his sapphire • anthony bridgerton

thirty-five • apiphobia

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"he'd always suspected that he might be doomed to follow in his fathers footsteps."
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Grosvenor Square, June 1814

Nola knew that Anthony was almost a fearless man. Nothing could strike him down... except for a small bee apparently?

Nola was shocked to make this revelation. It was the day he had been walking outside in the garden with Alverie, showing her all the flowers as they began to bloom.

He had become terrified at the small creature coming anywhere near his daughters face, and could not help but cry about it once he got upstairs with Nola that evening.

Nola did not understand the means of panic- sure, their child had not been stung, and they did not know of any complications, but it wasn't so large of a deal that Anthony had to cry.

"He'd been stung before, too." He interrupted her thought process, resting his head on her chest.

Something about his tone sent a shiver down the girls spine, as she ran her fingers through the mans hair. "Who?" She whispered.

"My father," he said flatly, moving his neck to catch her gaze, "and it killed him."

She swear she stopped breathing for a moment. She couldn't believe it. "A bee?"

"Yes, a bee," he snapped. "Haven't you been listening?"

Her eyes widened in shock at his outburst, "Anthony, a little bee can not kill a man."

His eyes were hard, haunted. "I assure you that it can," he bit off, standing from the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"The gentleman's club..." he responded, grabbing his shirt from the chair, and beginning to button it up. "Do not wait up for me."

"Anthony, it is late..." Nola tried to reason, sitting up on her knees, reaching for him, "please. I'm sorry, I was being insensitive."

"I need a drink."

And with that he had exited their bedroom. Nola let out a groan of frustration as she dropped back down on the mattress.

Nola was struggling to sleep throughout the night, scared for Anthony to return home- surely drunk.

The sound of her daughters light whimpers brought her to her feet, trudging to the little girls room across the hall. "Hello, my sweet." Nola greeted, picking up the child. "Couldn't sleep either?"

She walked to the rocking chair, finally taking note that the child rarely cried. It seemed like everyone just knew what she needed, and when she needed it. "Are you hungry?" Nola asked, pulling her strap down, seeing if the child would latch on- and she did.

She had always preferred to breast feed in private, not even Anthony present. When she first began nursing, it had been quite a difficult task, resulting in tears of frustration from Nola- feeling like she failed her child, but Alverie had finally accepted her.

Nola never knew what the bond would be like between her and her baby, but A was like her bestest friend- who simply couldn't talk yet.

Since giving birth- of course Nola received love from her husband, but she simply felt replaced. Glad if it had to be anyone, it was someone who happened to be a product of the pair- it still hurt.

Most of the day, she would wake up alone. Her child gone from her bassinet, and her husbands side of the bed not only empty, but cold.

She felt like she was missing out on moments with them, having to catch up within the gardens. If anything, it helped ease her pain by recognizing her daughter would never grow up as she had- doubting the love from a father she hardly knew.

Nola knew what it was like to be forgotten, and it scared her when she recognized early signs of the past repeating itself. Her husband even began bringing the child in with him to his office, which Nola hardly felt welcome in anymore.

She did not want to distract him from his duties, which is all she seemed to be doing recently.

Their love was confined to their bed, and sometimes, their lovely garden out back.

Once Alverie had decided she was finished eating, Nola quickly burped the child, before allowing her to, once again, ease into peaceful slumber.

Knowing she was going to have difficulty going to bed, she ignored the idea completely, wandering through the halls of the house, until just deciding to stay without Daphne's old room, and became curious as to if she should just permanently move into this bedroom.

Of course, she loved Anthony, but she was starting to feel like a guest in her own home, and a stranger to her own husband.

It was so easy to state all the positive, beautiful things she had noticed, but the darkness of the bad had started to greatly overpower her thoughts.

She collapsed onto the white comforter, remembering the night Violet had followed her in here- oh, how she wished Violet had been here for her now.

She felt more at ease within the confinement of her dearest friends only bedroom. The scent of Daphne still lingered on the sheets, and she could help but slowly begin to doze off into the rest she had been aching for.