The Muse // Benedict Bridgerton

Epilogue : A New Old Letter

Lucy was browsing through an old trunk that was not fully emptied upon their arrival back at their Suffolk residence, when she and Benedict officially made the move after they had finished renovating their part of the house that Henry had offered them.

She came upon a letter which was still sealed, but crumpled and weathered with age. It took on a yellow hue and felt damp to the touch. She carefully unsealed it and pulled it out, having seen that it was addressed to her.

Dearest Lucy,

Today, I have seen you for the first time in a long time. Not only physically, but spiritually. I have seen your soul, and it is a beautiful one at that. How could such a simple encounter make me forget my gentlemanly ways with such haste? You stood beside your sister, in the park, surrounded by such beauty in nature, but the only beauty I was bewitched by was your own.

No insect - butterfly, ladybird - or flower, could compare to you. No cloudy sunset in spring could compare to you. No twinkle of a shooting star, nor the reflection of the moon in a body of water, could compare to the heavenliness that is you.

I find myself stuck, drawing you over and over again like a madman. I am trying to capture a beauty so intricate it is impossible to replicate, especially from memory. I yearn for you to sit before me as I try my best to immortalize you with my fingers and tools. I yearn for you to let me worship you with those same fingers, in wicked ways. I do not know what has come over me, some sort of cloud filled with hunger, but I hope it will be satiated soon, with the most breathtaking rain storm that follows.

Sincerely,
Benedict.

Lucy gasped, the only sound she was able to make. She was at a loss for words at the intimate words her husband had written down. Clearly they were not meant to be read, because he had never shown her the letter for some reason, but she felt compelled to find him immediately and confess.

Tears pooled in her eyes at the softness in which he wrote about her - she couldn't believe he loved her this much, and that it had happened so quickly, before she even fell for him. He had told her numerous times, but she always chuckled and brushed off those comments, believing they were slight over-exaggerations.

She found him in his painting room, but he did not notice her standing in the doorway. Not until she sniffled. He whipped his head around and caught sight of her, and immediately grew concerned once he noticed the tears rolling off of her cheeks.

"Lucy? What's wrong - what happened?" He asked, setting down his brushes and rushing to her side. Before he could envelop her in a hug, she held up the letter. He furrowed his brow as he took it from her, and began reading it.

After a few seconds of confusion, his expression changed to one of realization, and he grinned.

"Where did you find this?" He asked incredulously. "I thought I lost it."

"It was in one of the trunks that wasn't fully emptied. I'm sorry I opened it, I didn't realize how... personal it was," She responded.

Benedict lifted his hands up to cup her cheeks, after folding the letter and giving it back to her.

"It's yours. I should have sent it to you in the beginning, when I first wrote it. It could have saved you a world of pain," he said and offered a sad smile. Lucy shook her head.

"No, no. I'm glad our story unfolded the way it did. I wouldn't change anything, Benedict. Absolutely anything." She smiled warmly and wrapped her hands around his waist. He pulled her into a tight hug and they stayed like that for a while, until he pulled back to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Keep it. This is still what I think of you, how I feel about you - it's never going to change. I love you, darling"

Some three days later, Benedict woke up to an empty bed. Lucy was on her way to London to see Eleanor, and he was already missing his wife dearly. He rolled over and looked at the empty space of her side of the bed, but then realized that it was not so empty.

On top of the satin pillow was a letter. Benedict sat up, confused, and picked it up.

Dearest Benedict,

I hope you do not mind, but I asked my Lady's Maid to leave this in the room while you slept, after I made my departure. I thought I should return the favor, after discovering your heartwarming letter, so I decided to enclose a diary entry I made about you shortly after our moment in the library of your London home.

All my love,
Lucy

Benedict smiled as he set that piece of parchment to the side, and read the one that was behind it in the envelope. It was clearly ripped out of a book, with the damaged edges, and there were ink splashes and streaks all around it. He smiled again when he saw evidence of a handprint at the side, where she had been leaning to write.

Benedict and I shared a moment today, a moment so sudden and strange. I have known him all my life, and I have never felt confusion such as this- what am I feeling for him? I found myself entranced by the way his hair curled, by the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed - by the way his lips curl at the corners when he speaks to me. His very tone of voice held something different today, foreign, and it made me feel like I had swallowed a beehive that was resting in my stomach.

He is dangerous, I know, simply by the way he made me feel. But I fear I may not be able to stay away from him - he is simply too striking and intriguing. I must explore these feelings, understand what they mean - could this be what authors talk about in all their romance novels? Is this the beginning of a great love, or am I being too optimistic, too excited - childish, even?
One thing I know with certainty is that we are looking at each other from a different perspective compared to the way we used to. A man and a woman, but what are we to each other?

Benedict grinned broadly as he read what she wrote, enraptured by her obvious desire combined with her naïveté. It clearly took a while for her to understand her own mind, but this was proof to Benedict about what he knew all along - that moment when they laid eyes on each other again in the park changed everything for them.

She fell for him then too, just as he did with her. He was so distracted by the old diary entry that he did not notice the other piece of paper that had fallen out of the envelope, a third page. He picked it up with a furrowed brow, and unfolded it.

Benedict,

The first part of this missive was deceiving, my love, for I have one more thing to tell you before I bid you a farewell and sign off. I thought it would be fitting to let you know by letter, that your suspicions were correct. Also, I told you there was good reason why I was stealing your desserts every night for the past two weeks - Little Harriet and Edmund are going to have another little brother or sister, indeed.