𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 | benedict bridgerton

►la robe comme le clair de lune

A few days after the dress searching, Marie got up early to paint, sipping weak green tea imported from India. She grit her teeth, frustrated with how her painting looked before Bea stumbled in, coughing and sniffling. "Are you ill my dear?" Marie asked, setting her paintbrush down on her glass palette. "Oh no, the chilli's the chefs are using are scratching my throat. They're making appetisers for you to take to the ball, as a gift to the Featherington family who are hosting the ball tonight," Bea explained, coughing into the crook of her elbow. "Ah, well I applaud them for their intelligent thinking," Marie smiled calmly, "Why don't we get ready?" 

Marie hummed a tune whilst Bea sizzled her hair with hot prongs, hoping to create bouncy curls. They fell gently against her back as she stepped out of the copper tub, wrapping herself in a fine towel and leading herself to the vanity. Bea tapped some stain onto Marie's lips, leaving a touch of red upon them. The same stain was applied to her cheeks to give a rouge complexion. "Now, time to get dressed, Madam Delacroix has delivered your dress". 

►►►

"Princess, how lovely it is to see you," Mrs Featherington curtseyed, making Marie bow her head in gratitude. "And to you, thank you for having me," Marie smiled, making her way inside. The marble floor echoed her steps as she made her way inside. "Next to join the ball is Miss Isla Addington escorted by Mr Edward Addington," A man called, letting applause rain down on the pair as they made their way down the ballroom stairs, ignoring everyone's stares. "And now, Miss Daphne Bridgerton escorted by Lord Simon Basset," Her called, letting everyone 'ooh' and 'ahh' before continuing. "Next to join us we have Princess Marie Howard," He said, pulling the lavender curtain again as Marie stepped through. Instead of applause, the girl was met with silence as the warm sunset light cascaded on her, making her jewellery and dress sparkle even more. People began clapping, mesmerised by the beautiful girl. Marie looked down, shy in the sudden moment, walking slowly down the marble stairs.

►Marie's dress 

► Marie's hair

Marie sucked in a breath as she walked around the ballroom, aware of the stares she faced. "You look..." Colin trailed off, putting his hand on her back as they walked to the drinks table. "Stunning," He smiled, turning to face her as he picked up two elegant glasses and delicate chicken appetisers. The two young adults sipped on their wine, muttering to themselves before Mrs Featherington spoke up to the crowd. "Shall we begin with a dance?" She smiled, her teeth yellowed by the coloured fabric she'd disastrously chosen to wear. "May I?" Colin asked, signing Marie's dance card, swooshing her to the floor. The two danced, making polite conversation whilst they twirled and danced, a smile planted on both of their faces. "So, my brother?" Colin asked, grinning like a child as he noticed Marie's blushed face. "Ahh, I see. He is quite smitten with you, although he dares to deny it. He's such a stubborn arrogant boy, he cannot see what is right in front of him," Colin muttered on. "And what is that?" Marie asked, her voice quite like she was saving her breath. "That he loves you," Colin said casually, making Marie feel hot and flushed. "I feel as though I need air," Marie told him, edging away as the dance closed. She managed a short, rushed curtsey before running to a spare room, finding a bucket left by maids and coughing as bile rose in her throat. "Please God no. He cannot," She coughed, the pungent smell of vomit filling her nostrils. She gagged, continuing to splutter every time she attempted to move away from the steel can. 

She turned back to the bucket after attempting to stand, retching some more. A warm calloused hand rubbed her back, moving in calming motions. "It's alright, relax. The appetisers weren't cooked through, I'm here," Benedict spoke soothingly, making Marie sigh. When she had finished, Benedict brought out a sprig of mint leaves he so 'carries around' which made her smell better. "Thank you," She said calmly, giving him an awkward smile. "You look beautiful, mesmerising," He told her, his hands gesturing to her beautiful dress. "Designed it myself," She said sneakily, grinning as surprise settled on his face. "Well, I think you have a good career if Princesssing doesn't work out," He smiled, crow's feet creasing around his eyes - accentuating his emotions. "I don't really think it has worked out very well for me, as you know," Marie offered a sad smile. 

Benedict directed her to the gallery of the Featherington's, an elongated room with a curved wooden roof, covered in golden embellishments. It was cheap, Marie could tell from the rusting off the gold, but appeared expensive. "Not as fine as the ones in Sommerset House, but these paintings are good," Marie told Benedict, smiling. "Hmm, there are a few at the art club I go to that could top any at Sommerset House," He smiled, watching Marie look down and beam. "Oh really?" She asked sarcastically. "Mhmm, they're of the finest quality, something only a skilled hand like myself could create," He told her, "My work is just magnificent," His sarcasm reeked, making Marie stifle a laugh and bring her gloves to her face. "Oh of course, Mr Bridgerton," She put on a posher, more English accent. "I'm sure your pieces are just divine," She laughed. "Mm, I like painting the best views," He winked, reminding her of the subject format he painted. She rolled her eyes, fiddling with the folds in her dress mindlessly. "Well this is quite a pretty view isn't it," She stared a field of poppies, a woman running in the wind with a burnt umber sunset just below the horizon. "Gorgeous view," Benedict mumbled, staring at her intently as he listened to her voice ramble on about the medium and brush techniques the artist used.