#bess flowers

[dimepicture]

[makeitquietly]

We Faw Down (1928)

[gatutor]

Bess Flowers-Herbert Marshall "Forgotten faces" 1936, de Ewald André Dupont.

[raynbowclown]

The Mad Doctor of Market Street

The Mad Doctor of Market Street – scientist Lionel Atwill fails to revive a subject in a suspended animation experiment, who dies. Then … Continue reading The Mad Doctor of Market Street

[papermoonloveslucy]

GREAT BALL OF FIRE!

Lucille Ball and the Fire Department

Where there’s smoke - there’s Lucy!  Lucy’s encounters with the fire department are legendary - even becoming a volunteer firefighter on “The Lucy Show.” 

“I Love Lucy” wouldn’t have been possible without the cooperation of the Los Angeles Fire Department, who helped bring the studio up to code for filming when live audiences were introduced to the mix. Previously, audiences were not permitted on film sets due to fire codes. Ironically, the show’s sponsor was a cigarette company, at a time when smoking indoors was commonplace. 

In “Be A Pal” (1951), Lucy sets fire to Ricky’s newspaper to get his attention! Considering all the trouble and cost Desi had to assure the studio audience’s safety for the Los Angels Fire Department, it is amazing this gag was allowed!

“Fred and Ethel Fight” (1952) ~ When Fred and Ethel patch things up, Lucy and Ricky start feuding, leading to Lucy to pretend to be hit by a bus and Ricky to stage a fire in the apartment to test each other’s affection. Ricky and Fred use a toy siren and a beekeepers smoker to convince Lucy the building’s ablaze. 

Moments from the episode, including the aftermath of the ‘fire’ were recreated for the 2021 film Being the Ricardos. 

In “The Marriage License” (1953), one of the many hats worn by Mr. Willoughby (Irving Bacon) is fireman, presumably of the Connecticut town of Greenwich where the scene is set. Mr. Willoughby mistakes Lucy’s red hair for the flames of a fire. His helmet says “Engine 1″. 

In "Too Many Crooks" (1953), suspecting Lucy to be Madam X, Fred and Ethel spy on her from the fire escape. Fire escapes were common features of New York City apartment buildings, a series of metal ladders allowing residents to get out of the building in case of a fire. They were most famously represented in the musical West Side Story.

A running plot point of the first season of “The Lucy Show” (1963) has Lucy and Viv recruiting their friends to serve as the Danfield Volunteer Fire Department. Naturally, Lucy serves as Captain. 

Six weeks earlier, in “Lucy Puts Up a TV Antenna” (1962), two firemen help Lucy and Viv off the roof when their DIY installation of a TV aerial goes wrong. Chuck Roberson and Hubie Kerns play the firemen. 

Lucy is dismayed that nearby towns have a fire department, while Danfield has none. In “Lucy and Viv are Volunteer Fireman” (1963), the first episode to begin the plotline, Lucy writes to her congressman about the situation.

Dear Senator Dodds;

I feel it is my duty to point out an alarming situation which exists here in Danfield. Because of re-zoning in the county our fire department has been transferred to Ridgebury many, many miles away. As a result, in case of a fire, defenseless women and little children will be left helpless to face a flaming inferno. Until this outrageous condition is rectified, the least you can do for Danfield is to create a volunteer fire department.  

Yours very truly,

Lucille Carmichael

PS: I plan to vote for you in the next election. That is, if the polling place hasn’t burned down.  

In response to their letter, they are visited by Captain Metcalf (Patrick McVey) of the Ridgebury Fired Department. 

Jerry and Sherman are appointed Junior Firemen. This is a real-life program for youth run by most American and British fire departments to encourage home safety in fire prevention. Talking about the potential for a fire, Lucy says she doesn’t want to be known as one of the “Last of the Red Hot Mamas.”

The episode uses a fire pole and a Moreland fire truck. Both are employed for comic effect. 

Lucy and Viv rehearse putting on their fire fighter uniforms, calmly timing themselves as they do. When a real fire alarm sounds, the moment is comically chaotic. 

When Metcalf is training the women at the old firehouse, there is a Smokey Bear Forest Fire Prevention poster behind him. This particular design was first issued in 1953.

Captain Metcalf claims that the reason the Danfield volunteer fire brigade will consist of all females is because so many men commute to New York, further reinforcing that fictional Danfield is a bedroom community of Manhattan.

In connection with this episode, Lucille Ball and Vivian Vance were made honorary fire chiefs of the Los Angeles Fire Department. They were photographed wearing official white helmets with Henri O'Bryant, vice president of the Fire Commission, Fred Kline, commission president, and LA Fire Chief William L. Miller.  

Because the episode was shot out of order, the fire fighter plotline is not mentioned in the next two episodes, but resumes in “Lucy’s Barbershop Quartet” (1962). Since all the members of the group are members of the Danfield Volunteer Fire Brigade, the quartet is named The Four Alarms. 

Again, the storyline is put on the back burner for two episodes, until “Lucy Drives a Dump Truck” (1963). After promising the Volunteer Fire Department that the town council will pay for their new uniforms, the girls find that they will be stuck for the cost themselves. They want to relieve Lucy as captain, until she comes up with the idea of selling newspapers for salvage. 

In addition to Lucy and Viv, the members of the Danfield Volunteer Fire Department are: Thelma Green (Carole Cook), Audrey Simmons (Mary Jane Croft), Dorothy Boyer (Ruth Crews, later Dorothy Konrad), Babette Edwards (Karen Norris), Frances (Mary Wickes), Colleen (Renita Reachi), Pauline Lopus, Grace, as well as background performers Bess Flowers and Hazel Pierce.

The next time we hear about the volunteer fire department, the show is being filmed (but not initially aired) in color!  “Lucy Plays Cleopatra” (1963). The women recruite acting coach Professor Gitterman (Hans Conried) to help them stage the production. 

“Lucy and Viv Play Softball” (1963) ~ Lucy and Viv are usually bench warmers when the Danfield Volunteer Fire Department plays softball, but a member’s preganancy lands them on the field. 

"Lucy Puts Out a Fire at the Bank” (1963) ~ When the town council refuses to fund the Danfield Volunteer Fire Department, Lucy takes her brigade for some training to impress Mr. Mooney, then sets a small fire at the bank to demonstrate their worth!  Mr. Mooney wants Danfield to be served by New Rochelle's Fire Department. In previous episodes they were served by Ridgebury.  

The Danfield Volunteer Fire Department has a service record of:

43 cat rescues; 12 of them of the same cat. 

8 clogged up chimney flues unclogged.  

16 piles of burning leaves were extinguished.

1 lawsuit against the city for water damage at the Armenian restaurant for an incident surrounding flaming shish-kabob on a sword.

Their training is led by Captain Burke (Alan Hale Jr.).  This is the final episode of the fire brigade plotline, ending a year after it is introduced. 

In “Lucy the Coin Collector” (1964), Lucy and Viv stand on the street in front of a bright yellow fire hydrant. Along with the mailbox, the fire hydrant was a standard set dressing for scenes taking place on city streets. 

In “Lucy the Disc Jockey” (1965), the last episode set in Danfield, Lucy uses a fire extinguisher when the control board explodes. The radio station is covered in foam for the rest of the episode. The moment was included in the show’s opening montage. 

“Lucy Makes a Few Extra Dollars” (1971) ~ Lucy Carter breaks out a fire extinguisher when Harry sets a fire in the office waste basket. 

Larry J. Blake plays the fireman who comes to extinguish the trash can blaze. 

“Lucy’s Punctured Romance” (1972) ~ Lucy burns the roast causing the fire department to smash the front door glass. Larry J. Blake returns as the Fire Cheif (wearing the same uniform), joined by Orwin C. Harvey and Sid Gould. 

[quill-pen]

Flowers that give me Bess vibes for🪻reasons🌹:

[nsuyeula]

Y’all maybe I was a little bit to harsh on Ace these past couple of episodes. I (very lovingly) was calling him a hypocrite and that he needed to chill out but after Nancy is fully ready to move on with Tristan after like, TWO DAYS - na I’m sorry I ever doubted you, you have never done anything wrong and I want to give you all the hugs. 

[hellishjoel]

in bloom

599 words / pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

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word: blossom

warnings/information: fluff, frankie has some lingering issues after being sent home from deployment

a/n: thought of this while staring at my boss' orchid blooming and about my failed attempts at keeping a cactus alive. the center picture is from @wildemaven! my banners are by @saradika-graphics. shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

Frankie imagined that being sent home from deployment would be heaven. However, his life as a civilian was lonely and a little terrifying, if he’s honest. 

Often surrounded by a band of his brothers, there was never a quiet moment. He once longed for silence and prayed for a moment of solitude. Being home, everything changed. 

He hated the sound of his breathing at night, how it ricocheted off the walls and filled the emptiness. He hated the quiet drives in his truck and fucking despised how there was no one to sing along to the radio. This wasn’t the freedom he had envisioned.

Instead of searching for company in all the wrong places, he found himself somewhere he never expected: the local farmer’s market. 

Frankie saw the flyer pinned to the bulletin board at the hardware store, decorated in bright, vibrant colors that listed the spring dates. 

Hell, why not?

With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, he wanders through the market. Golden jars of honey glinted in the sunlight, freshly scored loaves of homemade bread filled the air with a delicious aroma, and vibrant blooms spilled from every corner, painting the scene in vivid color.

That’s when he saw you. 

Hair tamed by a red bandana, hands caked in dirt, an adorable smile on your pretty lips that had him in a trance. Truly, he had no idea he was even walking towards your stand until you greeted him. 

“Good morning, how are you?”

For a moment, he froze, words failing him as he stared blankly, his brain scrambling to catch up. Finally, he cursed himself inwardly, forcing a smile and managing a simple “Hi.”

You smile softly and nod, turning to speak to another customer who had wandered up. Frankie takes a moment to compose himself and looks around your stand, decorated by a red and white checkered picnic blanket and a chalkboard that displays your prices. 

“If you have any questions, let me know.” 

He flicks his eyes up to yours, taking in how they’re framed by dark lashes. He doesn’t want to lose your attention, so he points at the first potted plant he sees. “What’s that?”

You gasp softly at Frankie’s apparent good taste, moving to the folding table behind you to retrieve the plant with a colorful blue pot. “This beautiful blossom is actually a cactus. It’s kind of hard to tell because it’s covered in these little pink flowers, but she’s super easy to take care of. Good in small spaces.” 

“This plant is prettier than me,” Frankie jokes, his tone light but his eyes searching yours.

Your smile widens, breaking into a laugh so warm and sweet it feels like the closest thing to heaven. He soaks it in, wishing he could play the sound on a loop forever, anything to keep the crushing silence at bay.

Frankie’s never cared for a plant in his life, but he hands you a twenty-dollar bill and insists you keep the change. 

"Thank you," Frankie speaks softly, his eyes warm as he sends you a grateful nod. "I'm back home after a while away, and it's been... an adjustment."

"Hey," you say softly, your hand gently catching his arm before he can walk off. You hold out the cactus, your smile kind and warm. "Cactuses are survivors. They adapt and bloom, no matter how tough the environment is. Feels like a good thing to have around, don’t you think?"

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, Frankie wonders if you’re talking about more than the plant in his hands.

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[sister-lucifer]

An Epoch of Horticulture: Chapter One

[Masterlist] 

Ticci Toby x Gender Neutral Reader 

Genre: Slow burn, fluff 

Summary: An odd figure slinks into your apothecary on a rainy day 

Content/warnings: Profanity, a bit of awkward conversation, my personal headcanons about Toby + his disabilities, I made up some magic fantasy plants for this so don’t think too hard about it, thankies 

This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors. 

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged. 

If you like this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.  

The rain has been falling nonstop since dawn. Not once has the endless patter of water on the roof of your apothecary ceased, or even slowed. Now and then you glance out the window at the stubborn clouds, willing them to move, but they refuse. 

You’ve busied yourself with menial tasks today; scrubbing the counter, reorganizing your tools, alphabetizing your seeds. Despite your silent hope, though, not one customer has come through. Bad weather means no foot traffic—you know that, but it’s still a fair bit disappointing. For the fifth time today, you debate closing up shop early. You can’t help feeling a bit dejected. It’s not easy running a small business like this, and every sale matters. 

Your little apothecary is quaint, but you’ve poured your heart and soul into making it exactly to your vision. On the front of the building is your hand-painted sign, the name “The Zenith” proudly proclaimed in a perfect forest green, and by the door sits your rainwater catchers. Inside, you’ve stacked the shelves full of anything that can be potted, and racks for drying herbs and flowers hang on either side of the shop. Behind your counter, on the furthest wall, are locked cabinets for keeping the more expensive wares, and you even have your own greenhouse through the back door. This place means so much to you—seeing it so empty is disheartening. 

You heave a heavy sigh as you trudge to the door, deciding to just give up for today. The rain shows no signs of stopping, and that means no one will be coming in. You can always try again tomorrow, right? 

You reach up to turn the sign on the door from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ Just as your fingers touch the wood, though, you pause. An odd sound has caught your attention. You only recognize it as the sound of frantic footsteps on the wet cobblestone for a split second. 

In a flash, a dark figure appears from out of the gloom. You barely manage to move out of the way before the door swings open. You almost wince, worried it may come off the hinges, or perhaps knock the bell off its hook. 

A tall man rushes in, stumbling like a fawn on ice and nearly getting a bit too friendly with the ground. You watch him gain his bearings, not taking your eyes off him as you quickly shut the door back. He huffs as if he can’t catch his breath. 

Your eyes slowly scan him from the bottom up as you try to discern if you’ve seen him before. His thick, leather boots are clearly worn from use, and caked in mud that’s left a filthy trail on your floor. His baggy work pants are equally weathered, with patches of scrap fabric messily stitched on in random places. He wears a navy windbreaker half zipped over a ratty, brown hoodie, and when your gaze gets to the edge of his sleeve you can see that he’s wearing gloves. He pulls his hood down off his head—good heavens, he’s paler than death—and shakes out a curly thatch of brunette hair. You could liken him to a big dog shaking off its coat. 

He turns to face you, boots squelching in the small puddle he’s created around his feet. The bandage on his cheek crinkles as his face stretches with a crooked smile. Your attention is momentarily drawn to the one chipped tooth he keeps running his tongue over. 

“Not ex-exactly the bess-ss-t day to be— b-be—bop! Bopop!—out and about, h-huh— huh?” he says with a chuckle, followed by several clicks of his tongue in an odd rhythm. You nod in agreement, still a bit too startled by his sudden entrance to reply. One of his hazel eyes scans the shelves with curiosity; the other, you notice, struggles to follow it. 

After a second more of silence, you snap out of your surprise. 

“Oh, let me take your coat,” you say quickly, reaching up to take the windbreaker off him. He happily complies, pulling the striped sleeves of his hoodie free from the jacket. It continues to drip as you hook it on the rack. You make a mental note to do some good mopping later. 

You turn back to your guest, only to find him on the other side of the room. He’s crouched in front of a pot of sour brandy, eyeing it intensely. He leans in to sniff the opening of the pitcher-like flower. 

“You don’t wanna do that!” You call out, but you aren’t fast enough. He winces and groans in disgust, rising to his feet so fast he nearly falls. You have to choke back a laugh. 

“Sorry,” you say with a barely disguised giggle, “you might wanna avoid smelling random plants in here. That’s sour brandy.” 

You pick up a pamphlet from your counter and hold it out to him. 

“It’s known for its incredibly acerbic taste, and is usually used to, uh…expel irritants from the stomach. Here—this will tell you everything you need to know about that sort of thing.” 

He huffs, like he’s trying to push the smell out of his nose. He takes the pamphlet from you, but only flips through it for a few seconds before folding it in two and shoving it into his pocket. Well, okay then… 

“…Um, anyways,” you continue as you move behind your counter, “welcome to The Zenith. What can I get for you today?” 

He only stares back at you like you’ve just spoken another language. You’re about to repeat yourself when you’re interrupted by a sudden jerking of his neck. It pops in a way that surely must be painful, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Just a ss-second,” he replies, holding up one hand while the other pats around his pockets. One side of his face twitches as he digs into his hoodie. After a bit of searching, he pulls out a slip of paper, unfolding it and pushing it across the table towards you with a shaky hand. 

Some ink comes off on your fingers as you pick it up. The words are a bit smudged with raindrops, but it’s readable enough, even with the pompous cursive handwriting. You nearly scoff as you scan the list of plant names; it’s all high-end herbs and rare flowers, even a few species you need certain credentials to own. Fortunately, you do. 

“Looks like someone’s planning a party,” you comment absentmindedly. You rifle through the keys on your belt for a moment before grabbing the one you’re looking for. 

“Oh, uh, it-it’s not for me,” the man explains, suddenly looking sheepish as he watches you unlock one of the cabinets on the back wall of the store, “my, uh, mm-m-my bosses have—click! Clickick-ick! Fuck off!—h-have this big…thing—I dunno what it is, really—going on this-ss-s weekend.” 

You give a hum of acknowledgment without looking away from what you’re doing. Briefly, you run your eyes over the various pouches of herbs sitting on the cabinet shelves, then look back down at the list. You grab each bag one by one as you read the names. 

Sailor’s red, sunflick, vylar…they better know what the hell they’re doing. 

You let out a low whistle as you close up the cabinet. Talk about crazy rich people. This mix of stuff could lay you out flat for days. The man seems to notice your expression. 

“W-What’s wrong?” he stammers with a tilt of his head. 

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” you reply with a shrug, “just, uh, this stuff is more intense than I usually go for.  I sure hope your bosses know how to prepare this sort of thing, you can’t just be throwing this into your salad…” 

He laughs—it’s a scratchy sort of warble, and it makes you grin in return. He reaches up to itch the back of his neck, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he bites his tongue. 

You drop the pouches onto the counter before moving on to the next part of your list, and to one of your shelves. While you’ve several attractive flowering plants, you notice that the types requested are quite renowned for their beautiful blooms, and all in white and yellow. You also notice, though, that many of them are incredibly high maintenance, and will die within the week if not attended to with utmost care. 

For some reason, it’s a bit hard to conjure a flattering image of these people. 

You’re almost hesitant to let your darlings go when you know in your heart they won’t be properly loved. 

Despite your woes, you gather the pots all the same. When you turn to walk back to your counter, you catch eyes with the man for a split second. He nearly jumps out of his skin before quickly putting his head down and pretending to be very interested in his shoes. 

You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel. You brush it off for now, deciding it probably isn’t all that significant; he’s a rather awkward one, after all. 

You set the flowers down on the counter, then look back at the list. The last few items aren’t kept in the front of the shop. 

“Oh, I’ll be right back,” you tell the man with a polite smile, “I need to grab a few things out of the greenhouse for you.” 

“Huh?” he barks. He was looking right at you, but it seems he wasn’t really paying attention. 

“Uh, yeah, that—th-that’s okay,” he adds quickly, a few of his knuckles popping as they flex in an unnatural manner. He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets his eyes wander idly about the store. 

As you make your way back into the greenhouse, a nagging feeling in the back of your mind starts to bloom. The tall stranger has definitely caught your attention. He couldn’t be any older than 25, but he looks worked to the bone. Despite that, you think as you pluck a few fruits from a caerulem tree, he’s got the charm of an awkward teenager. He shambles about like his body is new, or perhaps like three raccoons pretending to be a person. The idea amuses you more than you’d like to admit. 

When you return to the shop, bag of assorted fruits in hand, the man has already found something else to be interested in. He’s gingerly toying with the cap of a spongy mushroom, occasionally glancing at the pamphlet you gave him earlier. Cross-referencing, presumably. He looks up like a deer in headlights when he hears you drop the bag on the counter. 

He shoves the pamphlet back into his pocket with even less care than last time before rushing over to you like an excited child. He puts his palms flat on the counter, leaning forward a bit more than is usually socially acceptable. 

“Didja get it?” he asks, lazy eye twitching and scrunching a bit. 

“Yessir,” you reply with a quick nod and wide eyes. He seems to realize he’s overstepped a bit, and pushes back. 

He starts searching around in his pockets again.

“So, uh, h-how much will—dammit! Goddammit!—will th-th-that be?” 

You take a moment to count up everything on the counter. It’s quite the haul, that’s for sure. Good news for you. 

“…An even 80,” you declare. 

He swiftly pulls something from his pocket and smacks it into the table. When he moves his hand away, you can see it’s a drawn note for…two hundred? 

You resist the urge to groan in frustration. You begrudgingly open your register to retrieve the man’s change, but he stops you. 

“T-They said to just let— l-let you keep the cheque!” he sputters as quickly as he can. 

That makes you quirk a brow. 

“Um…are you sure?” you ask, “This is over double what this stuff is worth.” 

The man shrugs and kicks at the ground. “They do that s-ss-sort of thing all th-the—shrrrk!—all the time. ‘s not like they can’t aff-aff-afford it, ‘n’ they wanna make sure the—t-the—go away! Go away!—make sure the sh-shhh-shopkeepers like them.” 

A beat of silence passes as you mull that over. 

“…I sh-shhhouldn’t have said that,” the man mumbles. His lips quirk up in an awkward grin. Of course, you naturally return the gesture, and mime zipping your lips. You could swear it makes his restless shoulders relax a bit. 

You put the cheque away before reaching for one of the pots. Just as you pick it up, the man’s hands come down on yours and hold them still. 

“Woah, hold on, w-what-what are you doing?” 

You stutter, not sure how to answer. 

“Uh…I was just gonna help you carry some of these. You walked here, right? Can’t be that far. Besides, it’s not like anyone else is gonna be coming in with this weather.”

He shakes his head vehemently, pulling the flower away from you. 

“No way, I-I got this-ss-s,” he insists with an admirable amount of confidence. 

You open your mouth to protest, but you’re too impressed by the display that follows to speak. You’re not sure how, but he manages to scoop everything up into his arms. You nearly jump over the counter just in case he falls. He’s like a tower of blocks struggling to keep its balance. 

By some miracle, he manages, and before you know it he’s headed to the door. You go to open it for him, but don’t get the chance. He lifts a boot and hooks it under the horizontal door handle to pull it open. You hold it open for him, but only really to feign helpfulness as he sprints out into the rain. 

“Have a good day!” you call, and he gives a reply you can’t understand through the rain. He quickly disappears into the gloom. 

You step back inside, alone in your shop once more.  

“…Nice guy,” you mutter to yourself. You turn to head back to your counter, but something catches your eye: 

His windbreaker is still hanging on the rack! 

Frantically pulling it from the hook, you rush out into the rain without thinking. You call out to nothing as you run in the direction you think he went, realizing you never got his name. There’s no sound but the rain on the concrete. 

You slow to a stop when it becomes clear your efforts are for naught.  

You look down at the jacket, watching as the rain rolls off of it. Briefly, you debate still running after him, but think better of it. Even if you did find him, he’d probably be weirded out that a stranger chased him down over a windbreaker. 

Well, you can’t stand in the rain forever. You sigh as you turn back around to head back to the shop. 

Surely, he’ll be back…right?

This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors. 

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged. 

If you liked this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.

[mybeingthere]

Florist "Bess" in Paddington, Australia shows once again that flower giving and arranging trends this season are lavish, random and unrestricted. Rich colours, excessive choice of blooms, energetic movement... not what you usually expect from serene ikebana.

You can mix field, orchard and greenhouse plants adding branches with vegetables and fruits, top it up with feathers, ribbons and bead structures and wrap it in a mile of bright paper.

Your bouquet must be larger than life and give an impression of a living sculpture.

[gatutor]

Bess Flowers (Sherman, Texas, 23/11/1898-Los Angeles, California, 28/07/1984).

[popcornforone]

Pure

Day Eight of the Seasons of Life Drabble Challenge

A Pero Tovar Fic

MASTERLIST

We’ve been going over a week, we are now into Spring & the prompt of Blossom. I’ve never written for Pero before, so I’ve tried not to make him as grumpy as he actually is.

Synopsis:- The Cherry Blossom isn’t the only thing catching his eyes

Word count:-290

Warning:- Arranged Marriage

Thanks as always @lady-bess @berryispunk @fanfictionoverload I do have a question though. I have 2 short linked fics for the same day a bit further down the line, can I post them both? It will make sense I promise.

Also thanks for the support & for reading these peoples.

There you stand. Admiring the cherry blossoms. So free. So fresh. So at one with everything. A sheer sight of beauty. A sight you will never forget. You softly smile as you touch some of the blossom, some of it falling into your hand. A light dusting.

“It’s how ive always imagined” you say.

“Only the best for you my beautiful bride” Pero says. He is admiring your innocent beauty. Enjoying the view of the beautiful trees & blossoms but also you, in your white dress, your bare feet & the way you caress the flower. You softly turn around & face him.

“& I will only be the best wife for just my husband.” You are an arranged marriage to Pero but he selected you over four other ladies. You blushed as pink as the blossoms when he kissed you. Felt as light as a petal as he held your hand. & now here you stand. The light touching you, making the scene even more angelical, a beauty he has never seen before.

“& I…” he steps next to you & holds your hand “…promise to be the most loyal & loving husband. I promise to respect you & love you forever”

“Is that a smile?” You tease. Pero is well known for being very moody & grumpy. His moustache twitches & his eyes dance, draw into your glorious beauty.

“Like I said, my wife gets the best.” His head leans into your personal space. His large hand capturing your face, before those red plump lips embrace yours. You will get this smooth sensual kiss every day for the rest of your life with your charming husband, who’s only happy when he is with you, his beautiful bride.

[raynbowclown]

Holy Matrimony

Holy Matrimony – when reclusive artist (Monty Woolley) returns to England to be knighted, his valet (Eric Blore) dies. So he decides to swap identities as a prank. But then … Continue reading Holy Matrimony

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [14] - Dahlias

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Weddings are a celebration of love.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, panic attacks, anxiety.

Word Count: 5700

Series Masterlist

All things considered, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you couldn’t sleep the night before your wedding day.

It wasn’t as if you thought you’d be calm about it, but waking up gasping was not something you thought you could ever get used to. Everyone else except you was excited beyond words, but the only thing you could feel was pure, freezing fear.

But you had to keep it together. You knew you had to.

You needed to convince everyone that you were madly in love after all.

It felt as if you hadn’t stopped clenching your teeth since last night and your whole body was so tense that your muscles were starting to hurt. The skin on your palms was already irritated because of how hard you had been digging your fingernails into it, and that lump in your throat was getting bigger and bigger with each second, making it hard to swallow.

“Oh Benny is going to die when he sees you!” Charlotte’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you stole a look at her while trying to move your head as little as possible so that your maid could finish doing your hair soon. Josie and Bess were ready and Bess looked almost gleeful while Josie was in deep thought after having asked you multiple questions for the whole morning. You could hear your aunt rushing through the hallway every couple of minutes, no doubt panicking about something but so far, your uncle had managed to solve every tiny issue that made her nervous.

“Have you had a chance to talk to him?” you asked Charlotte and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Not today.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes, he was very nervous,” Charlotte said. “I don’t think he sat down the whole time I was there, he was just pacing.”

“Oh that’s understandable,” Bess mused. “I’m sure he’s as excited as you are Y/N.”

“Probably,” you managed to say and Josie tilted her head as if she was trying to hear your thoughts but before she could say anything, your maid retrieved her hands from your hair.

“It’s finished my lady.”

A soft look crossed Josie’s gaze as you stood up and you walked to the full length mirror to see yourself better, your reflection making you pause for a moment.

The creamy white wedding gown looked absolutely beautiful, so beautiful that you could hardly believe it was in fact yours. The soft tulle over the silky skirts was embellished with small leaves scattered along the fabric and the bust was embroidered with tiny budding flowers, starting at the waist and carefully following the cleavage to the short sleeves. The thin crown over your head that held your veil back had the same shade of fresh flowers over it, and the whole outfit was so ethereal that it made you look like a lady from those nature poems, someone who belonged to sunlight and trees and flowers.

“You look so beautiful!” Bess said and Josie offered you a warm smile.

“You really do, Clover.”

“I feel very emotional already,” Charlotte said and you stole look at your maid.

“Thank you Paula,” you said and turned your head when someone knocked on the door in a haste.

“Can I see? Can I?” Teddy’s voice reached inside and you felt a smile pulling at your lips.

“Come in Teddy.”

The door opened and Teddy rushed inside, then his jaw dropped.

“You look so pretty!” he said and you crouched down to hug him.

“Thank you,” you said, fixing the collar of his jacket. “You look like a handsome gentleman, does he not Josie?”

“Oh absolutely,” Josie said and Teddy giggled.

“And you also look very pretty Miss Harlowe!” he said and Charlotte ruffled his hair.

“You’re the sweetest boy, Teddy.”

“Clover?” your uncle’s voice carried into the room before he appeared by the doorframe. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you had seen a glint of tears in his eyes and he let out a breath.

“My dearest, you look absolutely stunning,” he said and pointed back with his thumb. “Your aunt seems to believe they will start the wedding without you if we don’t get to the chapel soon though.”

Your stomach did a painful flip. “Oh?” you asked. “I’m…I’m ready.”

Your uncle looked around the room and took his glasses out of the inner pocket of his waistcoat to clean it with his handkerchief, a habit that signaled he was deep in thought; you could recognize it by now.

“Can we have a moment please?” he asked and Josie nodded while Bess immediately stood up along with Charlotte. Teddy reached up to take Josie’s hand, making her smile wide as you gave the bouquet to Charlotte, and one by one everyone else left the room, leaving you there with your uncle.

“Marriage advice?” you asked, trying to ignore the lump lodging itself into your throat and he chuckled.

“Just making sure,” he said. “Are you certain you want this, Clover?”

No, you wanted to say. No I don’t want this, I am terrified, please, please get me away.

But instead of saying any of that, you willed a smile on your face and nodded. “I am.”

“And you have no second thoughts about this wedding?”

You shook your head this time, clasping your hands together behind you so that he wouldn’t see how hard you were clenching them.

“Not at all,” you managed to say. “I’m in love.”

His eyes searched yours before he held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Very well,” he said. “Then I’d say it’s time to go.”

“…Actually, can I have a second?” you asked after a beat. “I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“Of course, I’ll see you downstairs,” he said and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. As if on cue, a gasp got stuck in your throat and your legs finally gave out, making you fall on your knees. You clutched at your throat, forcing yourself to fix your breathing and closed your eyes for a moment, swallowing thickly.

“Pull it together,” you muttered to yourself, opening your eyes, and pushed yourself off your knees to stand up, then threw your shoulders back and walked out of the room.

                                                  *

The interesting thing about fear was that it basically turned you into a machine.

You were quite familiar with this. After all, back in that hellhole you called home, neither you nor Josie would ever lose yourselves in fear. It was like falling back into an old habit, no matter how much panic was rushing through your veins, you managed to keep your expression still and completely calm. For the whole road until the chapel, you could barely hear anything from the echo of your heartbeat in your ears but eventually you got to the destination and walked up the marble stairs into the church. While you waited for everyone from your family to be seated except your uncle who would be walking you down the aisle, you leaned back to the wall, biting inside your cheek.

“Are you alright?”

Your head shot up and you tried to gulp down the nervousness, pressing your lips together as you nodded, still picking at the flowers in your bouquet. You had decided on the tuberoses, thinking it would be some sort of an inside joke but even that wasn’t enough to distract you.

“Mm hm,” you muttered and your uncle cleared his throat.

“You can say it if you’re nervous Clover,” he said. “I was very nervous on my wedding day.”

You pulled your brows together. “What were you nervous for?”

“Marrying the most beautiful and amazing lady in the ton is bound to put some pressure on a person,” he said with a small smile. “Which is what Mr. Bridgerton and I have in common, I’m sure.”

You nibbled on your lip and took a deep breath.

“Uncle?”

“Yes dear?”

“What if—” you paused for a moment, the words getting stuck in your throat before you willed them out. “You and auntie were lucky. What if my marriage turns out to be nothing like yours? What if it’s more like…”

You trailed off, the mere thought enough to give you goosebumps and you could tell that he understood what you meant even if you didn’t finish your sentence. He shook his head fervently.

“I would never let that happen,” he said. “I promise you that. No one will ever hurt you no matter what position they hold in your life.”

You knew it was supposed to put your heart at ease, but you were beginning to feel nothing could at this point. No matter what your uncle told you, that small whisper in your head refused to go away.

You were walking into a burning house and no one else could see the flames other than you.

“Right,” your voice came out as a whisper before you cleared your throat and nodded fervently. “I know. Thank you.”

Your uncle stole a look inside and turned to you.

“Are you ready?”

You didn’t even notice you were rubbing at your wrist but that slight sting on the bridge of your nose that spread down to your throat was a telltale sign of the tears that were about to follow, and you couldn’t afford to break down here, someone would be able to tell something was wrong.

You could cry when you were by yourself, just not now.

“Yes,” you managed to say and put your arm on his arm. “Let’s go.”

He squeezed at your hand for a moment as if he wanted to assure you and you both stepped in, people turning their heads to look at you immediately. Though he was right there on the steps to the left of the priest, Benedict noticed the movement in the chapel and he turned around, his gaze turning softer the moment it fell on you, staring at you like he was enchanted.

Even through the mind-numbing fear you could still notice just how handsome he looked and a tiny spark of warmth shot through you, but it soon disappeared as the unstoppable wave of fear rushed through your system, turning your insides cold again.

Just a couple of steps left.

You didn’t even have to speak, all you had to say was “I do” and then—

Then a lifelong of misery and torture.

You blinked back the tears as you and your uncle reached the altar and your uncle went to sit beside your aunt while you took your place beside Benedict, Charlotte giving you a bright smile before fixing your veil and rushing back to stand by the steps of the altar as the maid of honor. You could feel Benedict’s gaze on you but you had a feeling you would break down crying if you so much as turned your head, so instead you looked up at the priest who cleared his throat, and started on his speech.

You honestly had no idea about the specifics of the speech or whether he had added anything else, because you could hardly hear anything due to the blood rushing in your ears, making your hearing almost muffled. Your heart felt like it was being squeezed right in your chest, the acid burning your throat but even through that haze of panic, the slight brush of Benedict’s hand over the back of your own hand snapped you out of your thoughts, making you turn your glances at him.

It was almost strange how you two had learned how to communicate with each other without really saying anything out loud in such a short time. He offered you a small smile as if trying to assure you or calm you down, and you swallowed thickly, a tiny, sad smile curling your lips as well before you turned back to the priest.

“…Will you love her, comfort her, honour and keep her—”

Breathe.

You had to keep breathing.

“I will,” Benedict’s voice was stronger than what you assumed yours would be. The priest nodded and turned to you, but your heart was beating so loudly in your ears that you could hardly pick up the first part of his question.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Focus.

“…So as long as you both shall live?”

You swallowed thickly, your sight blurry because of tears and took a deep breath, your answering coming out as a rasp;

“I will.”

A tear escaped from your eye and your hand shot up to quickly wipe at it, but it was the least of your problems.

Everyone except you and Benedict was going to think it was tears of happiness anyway.

                                               *

The wedding breakfast was to be held in the Bridgerton House, and there were a lot of guests for some reason but it shouldn’t have been surprising for you considering how popular Bridgertons were. You hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Benedict which sort of made him the only person you hadn’t talked to, because it seemed that all the guests had many questions for you; how you had come up with the idea of a floral gown, where you would be going for your honeymoon, and whether or not Teddy was looking forward to the little nieces and nephews he would play with.

The panic was still bubbling in your stomach but thankfully Josie had come to drag you away from them.

“Thank you,” you said and she scoffed.

“You’re welcome. We should kick them out at this point, honestly.”

“I don’t think that’d be considered polite, Josie.”

“Maybe not but that’s what they’re asking for.”

You heaved a sigh and looked around. “Where’s Teddy?”

“With Andrew. He keeps saying we need to adopt him and came up with the idea of Teddy staying with us half the year and the other half he can stay with uncle and auntie.”

“Really?”

“He wants to buy him a horse to bribe him,” Josie said. “When I reminded him that Teddy is six, he changed it into a pony.”

You smiled softly. “Teddy would love a pony, but he can’t stay with you half the year.”

“Mm hm, go tell Andrew that—auntie wants to see you by the way. Upstairs, second room.”

“Why?”

“So that you won’t be unprepared for your wedding night.”

You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach but you had to remind yourself to not show it on your expression.

“I already know.”

“I said something similar but she wants to talk to you—”

“Miss Y/N,” Anthony’s voice cut through and made you turn your head. “Lady Walcott.”

“Lord Bridgerton.”

“Have you seen Benedict?”

You looked around. “He’s not here?”

He scoffed. “Apparently not, since I’m here asking you.”

You narrowed your eyes, opening your mouth to retort but Josie beat you to it.

“Well if by ‘asking her’ you mean interrupting a conversation, yes you did,” she said. “We were in the middle of something in case it has escaped your notice.”

Anthony pulled his brows together. “I beg your pardon?”

“My pardon is not granted,” Josie said. “We haven’t seen him and for future reference, you should be careful not to appear impolite with my sister. This is my first and last warning, there will not be another.”

Anthony gawked at her and Josie rolled her eyes as she turned to you.

“Honestly Clover, can’t say I approve but as long as Benedict makes you happy…” she trailed off. “I’ll go and find Bess, go to auntie.”

With that, she walked away from both of you and you repressed a smile at the look of complete shock on Anthony’s face.

“You threw that viper insult around way too early, I bet I look like a nice person now,” you pointed out and Anthony frowned.

“Benedict told you.”

“I honestly don’t care what you think of me,” you shrugged your shoulders. “You don’t like me, I don’t like you either, not a huge surprise. I haven’t seen Benedict but Charlotte is nowhere to be found either so I’m guessing they’re together somewhere.”

Anthony blinked a couple of times. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Are you?” you asked back and Anthony’s eyes snapped to yours, a look of surprise etched over his features but it was gone immediately. You scoffed.

“I really don’t like conversing with you so I’m going to find my aunt now,” you stated. “But Josie has a point; don’t interrupt me again or demand answers in that manner.”

You walked away from him, leaving him there completely dumbfounded as you climbed the stairs and looked around, then approached the second door and knocked it.

“Auntie?”

“Come in dear!” she called out and you opened the door, then stepped inside. She was by the window, watching the people in the garden and you leaned back to the door.

“Josie mentioned…” you started, your throat dry all of a sudden. “But that’s not really—um—”

“Let’s sit down first,” she said gently and went to sit by the bed. You shifted your weight, then pushed yourself off the door to sit next to her.

“I’m not sure what your mother told you about marriage.”

You shook your head fervently. “She wasn’t really a mother to me,” you said. “Or Josie for that matter. But she…um, inadvertently taught me some things about how marriage works.”

Her eyes found yours and she gave you an understanding smile.

“Yours will be nothing like your parents’ marriage my dearest.”

But we don’t know that, you wanted to say. We just don’t know that.

“Benedict is a good man, and you always have me and your uncle,” she assured you, reaching out to hold your hand and you squeezed it, trying to smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’m very certain you will have an incredibly happy marriage,” she said and cleared her throat. “And most of the time, that begins with the wedding night.”

The fear churned your stomach but you took a deep breath.

“You don’t really have to explain what happens on the wedding night,” you said. “I already know.”

She raised her brows. “Do you?”

“Oh no I haven’t—” you shook your head again. “Not personally but…Countryside is not like here and Josie had a couple of close friends and some of them were married. They described it quite well.”

“And what did they say?”

“A lot of things,” you said, turning the wedding band around your finger while you bit inside your cheek. “It’s um—it’s a rather unpleasant aspect of marriage, as if there are any pleasant ones.”

“Clover that’s not true,” she said hastily. “I’m sorry for those poor girls, but I can assure you it is not unpleasant at all.”

You scoffed a laugh and shot her a look, and she tilted her head.

“You and Benedict are in love,” she said and you bit at your tongue, dropping your glances into your lap as you nodded.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “We are.”

“So why is it so hard to believe your husband who’s very much in love with you will make it pleasant for you?”

Your husband.

Right. Benedict was your husband now, and you were—

You were married. This had actually happened.

You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat and took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” you managed to say and stood up, desperate to get out of the room. “I should probably find my uh—Benedict, I should find Benedict because I haven’t seen him and people were looking for him and—” you motioned with your hands. “Yeah. Thank you so much auntie.”

You pulled the door open and stepped out, then made your way downstairs so that you could pass the foyer and go outside for some fresh air but before you could reach the front door, you heard someone saying your name and turned your head.

“Andrew,” you said. “Hello.”

Andrew tilted his head, his eyes searching your face. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You look…”

Your heart was beating in ears so loud that for a second you thought he could surely hear it, but you dug your nails into your palm and nodded as the room started spinning around you.

“Yeah,” you said through your teeth. “Uh huh, I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

That familiar heat started climbing up from the nape of your neck to your whole head, the pounding in your temples starting to get worse as you felt pins and needles on the back of your head. You raised your hand to rub at your eyes but it was trembling so bad that Andrew instantly took a step towards you.

“Let’s get you sit down and I’ll get Jo, how about that?”

“I um…” you blinked a couple of times and reached out to rest your hand against the wall as your vision started getting blurry from the edges. “No need for that, I’m absolutely fi—”

And as if someone blew a candle, everything went black.

                                       *

The first thing you noticed when you came to your senses was just how badly your head was hurting and how the multiple voices speaking in the room was not making it any better.

“I can assure you Mr. Bridgerton, there’s nothing to worry about—”

“She has passed out, I’d say there’s plenty to worry about!”

“Benny, maybe we should listen to the doctor.”

“Apparently we shouldn’t!”

“You’re certain she’s fine?”

“Quite certain, Lord Thorne.”

“I’ll just send for another doctor—”

“Or maybe listen to this one first?”

“No no, I agree with Benedict. We should send for another doctor.”

“Lady Walcott, it is possible that today has been quite overwhelming for your sister.”

“Doctor, I’m about to overwhelm someone in this room if my sister doesn’t wake up in the next—”

You let out a groan and forced yourself to open your eyes even if it felt like they weighed a ton. The voices ceased immediately and Benedict stopped pacing in the room to rush to your side.

“Y/N?”

“I’m fine,” you managed to mutter but it came out so drowsy that it apparently did nothing to assure anyone in the room. Josie sat by your other side while your aunt let out a relieved breath that sounded like a sob, and your uncle wrapped his arm around her as if trying to reassure her. “If everyone could just stop talking, it would be much better though.”

Charlotte offered you a small smile and Anthony stole a look at her before turning to you and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was worried.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” You nodded at Andrew. “And sorry about that.”

Andrew waved a hand in the air. “You almost gave me a heart attack but since the doctor is here it’s fine. We’ll just keep him close.”

“Have you eaten anything today Y/N?” Lady Bridgerton asked and you frowned.

“I…didn’t get the chance.”

“Oh thank God, that explains it,” Daphne said as she exhaled, “I’ll tell the maids to bring you something to eat.”

“Tell them to bring juice as well, Daphne.” Lady Bridgerton said and Daphne nodded, and left the room in a rush. The doctor cleared his throat.

“If we could clear out the room please?”

Josie looked like she wanted to argue but you shot her a look, silently telling her to drop it. She heaved a sigh as your aunt came to kiss the top of your head then left with your uncle after he squeezed your shoulder in an assuring manner.

“Fine…” Josie murmured and walked out of the room with Andrew and Charlotte pressed her lips together.

“I’ll find Teddy and tell him you’re alright, he’s with Bess,” she said and left the room with Anthony quickly following her. Lady Bridgerton offered you a small smile.

“We’re right outside,” she said and closed the door behind her, leaving you with Benedict and the doctor. You glanced at Benedict before looking at the doctor and pushed yourself to sit up in the bed, Benedict making a move to help you but you shook your head.

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just…”

“Excitement?” the doctor offered and you snapped your fingers.

“Yeah, that. Wedding and all.”

“Well you will be happy to hear you’re absolutely not the first bride to faint on their wedding day, Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said and the new name was so foreign to you -and apparently to Benedict as well- that you both stole a look at each other before you remembered to turn to the doctor. “Excitement and lack of food is not a good combination.”

“But you’re alright?” Benedict asked, as if trying to convince himself and you nodded.

“You heard him. Apparently it’s quite fashionable.”

The doctor put a small vial on the bedstand. “Lavender for the nerves,” he said and you reached out to take the vial into your hand to look at it.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Make sure not to leave the bed until you ate and drank something,” he said and glanced at Benedict. “And I would avoid any strenuous activity at least until tomorrow.”

You could feel your face burning at the implication and the tips of Benedict’s ears went slightly pink as he raised his brows, then nodded.

“Y-yeah, of course.”

Everyone in the room knew what he was actually talking about and you felt like slipping deeper into the covers but you dragged your fingernail on the silky covers, following the patterns. The doctor grabbed his bag and bowed.

“Do send for me if this happens again,” he said. “Congratulations for the wedding.”

He walked out of the room, making you frown for a second before the realization hit you; you were married now, of course you could stay alone without a chaperone.

You put the vial back in the nightstand and Benedict let out a breath.

“Jesus Christ.”

You heaved a sigh, rubbing at your wrist absentmindedly. “That was subtle.”

“As subtle as a brick through the window,” Benedict murmured and his blue eyes flitted over your face, worried. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head, the familiar panic twisting at your stomach. This was the first time you two were alone as a married couple and even if you knew nothing would happen -this was his family’s house after all- it still did nothing to extinguish the fire of complete fear burning at your throat.

Somehow, a small part of you was trying to convince you the fear was nonsense though. It was Benedict, and he had promised—

Right. Promised.

Dear God, you were a goddamn idiot if you were just going to take his word for it, especially now that he was your husband and was allowed to do whatever he wanted.

“No,” you heard the word leaving your lips as all your muscles tensed up again. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t even notice your eyes flickering at the door before snapping back to his face but he caught it. A look of realization dawned on his face and he pulled back slightly, clearing his throat.

“Something has changed, has it not?”

Your answer came way too fast. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” he insisted. “I’ve never seen you as terrified as you were back at the altar and you’ve never looked at me like this before, ever.”

Your jaw clenched. “Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

You were beginning to think that Benedict being this observant would never stop surprising you. Even after all these weeks, you were still not used to him noticing the tiniest things about you, things almost everyone around you would not even think twice about.

You were a good liar yes, but Benedict was a much better observer.

It did not mean you wouldn’t try though.

“I’m just tired,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “You heard the doctor. Excitement and everything.”

A sad smile pulled at his lips before he scoffed a bitter laugh, and at the worst time possible you noticed for the millionth time just how handsome he was.

“Right,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your rest then.”

For some reason that sent a pang of pain through your chest but you pursed your lips and nodded, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m guessing you won’t tell me but please at least tell someone if you need anything,” Benedict said and walked out of the room, leaving you there. That pang in your chest, right in your heart seemed to heighten and you gritted your teeth, then slipped deeper into the covers with a sigh.

                                                *

Lady Bridgerton and your family refused to let you out of their sight the whole day but when the night fell you knew you and Benedict were supposed to go to your new home. Even though you felt short of breath even thinking about it, you could only delay it for so long, so eventually you and he got on the carriage and departed from Bridgerton home after saying goodbye to your family.

Teddy had looked like he was on the verge of tears but both you and Josie had assured him that you would see him tomorrow. Though it broke your heart to leave him alone like that, you were so glad he had Josie to console him along with your aunt and uncle until tomorrow. Thankfully you had met the staff earlier in the week so there wasn’t going to be any introductions tonight. Neither you nor Benedict had talked for the whole road and normally you wouldn’t be bothered by the silence but now—

It just felt uncomfortable.

Benedict helped you out of the carriage when it stopped in front of the house and you saw the staff by the stairs. You smiled at them and after a short greeting both you and Benedict climbed up the stairs to get inside.

It still felt surreal that you were going to live here as the lady of the house but even that wasn’t enough to get rid of the tension all over your body.

The wedding night.

It was fine. It was going to be fine; you could handle it, of course you could. Josie’s friends had told you it didn’t take that long to be over so you were going to be fine.

At least you weren’t one of those clueless poor idiots in the ton. You knew very well what would happen, and no matter how unpleasant it was to be, after it was over you were just going to go back to your room and…

Nothing some sleep couldn’t fix, you were guessing. And considering how every married couple in the ton was doing it, it couldn’t be that difficult, just a chore if anything.

You could swear you were feeling lightheaded again from the panic but you dug your fingernails into your palms and took a deep breath, then carefully gathered your skirts so that you wouldn’t trip on them on your way upstairs.

Benedict only turned to you when you both reached the hallway your rooms were in and you cleared your throat.

“So how do we—” you mentioned between you. “Where do I go?”

Benedict tilted his head. “You said you wanted your own room.”

“I clearly want my own room,” you said quickly, your heart beating in your ears. “I do, I just…do I go to your room or do you come to mine? I’m not very familiar with—with the arrangement.”

An almost amused smile curled his lips and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I told you before, that will not take place if you do not want it to,” he said. “Do you?”

You could feel your whole face burning, that familiar flame of desire shooting through you but it was soon smothered by the cold fear tightening your throat. You swallowed thickly, looking up at him and his blue eyes turned soft before he took a deep breath.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” he said, making you frown.

“…What?”

“Good night Y/N,” he said as he walked to his room, leaving you were completely dumbfounded. He closed the door behind him and you blinked a couple of times, still trying to wrap your mind about what had happened just now.

You slowly made your way to your own room and closed the door behind you, locking it before turning to glance around the room. The door on the other side of the room connecting it to Benedict’s room caught your attention immediately and you licked your lips, fidgeting in your spot for a moment before you approached it, leaning your ear to the wood so that you could hear what was happening. There was the sound of shuffling which made you think perhaps he was getting undressed for bed and even the thought was more than enough to make the fire over your face worse, so you immediately pulled back and locked this door as well, grimacing at the sound the key made in the lock. The movement in the other room stopped for a moment and you nibbled on your lip, then took a deep breath.

“Good night,” you said not even knowing whether he heard you or not, then stepped back from the door in a haste.

He had stayed true to his word. Contrary to what you thought, he had made no move to consummate your marriage, not even a kiss—

Even if you didn’t really mind the idea of a kiss from him, not at all. The memory of his lips on yours sent that familiar warmth through you, desire hitting you out of nowhere and you shook your head, trying to pull your thoughts together.

You walked to the full-length mirror, then started unlacing your dress with nimble fingers and took it off, your corset following soon. Letting out a breath, you walked to the bed and flung yourself on it, pressing your palms into your eyes before you let your arms drop to your sides.

Very well then.

This was not the first time Benedict Bridgerton surprised you, and you had a feeling it would not be the last either.

Chapter 15

[quill-pen]

So I saw this gif while looking for gifs yesterday and just had to post and talk about it... AND BESS AND EBENEZER, OF COURSE.

IT'S HEADCANNON TIME, PEEPS!🤘

Idk what this gif is from, but I'm guessing the flower is in place of a wedding ring? And it just got me thinking: Ebenezer never gets Bess an engagement ring.

For various reasons their engagement is impromptu and rushed and lasts two months at most (maybe not even that long). And in that time everything is about the wedding planning and Ebenezer fighting to try and make sure at least some of the preparations are what Bess wants. (At this point, Bess is just so done and strung-out from dealing with her mother's family, she really has no bite left.) So it goes without say, an official engagement ring is the last thing on Eb's or Bess' mind, especially when there's already a wedding ring itself to be designed, never mind the dress! (Because, damn it all, if Bess can't get her perfect wedding day with her dream man (because he has no idea that man is actually him yet), she's at least going to get her perfect ring and her dream dress as long as Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge has any say in the matter!)

Now, Ebenezer is a proper gentleman, and he likes and understands the importance of tradition. So, much later on, after the wedding and after true feelings come to light, Eb probably asks Bess if she ever felt put out over not really having an engagement period and if she'd like to have an engagement ring despite already married. Bess of course assures him that, no, she wasn't upset about it (other things, sure, but not that) and, no, she doesn't need one. What would she do with it since she already has the wedding ring? Keep it in the box on her vanity to look at? (😉"Wolf, I only partially married you for your money, remember?" Oh, she's a cheeky lass, this one.) So no engagement ring is ever purchased.

BUT I can so see Ebenezer doing this: weaving rings out of little flowers he finds wherever he/they go and giving them to her. Walking down the street and there's a frail little flower poking up through the cobbles? It's going to die there, and should be granted one final blessing of residing on Bess's finger before it withers away. They're out on a picnic or a walk in the park or the countryside and there are wildflowers all around them? Eb will spend an unreasonable amount of time deciding what kind is prettiest and would look best on his wife's hand. Sometimes, he'll manage to weave more than one together so it's almost like a little mini-flower-crown sitting on Bess's ring finger.

For a while, the man gave her a flower ring every day--sometimes several throughout the day. Their gardener more or less put a stop to that, as Ebenezer was kind of wrecking havoc on the back garden and flowerbeds and pots around the house. Now he'll only take from there on occasion (typically whenever the first flower of each type blooms). The gardener still isn't thrilled about this but he also knows it's a bit of a losing battle. Besides, Eb pays well; he'd be an idiot to cross such a fine employer, particularly over something connected with said employer's wife.

Ironically enough, Ebenezer has never given Bess a ring made from her favorite flower: bluebells. He knows she wouldn't like watching them wilt and die away on her hand. She'd much rather enjoy them as they're meant to be: attached to the soil, living and growing and wilting and blossoming again after a long slumber--thriving through their natural cycle as they're meant to. So no bluebell flower rings or bouquets for Dearest and Best Wifey. Potted versions or seeds for the gardener to plant though? Absolutely!👍🏻

Honestly though, as adorable and sweet as the idea of Ebenezer taking the time to meticulously weave a flower ring (and sometimes even more carefully choose the flowers to do it with) is, my absolute favorite part of the headcannon? HE PROPOSES TO HER ALL OVER AGAIN EVERY TIME. DOWN ON ONE KNEE AND EVERYTHING. And he always makes a little speech about how much he loves her and wants to spend the rest of his life with her and how happy and loved she makes him feel and how even more happy and blessed he would be if he could continue being her husband and how he will always strive to make her feel as happy and loved as he does and to be the best possible man he's capable of being for her. A little excessive, perhaps, but, to be fair, there wasn't much of a proposal the first time around. (How did it go then? Wouldn't you like to know?😏 A writer must have some secrets, folks!🤫).

And of course Bess gets all flustered and giggly and tongue-tied, because how could she not? She has the absolute sweetest, handsomest, most loving, and most charming hubby ever! So she usually has to just nod her answer, but of course she accepts every time! And then she'll stroll around happily bearing her sweet smelling "re-engagement ring" for as long as it lasts. No, Bess doesn't feel like she missed out on the engagement stage at all, and she certainly doesn't care about never having a ring to mark it. (Engagement rings don't mean much in her experience anyway--they're just a pretty "maybe later" with no real commitment to back them up.) Besides, she's walking into all the engagement parties and weddings they're invited to on the arm of the world's most wonderful man, her perfect wedding ring on her finger, and a freshly woven, little flower ring nestled right beside it. (Because you best believe hopeless-romantic Eb was going to remind her how he wants to remain hers forever as they're going to help another couple celebrate their choice to make the same commitment.) How could she possibly fuss over what she didn't have? Look at everything she does have!

(Ebenezer better be careful, more than a few bride-to-bes and other ladies have absolutely fawned over Bess's cute little flower rings and become enamored with the idea of having ones themselves. I don't think flower ring weaving is a skill too many men possess: Eb will either have to face the wrath of annoyed suitors and husbands or else start up a flower ring side business. Bob could definitely help him--he's got massive flower ring weaving energy.)