To Paint With Shadows | Benedict Bridgerton

Beyond Repair

The first thing Sophie was to do, upon mornings arrival, was to locate the eldest Bridgerton, so that she may thank him. She knew exactly of his whereabouts, but she lingered with every step: the fear of his knowing, causing her to wonder how he may greet her. Taking a deep breath, she lightly knocked at the door.
'Come in.' A faint voice responded.
She took note of its instruction, slowly turning the knob of the door, before stepping inside.
'Miss Taylor.' Anthony greeted, but his voice had a tone of resolution, as if he had not expected it to be her behind the door.
'I'm sorry for disturbing you, Lord Bridgerton.' Her voice soft, as she toyed with her fingers behind her back.
'There is no need to apologise, I greatly appreciate a distraction from the estate's finances.' He joked, placing his quill down on the desk.
Sophie smiled, but was hesitant to look him in the eye. 'I wanted to thank you.' She continued.
Anthony's eyebrows raised subtly in recognition, but a guilt caused his eyes to drop.
'My employment here means so much to me, and I...' Sophie stopped; words spun her head. She winced as she considered what she was about the say, 'I do not condone what occurred, but it would be dishonest to call it a mistake.'
Anthony's gaze focused on her like a hawk, an element of surprise to his look; her words had not angered him, but rather he admired them.
'At first, maybe.' She continued, feeling the need to explain her actions, 'But after that, I am not enough of a fool, to allow myself to believe that I did not know what I was doing.' She took a breath, 'Given that. I know it not my place,' she interjected herself, 'but please do not punish your brother for it. I am just as guilty as him, if not more: I knew what I was jeopardising, yet I continued anyway.' She argued.
Anthony sighed, nodding his head: thinking for a moment.
Sophie simply stood there, unsure of what to do.
'I take it you received the letter from the solicitor?' Anthony changed the subject, throwing Sophie for a loop.
It took Sophie a moment to respond, the curve in subject matter had been so quick. 'Yes, thank you.' She stuttered.
'I am sorry I did not inform you the moment I knew, I just wanted it to be a certainty, as to whether you would see that money or not.' He added quickly.
'I understand, My Lord, I greatly appreciated your concern.' Sophie reassured him.
He nodded in understanding once again. 'If that is all?' He asked, a wary look upon his face.
'Indeed, My Lord.' Sophie stated, beginning to make her exit.
She heard a deep sigh echo from behind her. 'Sophie.' Anthony's voice was firm, yet hesitant.
Sophie's head whipped around to face him; Benedict was the only family member who had referred to her by her given name.
Anthony took a while to speak again: Sophie could tell he was unsure of whether he wanted to say what he was thinking, simply by the way his fingers caressed the feather of his quill.
'Did you... do you... love him?' He asked, so quietly Sophie almost did not hear it.
That question summoned a thousand thought, but not a single one made it past the barrier of her lips: her tongue numbing.
'I do not know.' Was the only answer she could give him.
Anthony ran a hand over his face, 'I see.' He mumbled.
Sophie bit at her finger, nodding slightly, before taking the opportunity to leave.
When Anthony was sure that Sophie was no longer in earshot, he buried his face in his hands. 'What have I done?' He muttered to himself, a strain of frustration to his voice.

As the evening approached, Colin could not help but wonder about the whereabouts of his elder brother. He prepared his fist to rasp at the door, but there was no need: the door had been left wide open. Tiptoeing into the room, he located his brother, sprawled out on his bed, eyes to the ceiling.
'Brother.' Colin said, announcing his presence.
'Leave me be, Colin.' He grumbled, 'They are not to be here for another five hours.' His eyes remaining shut as he haphazardly swirled his flask.
'No, Brother.' He snapped, snatching the flask from his grip, 'They are to be here any minute. Have you been up here all day?' He asked, his eyes widening at the sight of his unkempt hair.
'It does seem that way. Not that anybody would notice.' He slurred, searching for his flask.
Colin scoffed, shaking his head: 'Dear God, Brother, how long are you to wallow? It is exhausting.' Colin scolded.
'Tell me about it.' Benedict stated in agreement, his eyebrows shooting upwards as he now sat up, to look his brother in the eyes.
'Mother is worried sick about you, Eloise finds herself alone at every gathering, and even Hyacinth and Gregory are frightened to disturb you, unsure of the reaction they may entice.' Colin lectured, every string of syllables causing disgrace to build in Benedict's chest. 'And have you even painted something for the exhibition?' He added, not knowing that Benedict had, in fact, finished the painting days ago.
Colin however regretted his tone, when his elder brother began to weep; he sighed, before sitting next to him on his bed.
'I am sorry.' Benedict sobbed, forcing his eyes shut, 'This pain in my heart, I fear it worse than death... I do not know how to cope with it.' Colin placed a comforting hand on his back, as his brother's head fell to his hands. 'I never cared much for the future, until I pictured it with her.'
'Do you remember when we were boys, and you thought you broke Father's pocket watch,' Awe filled Colin's voice as he recalled the memory, and you cried, and cried some more.' Colin chuckled, 'You were so upset, and so angry with yourself, that you asked me to tell him.'
Benedict nodded, wiping his tears.
'Do you remember what he said?' Colin queried, but he did not allow Benedict to answer, 'That sometimes, things will seem as if they are broken beyond repair, but in reality, they simply need a steady hand to help mend them: for it is impossible to do it alone.' He spoke gently, their father's wisdom oozing from his words,
The memory danced in Benedict's mind, reminding him of the caring man his father was.
'Allow me to be your steady hand, Brother.' Colin stated, standing as he offered Benedict his hand.
Benedict took it, his way of accepting his brother's request: as he did, he was pulled into a strong embrace, the both of them seeming to need it.
Colin pulled away smiling. 'I will distract Mother as you wash up, Brother. You may be ten times more agreeable, without that putrid stench.'
Benedict chucked slightly at his brother's remark, his head holding itself slightly higher, after their conversation.