Chapter Text
Boston 1822 ~
Sophie reached to grab a few ingredients sitting across the table and set them in front of her, turning to the young boy beside her. "Now we will measure the ingredients with this cup and combine them in this bowl."
Sophie handed him the small cup and guided him to ensure the measurements were exact, using her finger to create an even surface. She watched carefully as the boy measured each ingredient and added it to a large wooden bowl. Afterward, Sophie took the bowl in front of her and began mixing the ingredients with a fork.
"Okay, now we flour the table and roll it out."
He looked at her. "Flour the table?"
She smiled. "Just watch." Then, she took a pinch of the remaining flour and sprinkled it along a clean surface of the table. "You try."
The young boy ever so gently grabbed a pinch of flour with his small fingers and sprinkled it along the table.
“Very good, Charlie.” She gently commended him, lowering her voice as she felt the baby swaddled to her chest begin to stir.
The two turned their attention to the hallway after hearing the door open, and Charlie immediately hopped down from the stool he stood on.
“Papa!” Charlie exclaimed as he ran over to his father.
Benedict scooped the young boy up into his arms and approached Sophie, gently placing a kiss on her lips and then one on the baby’s head.
He turned to the boy in his arms. “And what are you and the girls up to? Baking again?”
“Mama is teaching me to make Blueberry pie.”
“Is that so? And has little Violet been helping?”
“No, Papa, she is too little!” Charlie giggled, squirming in Benedict’s arms.
“Well then, I suppose it would be prudent for me to help,” Benedict exclaimed as he set Charlie down on the stool and rolled up his sleeves.
“We have prepared the filling. All that’s left is the crust.” Sophie added.
Benedict leaned forward, grabbing some flour to spread onto the table, but the devil must have gotten hold of him because before Sophie could comprehend what was happening, he threw it right in her direction.
Sophie stood utterly dumbfounded. "I cannot believe. That you just did that." She writhed, attempting to stifle a laugh. “You’ve gotten it all over Violet's head!”
Charlie giggled at the sight of the flour atop his baby sister's head, her dark brown hair now covered in flour, and like the gentle boy he was, he attempted to brush the powder out of her hair.
Sophie watched as Charlie dusted off his sister's head, then looked at Benedict for a moment, her eyes filling with mischief. She walked across the room to set Violet in her bassinet before immediately taking off to run across the kitchen to grab a handful of flour to toss back at Benedict.
He froze, and they met each other's gaze before Sophie went to collect more flour. Quickly, Benedict reached over and grabbed her hand. He managed to get out an "I don't think so." before her other free hand grabbed a handful of flour to toss in his direction.
She broke free of his grasp and scrambled across to the other side of the table as Benedict once more grabbed hold of more flour to throw at her.
The air was cloudy, and their hair and faces were spotted with flour. After continuing this game, Benedict ran to the other side of the table, running behind Sophie and grabbing her by the waist, lifting her off the ground, and spinning her around so she was unable to use the flour in both her hands. "No! No!" she laughed.
Benedict set her down, and they locked eyes, both grinning and savoring the glistening joy in their eyes from the moment. Sophie slowly moved her gaze from Benedict to the kitchen, which they had just made a complete mess of.
“Mama, Papa, you made a mess,” Charlie stated. The poor boy was also now covered in flour.
“That we did, Charlie.” Sophie frowned before giggling to herself.
“And since it was your Papa’s idea to make such a mess, he will be the one cleaning it up.” Sophie raised an eyebrow at her husband and handed him a sponge. He scoffed as he took the sponge in his hand.
“Come along, Charlie, let us clean up for supper,” Sophie called out as she picked up Violet and left the room.
Benedict smiled softly to himself as he dipped the sponge in a bowl of water and began to clean the mess he had created. It had been over four years since Benedict had left London, four years since he had sacrificed his family to begin a new life with Sophie in the Americas. Four years since he had seen or spoken to any of his family outside of his mother. She wrote to him and he to her as much as possible, but with the distance, it was difficult.
It was true that Anthony had indeed cut him off, but luckily, his mother had a connection to the family member of an art director in Boston who was able to offer Benedict a position as an artist for a well-known commissioner. The connection proved to be useful because after nearly five years spent in Boston, he was able to create quite a name for himself.
The first year was hard and full of trials and tribulations and several poor living situations, but in the end, it was all worth it. He and Sophie now lived in a quaint townhome in the city with their two children. Their son Charlie was nearly four. He was well-read and gently spoken, just like his mother, although Benedict was known to bring out a rather unruly side of him. And then on Christmas Day, their daughter Violet had come into the world. Both of their children had taken after Sophie, both with deep brown eyes and dark hair, though she swore to Benedict that Charlie had his nose.
Benedict’s wages from his commissions were enough to keep them comfortable, although they could not afford to keep any servants with them. They had both learned to take care of the house together, and Benedict had learned a great deal in the last four years.
Sophie took on the role of educating Charlie, and in the time outside their small schoolroom in the attic, she would teach him how to make loads of baked goods in the kitchen. Benedict spent lots of time at home in his studio, accompanied by Charlie. The boy loved nothing more than to come and watch his father paint. He would sit on a stool next to his father with his own canvas and miniature easel Benedict had built him and attempted to imitate his father’s paintings. Sophie was quite happy that it seemed Charlie had inherited his father's artistic eye.
Outside of their homelife, they would rotate hosting celebrations and holidays with their small group of friends who also had children similar in age to Charlie and Violet. All things considered, they were happy.
There were moments still where Sophie felt a pang of guilt for their past circumstances, and that her children did not know any of their family. Occasionally, Charlie would ask her questions about his grandma, his aunts and uncles, his cousins, and why he had never met them, and each time Sophie would give him the same answer.
“They live much too far away my love.” She would say, but more often than not, that was usually followed by more questions that Sophie did not have the answers to.
After supper, Benedict spent the evening in his studio, working on his next commission. The studio was small in size. When they had first moved in, it had been a large closet with shelving he had removed to create more space. When he had left London, he had barely brought any of his supplies with him, just his sketchbook and a few painting mediums, as well as a small collection of paints his brother Colin had bought him from Italy. Now his studio was filled with several unfinished commissions as well as numerous portraits of Sophie and their children.
After applying one final layer of paint, he cleaned up his space and left to retire to him and Sophie's room for the night.
As he walked down the hallway, he could hear Sophie’s voice and followed it to Charlie’s room, stopping in the doorway to watch the two. Sophie curled up next to their son, who was just barely managing to keep his eyes open as she read to him in French.
“La planète Terre, lui répondit le géographe. Elle a une bonne réputation…” Benedict leaned against the door as the softness in her voice lulled him into closing his eyes.
“Et le petit prince s’en fut, songeant à sa fleur.” She whispered as she closed the book and kissed the boy on his head. Gently, she removed his head from her lap and climbed out of the bed to meet Benedict in the doorway. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her head. They stayed like this a moment before she wrapped both of her arms around his as he led her down the hallway to their room.
“What’s wrong?” Sophie inquired as she watched him undress through the mirror of her vanity.
“Why should you think something is wrong?” He said as he crawled into bed.
Sophie raised an eyebrow at him through the mirror as she braided her hair. “Do not act coy, I know you, something’s been bothering you these last few days.”
Benedict sighed and scratched the back of his head, succumbing to her questioning.
“Do you recall meeting Mr. Thomas Baxter over the holidays?” He asked.
“Yes, I believe so. The lead commissioner is he not?”
“Yes. As it turns out, his brother owns a gallery and has recently passed away. He has offered to sell it to me for a bargain.”
“Oh, Benedict, that is wonderful!” She exclaimed as she stood from her vanity seat.
She hesitated as she saw him avoid her gaze. “Is it not?”
“It is, in that we would have more than enough funds for a full staff, and enough money for a governess and to send Charlie to school. It is only that we would need to move if I were to take the position.”
Sophie climbed into bed next to him. “I see. And where would we need to relocate to?”
He looked at her, and after studying his gaze for a moment, she knew the answer in his eyes.
“The position is in London, isn’t it?”
Benedict nodded.
He faced her and took her hands in his. “I am happy with our life here, more than happy. If you do not wish to return, I shall not take the position.”
Sophie chewed her lip and considered it for a moment.
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking about your family, and how much you must miss them.”
He shook his head. “I have a family. Here, with you.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Do you not ever sometimes wish you could make amends, or reconnect? Charlie and Violet would finally get to meet their family, but…”
“But there’s no telling how society will react.” Benedict finished.
“Do you think they despise me?” Sophie whispered.
“What?”
“I doubt they could ever despise their own blood, but do you believe they envy me?”
“Sophie. My mother asks about you and the children in every letter and expresses how much she misses you. Maybe even more so than me.” He chuckled.
“And were you not once Eloise and Hyacinth's favorite ladies' maid?” He added.
“Maybe I once was, but that was before. Before I took you away from them.”
“Sophie, look at me,” He instructed as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.
“You did not take me away from anyone. I chose this, and I chose you. And I would do it all over again if given the chance.” He assured her.
“You have made and given me the two greatest gifts a man could ever receive, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
“I’ve spent a good bit of my life with my brothers and sisters.” He continued. “But I fully intend to spend the rest of it with you and our little family.”
“But what if you could have both?” Sophie asked, her eyes glistening with tears.
“There’s no guarantee of that. I made my decision the moment I boarded that ship, and there is not a single day I regret it.”
He gathered her in his arms as he lay against the bed frame and began stroking her hair.
“It is your decision. I will be just as content as I am now if you decide to stay.” And with that, he placed a kiss atop her head. “I love you, Sophie.”
“I love you too.” She replied, and as she felt Benedict’s breathing even out and his body succumb to sleep, she thought about what their return to London would look like. She thought about Charlie and his endless questions about their family, and as she closed her eyes, she arrived at a decision.