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Benedict's POV {The night he broke her heart}
He had done it. He watched her with pain and guilt as she walked out of Mister Granville's home. That night would be one that he could never forget and it will haunt him 'til his death. After that he pushed the two women off of him and stormed out of the house as well.
The next thing Benedict could remember was his younger brother staring at him with disbelief. He found him in a terrible state, lying on the hard ground outside of a bar, singing off key.
"Is that how the tune goes?" Colin interrupted Benedict singing.
He looked up and frowned. "It's a bloody love song, I think." He slowly tried to sit up.
"Happy to hear you're embracing the genre." Colin replied sarcastically.
"Where is my drink?" Benedict asked himself while looking around him.
"Did they kick you out?" Colin asked only for him to know the answer a few moments later. "My god, they kicked you out!" He quickly helped his brother to stand up. "I don't think getting wasted is the proper way to handle this situation. Look, I know you still care for her."
"Feelings are irrelevant. Indeed, they're responsible for this mess. I let them get the better of me. Now, I have to watch her get married to that bloody Hawthorn who she doesn't even love!" Benedict snapped. "You think someone wrote a song about that?" He limped closer to the bar. "Hey, tell him to play the one about the trapped wife!"
Colin hastily grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the pub. "All right, brother. Time to get you out of here."
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 {Daphne's wedding day}
The weather was perfect for a wedding reception pleasantly warm with a gentle breeze and a clear, blue sky. Despite the beautiful surroundings, Benedict was unable to find any joy in the festivities. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Elena, how beautiful she looked, how much he longed to be with her. His fingers fidgeted with a cigarette, but he couldn't bring himself to light it, the task felt pointless.
Daphne walked into the garden, the sound of her heels muffled by the soft grass beneath her feet. As she rounded the corner, her eyes fell upon her brother, sitting alone on a swing, his head hanging low and his shoulders slumped. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say, before approaching him and silently taking a seat on the swing next to him.
Benedict was hiding his face with his hands but Daphne could notice his tears.
"I've noticed it as well." Daphne spoke up. "The looks you've shared, the short yet gentle touches you've had. You both are truly in love with each other." She smiled happily. "Now what has happened between the two of you?"
"Reality happened." Benedict gave her a sad smile. "We both knew from the start the risk we were taking and things didn't go the way we wanted. It was never meant to be, sister."
"Well why don't you just go talk to her? I am sure you can work this out." The girl said with an upbeat attitude.
Benedict chuckled and shook his head, confusing his sister. "You do not understand, Daph. She hates me and has every right reason to. She will not even look me in the eye."
As Daphne sat there in silence, Benedict watched her expression, waiting for her to say something, anything. But she sat there, dumbfounded. He couldn't blame her.
"The engagement was called off." She spoke up. "If you both need time, take it. And if you really love her... don't let her go." She warmly smiled at him before she stood up and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I will write to you every week and I do hope and everything goes well."
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 {The ballet}
Benedict stood in the lobby, swirling a glass of champagne in his hand as he surveyed the people around him. His gaze flicked across the room, taking in the finely dressed guests and their extravagant jewelry. From afar, he spotted Mister Granville talking to other guests.
"Sir Granville." Benedict greeted as he walked up to him.
"Bridgerton." He simply replied.
They excused themselves from the other guests and went to talk in the corner. "I would simply like to understand your... situation. I would just like to understand." Benedict spoke up.
"It is simple." Mister Granville sighed. "I am in love with Lord Weatherby."
"You're married."
"And our marriage affords my wife her freedoms and protections." He said. "It is a happier union than most of the people in this room have, I assure you." The two men glanced at the married couples in the room.
"And what is the advantage for the young ladies Lord Wetherby is courting? Do they also share this understanding?" Benedict asked the man, making him chuckle. "What about honour? Romance?"
"What would you know of either?" The painter firmly asked. "We live under constant threat of danger. I risk my live every day for love. You have no idea what it is like to be in a room with someone you cannot live without... and yet feel as though you are oceans apart."
Benedict looked down in silence for a second, before standing up for himself. "That's where you're wrong, Mr. Granville. I know how it feels, to steal glances, to disguise touches, having to ensure no one else is watching to smile at each other. I lost my chance at love, I simply don't want for you to lose it as well."
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 {A few weeks later}
What Daphne said to Benedict really stuck with him, but he wasn't doing so well. Despite the best efforts of his family, Benedict was not improving. He managed to get out of bed each morning and attend breakfast with his family, but that was the extent of his activity. He spent the rest of his time locked away in the smoking room, drowning his sorrows in alcohol and attempting to sketch, but failing miserably. The sketches he produced were rough and lifeless, a pale reflection of the artist that he once was.
Benedict received his sister's letters every day, each one filled with concern and support for his wellbeing. He appreciated her efforts, and her care, but he just didn't know how to respond. He didn't know how to put into words the emptiness he felt inside, the pain that coursed through his veins. So he simply left her letters unanswered, unable to find the words to tell her how much he was suffering.
Benedict's heart ached with longing, his thoughts consumed by the love he craved for. He yearned to run to Elena, to hold her close and whisper words of love in her ear. He wanted to feel her in his arms, to know that she was there, by his side. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her, to marry her, to grow old with her. But he knew it wasn't a possibility.
Even though she's not betrothed to Lord Hawthorn anymore, he feared her mother would still send her away to the countryside if he ever told her.
