Chapter Text
“I want to wear Mama’s mask!” a shrill voice pierced the morning silence.
“You wore Mama’s mask the last time!” another voice protested.
Benedict Bridgerton blinked his eyes open slowly and realized to his distress, it was still completely dark. Back in the day, he used to be able to sleep through anything. A thunderstorm, the apocalypse, or loudest of all, his mother pounding on his bedroom door because he was late for some event or another. Name it, and Benedict would be sleeping blissfully unaware in the comfort of his own bed. That had long since changed though he could not bring himself to be too upset by it. It was just the side effect of being married to a woman whose only flaw is that she rose with the sunrise. No matter how many times he told her to sleep in and enjoy her rest, Sophie could not allow herself to be idle for too long. And then of course came the children - four of them to be precise - and any hope that Benedict had of regularly remaining abed till noon had been ripped away with finality, not that he minded. Being a touch sleep-deprived was a small price to pay compared to the love of his family.
He rolled over in bed to see what this particular commotion was and found William, age seven, and their youngest Violet, who would turn five later this year, digging through a wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom throwing clothes in a pile behind them. With a fond sigh, he looked back to the other side of the bed and found his dear wife still sleeping peacefully. It was somewhat ironic. These years of marriage had slowly sapped Benedict of his ability to sleep while Sophie grew more and more skilled at it. Though he supposed that her years as a servant in her blasted stepmother’s home then four successive pregnancies was enough to tire anyone out. He carefully removed himself from the blankets, mindful of Sophie, and stood up.
“What are we doing here?” he asked the two miscreants, quietly so as not to disturb his wife.
William and Violet immediately stopped their squabbling and looked up at their father with a similar expression to when they were caught trying to raid the kitchen for biscuits before supper.
“We’re not doing anything, Papa,” Will said and Violet nodded vigorously to confirm.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” he noted dryly. “And where are your brothers?”
“They’re still sleeping,” Violet answered.
That was a good place for them, and for all children at this ungodly hour of the morning but their two youngest had apparently disagreed. “And why are you not still sleeping?”
“Because…” Violet started but dropped off, Benedict assumed because she did not have a good answer.
“Because,” he helpfully encouraged.
“Because we wanted to look at Mama’s mask,” Violet confessed.
That was not too surprising. The children loved nothing more than playing dress up with Mama and Papa’s clothing and the silver mask was of special interest because of that painting hanging in their hall. They were obsessed with it, asking why Mama was wearing such a shiny dress and why she was holding a mask and so on and so forth. They had both explained the story of how they had met for the first time, leaving out some details to make it appropriate for tender, young ears. Violet had immediately noted the similarity to one of the stories from her book of fairy tales that her grandmother had bought for her birthday and Benedict had been all too willing to play into it. Why yes, Violet, your mother is a fairytale princess and your father is a prince. Eventually, she’d grow up but he wanted to savor those beautiful moments while he still could.
Snapping back to reality, Benedict looked down at his daughter. “And why did you need to look at Mama’s mask so early in the morning?” he asked.
Before Violet could answer, Will jumped in. “Because Charlie and Alex are still sleeping,” he explained. “Now, we don’t need to share it with them.”
Benedict smiled which was probably not good for the stern image he was trying to convey to his children. There was a reason why Sophie was the disciplinarian in the family. He had to admit that Will was right in a sense - there was only one silver mask and four rambunctious children who all wanted a turn. His son’s logic was impeccable, it was just a shame he used his intellect for nefarious purposes. “You know,” he started, “you could have just asked when we all woke up later.”
Will frowned and looked properly abashed. “I guess…”
Not wanting to see his son upset, Benedict crouched down beside the two children and put his hand on Will’s head and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble.”
Both children’s faces broke out in delighted smiles. “We’re not?” Violet questioned hopefully.
He chuckled and pulled both children onto his lap, savoring for a moment that they were still small enough that he could do this. “Not right now, though you need to be quiet. Mama’s still sleeping and we don’t want to wake her up, do we?”
They both shook their heads. “No, Papa,” they chorused together.
He squeezed them tighter and kissed the top of Will’s head then Violet’s. “Now, time to get back to the nursery. It’s still too early for young Bridgertons to be out of bed, even if they do want to play. You can play with the mask in the morning and I will make sure you get your turns.”
Violet pulled out of his arms and looked up at him pleadingly. “Please, Papa. I don’t want to go back to bed. I’m not tired anymore.” As soon as she finished talking, she yawned, which gave Benedict a good chuckle.
Will picked up his sister’s torch immediately afterwards. “Yeah, Papa,” he added. “I’m not tired either.”
Rather than wait for Will’s inevitable yawn, Benedict just sighed and picked the two children up. If they weren’t going back to the nursery, he should at least keep them in a place where he could keep an eye on them so he carried them over to his bed and put them both down in the center of the mattress, carefully to make sure that Sophie was not disturbed.
“You need to be quiet,” Benedict whispered and pressed a finger to his lips to emphasize the point.
“We will,” Violet promised in a whisper that she likely thought was quieter than it actually was.
Once the children were settled in, Benedict crawled back into bed and pulled the blankets back up over all of them. Him on the left, Sophie on the right, and two mischievous children in between. Not for the first time did he give thanks that their bed was large enough for his family. They could be loud and persistent and they interrupted his sleep more than they should, but looking down at his two youngest and then over at his wife, still sleeping peacefully in spite of all the disturbance, he knew he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. He slung his arm over the two dozing children to wrap around Sophie’s waist. She merely grunted in her sleep before nestling down further into the mattress, completely unaware of what had just happened.
“Ben,” his wife mumbled. “What is it?”
He merely leaned over the children and kissed her cheek. “Nothing. Go back to sleep, love.”
“Alright,” was her simple response and before he knew it, her breathing had evened out and deepened. She was out cold yet again and he would hopefully join her within the next few minutes. With final kisses to the angelic little children beside him, he laid his head down on his pillow and settled in for whatever remained of the night. They would have to be up in a few hours. He could tell that because the first hints of sunrise were becoming visible through the window curtains taking the room from pitch black to a very dark gray. But for now, he could stay here right where he belonged.