will depart in a few minutes.  Please get Persephone ready to travel.”

 

“Yes, my lord.”  The wet nurse scooped up the baby and left the room.

 

“I am going to step out for a moment, Nel, so Rae can help you finish your toilette,” he said, inclining his head to the maid.

 

<><><><><>

Penelope protested as Benedict lifted her into his arms again for the journey down to the carriage, but he just snuggled her closer.  “I am not risking you injuring yourself further,” he explained with a smile.  “Not while there is anything I can do to prevent it.”

 

“It is embarrassing,” she hissed under her breath.  “People will talk!”

 

“No one knows us here, my love.”  He stopped before the stairs and pitched his voices deeper and quieter.  “Which is why I was able to stay in your bed last night.”  He grinned at the impropriety of their relationship as he carried her downstairs.

 

Charles opened the door on the rental carriage, and Benedict carefully laid Penelope inside of it.  They had placed one of the trunks between the two benches and set a mattress across it to make a bed.  Then, Rae piled it with pillows and blankets to make the most comfortable spot possible for her mistress.

 

Benedict had paid the innkeeper an extraordinary amount of money for the supplies and rental, but he didn’t mind one bit.  When he set his future bride onto her cozy bed and helped her elevate her ankle for their journey, the satisfaction he felt about the arrangement made every penny worth the cost.

 

“This is too much,” Penelope complained, gesturing to her lavish situation.

 

“Now, do you see why we could not share a carriage with the others?” he asked, not answering her accusation.  He sat near her feet on the small section of bench that was not covered by the mattress.  “Besides, I was very eager to get you to myself.  We have much to discuss before Gretna Green.”She eyed him suspiciously.  “Like what?”  Her heart fluttered at the idea that he might want to talk about kissing or the marital relations that Winnie had explained to her.  She wondered if he expected such intimacies from her.

 

“We can start with your favorite color.  I know you do not like yellow-”

 

“You do?”  Once again, she was surprised that he had paid any attention to her during their acquaintance.  Colin and Eloise still thought she wore yellow dresses because she preferred them, despite how they made her look pallid.

 

“Yes, I do.”  He grinned at her and raised one eyebrow at her pointedly.  “But, what I do not know is what you prefer instead.  I am an artist- this is a very important topic to me.”

 

She bit her bottom lip for a second, feeling silly about her answer.  “Bridgerton Blue.  I mean, light blue,” she amended, casting her eyes down as she waited for him to mock her.

 

Benedict glowed with happiness.  “You would look beautiful in that color, especially as a compliment to your eyes.”

 

She huffed through her nose in exasperation that he couldn’t seem to go five minutes without flirting with her, but she smiled softly as well.  “What about you?”

 

“Yellow.”

 

“Be serious, Ned!” she demanded, frowning at him.

 

He promised himself that he could kiss her wrinkly nose someday soon, and schooled his face to match her gravity.  “I mean it, Nel.  Even Henry Granville has commented on all the yellow in my paintings.  I had not even realized I had been adding them, but a painting did not feel complete without a daffodil or sunflower.”

 

“Perhaps your mentor and I must work together to break you of your habit?”

 

“Nope, I am afraid that I am addicted.”  He popped out his bottom lip in the most adorable pout.  “The only cure is to marry my yellow-clad obsession.”

 

“And what happens when I am no longer wearing yellow?”

 

“Then, whatever you wear will be my new favorite color.”

 

She giggled and shook her head.  “You are ridiculous.”

 

“Ridiculously in love.”  Making her blush was his new favorite thing, and he triumphed in how easy it was to get her to turn red.  Suddenly, she felt too far away.  “How is your ankle?”

 

“Better than yesterday.  Perhaps it will not be very long that you will need to carry me.”

 

He looked affronted.  “I wish you would not see yourself as such a burden.  I am happy to carry you for as long as needed, longer if that is your wish.”

 

“I have been a burden my whole life, always aware that I am a disappointment to my parents and an outsider to the Ton.”

 

“Except for at the Bridgerton House, where you are the very heart of our home.”

 

“Will they be angry about what we have done?”  She worried her hands, scared to be rejected by the people who had always loved her universally.

 

Benedict moved to sit beside her, unable to be so far away when she was upset.  Taking her hand, he caressed the back of it reassuringly.  “They love you and will be thrilled to have you officially one of them.  Except for Anthony, who will be angry with me for not giving you a proper wedding.”

 

“I do not mind.”

 

He frowned.  “Are you sure?”

 

“Think of the story we will have to tell our children some day.  So much more exciting than reading the banns.”

 

“Children?”  He searched her face, wondering what she meant by using that word instead of just referencing Persephone.

 

She flushed completely red and ducked her head.

 

“Penelope, look at me, please,” he whispered, placing his fingers under her chin and guiding it up.  “Do you want us to have children?”

 

Tears pricked her eyes; although, she couldn’t explain why.  “Do you not expect us to have children together?”

 

“If Persephone is our only child, I will be content as her father.  But, if you would like to have more children, then I would be pleased to give them to you.”

 

“Would it just be an obligation with you?  Something to endure?”

 

“No, I told you that I love you, and I mean it.”  He took her hand in both of his own.  “Do you know how babies are made?”

 

She blushed and nodded.  “I asked Winnie, because I wanted to know what you might expect of me.”

 

“How do you feel about what you learned?”

 

“I am not sure yet.”  She finally allowed the tears to fall, afraid that her hesitancy would make him angry.

 

He shushed her softly, not to scold her for crying but to comfort her, and pulled her into his shoulder.  “It’s alright, my love.  We will figure out this path together.”  He held her until she pulled away, her tears sated for now.

 

“I’m sorry.”  She hung her head, ashamed to face him.

 

“No.  No, my darling.  We will figure this out together.”  He wiped her tears away with his thumbs.  “May I ask you a question- do you enjoy kissing me?”

 

“It’s nice,” she replied quickly, then her face became panicked and her eyes wild.  “Does that make me wanton?”

 

He laughed lightly and shook his head.  “No, my love.  It makes you human.  There is so much more I can show you beyond kissing, but we do not need to rush.  Even beyond the wedding day, we will do only as much as you decide.”

 

“Thank you, Benedict,” she said with a soft smile, her guarded countenance growing soft, open, and trusting again.  “I look forward to your lessons.”  She leaned over and kissed his ear like he had done to her the night before.

 

“Not yet,” he yelped, moving to the other side of the carriage to minimize his temptations.  Besides, it was easier to view her face and watch her expressions while seated across from her.  “I promised Rae I would be a perfect gentleman today.  Now, it is your turn to ask the questions.”

 

He crossed his arms and lounged back against the seat, throwing his legs out in front of him.  There wasn’t enough room for him to go as floppy as he preferred, but he did as much as he was able.  “I’m an open book.”

 

She bit her lower lip and frowned as she thought of things to ask him.  Several questions of a more intimate nature flitted across her mind, but she dismissed them, finally setting on a basic one.  “How long have you been painting?”

 

He smiled.  “As long as I can remember.  My hands seemed to seek out things I could use to color my world.  Even as a baby, I would paint my body or the wall with mashed foods, mud, or anything else I could find.  Father hired an extra nursemaid just to follow me around to ensure I did not make a mess, but he forbid them from punishing me for my creativity.”

 

“I suspected you Bridgertons were not punished as children!” she exclaimed, smiling and shaking her head.  “You are all far too charming and rebellious.”

 

He looked offended by her commentary for a second before adding to her observation.  “My Father managed to raise three boys without employing the rod or whip.  Anthony has continued the tradition with Gregory.”

 

“It is amazing that you are not spoiled rotten then,” she teased.

 

“Am I not?”  He pulled a face that made her giggle.  “It made for a rough transition into Eton, which was much harsher than we were accustom.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

He waved her apology away, not wanting to dwell on his past mistakes.  “Paints are very dangerous, so I was not allowed to have my first real colors until the later years of Eton.  When I was younger, Father hired a tutor who was well-versed in plant life and helped me make paints out of flowers and leaves.”

 

“I hardly remember your father, but he stands as a giant in my mind.”

 

The weight of his confession sat heavy on him.  “Mine as well.  Sometimes I wonder if I will be half the father to my children as he was to us.”  Of course, he missed his Father over the past ten years, but now that he was a father himself, he missed him at a different level.  He wondered what his Father would say about this little family he stumbled into leading.

 

“Your mother says you are most like him in spirit.  Colin has his looks, and Anthony his leadership, but you got his heart.  I think you are already a good father to Persephone.”

 

Water welled in his eyes, but he refused to feel ashamed about them.  “Thank you, Penelope.”  He smiled as a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Benedict asked, “Did you know I was born left-handed?”

 

Her mouth dropped open comically in shock.  “No!  I have never seen you do anything left-handed!”

 

He grinned at her and lifted an eyebrow teasingly.  “Have you been watching me that closely?”

 

She flushed pink at his insinuation.  “I am Lady Whistledown,” she insisted haughtily, as if that title should explain exactly what she knew.  “I would have noticed if something was different, and you do not eat or paint or fence left-handed.”

 

“True.  I do not eat or paint or fence left-handed.  It is another area where corporal punishments are common.  Instead, my Father insisted that I was corrected gently, rather than the harsh methods that he had endured.  He spent hours encouraging me as I practiced being right-handed, so patient as I struggled to understand why I needed to change.”

 

“Oh, Benedict,” she whispered, “that’s so sweet.”

 

“It is why I am still a little awkward at a few of the things my right-handed brothers have mastered easily.  I learned to hide my preference like a shameful disability, only allowing myself to be fully real in private.”

 

“You can be yourself with me,” she said with a smile tinted by sadness.

 

He returned her smile weakly.  “Alright, Lady Whistledown, do you want to know my biggest secret?”

 

“Will it change how I see you?” she asked, afraid of what he might disclose.  She knew he had lived a libertine lifestyle and wondered if his secret would ruin their relationship.

 

Benedict was shocked by her serious countenance and gave her a silly face to counter it.  “What?  No!  I mean, I do not think it will.”  He rand his fingers through his hair and sighed, suddenly afraid that his secret would indeed change her opinion of him.

 

“I still paint and draw left-handed ,” he confessed, watching her face as she frowned in confusion.  “I do some drawing or painting right-handed, but all of my best work is done left-handed.  Every finished piece you have seen, including all the ones in the book, were finished in my room away from other’s eyes.”

 

“You are very talented, Benedict.  Does anyone else know your secret?”

 

“Outside of my family, only Henry Granville.  He commented on my right-handed work one day, because he thought the work I was giving in class was inferior to my finished work.  According to him, it is not unusual among artists.”

 

“I wonder how much creativity is missing from the world because left-handed people are not allowed to be themselves,” she mused.

 

“Speaking of secret identities,” he began with a grin.  “Tell me about Whistledown.  Why did you become her?”

 

“I felt powerless and voiceless, so I created a character that gave me both.”  She shrugged.  It has really been that simple.

 

“Why were you alone the night you found Persephone?”

 

She scrunched her nose and tilted her head like a kitten, but Benedict would not allow himself to get distracted by her cuteness.  “I always did Whistledown alone.”

 

“What?”  His eyes popped open in alarm as he sat up at attention.  He spoke the next sentence slowly, as if unable to comprehend what he was saying.  “You… went… out… at… night… into… the… streets… of… London… alone?”

 

“Of course,” she answered openly, wondering why Benedict’s neck vein was visible.

 

“What do you mean ‘of course?’”  His jaw was clinched so tightly he could hardly speak.  A thousand horrible scenarios played in his head, each of them worse than the one that came before.  “You weren’t really alone?  You had a footman with you or a hired guard, right?”

 

“No?”  She frowned at his suggestion.  “I went in disguise.  You saw it at the Granvilles.”

 

“That was your only protection?”  He gasped air into his lungs through his nose, trying to calm down.  He couldn’t believe her foolishness!

 

Her fists clinched in frustration.  “I do not understand why you are so angry.  You were pleased when you found out I was Whistledown and called me a fellow Creature of the Night.”

 

“That was before I knew you were putting yourself into danger every night to do it!”  He was trying so hard not to raise his voice, but he would yell at her if it helped her see the seriousness of her situation.

 

She tried to get him to see her reasoning, keeping her voice calm, almost flippant, in her replies.  “Not every night.  Only a few times a week.”

 

“A few times a week!” he shouted, realizing she had been publishing for over a year.

 

Her face flamed with anger as she raised her voice to match his tone.  “You have no right to be upset about what I did as Lady Whistledown.  My own family didn’t care that I sneaked out of the house and got into hired hacks.”

 

“Hired hacks!  Penelope!”  The details of her story kept getting worse and worse!  He threw his hands in the air.  His fingers itched to shake sense into her, but it wasn’t in his nature to be violent with women.  “My love, anything could have happened to you,” he reasoned, purposefully allowing his voice to break with emotion.

 

“But nothing did!”

 

He dug his fingernails into his legs.  “Someone left a baby in your carriage.  What if a man was waiting in there to harm you instead?

 

“That sort of thing does not happen to girls like me,” she said quietly, looking down at her body.

 

Her tonal shift derailed his anger.  He frowned.  “What do you mean?”

 

She squirmed a little and worried her hands.  “I am not the sort of woman that men chase after.”

 

“What?”  He didn’t know where to begin to unpick the tangled threads of her argument.  There were too many layers to sort through, too many ways he could take her statement, too many wrong things he could say.

 

“It does not matter now.  Whistledown is finished.”

 

“I have no intention of asking you to stop, Penelope.  I just wish you had more self-preservation.”  He gave her a small smile, hoping to rebuild their friendship.

 

“Someone knows who I am, which makes it too dangerous to continue.  Plus, we will not be returning to London after our wedding, so I will not have another opportunity to publish this season.  Since my disappearance will coincide with Whistledown’s last publication, everyone else in the Ton will soon learn my name.”

 

“I am sorry.  I know she was important to you.”

 

“It’s alright.  I will soon be married, and my Mother says that a wife’s sole job is to look after her husband and her household.”

 

“Can we please banish the phrase “my mother says” from our marriage?” he asked with exasperation.  “She is wrong.  I will consider myself a very poor husband if you do not have time to pursue the things you enjoy.  I hope you keep writing and reading and playing pianoforte and doing whatever makes you happy.”

 

She giggled at his enthusiasm.  “You will keep painting, right?”

 

He looked down and shook his head.  “Not when I am a responsible, serious, respectable husband.”

 

“Benedict Bartholomew Bridgerton!”

 

He popped his head up at her command, a shiver of anticipation traveling down his spine.  “Yes, my queen?”

 

She sat up straighter and tipped her chin up haughtily.  “You will paint.”

 

“I will paint you, my queen,” he promised at a whisper.

 

Blushing and biting her lip with delight, she whispered, “Left-handed.”

 

“Of course.  Only the best for my queen.”

🪶 👶 🎨

<><> NOTES <><>

- Igor is a reference to the mad scientist’s assistant in 1939 movie “Son of Frankenstein,” who was a hunchback, combined with Bruno from Encanto.

- In real life, it is Luke N. (Colin) who is left-handed, not Luke T. (Benedict) but I switched them for fun.  In Regency times (and most of history), left-handed people were thought to be strange, disabled, or even devilish, making it something that Benedict would try to hide.  I am also left-handed and remember someone trying to correct my preference.

 

 

Chapter 9: Two Babies in the Nursery

Summary:

Call the midwife! There's trouble brewing!

Notes:

Trigger Warning- Description of breastfeeding, brief discussion of pregnancy and miscarriage

🪶 👶 🎨

The next few days proceeded very similarly to the one that had come before it.  Benedict and Penelope spent their nights chastely in the same bed and spent hours getting to know one another while awake.  Gradually, her ankle began to heal, but he insisted on carrying her as much as she would allow him.

 

They also tried to spend a few hours a day with Persephone as they grew into their roles as parents, which was easier now that they were all sharing one carriage again.  Penelope found to her surprise that she was enjoying the baby more with each day and had began to refer to herself as Mama.

 

“Winnie, does Persephone seem particularly fussy today?” Benedict asked over the crying baby.  He had attempted all of his soothing tricks and nothing seemed to be working.

 

The wet nurse looked slightly guilty as she replied, “Perhaps a little, my lord.”

 

“Is she ill?”  Penelope put her hand on the baby’s forehead and hand, but the child didn’t seem overly warm.

 

“Perhaps she is just tired of traveling?” Rae suggested, echoing her own feelings.

 

Benedict checked Persephone’s clouts again before tapping on the roof of the carriage.  “Let’s see if a change of scenery helps her.”  He climbed out, moved the baby to his hip, and helped Penelope out of the vehicle.

 

“Peony, look at the trees,” Penelope called out enthusiastically, pointing to the leaves swaying in the breeze.

 

“Do you need help to take a walk, my love?” Benedict asked her quietly, his arm around her waist in case she felt weak from her injury.

 

“No, I think I will be alright, as long as I do not go too far.”  Impulsively, she pecked his cheek.  “I’ll miss you,” she pouted.

 

He returned the kiss with one on her forehead.  “Take Rae and be careful.”  He nodded to the maid and released his grip on Penelope, turning all of his attention to the baby.  “What is the matter, Sweetie?” he cooed, jostling the baby and pacing along the road.

 

“Shall I try feeding her again, my lord?”  Winnie hovered near her master, fretting about the crying baby.

 

“Yes,” he replied with a sigh, trying not to let his frustration show, “perhaps it will help.”  Gladly, he passed her the child and turned away to give her privacy.  He stretched his back and shook out his muscles, which were stiff from the stress of holding the upset infant.

 

Winnie found a shaded log a little ways off the road to sit on and opened her dress to nurse the baby.  Taking a few deep breaths to relax, she smiled at Persephone and thought about filling her belly with milk.  Nervously, she moved the child into position.

 

The moment the child smelled Winnie’s skin, she stopped crying and began rooting, making adorable, eager sounds.  The wet nurse sighed as Persephone latched onto her, focusing on the feel of the sucking and hoping the baby would be satisfied.

 

Benedict smiled at his daughter’s happy nursing sounds, his own body comforted by knowing that she was content and healthy.  When the peace was broken by the child’s cries again, he struggled to control his anger.  “Is something the matter, Winnie?” he called out, his voice tense with frustration.

 

Tears fell down her cheeks and onto the upset infant, as Winnie desperately massaged her breasts, praying her milk would flow again.  She didn’t answer her master, focusing all of her efforts on feeding the baby.  After a moment, the baby pulled her head off the breast and began wailing.

 

“Winnie, is everything alright?”  Benedict paced near where the nurse sat, his eyes pointed away from her purposefully.

 

“I am having a bit of trouble with my milk, my lord,” she confessed, covering up the one side and exposing the other.  She tried offering milk again, only for the experience to dissolve into more tears from both of them.

 

“Has it spoiled?”  Benedict didn’t know anything about breastmilk, but it seemed like it should be similar to cow milk.

 

If Winnie hadn’t been crying, she would have laughed at his naive question.  “No, my lord.”

 

“What is the matter?” Penelope asked, limping towards her husband and looking at the wet nurse with a frown.

 

“She says something is wrong with her milk.  Perhaps you can inquire further?”

 

Penelope nodded, motioning for Rae to join her, as Benedict called to the men to clear the area.  The maid helped her walk to the log and lower herself onto it.  “Winnie, is there anything we can do to help?”

 

Her mistress’s gentle voice caused the wet nurse to cover her face and sob.  “I’m sorry, my lady,” she repeated as she cried.

 

Rae hurriedly plucked up the baby, afraid she might tumble off Winnie’s lap, and began walk around with her.  The wet nurse had confided with her earlier in the week that she was having trouble breastfeeding, so Rae contemplated solutions while she attempted Benedict’s baby soothing methods.

 

When the wet nurse had calmed a little, Penelope tried to talk with her.  “Why are you sorry, Winnie?”

 

“Oh, mistress!  I have failed you and little Peony!”  She sobbed again for a few minutes, then continued when she gained control.  “My milk has dried up.”

 

Penelope frowned, not from disbelief as much as confusion.  “Are you saying you are not able to feed Persephone?”

 

“No, my lady.  My milk has been decreasing slowly over the week.  I have been eating and drinking everything I hoped might help it.”

 

“It will be alright, Winnie.  Thank you for telling me.”  She pushed herself up and went to find Benedict, who rushed to meet her.

 

Taking her in his arms, he nestled his nose into her hair and breathed in for a moment, grounding himself with the familiar scent.  Holding her with just one arm, he took her hand with the other.  “Is everything alright?”

 

“Winnie needs a midwife.  Do you think there will be one in the next town?”

 

“I do not know.”  They both sought out Persephone with their eyes, surprised to hear silence from her.  Rae was still holding her, but appeared to be allowing the baby to suck on a wet cloth.

 

“We need to find a way to feed Persephone,” she added anxiously.

 

“I know.”  He frowned with the burden of fatherhood.  “Get back into the carriage, my love.  I will see to the others.”

 

<><><><><>

 

It was a horrible hour as they sat in tense silence, listening to Persephone wail at the top of her lungs.  Winnie also cried, hugged tightly by Rae, who tried to soothe her with platitudes.  Benedict held his daughter like a statue, while Penelope started out the window and tried to ignore everyone.

 

The moment they pulled up to an inn, the passengers separated into their assigned roles.  Rae took the baby into the village square, asking for any leads on a milking goat.  Meanwhile, Charles rushed out to ask after a midwife, intending to bring the woman to the inn for her consultation.

 

Benedict approached the innkeeper about rooms for all of them.  Even though it was only mid-afternoon, he didn’t expect they would make any more time today.  He laughed under his breath at how laboriously slow this trip had taken.

He insisted that Penelope put her feet up in the bed, and asked Winnie to stay close to serve her while he brought in their luggage.  After an entire day of feeling helpless, hauling the heavy trunks gave him a sense of purpose and helped him unload some stress.

 

When the midwife arrived, she immediately went to Penelope’s side, pressing her fingers to her patient’s wrist.  “Name’s Hetty.  Do you know how far along you are, dear?” she asked, eying Penelope’s stomach.  “I am guessing not very much.  Any bleeding or pain?”

 

“No?”  Penelope frowned, a little confused by the midwife’s actions.

 

“Now, then, dear, lay down so I may examine you.”

 

The midwife’s voice was so calm and commanding that Penelope nearly obeyed, then she remembered she wasn’t yet married.  “I am not pregnant.”  At least not according to the information that Winnie had given her- it wasn’t even a possibility.

 

“Did the miscarriage already happen?  I am sorry, my dear.  If you allow me to examine you, I can check that everything is healing correctly.”

 

“I didn’t miscarry either.”

 

“Your footman said you needed a midwife immediately- that there was an emergency at the inn.”  Hetty looked both confused and annoyed to have been called away from her real patients for a rich woman’s indulgences.

 

“You were called here to consult with my wet nurse,” Penelope said, pointing her.  “Winnie has noticed that her milk has dried up.”

 

Hetty crossed to the room to where Winnie was seated by the window.  She asked her several questions about her previous experience with breastfeeding and inquired about when she first noticed the changes.

 

“I have been drinking a beer every night, but I haven’t noticed a difference.”

 

“Have you tried Fenugreek, Blessed Thistle, or Fennel?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.  It did not seem to help and made the baby more colicky.”

 

The midwife nodded.  “Are you married?”

 

“Yes, for three years.  We have a two year old son.”  Her voice grew sad as she thought about the child she left behind for this job.

 

“When did you last stain the sheets?”

 

Winnie blushed, as most women did not talk about these topics openly.  “Not since before I got pregnant with my son.”

 

Hetty smiled knowingly.  “My lady, is there a room where I can examine your servant?”

 

“Winnie, you may take her to your room.”  Penelope felt guilty for not offering her own bed, even though she knew it also wasn’t expected of her.  Nursing an injured ankle was getting tiresome.

 

<><><><><>

 

When Hetty returned to Penelope’s room, Benedict was seated beside the bed, the couple’s heads pressed close together as they talked quietly.  Both of their faces betrayed the worry they were feeling.  “Husband, this is the village midwife, Hetty.”

 

Benedict smiled warmly at her, unable to set aside his amicable nature even during a time of distress.  “Pleased to meet you.  How is Winnie?”

 

“She is resting, my lord,” the midwife answered simply, unsure how to handle her servant’s news with her master present.

 

“Is she unwell?”  Penelope worried her hands as questions filled her mind.  Baby care was much more complicated than she had expected, and she wondered if Rae had found a way to satiate Persephone for even a little while.  They hadn’t returned, adding more concerns for Penelope’s list.

 

Hetty looked between the nobles, trying to decide whether or not she should speak freely.  “No, my lady.”

 

Benedict could tell the midwife was holding something back from them.  “Please tell us everything,” he ordered gently, placing his hand over Penelope’s hand to stop her from rubbing her skin harshly.  He felt her calm slightly beside him.

 

Pressing her lips together into a straight line, Hetty spent a few moments preparing to give the powerful couple bad news.  “My lord, your wet nurse’s milk is drying up, because she is with child.”

 

“So, her condition will not improve?” Benedict asked, scrunching his eyebrows into a frown.  As a man of the world, he understood the basics of pregnancy, but this aspect of it was completely foreign to him.

 

Hetty shook her head, staring at a knot in one of the floorboards.  “No, my lord.  She will not produce milk again until after her unborn child is born.”

 

Penelope snapped her head towards Benedict.  “What are we going to do with Persephone?”

 

“It will be alright, my love,” he reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her cheek.  “I will not let her suffer.”

 

“As midwife, I am sure you know which women may be open to feeding another child, right?” Penelope reasoned, unwilling to let the midwife leave until they have found a solution.

 

“Yes, my lady.  No woman has a bairn in this village without my knowledge.”

 

“I am Benedict Bridgerton of London, son the eighth Viscount Bridgerton,” Benedict said with a rare show of prestige and dominance.  “We will need a wet nurse who is willing to travel with us to Scotland and remain in our employment until the child is weaned.”

 

Even with the proximity of Gretna Green, Hetty had rarely been called to attend a noble family.  She curtsied low, in hopes that it covered over any other offenses she had done.  “If it pleases you, my lord, I can gather a few women for you to interview this evening.”

 

The mantle of responsible lord settled over Benedict’s shoulders uncomfortably, as the designation usually belonged to his brother.  He straighted his shoulders and tried to sound authoritative.  “Please have them meet us downstairs.”

 

“Respectable women,” Penelope added, anxious about entrusting their daughter’s health to a stranger.  For the first time since she left home, she wished her mother was nearby to advise.

 

<><><><><>

 

The process of choosing a new wet nurse was stressful, awkward, and uncomfortable for both of them.  They valued their privacy and didn’t enjoy asking intrusive questions about hygiene, diet, and illnesses.

 

Then, they held their breaths as the woman attempted to feed Persephone for the first time.  Fortunately, the child took to her immediately, and Benedict welcomed her into their household.

 

Temperance, who preferred the much simpler nickname of CeCe, would be bringing along her own baby about the same age as Persephone.  She had been widowed a few months before giving birth and had been living with her sister’s family.  As a new mother, a job as a wet nurse, which would allow her to keep her baby close, was a dream position.

 

Benedict shut the door after Rae’s departure and let off a big sigh.  “What a day!” he exclaimed, rolling his neck and shoulders.  “This trip has been so eventful, it makes me dread what tomorrow will bring.”

 

Giggling, Penelope quipped, “At least you are not bored!”  She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled against his chest.  “Can you believe we already have two babies in our nursery?”

 

His nose went into her hair automatically, breathing her in before resting his chin gently on her head.  She fit against him perfectly.  “And, all before we are married.  I wonder how many more we shall add afterwards?”

 

“Let’s stay with two for a while.”  She tipped her chin up to look into his face as she spoke, her eyes filled with playfulness and adoration.

 

He kissed her sweetly, then whispered against her lips, “A third by next year.”  His hands moved to her head to kiss her more thoroughly, but he stopped when he noticed that her countenance had changed.

 

She bit her lip, dropping her eyes, clearly upset by his words.

 

“What is the matter, my love?”  He gently tugged at her bottom lip with his thumb, guiding it away from her teeth and kissing tenderly, as if to take away the pain.

 

She shook her head.

 

“Come,” he invited warmly, taking her hand and leading her to sit on the bed beside him.  “I’m sorry for saying we should have a child soon.  It has just been on my mind after speaking with the midwife.  I love you, Penelope, and I am very excited to start a family with you.”

 

“Benedict, may I ask you a question?”  She looked at his face with trusting eyes, and he knew he could deny her nothing.

 

“Yes, my love, whatever you want to know.”  He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb slowly, hoping it would help her relax and feel safe being open with him.

 

“How does a woman come to be with child?”

 

Her question surprised him.  “I thought you and Eloise already knew the answer after the incident with Marina last year.”  He remembered Eloise’s comical exasperation over the mystery and Colin’s inappropriate reply.

 

“Marina told me it was caused by cake.”

 

“What!” he blurted, laughing at the absurdity.  “How does that even work?”  When he noticed Penelope’s crestfallen face, he sobered immediately.  “I am not mocking you, but rather the ridiculous tradition of keeping women completely in the dark about their own bodies.”

 

He frowned as a realization entered his mind.  “Is this why you avoid cake?”

 

She nodded, feeling small and stupid.  “It never entirely made sense to me as many unmarried women eat cake without getting pregnant, but I saw how it ruined Marina’s life.”

 

“And, you could not take that risk,” he finished gently.  “Of course, I will explain everything to you, my love.”

 

“Does it have something to do with marital relations?”

 

The innocent phrase in her sweet voice sent a wave of desire down his spine.  He bit the inside of his lip, determined to give her the information she requested without complications.  “Did Winnie explain them to you?”

 

“Yes.  It sounds simple enough.”

 

He sighed.  “Good.  So, you know the basics.  Every time that act happens, there is a chance of a child being made.”

 

“Every time?  How does a woman know if it happened?”

 

“I want us to be open with each other, but I think you should ask Winnie or Rae for an explanation of the signs as I am uninformed.  Somehow, women seem to know for themselves and others.”

 

He suddenly remembered a random story about his father.  “Although, my father was always aware of my mother’s pregnancies, sometimes before she knew herself.  I did not understand it as a teenager, but I wanted to be that close with my wife someday.”

 

“I wonder if that is common or perhaps the husband and wife need to be particularly close?”

 

“I think it might have been because they shared a room and a bed.”

 

“I like sleeping with you.”

 

There is was again, that soft, innocent voice that lit his blood on fire.  “Oh, Penelope, you have no idea what you do to me,” he said huskily, diving towards her to kiss her neck.

 

She sighed and pressed herself against him.  “Benedict, will you show me?” she whispered.

 

Her soft invitation propelled him off the bed, pacing the floor, running his fingers through his hair, and shaking his head.  “I did not court you in public, dance with you at every ball, propose on my knee, or even give you a church wedding, but I can give you a proper wedding night.”

 

“I do not understand- I am already ruined.”  She wasn’t crying, but she could feel it choking her.  With a voice like iron, she cut him to cover her own hurt.  “You are a rake.  What does it matter?”

 

He clutched his chest as if he had been fatally stabbed and tripped dramatically to his trunk.  After retrieving his sketchbook, he stumbled towards her to kneel at her feet.  He opened the book to a random page and held it before her.

 

“You matter- remember?” he whispered urgently, his voice hoarse with emotion.  “You are my heart, my wife.  Please allow me honor you as you deserve to be honored.”

 

“I had no idea you were such a romantic.”  She gave him a soft smile, swayed by his tenderness.

 

“We will have our whole life, my love.  There is no need to anticipate our vows now.  We have only a few more days until we arrive at Gretna Green.”

 

“If you can wait, then I can wait,” she said casually, shrugging her shoulders in an adorable way that Benedict found distracting.

 

He knew he needed to get out of the bedroom for a while if he was going to keep his promise.  “Look over the book and think about how many hours I spent loving you from afar.  A few more days will hardly matter when I know the outcome.”

 

“Thank you for loving me.”

 

He scrunched his face in disbelief and discomfort.  “It is easy to love you.  If anyone should be doing the thanking, it is me.  Just ask my siblings, I am very difficult to endure.”

 

Just as he was hoping, his sarcastic self-depreciation made her giggle.  He stood up and kissed the top of her head.  “I am going to check on Persephone, then walk for a while.   I need a little fresh air, but we can talk more in the morning, my love.”

 

🪶 👶 🎨

<><> NOTES <><>

- Although some women are able to continue breastfeeding throughout their pregnancy, it is common for the milk to slow down or stop as the pregnancy hormones take over.

- Many modern cultures do not recommend alcohol consumption during pregnancy or breastfeeding, but beer has been known to aid milk production.  The herbs listed in this chapter may also help as well.

- Before the age of commercial formula, people tried many different types of milk and homemade recipes to feed a child that could not breastfeed for whatever reason.  Goat was a pretty common option.

Notes:

Rom-Com Tropes so far:
- Gretna Green
- marriage of convenience
- one bed
- sickness and nursing
- found family
- injury and rescue carry
- surprise pregnancy

What's next?