#the crabtrees

[maybehavealittlefun]

benedict: PREPARE MY COTTAGE

the crabtrees, for several episodes:

[liliesandparchment]

ummmmmmmmmmmm guys. guys. guys. guys. guys.

guys. i…. was not visiting my for you page for the last two days…. only…. activity….. and my own blog….. i was not ready…… to see other people’s….. thoughts….. and then i went and i just saw…. a collage…. of the wedding…. that i NEVER SAW.

ARE U FUCKING JOKING ME????? I STOPPED WATCHING EPISODE EIGHT EARLY?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY PULLED A MARVEL ON ME?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!

Im such a fucking nincompoop i cant make this fucking shit up i wish i WISH i was trolling but ive been just…. i cant even.

(anthony mentions dad without hurting, the beards got salt in it, ALFIE WALKED HER DOWN THE AISLE, IT TOOK PLACE AT MY COTTAGE, HER DRESS AND POSY!! all the bridgy husbands looking at their wives and KATE did i say KATE and THE PAINTING and just its been TWO WHOLE DAYS someone shoot me in the head)

[thebluemallet]

Little Moments From Bridgerton 4x03 That I'm Still Thinking About

That fake-ass smile when he tells Sophie "I'm fine!" while driving in the rain. You can see Benedict wincing in pain a couple of times in this episode and at the end of the previous episode. Man was hurting big time.

Benedict looking around, rain in his eyes, bewildered, with that long, sopping wet coat on, and calling out Sophie's name when she seemingly disappears.

The impressed noises he makes when Sophie tells him how she got into the house and when she lights the fire.

The way he keeps looking at her and can't quite make himself look away. You "shall not even look at her", eh, Benedict?

Benedict begging Sophie not to leave him again in his delirium.

Benedict shirtless in bed. Yes, please. More of that, please. Especially the stretching upon being woken up.

The Crabtrees. Love them. Love every moment they're on screen.

Sophie not being able to resist doing something, pulling up that dead plant, and getting dirt all over her dress. That is me with my plants. All the time.

Benedict not only writing to ask for work for Sophie, but Hazel, too. Sophie didn't even ask him to do that. He just said "Well, obviously I can't let her stay there alone, either."

Sophie looking all disappointed when she said Benedict was being "the opposite" of improper. Girl was frustrated!

Eloise's confused little "no?" when her mother tells her she'll be chaperoning Hyacinth's finishing lessons and Francesca poorly disguising her laughter.

Polin Carriage 2.0! Anyone else notice that Colin's chin kept brushing up against Pen's bosom or am I just weird?

Just as Eloise will go down in history for how does a lady come to be with child? Francesca will go down in history for mother, what is a pinnacle?

Speaking of, John presenting Francesca with her usual-vanilla. Like, damn!

Every time Benedict insists on Sophie calling him Benedict. Particularly the way he says Ben-e-dict! when looking for the kite string.

Penelope and Francesca not being able to keep a straight face when telling Eloise they were discussing how to keep biscuits warm and Eloise not getting the joke. Your time will come, Eloise. Your time will come.

The lake scene. The Lake Scene. THE LAKE SCENE!

"You're wearing a new dress. It suits you." And it's silver. Get the hint, Benedict! Get the hint!

That kiss! They were able to take their time with it unlike the rushed kiss at the masquerade ball.

Both of them not being able to contain their smiles when they walk back into the house and Mrs. Crabtree sees them. At least Sophie sort of regains her composure unlike Benedict.

Mrs. Crabtree reminding Benedict that there are power dynamics at play with Sophie and he needs to be careful.

Marcus saying "there's nothing like a garden in bloom" to Violet. Had to rewind to make sure that was what he actually said.

"I cannot be their fox!"

Sophie and Benedict looking back at My Cottage as they're leaving. Both are sad to be leaving their little bubble to return to the "real world." Don't worry! You'll be back again soon!

little moments 4x01

little moments 4x02

little moments 4x04

little moments 4x05

little moments 4x06

little moments 4x07

[jomiddlemarch]

her heart did whisper

Unfortunately for all parties, there was a very good chance Benedict Bridgerton would be dead by morning.

Sophie could not decide who would be worse off in the eventuality; while it would certainly be terrible for Mr. Bridgerton to no longer be alive, he wouldn’t have to face any further consequences, while Sophie would be left to account for his unexpected demise, first to the servants of his facetiously named estate and likely to his bereft and devastated family.

She had not met any of his relatives, but what she’d read in Lady Whistledown had made it clear the Bridgerton family was affectionate, loyal and devoted. She was sure one of his many siblings would find themselves muttering, why couldn’t it have been her instead? before being hushed to ensure that his mother would not be further troubled. At best, she would not be blamed in so many words, though every countenance would look at her reproachfully.

It did not do to consider what would happen to her in the worst case.

(It did not do to consider whether she would be heart-broken, whether she had or would or might fall in love with him, if the kiss they’d shared at the masquerade ball was meant to last her for her whole life.)

She would not have been thus inclined anyway, as hers was a practical nature and she was most accustomed to solving any problem by the application of her intelligence and unremitting labor, which found her applying another cold compress made of hastily torn muslin to his fevered brow while planning what herbal tonic she might concoct in the empty kitchen and praying for the swift return of his usual servants.

Daybreak found Benedict Bridgerton delirious but breathing, his dark curls plastered to his head with sweat, his wound angrily inflamed, and Sophie alone, with no sign of his housekeeper or anyone else. She might as well be on a desert island, unable to send for help, unable to flee; she worried to leave Mr. Bridgerton even for the time it took to boil water and steep a handful of herbs for a tisane. If she tried to resaddle his horses and drive the curricle to the closest neighbor, even to the Cavender estate, he would not survive her absence, leaving aside the time it would take to convince any hungover gentlemen to come to her assistance.

She had her wits, her heart and two capable hands to save the man’s life.

She could not, however, succeed in her night-rail. Or rather the night-rail of one of his many sisters, a lovely, delicate linen shift embroidered in exquisite whitework. After placing a freshly soaked and wrung-out compress on his forehead, she went to the room she’d been given, where hours earlier she had counted herself unexpectedly lucky, and quickly changed into the most serviceable of the three dresses she pulled from the clothes-press, determined to cover the pretty gown with the long pinafore his cook must wear to prepare his meals.

When he opened his eyes three days later, well after sundown, he was confused, which she’d expected. His fever had dropped only slightly, despite her unrelenting efforts, and his voice had grown hoarse with his agonized cries, the softer moans that occasionally resolved into words bloody hell and it hurts making Sophie press her lips together tightly, pleaseand God and Mama making her own tears spill. I’m here, she’d repeated for hours, in between holding a cup to his mouth, wiping his bare chest down, dousing the grievous wound on his side with more alcohol, unable to feel relief when he was too insensible to react.

He was confused, his grey eyes shadowed, and he still trembled with chills, and yet—

“Sophie? Is that you?” he mumbled.

When she didn’t immediately respond, startled into silence, exhausted, he spoke again.

“Sophie? Sophie, don’t leave me, don’t go—”

“I’m here,” she said, the words as familiar as a litany. To Benedict as well it seemed, since he calmed a little when she said them, starting to reach for her when the motion caused him pain she could see in his corded throat, the way his lips parted in a soundless cry. She touched his temple and then his cheek lightly, feeling the rasp of his near-piratical beard, hoping to soothe him.

“Rest. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you alone,” she said.

“Crabtrees here?” he asked and for a moment, she was worried she was wrong, that the fever had worsened, Benedict speaking nonsense, inquiring about pink blossomed trees crowding his candlelit bedroom, then recalled he’d mentioned servants, what seemed like a lifetime ago now, and it must be them he spoke of.

“No. Only me,” she said.

“Com—” he said, coughing before he could finish. She brought a glass of water to his lips, helped him drink. He watched her over the rim of the glass, his cloudy grey eyes curiously keen now.

“Better?” she said.

“Compromised. Alone with me,” he said. She might have thought him brusque, harsh, save that she could tell what it cost him to utter each one.

Sophie would have laughed if she had not been so fatigued. If he had not still burned with fever, flinching when she touched the flesh around his wound. She would have collapsed into the armchair she’d dozed in, keeping watch over Benedict, if it were not so far from his bed. If his hand had not come to grasp her wrist. At the Cavenders, from any other man, it might have alarmed her, a restraint aimed at proving his power over her. She knew he meant it as an appeal, that he would be on his knees before her, supplicant, begging her to do him the very great honor of becoming his wife. 

“I can’t be compromised. I’m only a maid,” she said gently.

“No. You are a lady, staying as a guest at my home. I am a gentleman. I have compromised you,” he insisted.

“I’m—” she began, pausing when she saw him begin to frown, frustrated and ill, forced to make do with her paltry nursing. Why should she argue with him, when it would change nothing?

If he lived, he would never marry her.

If he died, he would die with some degree of contentedness, knowing himself a man of honor.

“Yes, sir, you have,” she said.

“And when I am well, I shall get a special license and we’ll marry,” he said.

“When you are well. You must sleep again, to get better,” she said.

“You must sleep too,” he said.

“I’m here to look after you,” she replied.

“You have,” he said and then added, with perhaps the most clarity he’d shown since they’d arrived, “And there’s nothing more you can do for me.”

When she woke, tucked up in the armchair that had become her bed, he spoke first.

And not to her.

“Mrs. Crabtree, it is good to see you. I must introduce Miss Baek, who has saved my life and won my heart. We are engaged to be wed and I shall need your assistance to arrange the special license and the ceremony. I’m afraid I am not quite well enough to ride over to see the bishop.”

His tone was pleasant but brooked no argument, nor even a question. Sophie heard a hint of the command he’d issued to the men at the Cavender estate, though there was no threat implicit. Why should there be, when he spoke to a servant?

A tall, grey-haired woman in the traditional dark dress the housekeeper wore, a man of similar years standing to her side, paused only slightly before nodding. 

“As you say, sir. I should also call for the doctor to look in on you and Miss Baek can retire to her room for a proper rest,” Mrs. Crabtree said.

“Sensible as always, Mrs. C,” Benedict replied. “Sophie, Miss Baek that is, could do with a proper meal as well. Perhaps you might make us your very fine game pie or your honey cake, if Miss Baek prefers sweet—”

“Those both take hours, sir. I hope coddled eggs and wheat cakes might suffice for Miss Baek,” she said. “And you shan’t have nought but barley water and calf’s foot jelly ‘til doctor says you’re fit for anything more.”

Sophie, still silent, braced herself for argument, a grimace at the very least in response to the bland invalid’s menu. 

The older gentleman caught her eye and winked.

Sophie was not sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“As you say, Mrs. C. I’ve a wedding to attend in three days’ time, so I’ll take calf’s foot jelly morning, noon and night if you order it,” Benedict said equably.

“Three days’ time?”

Sophie and the Crabtrees spoke in unison, disbelief, doubt, and delight commingled.

Benedict smiled.

“A pretty enough chord, ain’t it, Mr. Crabtree? Only your wife could make it possible.”

“Aye, sir, right you are,” Mr. Crabtree agreed. 

“But your mother—your brother, the viscount—" Sophie said.

“Mama wants me married this Season and Anthony can’t fuss if he’s left England for India for God knows how long,” Benedict said.

“Sir!” Mrs. Crabtree exclaimed, his profanity evidently more distressing than anything else he’d said.

“Sir—” Sophie tried again.

“Anthony married his true love, so he can’t begrudge me,” Benedict replied softly, as if he and Sophie were alone again.

“Come along, Miss Baek, you’re to bed while I set everything to rights. I’ve the jelly already made up for the master, but there’s quite a bit to see to,” Mrs. Crabtree said.

“This can’t be happening,” Sophie murmured, finding herself rising and walking over where Mrs. Crabtree beckoned. Had she caught Benedict’s fever? It was impossible, but so was reality at the moment.

“You just have a nice rest and it’ll be managed by the time you wake up. We’ll see you Mrs. Benedict Bridgerton in three days’ time,” Mrs. Crabtree said.

“I should listen to Mrs. C, Sophie. She’s never wrong,” Benedict said.

“Still calf’s foot jelly for you, sir, not a dab of marmalade,” Mrs. Crabtree replied.

Sophie knew she must protest. Must reveal her true identity, her origins. Must tell the truth, as much as she knew, or there’d be hell to pay and she had not a shilling to her name.

She opened her mouth and yawned.

“It’s all right, Sophie. It’ll be all right,” Benedict said.

[yellowdressesandyearning]

[sea-owl]

Could you expand on Mrs Crabtrees react to Benedicts and Sophie's marriage?

How does she find out?

I love how she doesn't treat Benedict like an employer. I can imagine she would be all over Sophie.

I bet she is just as excited when the child come along as the couple are.

Look when you come with the house like the Crabtrees did with My Cottage I say it's fair to say it's their house.

I'm going to be so honest, I think Benedict just rolled back up to My Cottage and announced to the Crabtrees that he married Sophie, and now they're permanently moving in. Mrs. Crabtree probably gonna demand to know if Benedict properly courted Sophie because they were not gone that long. When Benedict couldn't answer her, she probably chastised him while Mr. Crabtree congratulated Sophie on the marriage.