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#anthony bridgerton oc
livingdreams97 · 3 months
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Eloise Bridgerton - "The Prince" (Part 2)
Eloise Bridgerton x Male reader/oc
Summary: Two people who have never seen each other before, with the same need and desire to be free in different ways. What could come of that when both people meet each other?
Words: 3.275
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POV Narrator
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Dear readers,
The same two words always come to mind for this author the morning after a big party: surprise and delight. And dear reader, the scandalous accounts of last night's evening at Ranger House ( Bridgerton house ) are quite surprising and a real delight.
Emerging from her previous failure with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, Miss Edwina Sharma seems to have charmed Prince Friedrich of Prussia with her charms.
They have been seen very together at every social event and close sources comment on the success of the diamond of the season with the prince. Perhaps it turns out that the Queen Regent is a very good supervisor and has an eye for pairing.
Maybe this is the queen's redemption, compared to the resounding failure she had last season with Miss Sharma herself; her diamond for the second consecutive year, and the frustrated wedding she was going to have with the Viscount.
Speaking of royalty, we must also mention the presence of Prince Y/n of Hannover and also the queen's nephew in this season. Also remember that Prince Y/n is the future heir to the throne since the queen and the regent king so dictated after his 16th birthday .
Apparently, this handsome green-eyed prince is also looking for a wife and a future queen. The mothers are very attentive to each moment of solitude, to push their daughters into hisarms and try to catch the biggest fish in the place.
But it seems that his attention is fixed on none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. It should be noted that this is the second season as a debutante for the second daughter of the Bridgertons and the bad reputation that comes from the people with whom she joined last season.
But that fame does not seem to frighten or matter to the Prince of Hanover, as he has been seen many times on the dancefloor with Miss Bridgerton. They say that love is blind and perhaps in this case it can also become deaf.
How will the queen feel about this possible union?
On the other hand, we have Miss Prudence Featherington who is still engaged to Mr. Jack Featherington and it seems that the nuptials are still some way off. On the other hand, we have Penelope Featherington , who has reportedly been seen in the company of Mr. Colin Bridgerton more than usual. Could this mean something else; or is it just a friendship?
Always yours,
Lady Whistledown.
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Eloise's POV
I can't do it anymore. I can't continue with this constant pressure, feeling like every step and every one of my movements is being watched. And not only for my mother, but also for the rest of the people in each event.
It's only been three weeks since the social season began, three weeks that have seemed eternal and one of the heaviest. It seems that three months have passed and not three weeks.
I feel exhausted and totally stressed. I don't want to disappoint my mother again and have our last name put in doubt again because of me. That is what I least want.
But the pressure not to disappoint Mother again, the feeling of being completely watched at all times, and the discomfort I feel every time a newcomer questions me about my "radical" ideals overwhelms me.
The only times I don't feel so overwhelmed and suffocated by everything is when I'm reading in my room and no one bothers or watches me at all.
I can only relax when I am completely alone.
Worst of all, I can't talk about it with anyone, since I would have talked about it with Penelope before and that's it. But after her betrayal, I can't talk to her, much less when she didn't trust her and continues to write as Lady Whistledown .
The fact that she continues writing annoys me even more, especially when she writes about my family and more specifically about me. If anyone had forgotten about her comment last season, about my relationship with Theo and my supposed radical political ideas; with what she wrote about me three days ago, she reminded all of London.
So people looked at me even more and not in a very positive way. But I couldn't talk to anyone about how I felt, because I don't have any friends left and no one in my family would understand.
I can't even tell Benedict how I feel, since he's too focused on his drawing and I don't want to worry him with my problems. In addition to that he would tell me not to pay attention to people and he would tell me something funny to make me laugh.
But that's not what I need right now. What I need now is someone who listens to me, who understands me and can help me with all this that I feel. Because I feel like I'm drowning more every day and how I'm short of breath every time I enter a dance or social event.
And the same thing was happening to me right now.
Tonight was the annual seasonal ball at Vauxhall Gardens, so the whole family except my two younger brothers had come. Even Kate had decided to leave little Olivia at home.
As soon as the family had set foot in the party, all eyes were on us and more specifically on me.
Ignoring with all my might the gazes on me, I comply with what my mother asks of me and dance with two men until the song ends. But neither of the two men are educated people.
Because both of them have spent the dances asking about my ideals and how wrong I am with my radical political thought, since that promotes the extinction of my life as a person of high class.
What ends up getting fed up and in a carelessness of my family I flee towards the labyrinth of the gardens. Where I sit on one of the stone benches of the place and I start to cry without being able to avoid it.
XY: I don't think it's safe or correct that you're out here without supervision.- I hear near me, causing me to jump scared and turn around to find the Prince of Hannover.
Eloise: I could say the same to you.- I reproach with a frown, forcefully wiping away my tears and trying to stop crying.
Y/n: Are you alright Eloise? - he asks with some concern on his face, walking towards where I am and sitting a bit far away; but in the same bank.
Eloise: Of course I'm fine.- I answer clenching my jaw and holding back the urge to continue crying.
Y/n: I'll  believe you and we can go back to the dance as if nothing had happened.- he says with some sarcasm, bringing a glass to his lips and giving a small sip.
Another thing that has changed is my relationship with Prince Y/n. At first it seemed unbearable and somewhat unbelievable. But over time I have been able to learn more about him and have long intellectual conversations about our interests.
So I've started to see him a bit as a friend, since he knows what is said about me and completely ignores it. He has never come to ask me about my radical political ideas, even though I don't have them as such and that is something that everyone has asked me about.
So you can say that I like him a little, although not enough to tell him my stuff and be considered my friend completely.
Eloise: I'm just tired and overwhelmed by everything.- I admit with a sigh and see how he offers me his drink.
Y/n: What has you overwhelmed?- he asks as I accept the glass and take a small sip, feeling a burning pain in my throat.
Eloise: Iugh Yuck.- I say with a gag, giving him back the drink and causing him to laugh at my reaction.
Y/n: Don't change the subject and answer me.- he tells me funny.
Eloise: I feel overwhelmed for not finding a husband and disappointing my mother for a second time.- I answer playing with my hands and lowering my gaze.
Y/n: And why do you think you won't find a husband?- he asks with some confusion in his voice. -From my point of view, you are perfect for any man. You are beautiful, you have your own thoughts and ideals that you defend with very good arguments, you are educated, you like to read and you do not give importance to what the rest of the world says. - he enumerates and I look at him completely surprised, feeling a certain heat on my cheeks and ears.
Eloise: You say that out of politeness.- I played down what he just said, feeling embarrassed and somewhat impressed by his opinion about me.
Y/n: I say what I've seen and what I've experienced with you.- he assures me with a small smile, so I look away from him. -There are very few women like you Eloise Bridgerton and you should be proud of who you are. Because you are worth much more than any of the other debutants with knowledge of pianoforte or whatever they know how to do, because you go further and you don't focus only on learning something to please your future husband.- he expresses and i presses my lips , so that he does not see the smile that wants to appear on my face about what he has told me.
Eloise: That's the problem, I don't want a husband to please and become a boring housewife.- I say with a sigh. -I don't want to have to pretend to be someone I'm not in order for a man to like me, I don't want to make myself less so I can get married and I don't want my life to be left in the hands of a husband who is only interested in himself.- I complain and I can see how he listens to me attentively.
Y/n: So you don't want to get married? - he asks with confusion and with some interest shining in his eyes.
Eloise: No.- I deny with a sigh. -It's not something I want, but my mother wants me to get married and I don't want to stay like a spinster either; because it is not that they are very well seen in our society. - I explain and I see how he nods with his head processing what I just said.
He stares at me in silence for a few moments, saying absolutely nothing and with a certain pensive look on his face.
Y/n: Can I make you a proposition?- he asks me with some caution.
Eloise: What kind of proposition? - I ask a little interested, but also with some caution for the possibilities.
Y/n: You don't want to get married, right? - he asks and I shake my head. -But neither do you want to stay single and "disappoint" your mother by not getting married.- he says and I nod without understanding where he wants to go. -I propose that you marry me.- he says confidently and I open my eyes wide.
Eloise: WHAT?!! - I exclaim completely in shock.
Y/n: Don't yell or someone will see us.- he whispers looking at all sides.
Eloise: Have you gone crazy?- I ask quickly in a whisper. -I just told you that I don't want to get married and you ask me to marry.- I commented as if it were the craziest idea in the world.
Y/n: Be quiet and listen to me for a moment please.- he asks me with a certain plea in his eyes.
Eloise: Okay.- I accept with a sigh, trying to relax my breathing and the accelerated beating of my heart.
Y/n: I don't want to get married either, but my father forces me to find someone and marry her for love.- he begins to tell me. -I just want to travel the world and enjoy life, but I can't do it until I get married; since I made a deal with my father. The deal is based on the fact that if I marry for love, he will pay me six months to travel the world and buy me a house wherever I want for myself and my wife.- he explains and I still don't understand his proposition.
Eloise: And what do I paint here and in your proposal for me to marry you? - I ask still a bit confused.
Y/n: That's what I'm getting to.- he complains with a sigh. -I don't want to get married and you don't want to get married, but for different reasons we don't want to be single either. So it's the best thing that could happen to us. - he exclaims and I look at him still confused.
Eloise: I still don't quite understand the reason for your proposition.- I point out how poorly it is being explained.
Y/n: You marry me and your mother is glad that you marry a prince and future heir to the crown; besides that you don't stay single.- he points to me first . -And I marry you, finally being able to travel the world and having the freedom to live away from my father. We both won.- he exclaims with some joy.
Eloise: But I would still have to marry you and I'm not going to make myself less or become a housewife for you.- I deny immediately.
Y/n: And you won't.- He denies, reassure me immediately. -You will have all the freedom in the world, you will be able to read everything you want and dedicate your time to yourself without having to worry about your future anymore.- he assures me and I observe him considering the proposal.
Eloise: Could I choose where to have the house? - I ask with a raised eyebrow.
Y/n: As long as it's not near my father; yes.- he nods with a smile.
Eloise: I want to review your proposal, okay? - I ask and he nods. -You want us to get married together; because neither of us really wants to get married, but I don't want to disappoint my mother and I don't want to stay single either. At the same time as you , you have made a deal with your father and if you get married he will finally let you travel the world and buy you a house.- I am saying everything he has told me, causing him to nod again. -And I will be able to continue enjoying my books and not being the most feminine woman in the world, without you caring and I will have all the freedom in the world; besides that I will choose where we would live? - I finish reviewing the proposition.
Y/n: Exactly.- He nods with a smile.
Eloise: What's the catch? - I ask raising an eyebrow, knowing that everything sounds very perfect and there must be a catch.
Y/n: It has to seem like we really love each other and my aunt has to accept our marriage.- he responds a bit insecure and I open my mouth in surprise.
Eloise: No.- I deny getting up from the bench. -Your aunt; Your aunt THE Queen hates me.- I point out and he follows my example getting up from the bench.
Y/n: My aunt will adore you if she thinks you're the love of my life and thinks I'm in love with you.- he assures me and I shake my head.
Eloise: Nobody will believe it. - I deny nervous and somewhat disappointed.
The proposal was perfect, but it was too perfect to be true and now it's clearly impossible.
Y/n: Eloise, please listen to me.- He begs me, grabbing my hands and making me look at him. -You are my only hope, the other debutants want to marry me to show off and for the possible power that marriage would entail. And to be honest, I couldn't pretend to love them one bit, no matter how good an actor I may be.- he explains sincerely and I can't help but laugh at the last thing .
Eloise: And with me if you can pretend perhaps? - I ask strangely nervous about his closeness and curious about his answer.
Y/n: Yes, because you have something in your head and you have thoughts of your own.- he answers without thinking for two seconds. -It would be easier for me to fake a relationship with someone intelligent like you, than with someone who doesn't even know what an intellectual and casual conversation is; without it being planned.- he comments and I can't help nodding at the reality of the situation.
Eloise: And what happens if we don't fool anyone? - I ask with an exhausted sigh.
Y/n: Lady Whistledown already believes that there is something between us and as my aunt says, if that lady writes about it, the rest of the town comments on it and also thinks about it.- he answers calmly. -We just have to start being seen more together, take walks in the park together and dance only with each other.- he explains part of his plan.
Eloise: And how will we convince my mother, Lady Danbury and your aunt the Queen?- I ask and I see how he remains thoughtful.
Y/n: I could go to your house for tea from now on, show an intense interest on my part towards you and a notorious approach so that they do not suspect.- he plans and I can recreate the plan in my mind.
I can see how the situation can turn out favorable for us and how we can both win if everything works as he has said. But it can also go wrong and someone discover us.
Eloise: Can I think about the proposal for a few days? - I ask a little nervous and insecure.
Y/n: You can think about it for as long as you want. - He nods with a small smile. -But I'm afraid that to ensure a positive ending in case you accept, we have to start acting now and even if in the end you reject the offer, we'll just distance ourselves a bit and that's it.- he raises and I nod, understanding his point of view .
Eloise: Okay.- I nod and he leaves a light squeeze on my hands and then releases them. -I'll think about it these days and I 'll give you an answer as soon as possible.- I assure him and he takes a couple of steps back, picking up his glass from the bench.
Y/n: Great, now let's go back to the dance and hopefully no one has noticed our absence.- he tells me and we both head towards the dance.
Before reaching the end of the maze, he asks me to go first and that he will appear a few minutes later; so as not to arouse suspicion. And that's what happens.
Ten minutes after I have found my brothers, excusing myself for having been in the bathroom and for the long queue, there he was. Prince Y/n approaches us and asks me to dance with him, which I immediately accept with a smile and beginning the most important performance of my life.
From this moment on, in the following days we will have to be the best actors in the world and make all the people believe that there is something between the prince and me.
I just hope that everything goes well and that in the solitude of my room, I can think calmly and weigh all the pros and cons of the proposition Y/n has made me.
I only hope to be able to choose well and not regret it in the future; either close or far from the decision that I have to make in a few days. Because that decision will dictate my life and future from the moment I make my final decision.
NEXT
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multifailures · 2 years
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An Equal Future.
Summary: If a young lady is not just a prize to be won, could she convince her husband for a world in which their children can share an equal future. 2.8k
A/N: my first request! Thank you for the support! It has taken over a week to write this just because I’ve been so busy but I have the next few weeks pretty much free to write as much as possible! So I’d love to see some more requests!
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Y/N was rather acquainted with Lady Danbury's Manor. During her first ball there, she admired the exquisite paintings hanging large above her. By her fourth occasion, she could effortlessly dance herself through the ballroom floor. It had now been more than a dozen times that Y/N Bridgerton had first entered the estate and she had realised her favourite part of it was the gardens. It was the only area during the ball that she could be truly alone, a place where no loyal maids, no pesky suitors and no overbearing mothers could find her. Oftentimes during her mother’s quest to find her a suitor, Y/N would escape out of a dancer’s embrace and find herself catching her breath alone, looking up at the night’s stars as she sat on a bench under a large Oak that hid her shadows.
She now sat on that very same bench with her sister-in-law, Eloise, and her friend Penelope. Each woman had dressed in their finest attire for this occasion, only to hide from it all in the gardens that the moon barely shone through. Eloise was complaining of the season, just as she typically did, whilst Y/N and Penelope laughed at her dramatics. Yet, the only reason Y/N had shown the two girls this place was the same reason she had searched for it in the first place: to hide.
So, Eloise Bridgerton complained of her heinous attire, her meddling mother and her demanding brother, who just so happened to be Y/N’s husband. She did not mind Eloise’s rantings; she knew of her husband’s role of overbearing older brother, and she could not argue in his favour. Only a few years prior, she had the same opinion of society, marriage and Viscount Bridgerton; she knew all too well of only being seen as a prize to be won, and not a worthy woman in her own right. It was the very same feeling that Eloise presents, and exactly why Y/N had led her two younger friends to this secluded seating area.
This was exactly how Anthony Bridgerton had found the giggling trio. He had entered out the rear doors of the grand house, standing behind the wall that hid the bench but allowed his eavesdropping on his complaining sister. He smiled quietly to himself when Eloise spoke, “my brother is just as insufferable as before! I thought being wed to you would finally open his eyes to what we could be!”
“It is less his opinion, rather the opinion of society that he feels the need to conform to. Even he is too consumed by societal expectations to threaten its structure.” Anthony hears their hum of agreement at his wife’s defence. Y/N then giggles to herself, voicing out loud: “But, my God, can your brother be insufferable.”
Anthony walks closer, coughing to make himself known as he steps into view. Their laughter is cut short, but only Penelope blushes at the thought of getting caught in rebellious conversation. Eloise rolls her eyes at his interruption; Y/N looks up to meet his eyes, a small smile embracing her lips, though embarrassed if he had heard her words. “Lord Bridgerton,” She teases, reminding him of the many private rendezvous they shared before she dared speak his name. “Apologies for stealing your sister away, but I presumed a winter’s chill would be much more thrilling than what you had planned for tonight.”
He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, though a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “It’s not me ruining your fun this time, my ladies. Mother calls for you, Eloise.”
The young woman let’s out an unimaginably unladylike groan. She makes a point to look in Y/N’s direction and dramatically roll her eyes, muttering to herself as to prove correct their conversation’s topic. Yet, she obeys. She hooks her arm around Penelope and lifts herself from the bench they are huddled upon. The two take a few steps until turning back, looking expectedly at the couple. Anthony is readying to follow until his wife speaks, “Give us a moment. I’ll be back to complaining before the dance is over.”
In the two girl’s leaving, the couple are left alone for the first time that evening, in the very place they had their first proper conversation. Just as that very first night, Y/N pats her gloved hand on the bench beside her, asking the Viscount to accompany her in sitting. “I am genuinely sorry for her hiding, Anthony. I only wished to get away myself, but she followed.”
He sits besides his wife, listening to her thoughtfully as he takes her gloved hand in hers, engulfing it with both hands. “You are quite the encouragement for her misbehaviour, my love.”
“Perhaps it is you that discourages her happiness, Anthony.” She argues with a sigh. “Is it so hard to believe that this lifestyle is not best?”
“Not best for her? Or you?” He watches his wife expectedly, in an attempt to look at her in the eyes. However, she directs her body forward, away from his-- then pulls her hand away from his. She guards herself in a way that he has learnt; crossing her arms over her chest as she stares into the darkened garden hedges. This beautiful view had been such a momentous setting of the couple’s love and desire for one another, sitting together in this very spot as they complained together of the social season until they stopped the complaining of society and indulged in conversations of themselves.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She looks to him with hints of accusation. “You had promised during our engagement that this gallivanting would end once we were wed. That I could end this lady charade and be myself again; yet I have stifled myself in boring conversations and unbreathable garments for much longer than I had ever wished.”
“It is just the balls you hate. I do, too.”
“It is not just the balls,” she cries, a pouted lip jutting out in frustration. “It is everything that I am not allowed to do. Every conversation I am shun from and every event makes me a mockery. If I am destined to just be your prize, how am I to be my own damned woman?”
It is a small outburst that Anthony was used to; he had not fallen in love with a calm woman. His wife, his love, Y/N Bridgerton, is a force of her time. She is a wave of newness to the ton, a refreshing breath of air for the ladies stuck in corsets but a poison to the system they all grew up in. In Anthony’s mind, her stubbornness made her kinder and her justice more loving. Anthony takes her chin in his hands, directing her eyes to meet his own. “I have never once seen you as a prize, Y/N.” He holds her cheek in both such strength that she cannot look away and with such love that why would she ever want to? “Though, I have won at life with being yours.”
She cannot suppress a laugh at that. He has always been particularly good at wooing her, even almost a year after they had wed, and such flirtations were unwarranted. However, everyday Anthony would look at the woman lying in his bed, wake her up with the smallest of kisses and admire her sweet morning smile, and compliment her messy hair, her unwashed breath, her snoring in the night. He has won a woman who makes him a better man, he thinks, and he is best at showing his gratitude in ways that made her blush and whack his shoulder with rolled eyes. 
As he admires her in the silence of the evening air, Anthony watches her face fall from giddiness to a small, sad smile. She whispers, “Anthony?”
“Yes, my love?”
“This morning, your mother and I did not go dress shopping.” He had suspected as much; she had never been one to initiate such a trip into town. “We met with my mother, and together they took me to a doctor.”
In that, panic whipped Anthony’s features. It is known to her that his deepest fear is of a loved one’s hurting; the first time she had personally witnessed this was a few weeks after their honeymoon, when she had been taken ill by a measly bug and bedridden for all of two days, as her doting husband withdrew his duties to spend that time with her. In the familiar flash of a quick, wide-eyed gaze, Y/N retracks her steps. “No, no,” She assures him. She matches her husband with her hands on his cheeks as she steadies him. “I’m perfectly fine, Anthony. In fact, I’m pregnant.”
With that, every panic vanishes just for a moment. There is a small glint of a smile between them both, but the shocking information had stilled them momentarily. “You’re with child?”
They both knew that in the near future, the idea of a baby growing inside Y/N would certainly lead to many panicked conversations and apprehensive nights of worry. Raising a young noble will present many challenges that neither believe they are particularly ready for, but those challenges did not matter when their love was this strong. In the silence, Anthony Bridgerton smiles, then chuckles in amazement at the woman in front of his eyes. When she nods, he cannot help from kissing those soft lips that were just moments ago pouting in frustration.
In his mouth falling from hers, he lightly traces her lips with his finger. As the news has finally sunk that he is to become a father, he laughs in thought, “pregnancy is a sure way to be excused from society.”
Y/N laughs in unison with him. “That was your mother’s exact response.”
Their lips collide again in sweet harmony. They share a love’s embrace in excitement and fulfilment, together but individually thinking of their future. Anthony imagines himself with three, maybe four, little rascals with the Bridgerton eyes and the (L/N)’s smiles. He sees a breakfast table of rioting, arguing as often as his siblings do, and a garden of playful competition that he, as the insufferable father, would always win.
Y/N tears herself away from her lover, with a look that Anthony knows to be of being deep in similar thoughts of their future. Her eyes wonder from his parted lips to his eyes that shone ever-so-slightly in the dimmed light of the garden’s only lamp. Her eyes bore into his; he can tell she is thinking of what to say—or how to say what she wishes to say. Finally, she asserts herself with an affirming breath. “Anthony, if I am to give you children, my stances from our marriage have not shifted; they must be equal in opportunity.”
He tilts his head to the side, watching his love. It was a conversation needed to be had; he had just wished they could embrace their newfound joy for a little longer in simple celebration. “I cannot promise you that; our society is a fickle and unmoving force.”
“I’m not naive, whilst the protests are picking up in movement, I am aware we cannot change society just yet.” She speaks in earnest; she is one of the smartest people—not just women, but people—that he knows. The risks Y/N takes have always been calculated with her role in society, she has the patience many do not and what she envisions of her life is not going to come to her without struggle. “However, Anthony, we can at least change ourselves.”
He tilts his head, waiting for her continued speaking. He knew from the beginning of their courtship that she had terms of her wedding, her family, her role as a woman, and he wanted to make every wish of hers come true if it were possible. Though, as he supports his wife and the cause she fights for; his pessimistic outlook on life often overshadows his willingness to encourage his wife’s endeavours. In his silence, Y/N gives herself permission to continue. “I have heard of men hating their once-beloved wives for not bearing a son, or even hating a healthy son that does not show perfect qualities. I cannot ever allow for our story to become so cruel.”
He shook his head. Never could he imagine a world in which he hated a child brought to him by her. He brings his hand, finally, to the belly of his wife. This is unexpected news, but certainly not unwanted. Y/N was far from showing, and they would make sure to keep this pregnancy a secret from gossiped for as long as possible. But still, he thought, my child is in there. He looks up from his miracle, into the eyes of the other wonder of his life. “That would never happen, my love. There is nothing that would make my love for you, or our future, be challenged.”
“I don’t believe that will happen either.” She assures. She lays her hand gently over his. Together, they hold their future as they discuss the very same thing. “However, there are too many biases in our world that I need our home to negate. If you say you will love our children whatever the cost, then I want to love them equally, too. I want our sons and daughters alike to share the same governor, read the same books, be treated in our home with the pretence they will have equal futures.”
He ponders her request. If Y/N cannot change how society treats her children; she will teach her children how to change society. He expected no less from such a tenacious force— her stern words somehow coincide with Anthony’s thoughts of how simply adorable she looks in his arms. He watches his wife— courageous, stunning, benevolent—continue her speech. “And if despite the perfect education we afford, my daughter is still unable to attend higher education, I will teach my son to sneak his work and his lessons to my daughter—just as my brother had done for me.”
His ever-growing smile brightens even further. Y/N had told Anthony of her very scandalous rendezvous to many libraries and hiding from professors—she had always told her story of desperation in light-hearted humour. However, Anthony knew that her education was Y/N’s proudest achievement. To her, she had unlocked the knowledge that men had hidden from her sex for centuries. Before the couple had even met, Y/N was certain she wanted her daughters to follow her footsteps. In marrying her, Anthony had no choice but to raise a deviant young daughter.
“If we can raise a daughter half as smart as you,” Anthony smiles in a promise, “It would be particularly cruel to restrict her from such rebellion that I am sure you plan to teach her.”
“Even before her very first steps.”
Their combined laughter fills the green shrubbery for a moment or two. Inside, the music has started again after a short break. In all honesty, Y/N had not noticed the instruments ever stopping, but their return had prompted her memory that she was, in fact, in the company of dozens of acquaintances a mere wall away. Despite her wishes, she could not stay away from the event and hide in the gardens, alone with the only person she would never hide from. Unless, of course, it is to aid in hiding his sister from him.
She looks around, sighing. “I suppose we have disappeared for long enough.” Anthony nods in a similarly woeful way. He had never suspected to marry a lady with such similar distastes as him; he will forever be grateful for her hatred of the same things that he hates. However, today was not a day for misery. It was a day for celebration, and those who celebrate, dance.
He stands from the bench in a much peppier step that her statement conveyed. She looks at him quizzically as his arm falls from his back and his hand reaches for her with mischievous eyes. “So, my lady, will you take my hand,” he smiles, “and please our mothers with a single dance before we retire from every ball of the season?”
She likes that very idea, though loves more to tease Anthony, even as she accepts his hand and pulls herself up with his help. “Are you just using my pregnancy as an escape from duty?”
“Oh, precisely.” He smirks. “And do not doubt that I will use the excuse of our children to escape duty for the rest of my life.”
Perhaps it is that reason the two are a perfect couple; for they not only have a partnership in love but a partnership of quiet rebellion and defiance that the future generation of Bridgerton children could learn from. For they would certainly have daughters who would tred on dancer’s toes and sons with escape plans for every event. A child imperfect for society is a perfect child for Anthony and his wife, Y/N Bridgerton.
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midnightstar-90 · 3 months
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Fanfic Idea #2
To all my Bridgerton writers,
I have another brilliant idea.
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What if Simon had a sister.
Mhmm. Okay.
I need you to stay with me now.
He doesn't find out until after he marries Daphne when he goes through his father's finances. He sees a small yet significant amount of money going toward an unknown individual. Simon really wants to know who this person is so he investigates only to find out it's his sister.
His father, after the death of Simon's mother, grieved differently than most and accidentally knocks up a young maiden from the town. Come to find out that the OG Duke of Hastings did have a soft side and provided for the girl and his mother.
When Simon first learns about this, he is furious. But with the help of Daphne, Simon decides to bring the girl to his estate and allow her to stay there so that they can get to know each other. Reader or OC (whichever) doesn't care for money, and she intends to make sure everyone knows, no matter how many times they say otherwise.
Please, I would really like to see what you guys come up with. Do as you please. I would love to read.
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deargenevieve · 1 year
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By Your Side
Summary: Arthur Bridgerton. The Gentleman. Anthony’s twin. That’s what everyone knows him as. The family regards him higher than that for he is the glue that is keeping the family from breaking.
Author’s note: I was going to make this as a Y/N story but things didn’t work out the way I wanted it to be, so I hope you’ll love Arthur! I imagine him with the face of Richard Madden (Prince Kit from Cinderella) but feel free to imagine him portrayed by anyone as you please. Happy Lunar New Year to those who are celebrating!
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
Arthur Bridgerton is not a stranger in the eyes of the Ton. With his nicely sculpted face, a tall fit body and a smile that can melt the hearts of the women and men of all kind. His presence is a delight at the balls and parties.
Unlike his twin brother, he is the opposite of Anthony. Everyone doubts that he has a bad bone in his body. He is the gentleman of the two. When seen standing side by side, Arthur is surely the cordial one out of the two.
Similar to the older men of the Bridgerton family, he is protective and loves to dote on the younger kids. He has a big heart, especially for his siblings.
Beneath his always calmer facade, he is only a man who has his heart on his sleeves, one who needs comfort as much like others. He is still human after all.
. . . . .
i. Hyacinth
The book in his hand was where his attention solely lied. Pride and Prejudice. Eloise only has high regards towards Jane Austen herself and as the world’s best older brother, he deemed it as his job to finish the novel so that he could engage in a lovely discussion with his sister.
His focus was destroyed by a loud rumble of thunder, the loud pattering of rain against his windows soon entered his ears.
Hyacinth is terrified of thunderstorms.
The flash of a lightning brightened his already dimly lit bedroom for a second. He rose from the comforts of his bed, preparing to knock on his youngest sister’s room. He doubted that she was able to be in a deep slumber with this weather.
Knock knock.
It seems like she was way faster than him.
A head peeked in before he could form a response. The scared figure behind the door waddled into the room as his features softened looking at her tear-stricken face.
“Come, let’s get you to bed.”
Instead of heading beneath the covers, Hyacinth tackled him to a hug that he returned instantly. No words spoken, it was comfort of her older brother that she needed. He had no idea how long they stayed in the position, however he’s in no mind to disturb her peace.
Once the calm soothed beneath her veins, she tugged her brother’s arm towards the makeshift warm. Him immediately tucking the younger one under the covers.
“Is it alright if you tell me a story of father, brother?”
Her meek voice broke his heart. All he wished is to get rid of the terrible thunderstorms that the universe has. Alas, the only thing he could do is to rid of his sister’s fears by recounting the tales of Edmund Bridgerton, their prankster of a father, who was an incredible man.
Giggles and chuckles were shared before she drifted off to sleep with a faint smile on her face without any troubles present.
He hoped that father is proud of him in this moment.
. . . . .
ii. Gregory
Arthur returned from his usual morning promenade. A resonating click of the main door indicated that he was in the comforts of his home, away from the prying eyes of the Ton.
The silence was disturbed by a yelp followed by a rather loud bang down the hallway. Apparently his body acted quicker than his brain as he found himself rushing towards the drawing room where his family would gather in most of the time.
“Gregory?”
His head tilting to the side at the unusual sight that is right in front of him. The youngest Bridgerton son was rubbing a certain area of his head in an attempt to soothe the pain, with a very evident pout on his face.
Arthur was eighty percent sure that he was the only witness of Gregory slamming his head onto the pianoforte that decorated the large space. Albeit, a few seconds late to watch the rather humorous incident.
Gregory’s ears perked up as he heard the familiar voice of his older brother. He mustered a sheepish grin as a greeting, half of him was grateful that it is not the other twin that came across him. Or else he would be in for a scolding. The other half was mortified that someone has seen him in this position.
The amusement was visible in the older’s eyes, covering the laugh that slipped out with a cough in hopes to simmer down the embarrassment of the younger. “What on Earth are you doing?”
“I am trying to catch my frog.”
A frog. Did he hear it right? Arthur did not even want to question why Gregory has a frog in his hands at the first place.
So, what would a proper older brother do in a time like this? Obviously setting a good example to the younger ones… by lending an assistance to capture the slimy creature that is hellbent on not being kept in a confinement anymore.
Once the rest of the family were ready to retire from their morning activities, they will be faced with the two Bridgerton sons running around the room, jumping from couches to couches while screaming incoherent speeches which was definitely deemed as un-gentlemanly in the eyes of the society.
. . . . .
iii. Francesca
It has been awhile since Arthur last saw your sister, Francesca, or so he called her as Frannie affectionately. He hoped that she did not find solace in the arms of Aunt Winnie and away from her family or even worst, London! The house is never the same without her.
Imagine his delight when he received a letter from her, saying that she would be home in two days time. A smile broke through his stoic facade as he reads along the lines.
And he must keep it a secret to the rest of the family. Just like that, he was clouded with thoughts of doubt. He is not the worst in lying straight through his teeth, he prides himself as being a pretty good man of not saying the whole truth. How else could he save his siblings from the wrath of Violet and Anthony?
Shifting on his seat in the empty drawing room, he racked his mind for something, anything, to act as a welcome back gift for his sister.
A book? No, they already have a huge library all for themselves. A fan? Maybe, he knew she needed a new one for the next season. But he wanted something bigger! Grander!
That’s when it clicked in his mind, his eyes focusing on the table filled with untouched sweet treats. Baking. He could bake her favorite biscuits. Sure, he could easily secure a basket from Gunther’s Tea Shop, but where’s the fun in that? Everything is going to be great.
On the day of Francesca’s arrival, Arthur walked towards the kitchen with a spring in his step. It’s almost as if he just scored a win in the society. In spite of that, everything is definitely not going according to plan. The cooks, who were usually preppy and happy to help, were gritting their teeth with frustration.
Perhaps he is not the greatest in the baking world, aside from eating the delicious pastries; that is his only upside. After going through much hassle and the banging of kitchen utensils, Frannie’s biscuits were served in the most beautiful set that his family owns. The visual of it? Let’s not talk about that.
He stumbled into the drawing room, where his siblings and dearest Mama reside in, with flour covering every inch of his waistcoat and trousers. He was careful enough to stabilize the plate of biscuits on his hand, he would cry in agony if everything is to fall to pieces.
Ignoring the confused stare of his family and Violet’s nags, Arthur headed towards an empty space beside Benedict, who gazed at him like he has grown another pair of eyes. “May I have one?”
A loud no resonated through Benedict’s ears, a pout visible on his face. Well then, the family knew to not mess with Arthur’s plate of medium burnt cookies.
Once Francesca shuffled into the room with her pleasant beam, he immediately rose to his feet before the rest of the family could properly fathom that their sibling, child in Violet’s case, has returned and welcomed her with a one arm hug joyously.
“Would you like some biscuits?”
. . . . .
iv. Eloise
The ball hosted by the Featheringtons were excellently prepared, Arthur must say. With almost all of the members of the Ton present, the event was unquestionably a huge success for the family.
He was on his way to search for a drink as he was feeling rather parched after attending a discussion with the Duke of Hastings, but a force halted his journey. The force came in the form of a frantic Eloise, or more so an angered one, judging from her furrowed eyebrows. He grabbed her arm in the means of calming her down before she could run off.
Arthur was about to voice his concern when Eloise faced him, tears clouding her usually bright eyes. He took a quick glance around the room, surveying whether anyone noticed the two Bridgerton siblings. Creating another scandal was not exactly in his bucket list as of then, after the failed wedding that Anthony had.
The siblings slipped out of the crowd’s eye and onto their residence, the older being in the lead. His mother would be nagging his ears off, he was sure of it. But the only thing that mattered to him was Eloise, and the fact that he would rather be nagged than to converse with Kate.
“Have you ever felt betrayed?”
The question strike him to the depths of his heart. Not even a minute in as the two of them arrived in the chambers of the younger one. He turned to face his sister, who was exceptionally good in keeping her tears at bay. Away from the prying eyes and ears of Lady Whistledown and the Ton, Eloise could not handle the hurt anymore.
“Yes, I have.”
By Kate Sharma.
The lump on his throat was too much, he never poured his true feelings regarding what happened between the Bridgertons and the Sharmas to his younger siblings. He did not elaborate on his response, if Eloise was surprised, she did not let it be seen on her face.
Eloise was not about to spill the secret of Penelope being Lady Whistledown so easily despite the fight that she had with her best friend. She itched to, at least, tell someone so she would not carry the burden all by herself and to release the pain of betrayal and hurt from the knowledge that she gained.
“Had a fight with Penelope?”
A beat of silence was her response. He knew better than to pry. Her emotions were all over the place, so he waited patiently until she was ready. Eloise was confident she could trust Arthur with the secret, she knew he would not run his mouth improperly. He was her favorite sibling, along with Benedict.
She took a leap of faith.
“She… She is Lady Whistledown. No one else knows, you must keep it a secret, brother!”
It felt like a weight was off her shoulders by the time she got the three words out. She was huffing as if she just ran through all of London.
Arthur could only stand in shock by the unexpected revelation, his mouth gaping like a fish out of the water. His mind working ten times faster to conjure a response.
“Thank you for putting your trust in me, sister.”
. . . . .
v. Daphne
Arthur’s eyes was fixed on Daphne and Prince Friedrich throughout the ball. It was clear that the Prince has the intention of marrying his darling sister, which he hoped that it would not happen.
He knew the decision was on Daphne’s hands, he should not meddle with her suitors—he knew better than Anthony, like always. He was confident that she has feelings for the Duke, not the Queen’s nephew, but what changed?
The murmurs and whispers of the mamas surrounded him; the topic of Daphne, the Diamond of the season and the Prince were not going to wither soon he assumed. He quirked his eyebrow in confusion once his blue orbs lie on his sister, who was fleeing from her companion of the night.
Again, his legs worked quicker than his mind as he found himself running after her through the endless of ladies attempting to gain his attention in the crowd. He swore this had happened before, just with a different Bridgerton.
Daphne has always been confident, Arthur admired that from her. She was the perfect daughter in the Ton’s perspective, being named as the Diamond of the First Water was like giving her place in the throne. But of course, no one could handle the burden of everything by themselves.
He rushed into the open, approaching his sister in a hurry. As he got closer to her figure, he could sense that she was far from alright. Placing his warm hand on her shoulder, he softly advised her to get some air into her lungs.
“You are alright, Daph. Breathe.”
It did not take him long to calm her down, it was not his first time soothing his siblings from the troubles caused by life itself. Her glassy amber eyes looked up dearly to him as a thank you.
Arthur may not know what went down between her and the Prince, or her then blossoming relationship with the Duke, but it was evident that her heart was torn into two.
“Why is love so difficult?”
A sigh fell from his lips. Truth to be told, he could not agree more. He saw plenty of times when love did not prevail and hurt was what they received in exchange.
“Love is… complicated,” he stated gently, “When you love something, you have to fight for it.”
Perhaps he should thank his past self for consuming a lot of books in his leisure time. When did he get so wise? He really was getting older and it showed.
Knowing that he would not get any response from the shorter Bridgerton, he concluded his impromptu advice session with-
“Listen to your heart, Daphne.”
. . . . .
vi. Colin and Benedict
Aubrey Hall. The place brought up so many memories, both good and bad ones. Arthur was grateful that his family decided to retire to their country estate before the parties started for them all.
Although, they would be in the company of the Sharmas and Lady Danbury this time round. He was not complaining one bit, he was ecstatic to be spending the time with the older Sharma.
He supposed he shall thank Anthony for sending an invite to the esteemed guests, for his own gain, of course.
A game of Pall Mall ensued, as usual the bickering of the siblings could be heard from a mile away. Kate was delighted that she had Arthur by her side, it gave her comfort to know that she had someone. That did not stop her from bantering with his twin–they both shared a mutual dislike, or so he thought.
He was searching for Benedict as the taller man did not seem like he was enjoying the game, which was uncommon. Hell, he was the best out of the nine of them and he took pride in it! That led to him witnessing Colin offering a special gift, if he could word it that way, to the older Bridgerton.
“If you are to give Benedict the opium powder, I suggest you to not do it.”
Arthur made his presence known while he sauntered into the room and sitting on an empty seat closest to them. The two men slightly jumped on their seats at the surprising appearance of their older brother, both trying to desperately conceal their fright to avoid being teased. The tension disappeared as soon as they noticed it was the calmer one out of the two.
Colin made a sound of disagreement, saying reasons on why Benedict needed the drug badly. He did not know who he was convincing, was it himself, his older brother or the victim who was sitting in distress listening to him.
Just as Arthur was about to voice his opinions on why it was better for Benedict to destress in a much more natural way, the said man took the bag from Colin’s hands and poured everything to his cup of tea at once. Arthur could not believe his eyes—it happened so fast, he did not have the time to steal the bag away.
“Mother is going to kill me.”
The realization hit him in an instant, his blood ran cold. Shit, he was not planning on partaking in this whole thing. He was supposed to be relaxing, not babysitting his brothers!
Colin and Arthur was not ready for a high Benedict. A very high Benedict, that is. They dreaded the dinner to come. Nevertheless, the three of them should be in presence in order to be great hosts.
Benedict was seated between the two nervous men. Arthur wanted to hide in embarrassment as Benedict was going on and on about the stars and the lights, he could breathe a sigh of relief once Colin made up a reason for his brother’s weird behavior.
His relief was short lived. The sound of wine glass toppling over the table broke his peace, he even saw Kate and Eloise flinching in surprise. What made it worst was the deafening silence that followed after. His mother was quick to reprimand Benedict for not being careful, which really, it should be Colin’s fault for giving him the drug.
Arthur grimaced at the scene, if only he could run away from the dining room. He passed the older Sharma an apologetic smile, the latter reciprocated with the hopes of comforting the rather stressed man that she grew to be fond of. This fleeting interaction did not go unnoticed by Colin and Eloise, the two hawks. They made their own plans to question the eldest later.
How he wished that he did not enter the room at the first place.
. . . . .
vii. Anthony
Anthony and Arthur used to be two peas in a pod. Before his father passed, they were attached to the hip. They climbed trees, they flung peas to each other during dinner, they ran around the field playing a game of catch. Constantly bringing a headache to Violet Bridgerton, although she would not regret having them in her lives.
After the storm hit the family, they were never the same. The twins drifted apart, with Anthony diving head deep in covering father’s position, he simply had no time to experience the rest of his youth with his twin. Arthur understood, not at first but he grew to put his wants aside for the sake of the family.
It was not the first time that the twins were caught up in a heated debate regarding Anthony’s ways of protecting their siblings. Usually Arthur was the one who was in favor of the younger ones. The two were protective, they shared the trait, but in different ways. They went head to head when Anthony was against Daphne and Simon to be wed and Colin’s engagement to Marina.
The rest of the family knew to not step foot anywhere near Anthony’s study when this happened. The angry twins were not exactly a favorite company to be with, the other more so.
Then again, Arthur found himself fuming as he entered the familiar study without a single knock. The action was responded by a frustrated Anthony, who was far than pleased by his twin’s action.
“Why did you donate to the art academy? You know better than to do the act of bribery!”
He targeted his twin with venom in his voice. He knew how much Benedict wanted a position in the academy and when the younger got in, he was the first person to congratulate him. He was no stranger in accompanying Benedict during his art block, he was even thrown crumpled pieces of paper, and when he was drowned in beliefs that his art was not good enough.
How could Anthony do such thing? It was as if the eldest was saying that Benedict was not good enough to enter the academy by his own means, affirming the doubts that clouded his head.
“You do not have the position to do so. Do you know how hard Benedict is being to himself? He has no trust in his skills. Even more now because of you.”
Anthony was flabbergasted by the words that was thrown into him. His anger quickly rose up when he saw the finger pointed to his face. He only wanted what was best for his brother, just like his twin. He thought that he would be elated by the news of Benedict entering the academy.
The air stilled for a minute. Arthur was growing impatient, he wanted to hear what his twin would say about the issue in hand.
“Benedict does not know.”
Arthur swore he could feel the rage bubbling in his veins over the information he received. And thus, the next hour was spent with the twins screaming at each other.
Both only has the best interest for their family.
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frost-queen · 2 years
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Love at first encounter //part 4 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)
Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex–awesome–22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @automaticbakeryfreakshoe, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @kazbekkarluvbot​, @freyathehuntress, @maddithehugenerd​​
Summary: Emotions run high in the Bridgerton household with a wedding around the corner.
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 ​Daphne made her way across maidens that were running around the place. A kitchen maid came hurdling in with packs of flour under her arms. Daphne swiftly moved around her, avoiding a colliding with the flour. She went into a corridor finding her sister Hyacinth, dreamingly humming a song. Daphne exhaled deep, relieved to see her. – “I heard it was urgent!” – breathed Daphne out. Hyacinth stopped dancing around, gasping at the sight of her sister. – “Daphne! You are here!” – exclaimed she, taking her sisters hands in hers. – “Yes, I am.” – replied Daphne, touching Hyacinth’s cheek with her thumb. Daphne was about to speak when she heard loud rumbling, followed by a familiar voice. – “This is madness!” – called Benedict out, throwing his hands up. 
His eyebrow quirked up at the sight of his sisters. Once he saw Daphne, stomped he over to her. – “You better fix this!” – pleaded he, almost begging her as it was getting to much for him. Daphne inhaled sharply, looking past her brother to the way he came from. Walking past him, went she on. Benedict let himself fall into one of the chairs, rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. Colin was pacing around, mumbling to himself, and scratching his hair. Not far from Colin, sat Gregory down on the ground with his hands in his hair. – “Oh, my…” – expressed Daphne at the state of her brothers. – “Where is mama?” – questioned she, walking up to Colin. – “Inside.” – pointed Colin out, hearing a moment later arguing from inside.
It made Gregory inhale sharply, widening his eyes more at the shouts. – “They’ve been at it almost all morning.” – confessed Colin. Daphne noticed the weary look on him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Daphne reached her hand out to the doorknob. A slight hesitation in her, not knowing what to find on the other side of the door. – “Don’t open it!” – called Francesca out, holding her hand out in an attempt to stop her. Her comment made Daphne turn around, bringing her hand closer to her body again. – “Oh, please do, Daphne.” – grinned Eloise, stepping beside Francesca, holding a box of chocolates in her hand. – “I have been dying to see another spectacle!” – She threw a chocolate in her mouth, pleasantly chewing on it. – “Benedict lasted exactly fifteen minutes in there.” – continued she with a smile on her face. – “He lasted longer than I would give him credit for.” – she snorted soft, finding herself amusing. 
Francesca shook her head with a soft sigh. “It is your own life you are risking.” – With Eloise’s final words, dared Daphne to open the door. She swung the door open as the voices in argument got louder. Sweeping her off her feet. Through the opening of the door, saw she Anthony and mama argue loudly. Sucking it up, entered Daphne gracefully. She shut the door behind her. Eloise spurted to the door, wanting to listen in and peek through the keyhole. – “Don’t be absurd, Eloise.” – pitched Francesca in. Eloise shushed her, wanting to hear it all. – “I say she lasts twenty minutes inside.” – betted she against herself with a smirk on her face. Francesca sighed loud, scooting Eloise aside. She came kneeling beside her, wanting to hear as well. Daphne brought her hand to her mouth, seeing Anthony and mama argue fiercely. 
It took them a second to acknowledge Daphne in the room. Anthony straightened his back, turning to his sister. – “You came.” – said he, his hands folded neatly behind his back. Daphne nodded as Violet stepped up to her. – “It’s wonderful to see you.” – she kissed Daphne on the cheek. – “Where is Y/n?” – questioned Daphne curious. – “Here!” – answered you, stepping from behind some panels that shielded you. You were far from fully dressed. Still needing to put on your mousseline dress. At the sight of you smiled Anthony. – “My sweet sister.” – said he, holding his hand out to you. With an extended hand, went you up to him. Placing your hand in his, sought you out help at Daphne. “Shouldn’t Y/n, be ready?” – spoke Daphne, poking at the argument again, unwillingly. 
“She should be!” – insisted Violet, glaring at her eldest son. – “I already told you mother; I know what is best for Y/n!” – Violet laughed loud, finding her son amusing. Anthony clenched his jaw at his mothers humor. – “As her mother, I know what is best for her!” – spewed Violet right back at him. Daphne couldn’t quite follow what the argument was about. Anthony turned around, fetching a soft pink mousseline dress. – “Y/n looks radiant in soft pink!” – called he out loud. Violet waved her hand away, ridiculing his choice of dress. Violet took a hold of her own dress, showing Anthony a graceful white mousseline dress. – “White is the proper standard!” – replied she politely with a mockingly smile.
Pink!” – hissed Anthony out, shoving the dress closer to you. – “White!” – answered Violet, raising her voice to overpower his tone. – “Pink!” – repeated Anthony, practically, showcasing the dress against your figure. – “White!” – insisted Violet, presenting her dress over Anthony’s. – “Help me.” – said you to Daphne, who was still trying to process the bickering. – “White is a standard color for a wedding dress!” – spread Violet out loud. – “You know that!” Anthony gritted his teeth, tossing his dress over a chair. – “Fine! If you insist on white, we’ll have it your way, mother!” – responded he, sounding a bit belittling. Violet hummed victorious, handing you the white dress. – “Put this on darling.” – asked she with a sugary sweet smile. She pushed you back towards the panels as you disappeared behind it. – “I cannot believe you.” – said Daphne, shaking the shock off her. – “Both of you!” – corrected she herself, looking on each turn to them. 
Anthony swallowed nervously, looking away. Violet started fumbling her dress, looking ashamed at the ground. – “Have any of you taken a true interest in Y/n? or are you only putting your own matters at hand?” – Daphne crossed her arms, shaking her head at her families behavior. Exhaling deep, understood she how frantically Benedict rushed out of the room. You cleared your throat, coming back in sight to present them with the white wedding dress. Immediately saw you a change in their expression. Violet gasped in delight, bringing her hands to her chest. Anthony was gaping at you, finding you suddenly more mature then you were to him. You opened your hands a bit, slowly stepping in a circle to present you fully to them. – “And?” – asked you, pressing your hands against your side. 
Daphne took the word, walking up to you. – “As perfect as the day you were born.” – complimented she. It made you smile, hugging Daphne warmly. Anthony cleared his throat a bit, turning around to a table. There let he his fingers glide over some jewels. He smiled pleasingly at a ruby necklace. Carefully picking it up, returned he to you. He held it near your neck, smiling beyond himself. Violet rolled with her eyes, going over to the table as well. Anthony nodded intriguing at you, letting you know it was a good choice. Daphne had her doubts, tilting her head a bit to the side. Violet returned with a pearl necklace, smiling. She pushed Anthony’s hand down with her own, wanting her own display to be presented. She smiled at Daphne, trying to win her over with her choice. Anthony huffed loud, moving his choice of necklace above his mothers. – “Daphne!” – said he, wanting to have her on his side. 
Violet shook her head, glaring at Anthony. – “Pearls, it brings out her eyes.” – sugar coated Violet. Anthony pushed her necklace away, holding the rubies up again. – “Rubies, bring the attention to her face.” – hissed Anthony out. Violet and Anthony were on the brink of bickering again as you could only stand there perfectly still. Not wanting to upset either one of them. – “Mama, Anthony please.” – begged Daphne, not wanting things to escalate again. “It is Y/n’s wedding day, please try to be reconsidering.” – begged she, folding her hands in a praying gesture. – “You are right.” – answered Anthony, turning towards you. – “Y/n, Rubies right!” – asked he with a smile that hinted more than a simple greeting. You swallowed nervously as mama also presented you the pearls.
“Listen to your dear mother. Take the pearls.” – she kept moving the pearls closer to you. Both of them kept insisting their own jewels at you. Waving your hand in front of you, felt you suddenly hot. Cramped, cornered. You didn’t want to disappoint any of them. – “Enough!” – called Daphne out loud, startling both of them. – “Can you not see how suffocating you are towards her!” – you breathed shakily, stumbling a bit back. Anthony and Violet were staring at you, focusing on you. – “Please…” – said you with a deep swallow. – “I…I… I can’t continue like this.” – confessed you, waving your hand for some cool. You felt like crying and running away at the same time. Just pull all those pins out of your hair and ugly cry your way out of this room. You never cared for appearances, all you wanted was for Tewkesbury to simply find you beautiful. Whatever the rest thought didn’t matter. – “I love both of you, I do… but please…” – you felt tears come up from how shaky your voice sounded. 
Anthony took a step back, bowing to you. – “I am sorry sister.” – said he out loud, feeling suddenly ashamed of his behavior. Violet lowered the jewels in her hand, apologizing as well. – “Let us leave, allowing Y/n to continue to prepare. She has lost a lot of time.” – Daphne gestured to the door, wanting them both to leave. She opened her hand so that they could place the necklaces in hers. In silence left they the room. For a split second saw you the surprised expressions on your siblings faces. Daphne exhaled deep, feeling suddenly lighter. – “Thank you.” – said you, hugging her. Daphne pressed you close to her body. – “I didn’t know how much longer I would keep it together.” – breathed you out, squeezing her body. She giggled softly, questioning what the family would ever do without her. Clearly run around in chaos like headless chickens. – “Now prepare, your Viscount is waiting.” – whispered she. With a last goodbye kiss against your forehead, left she the room as well. 
As a silence fell upon the room, needed you a moment to sit down. To give some peace to the swirling chaos in your head. In a few hours would you be a Viscountess. If you said yes of course. Why was this even a question, of course you were going to say yes to Tewkesbury. He was the love of your life. You didn’t want to spend another moment apart from him. The balls you went to with him were a delight but always had you to say goodbye when it ended. From the moment you met him, knew you, he was the one. That deep love, Daphne talked about so much. You shot up, hearing the door open. Thankfully it were just some maids, entering to assist you with the final touches. You choice a necklace for yourself as well as a diadem. Feeling truly ready, nodded you at the maid near the door to open it. The door opened slowly as you heard whispers slip through. They reached you ears, till they suddenly died out. 
All eyes turning towards you in awe. Anthony was beyond himself, smiling proudly at you. Gregory poked Hyacinth in the side, squinting his eyes amusingly at you. Benedict and Colin slowly nodded approving. Eloise hated to admit it, but you looked more ready for marriage then she thought you would. Violet was the proudest of all, close to tears. Daphne pressed her lips together to let it sink in. Her sister, suddenly not so little anymore. Francesca was gaping at you, stunned by your beauty. – “Well.” – said you, wanting to get a reaction out of them. – “Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.” – said Colin as first, gleaming with pride. Benedict moved his hand to his mouth, suppressing a loud sob that he didn’t want to express. You smiled from ear to ear, walking out of the room, into the warm presence of your family. 
Tewkesbury stood at the front. His eyes were glued onto the long path that would bring you to him. His eyes glided to the seats, seeing your family sit down with a smile on their faces. Exhaling deep, released he some nerves from his shoulders. All eyes turned to the back when Francesca appeared. Her pace slow and graceful as she stared smilingly in front of her. Near Tewkesbury, curtsied she. Tewkesbury bowed to her, before she took her place as your bridesmaid. It was time for you to appear. For you to show yourself and walk up to your husband to be. Music filled the church you were in. Feeling a bit nervous, took you a deep breath. – “I love you so much, Y/n.” – whispered Anthony to you, leaning a bit closer to you. – “It is an honor to give you away.” – he smiled, pressing a kiss against your cheek. 
Smiling, allowed you Anthony to guide you down the aisle. At the sight of Tewkesbury, felt you tingly. He had a way of messing with your head, forgetting about your surroundings for a moment. Tewkesbury widened his eyes at the sight of you. His lovely bride. His Viscountess. Anthony moved in front of you, kissing your hand, before taking a seat next to his mother. Tewkesbury and you greeted each other. He with a bow, you with a curtsy. Taking his hand, walked you up the last few steps to be at his level. Your hand still in his, let he his thumb stroke yours. Glancing over your shoulder, saw you Francesca nod agreeingly. Staring intensely at each other, said you, your vows. 
Swearing each other loyalty and care. The priest gestured with his hand, letting you know you could seal the marriage with a kiss. Tewkesbury took a step closer to you, bringing his hand up to your cheek. – “My Viscountess.” – whispered he underneath his breath. – “My Viscount.” – whispered you back. Your lips collided with his, having longed for them for so long. You can’t believe how many time has passed since you first met him. Everything you endure with him. The lonely nights, wishing for him to be near. The love letters. The passing glances. Stolen touches. No more hiding. 
Tewkesbury and you were one now. Never to be apart. Bound to one another. You were his and he was yours. No one was going to take that away now. Finally married came all your dreams out. A life with Tewkesbury. Your gentleman that rescued you from a rebellious mission to a ribbon shop. That wasn’t afraid of your brother’s judgement. That defied every woman, just having eyes for you. You had to squeeze yourself to make it feel real. Taking his hand, turned you towards your family. Your family that you loved to the core. It would be a change, to not always be around. But you promised to barge in so many times, they might get tired of you. 
ewkesbury brought your hand up, kissing the top of it. – “I love you Y/n.” – whispered he in your ear. You couldn’t suppress a smile, kissing his cheek. – “I love you too Tewkesbury. Now and forever.” – with the carriage ready, followed everyone you outside. Anthony couldn’t help himself but give some last brotherly warning to Tewkesbury. You heard snippets of it, containing something about him better never breaking your heart. You hugged your sisters, wishing them all well. Promising to be back soon. Your brothers had a hard time, watching you go, but with much pain in their heart, waved they you goodbye. 
Wishing you much luck on the new chapter of your life. Begging you to not forget about them. You could never, but now it was time to focus on Tewkesbury for a while. The two of you got in the carriage, sharing another delightful kiss. With a new horizon set upon, road you off. Off towards your happily ever after. 
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Read more of my Fics on my Masterlists!
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phoenixxxlily · 6 months
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Favorite TV Shows I Watched in 2022
Bridgerton (2020-?)
"Losing races to strange women in parks at dawn, imagine the questions I would face."
Outlander (2014-?)
"I just need a cup of tea. If I can find any. Bloody taxes."
The O.C. (2003-2007)
"Welcome to the O.C., bitch."
Heartstopper (2022-?)
"You are the kindest, most thoughtful, and caring, and amazing person in the whole world."
Under the Banner of Heaven (2022)
"I believe that in order to stand proud before our Savior on the last day, mothers must defend our families from evil, to help men see past themselves, and to stand up to those even in our church who would lead us astray."
Stranger Things (2016-?)
"I say you're asking me to follow you into Mordor. But the shire -- is burning. So Mordor it is."
First Kill (2022)
"Like I said, everybody has tells if you look hard enough. And I couldn't keep my eyes off you."
The Summer I Turned Pretty (2022-?)
"For me, everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June until August."
Kenobi (2022)
"The light will fade, but is never forgotten."
Becoming Elizabeth (2022)
"People talk of her enough. People well know and remember Anne Boleyn was my mother. Why can I not? Is that wrong to love my mother?"
Locke & Key (2020-2022)
"This was the real magic. This was all I ever needed."
House of the Dragon (2022-?)
"The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They're a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us."
Sex Lives of College Girls (2021-?)
"Which group of butts looks more approachable?"
Anne With an E (2017-2019)
"To bring it into daylight, and realize nightmares aren't so scary without the protection of the dark."
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seamaiden · 6 months
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Simon: As your best friend-- Anthony: Benedict is my best friend. Simon: AS YOUR BEST FRIEND
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dollypopup · 9 months
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colin should 'suffer' for penelope
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aka: 5 short reasons why wanting colin to 'suffer' or 'grovel' or whatever other bullshit this fandom keeps pulling is stupid and makes no sense and should have been buried ages ago, how is this still a thing?
1: it sets a terrible and unhealthy dynamic between an endgame couple
especially considering Polin's motif is that of a mirror, if Colin is expected to grovel or suffer for Penelope's affection and forgiveness, it only stands to reason that Penelope then, too, would have to reciprocate. how Penelope treats Colin's ills is setting the precedent for how he's expected to handle her own against him, of which there are many. giving him the cold shoulder, holding what he said over his head and rubbing it in his face, potentially not even explaining why she's upset at him: these are not signs of a mature woman ready for a marriage to ANYONE
2: Colin's slights against Penelope are considerably less harmful than Penelope's against Colin's and it makes no narrative sense for her to be on her high horse about it
'he ruined her prospects' 'he talked about her behind her back' 'he laughed at her' (we don't even know if that one's true, frankly speaking)
but Penelope did the exact same to him and she did so first. Please remember that Penelope is the reason Colin and Marina broke up, and it was her express goal the entire time. Penelope humiliated Colin and Marina both by exposing them publicly (not to mention rubbed the salt into the wound for days afterward). Penelope didn't even think about Colin's feelings because she tried to confess her crush on him immediately after his engagement went poof. Penelope holding Colin accountable for what he said without herself recognizing the ways in which she's hurt him, too, makes her out to be a hella hypocrite
3: it's weirdly catholic on main?
love isn't about suffering points or penance or guilt and i'm tired of Christianity pervading every damn thing. sorry not sorry, some of us want an actually fulfilling love story
4: y'all are just mad Colin didn't love Penelope back from jump and it's a revenge fantasy
which, fine, that's what fanfic is for, but it's OOC, y'all are aware of that, right? because if he DID want her from the start, we all know that it wouldn't be Polin? why are you shipping a friends to lovers ship if you INSIST that the friends to lovers dynamic is less than? guess what? unreciprocated love is kind of part of the deal. you don't hold a grudge against your friend for not loving you back immediately. Colin shows he cares about Penelope in SO MANY WAYS that somehow are completely invalidated because it isn't meant to be romantic? imma say it: fuck you if you think that way. friendships are important and beautiful and deep and fulfilling with or without romance. Colin sticking his neck out for Penelope to help her family from Jack's scheme? an act of love. Colin sending Penelope letters after her father passed? act of love. Colin telling Penelope she's 'really very good' and holding her hand in appreciation of her coming to talk to him? act of love. if you think those acts of love mean nothing just because he isn't fucking her seven ways to sunday, maybe analyze your own viewpoint of relationships and ship Pen w/ some random stranger who makes heart eyes at her tits from jump
5: it makes Penelope an asshole to her own long term partner
dude, if a friend of mine insisted I crawl on hands and knees to determine whether they want me back in their lives, i don't want to be around that person? so many of these narratives make Penelope a straight up terrible person. if you want your partner to suffer? you probably don't actually like them very much, but Polin is narratively MEANT to be the couple that likes AND loves one another. be real, if your friend ghosted you for months, gave you the cold shoulder when you tried to talk again, treated you like shit (you can't argue that him 'suffering' isn't treating him like shit in some way shape or form) as you tried to apologize, and then you find out that she was the reason you and your ex broke up and she wrote straight up nasty things about your family for YEARS, you would want absolutely nothing to do with that friend. why should Colin be expected to be any different? do these two not deserve a lovely love story built on love and affection and trust and honesty? a healthy happy relationship in which they see one another and appreciate one another for all they are? no? so why do you ship them?
+1: it's oversaturated in this fandom
polin is a fantastic ship. how is THIS their main trope?
find a new fucking idea, PLEASE
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asa-writes · 9 months
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Aphrodite of Old Hall - 01
“Soiree at Lord de Gressy’s”
Anthony Bridgerton x F!OC / Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: none :) 
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Glancing at the thick, dark clouds above, Elisabeth shuddered and wrapped her coat tighter around herself. "Damn you, Stephane, for bringing me here. Why must you live in this abominable cold country?", She grumbled and guided her horse through the park, trying to avoid it splashing up any grime.
"I'm charmed to see that you have not changed, my dear," mused her brother. "I shall not even answer your question." He paused and grinned. "Can I count on your presence at today's soiree? Sarah has been planning it for over a month and after today's callers I am confident that you will have all of the attention you could get."
Steadying herself, Elisabeth sighed and glanced at the trees which had tried hard to cling onto their freshly grown leaves. "I guess, thank you. Now, if there's a soiree, don't you think it's high time for us to return?", She said. Seeing her brothers' questioning look, she shrugged and pointed at her crumpled riding habit. "Would be improper of me to come like that, don't you agree?"
Not wanting to get more involved in female fashions (Stephane avoided the topic like the plague, for there was usually no end in sight when it came up in conversation) he agreed and guided his horse, an auburn stallion called Brutus, towards the parks' exit and furthermore down to 'Old Hall' - his lavish mansion.
The footmen helped him and Elisabeth descend and opened the front door, where they parted ways. Before she could go upstairs into her chamber to get changed, her lady's maid Mary hurried towards her with a letter in her hands. "Lady Elisabeth, oh, I thought you'd come too late! I shall get you ready at once, by Her Ladyship's orders, of course." Completely out of breath, the elderly lady held out a helping hand to Elisabeth, which she held as they ascended to steps. Hurrying into her chamber, she opened the letter and let Mary undress her.
"Thank you, Mary. We wouldn't want to disappoint her Ladyship, would we?", She said with a grin, shivering. Mary, slowly regaining her usual breathing pattern, tried to suppress a broad smile. "Never, Lady Elisabeth." She switched her corsets and guided a stunning crimson dress over her Lady's shoulders. Opening the letter with a knife, Elisabeth motioned Mary to bring her her spectacles, for if there was one thing Elisabeth could not do - except for anything musical, but that was common knowledge - that was seeing anything clearly without those beastly things.
"Unto Lady Elisabeth de Gressy, I am more than truly sorry for not visiting you in the morning. Business called. I can assure you that you shall have my undivided attention this evening. My family will also be attending - have you been introduced? If not, I shall definitely see to it. You have placed me under your spell yet we haven't exchanged more than three words - I want to get to know you, if you'll allow me to. Awaiting your gracious presence, Lord Anthony Bridgerton"
Putting the letter away, Elisabeth grinned and folded her spectacles. Mary closed the last buttons and guided her towards the dressing table. "An admirer, Lady Elisabeth?" Glancing at her through the mirror, Elisabeth waved it off. "Hardly spoken to him." Mary smiled and removed the ribbons from her long black hair. "Only you know what you want and need, my Lady. You're wise. Now, diamonds or pearls, my Lady?"
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The chattering of the ton stopped as soon as Elisabeth stood at the top of the stairs. A young man with blond hair and a wide smile ran up to her and gave her his arm, so that she could lean on it, which she did. After he had escorted her down the stairs, he bowed and kissed her hand. "An honor to meet you, Lady de Gressy. Hopefully we'll get introduced soon.", He said, glancing up at her, not daring to come up from his bow. "Thank you.", She said coolly and made her way to her bemused brother. The blond man nervously looked at her and retreated to where he came from.
"I never knew that grand entrances were your kind of thing”, Stephane said and took her hand. She smiled and looked into the sea of guests, who by now had resumed their activities. Her dark eyes twinkled in the candlelit hallway as she discreetly winked at him. "How else would I make my presence known? Lady Whistledown herself had speculated if I would attend, so I decided to literally and figuratively show her." Stephane rolled his eyes and started walking towards the drawing room, which was where the refreshments were.
After a servant had provided them both with a flute of champagne, he leaned closer to her and nudged her. "I heard that you had received a letter from a certain Bridgerton. Need to get acquainted?" His moustache wiggled as he spoke, resembling a running mouse. Elisabeth, wondering where he had gotten the information from, nudged him back. "Do what you think is wise. I've yet to find out if he or his brothers are to my liking. His sister is the Duchess of Hastings now, isn't she?"
With a nod, he walked towards a gaggle of men and women dressed in similar shades of blue who were standing near the fireplace. As soon as they noticed them coming their way, they turned around and the last few mutterings between themselves had stopped. Stephane bowed and Elisabeth curtsied. "Lord Bridgerton. What an honor it is to have you and your family here with us this evening.", He said smoothly and gave his best smile towards an older lady, presumably the late Lord Bridgerton's wife.
Lord Bridgerton was the only one that Elisabeth had known (from sight alone; the others had been mentioned in Lady Whistledown's scandal sheet) and his posture straightened right away. "The honour is all mine, Lord de Gressy. Lady de Gressy, may I present to you my mother Violet, Viscountess Bridgerton, my brothers Benedict and Colin as well as my sister Eloise." He pointed towards each of the mentioned people; a man with curly brown hair that nodded respectfully with a small smile, a man with slightly less curly brown hair and a wide smile and a young woman who gave her a forced smile and a small wave.
Stephane straightened his cravat. "Lady Elisabeth, I had not known that you were acquainted with Lord Bridgerton. What a delight!" He said smoothly. With a quick glance at his wife, who was currently eating a few grapes, he bowed again and excused himself. Seeing the slight discomfort of the small young woman being left alone with all of them, Lord Bridgerton took the chance of asking her to take turns around the room. Elisabeth accepted, very demurely one might add, and told the rest of the Bridgertons what a delight it was to meet them.
"My brother intercepted your letter, so it seems.", She said nonchalantly and looked up at his well-groomed face. His jaw muscles clenched and unclenched again, after which he also looked at her. His facial expression was practically unreadable. "Hmph." That was, for more than a minute, the only thing he said, while constantly looking at the woman on his arm. There was something about her, something about the way her left side of the mouth always seemed to be curving up, as if she found something to be terribly funny.
"Are you waiting for me to say something?", He growled. She fluttered her eyelashes and gave him a sweet smile. "Have I done something wrong, my Lord?" He slowly exhaled and glanced at her lips, which she was slowly wetting with her tongue. Unbelievable! "Of course not, my Lady. I just- you- Um, I did not expect you to be as... Astonishing as you are. I should have called on you this morning."
Elisabeth smiled and fanned herself. "You flatter me, my Lord. Tomorrow's another day... Carpe diem, as learned people should like to say." Her eyes fell upon a figure that was quickly approaching them from the side. Covering her mouth with her fan, she lightly touched Anthony's hand. "Lady D's coming." His hand tried reaching hers again, but it was too late; Lady Danbury's cane had already thundered down inches from his foot.
With a sly grin and a wink, she dismissed their bows and curtsies. "I've been searching for you, my dear Incomparable, but it seems like you have already found a man that won't turn into a lapdog in your presence, eh?"
 Elisabeth tried her hardest not to giggle and blushed, whereas Anthony gave her a forced smile. "Thank you for thinking so highly of me, Lady Danbury." She tapped his shin and looked him in the eye. "She's a woman, not a girl, my dearest. Remember that. Now, I'm off, toodeloo my dearest..." And with that, she was gone.
'Woman, not a girl...' Anthony thought and saw the blush on her pale face, looking at him with her coquettishly innocent-yet-not brown doe eyes. "So, where were we... Flattery?", She said and continued walking, where they were slowly approaching the Bridgertons again. He cleared his throat (and hoped it should clear his head too, but alas...) and took her round, gloved hand, bringing it up to his lips, looking her in the eye. She was a Venus, an Aphrodite, standing there with her flushed pale face, strikingly dark eyes and slightly parted raspberry-like lips... "My Lord?", She breathed, barely audible. "People are watching, it is unseemly."
Flustered, he pulled back and released her, bidding her a good night. "Shall we see each other soon, my- erm, Lady Elisabeth?" With a gentle smile, she shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not... You'll always find me somewhere."
And with that, Anthony's night had ended - he walked home, lost in thought, Elisabeth danced until her shoes fell apart (literally) and Lady Whistledown's paper was hot off the press, as always.
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Next =>  "Queen of Hearts"
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peterpparkrr · 2 years
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(Not) the same as it was - ch. 3 | A Bridgerton Series
Series: (Not) the same as it was
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x OFC
Word Count: 1.4k
Summary: Lady Josephine Wescott has a semi-honest conversation with her godmother. A young Josephine Saville and Anthony Bridgerton fall in love.
A/N: This is a short chapter but there is a LOT more meaty goodness to come! As always thank you for your patience with me as I struggle to write multiple fics at the same time.
previous part // next part
series masterlist
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Bridgerton House, London, 1814
“Will you marry again?” Violet asks her as the pair sit across from each other. 
For the first time she can remember, it’s just the two of them in the room, no other Bridgertons are running around, distracting their mother. Which means that Jo is the sole subject of Violet’s attention. 
If she didn’t love Violet, she’d be terrified.
“I don’t know,” Jo admits. She knows that she should. She has nothing from her first marriage, and of course, she could live with her father, but it would look odd from the outside. A Dowager Countess moving into her father’s Edinburgh townhome? 
The gossip would never cease.
Everyone will expect her to remarry.
“Why did you never remarry, Violet?” Jo asks her godmother.
“How could I?” Violet replies as she shrugs her shoulders slightly. Jo can already see the wetness that’s pooling in Violet’s eyes. Her sheer love for Edmund is still written across her face all these years after he’d passed.
“That’s the same way my father talks about my mother,” Jo replies with a small smile, thinking about her parents' devotion. 
In her childhood, Jo had never realized just how lucky she was to have two shining examples of sheer matrimonial devotion. How rare that kind of marriage was. 
Jo had been so naive then.
“And how is your father coping with his daughter being so far away from him?” Violet asks. “I know that he and your mother were already planning the move to be closer to you before she passed. He must be lonely up in Edinburgh by himself.”
“My father was the one who wanted me to come to London. He twisted Aunt Elizabeth’s arm until she agreed to chaperone,” Jo admits to her. “I think he hoped I’d make a love match this second time around.”
“These men may surprise you,” Violet tells her. Hoping her goddaughter would stay open to the possibility of marriage. “I know the conditions were very different the last time you were here, but I hope you will allow yourself to open up to the possibilities.” 
“Everything has changed. I’m not the same person I was when I left,” Jo tells Violet softly.
“You never did tell me what happened between you and Anthony, Josephine,” Violet tells her softly. “I’ve never asked Anthony, and I don’t want to pry…”
“There’s not much to tell, we grew apart,” Jo replies. She does her best to keep her voice even, but she knows that she can’t help but give away that there’s rather much to tell on that subject. Not that she has any interest in sharing it.
“What about Eloise, is there any hope she’ll be interested in finding a match this season?” Jo asks, swiftly changing the subject. 
Violet allows for the not-so-subtle redirection. Though she can’t help but want to table the discussion for another time. When she can press Josephine with hopes of discovering what it was that caused it all to go so wrong between the pair. 
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Aubrey Hall, Kent, 1802 
Christmas Eve with the Bridgertons and Savilles had always been a grand affair. With the current count of children now at eight with the recent addition of baby Gregory, Aubrey Hall was fit to burst from all the excitement. 
It was near impossible to not be swept up in the chaos the younger Bridgertons had created thanks to their many new presents.
“Have you seen Anthony?” Jo asked Benedict as the pair stood near the fireplace, watching Josephine’s father show Colin and Daphne how to swing the mallets of the family’s brand-new Pall Mall set.
Why her father had thought it was a good idea to gift the Bridgerton children, the most blood-thirty, cutthroat brood of children Jo had ever met, a competitive game that required mallets would be a mystery to Jo. 
“No, he disappeared a while ago, I think he wanted to be able to hear himself think,” Benedict tells her.
“Ahh,” Jo hummed as she surveyed the room. 
“I’ll be right back,” Jo told Benedict. 
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“Anthony?” Jo called out as she stepped through the doorway of the library, having followed the faint glow of candlelight to the room.
“Oh, Jo,” Anthony greeted her as he stood from the chair he’d been sitting in.
“I was looking for you,” She replied as she made her way over to where was standing by the window, her hands hidden behind her back.
“You found me,” He replied with a small smile.
“You missed most of the gift-giving, the drawing room looks like a battlefield,” She tells him.
Anthony grins.
“Thank you for the present, it’s beautiful,” Jo adds as her right-hand reaches up to play with the necklace she’d immediately clasped around her neck once the bow was removed from the box.
The chain was delicate, and the small pearl drop-down was understated but perfect in her mind. She had no idea how Anthony had known she would like it. She can hardly imagine him asking her mother or his own for their input on the gift.
And the potential meaning that it might have from the pair. 
“I’m glad you like it,” Anthony replies.
A necklace was not a gift given to a friend, not from a man. And Jo was well aware of that. And so, despite the potential ramifications it might have, Jo had made a rash decision, deciding that this was her moment, it was now or never.
“Don’t you want your present?” Jo asked him.
“I didn’t want to assume you got me anything, I didn’t see anything from you in the pile,” Anthony admits.
“I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” Jo explains.
“What did you get me, Miss Saville? Certainly not something salacious?” Anthony teased as he gazed into her eyes intently, his mouth curled into a smile. 
“Close your eyes,” She tells him as she steps toward him. 
Anthony obliged, his eyes fluttering closed as Jo studied him. 
“Should I hold out my hands?” Anthony asked, his voice dipping just below a whisper. 
“Yes,” Jo replied quietly.
Anthony brought his hands out in front of him, holding them open, palm up. 
Jo considered him for a quiet moment of anticipation. Anthony Bridgerton was the most handsome man she had ever known. If she was an artist she would paint, or sketch, or sculpt him for the rest of her life and never tire of using him as a subject. He was perfect. 
And so Jo placed her hands in his, wrapping her fingers around them as she stepped to him and pressed her lips to his, her own eyes falling closed. 
Jo hesitated for a painful moment when she felt Anthony freeze, and when his hands pulled out her own her eyes flew open and she was certain she had made a terrible mistake. 
But she opened her eyes to see Anthony already looking back at her, not in- as she had feared- horror, but with an unexpected expression that she could not fully recognize. 
Anthony’s eyes were dark as she stared back at him, but before she could open her mouth to apologize Anthony’s hands reached up to her cheeks, and pulled her face back to his own, returning her kiss with one of his own, one that felt impossibly deeper, and that lit something within her as her own now empty hands reached for the lapels of Anthony’s jacket, pulling him as close as she could manage.
When they finally broke apart the grin on Jo’s face was so wide it almost hurt.
“I-I… you have no idea how long I’ve been wishing I could do that,” Anthony admitted in a hoarse tone as he looked at Jo, brushing a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear.
“Happy Christmas, Anthony,” She told him in a soft whisper.
“I asked your father if I could court you,” Anthony admits.
“You-you did?” Jo asked, the shock evident in her voice. Her father hadn’t said a single thing to her.
“Is that alright?” Anthony asked nervously. 
“I’m the one who kissed you,” Jo reminds him with a shove at his shoulder.
“It’s more than alright,” She adds as she links her hand in his, brushing her thumb over his own. “Just promise me one thing. Promise me we’ll always be friends first?” 
“Always. I could never lose you, Jo,” Anthony replies, punctuating his promise with the press of his lips to her own.
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livingdreams97 · 3 months
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Eloise Bridgerton - "The Prince" (Part 1)
Eloise Bridgerton x Male reader/oc
Summary: Two people who have never seen each other before, with the same need and desire to be free in different ways. What could come of that when both people meet each other?
Words: 3.983
Masterlist
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POV Narrator
In a castle located three hours from the center of London, two men are in a meeting and in a somewhat heated discussion. One of the men is in his late 40s, while the other much younger looking man is in his 23s.
XY: You will go to the palace with your aunt and you will participate in this year's social season.- declares the older of both.
XY2: You can't do this to me father.- denies the youngest . -You can't force me to look for a wife.- the son denies.
XY: I'm not forcing you to look for a wife, just to participate in the social season and look for someone to love.- he claims to his son. -You are twenty-three years old and  at your age, I was already married to your mother and already had your brother.- he reproached him, causing the young man to cross his arms.
Y/n: But I don't want to get married, I want to travel and see the world.- he comments getting up from the chair. -I want to get to know different cultures, learn languages and see places that most people can only dream of.- he says walking through the office.
XY: And you will.- he assures her calmly. -But once you find someone, you fall in love and get married.- he dictates, continuing with his writing.
Y/n: And who assures me of that, father.- he says passing his hand through his almond-blonde hair. -We both know that as soon as I get married, I'll have to take care of my wife and start producing heirs. When will I travel ? - he asks the older man.
XY: I assure you that you will travel.- he says looking back at his only living heir. -What do you think if we make a deal?- he offers leaving the pen in its container
Y/n: What deal?- he asks interested, sitting back in the dark blue suede chair in front of his father's desk.
XY: If you manage to fall in love and get married this season, you will be able to travel around the world for 6 months and I myself will pay for your travel expenses. In addition to that, I promise to give you a house, wherever you want as a wedding gift to you and your wife; without the need for you to generate heirs immediately.- the father offers and this captures the attention and interest of the child.
Y/n: But ... - He begins by meeting his father.
XY: You will have to be really in love, you will show me your love for her and your aunt has to give you the go-ahead.- he finishes speaking. -What do you say, do w have a deal? - he questions his son.
Y/n: Okay.- the youngest nods with a sigh, allowing the light curls on his head to bounce subtly and his father to notice it.
XY: So tomorrow morning you will go to the palace, where you will stay with your uncles and before leaving you will receive a haircut.- He points out his son's slightly long hair.
Y/n: Yes father.- accept tired. - Can I retire to my room now? - he asks and the father nods.
XY: Make sure you have all the clothes ready first thing in the morning.- he reminds him as the young man leaves the office.
And that's what happens the next day. After a haircut and loading the suitcases into the family's navy blue carriage. Father and son say goodbye with a hug, before the youngest gets on the carriage and it sets off towards the palace.
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Dear readers,
Have you missed me? Because here I am once again, ready to talk and comment on the events of this new season.
While our respected high society was enjoying their country retreat once more, this author did only one thing: polish my art. Or should I say hatching my plans? No, even better. I was sharpening my knives even more and collecting information.
Apparently, a few hours after the debuts of this season, two luxurious-looking carriages have arrived at the palace and they were loaded with abundant luggage.
Could it be that the queen will host a debutant or debutante of the royal family this season, as she did  with her nephew Prince Friedrich of Prussia?
On the other hand, Queen Charlotte has once again done something unexpected and has renamed Edwina Sharma as the diamond this season. It will be that she is not happy with the failure of last season with her diamond, that she is trying to remedy the situation and regain her credibility when choosing the diamond of the season.
We also have the Bridgertons to congratulate, as the Viscount and Viscountess have just welcomed their first heir with open arms. And they will not only celebrate the birth of the little girl, but also the debut of two Bridgertons more. Will the matriarch of the family be capable of directing and helping three children at the same time in search of a partner?
It only remains to wait and see everything that this season has in store for us. What mysteries and secrets our high society hides that they do not want to be known.
Always yours,
Lady Whistledown.
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POV YOU
I listen to what my aunt reads aloud as we eat dinner, watching disgust and anger fill every feature of her face. I look at my cousin Friedrich , who continues having dinner and not giving importance to what is being read .
Charlotte: How dare that woman question my ability to select, I am the one who created the idea of the diamond and I have not failed even once, until last season. - she grumbles, leaving the newspaper with force on the table.
Y/n:  Aunt, don't give importance to that gossip newspaper, they are not important and you are one of the most capable and intelligent women I know.- I assure her with a slight smile.
Charlotte: You will see my dear nephew Y/n, I appreciate your sincere and encouraging words.- she tells me with a small smile. -But if the people believe what this woman writes, my past successes don't matter, much less if it only reflects my only failure.- she explains and I frown at her annoyance.
Friederich: You are the queen, ignore it and the rest of the town will too.- he comments without much interest.
Charlotte: What I will do is use your presence, to relax the atmosphere and make sure that everything goes well.- she comments with confidence.
Friederich: And what do you plan to do with our presence?- questions with confusion, although I already understand it and I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to like the idea.
Charlotte: You are both here with the intention of finding a woman, therefore I can ensure that one of both of you ends up with my diamond and thus recover the full respect of the town.- she answers and I bite my lip.
Y/n: Aunt, you know that I respect you and that I never disagree with you.- I start a little unsure. -But I'm sure you know my father's opinion regarding marriage and that you only have to marry for love.- I remind her and see how she tries not to smile.
Charlotte: I know my dear Y/n.- she assures me with a certain tenderness in her eyes when she looks at me. -That is why I have decided that Friederich is the one who is interested in my diamond, maybe even something real will come out of this.- she says and I nod in gratitude.
It's not that I really want to marry for love, a few years ago I would be happy to find someone to fall in love with and marry.
But seven years ago my opinion changed and I have not wanted to fall in love and get married since then. When I was 13 years old, my brother had an accident riding a horse in a race and died. My mother went into anger and depression over the loss of her first child.
Two months after the loss of my brother, my mother could not continue and died of sadness. So only my father and I stayed.
I saw my father mourn the loss of my brother, trying to cheer up my mother in her depression and soon after also mourning the loss of my mother. I saw him suffer every day since my brother's death and for another year after my mother's death.
I saw how sad and broken he was when he lost the love of his life. The house was no longer the same, without my brother's laughter or absurd comments, everything felt silent. In addition to the fact that the warmth and happiness that my mother radiated had been replaced by the coldness of her lack.
That's why I stopped wanting to find someone to fall in love with and marry. Because I had seen what the loss of my mother did to my father and how it felt to lose two of the most important people in my life.
So at fourteen I decide to renege on marriage, preferring to remain single and not get close to another person in a sentimental way. But now there's my father's offer, and it's an offer I can't refuse.
I have always wanted to travel and see the world. But my father has never left me, saying that it was irresponsible to go on a trip and leave my chores behind. Although now that my father offers me 6 months of travel around the world, expenses paid and a house to be independent; I can't refuse the offer.
Especially when as soon as he could, my father sent me to university in Manchester and having finished my degree in natural sciences and its use in medicine, along with some medical courses; he wanted to enjoy traveling to find and study new plants as well.
But just because I accepted the offer doesn't mean I'm going to marry for love. But I will try to find a woman, who really does not want to get married; but do not want to stay single and be separated by society.
Friederich: If you think it's the best option, I agree to help her and meet the diamond of the season.- he accepts, causing her to let out a sigh.
Charlotte: Well, I hope you dress as well as possible, because in a few hours the guests will arrive and it's the first initiation dance.- she warns us seriously. -In this first dance I am the hostess and it will be your presentation.- she says and we both nod in agreement.
Friederich: I'll put on my best suit.- he nods puffing out his chest.
Charlotte: One last thing, Y/n Lady Danbury will take care of your introduction into society and will help you in the dances.- she tells me and I nod. -She has more experience and can better help you find a woman.- she explains with a loving smile.
Y/n: Thank you for thinking about my needs aunt.- I thank you with a smile.
Charlotte: I always will Y/n, besides that Lady Danbury is hosting another season at the Sharma and so it will be easier for Friederich and Edwina to get to know each other.- she explains to both of us.
Shortly after, we finish dinner and everyone heads to their rooms. I decide to wear black pants, with a morning suit of the same color with gold buttons and shiny black shoes.
I decide to wear a white shirt, with a navy morning suit and a white Byron tie. I look at myself in the mirror in my bedroom, making sure everything is in place and my hair is neat. ( He has the same hair as Theo , but with a little more curl.)
I grab the white gloves and leave the room after taking a deep breath. I descend the stairs, putting on my gloves and listening to the music from the ballroom in the background.
XY: Sir, Your Majesty requires your presence.- He warns me and I nod with a smile.
I follow the servant, entering the ballroom and immediately feeling the curious eyes of those present on me . I keep my gaze fixed, never taking it away from my aunt and the woman with the cane at her side.
Charlotte: Dear, how good that you have arrived.- she greets me with a smile. -You remember Lady Danbury right? - she asks pointing her head at the woman next to her.
Y/n: Of course I remember her aunt.- I nod with a smile. -It's a pleasure to see you again Lady Danbury.- I greeted taking her hand and leaving a polite kiss on the back of the hand. - You are as beautiful as six years ago.- I compliment her with education .
Lady Danbury was very close to my mother, so from time to time she always traveled to our house and paid us little visits. But after my mother died, her visits became shorter and less frequent.
Until after an argument with my father, because of how he was mourning and his way of focusing on work without showing me affection or support, it happened.
After that discussion, my father asked him to stop coming and that if he wanted to keep in touch with me he could only do so by letters; and so it has been for the past six years.
Danbury: As flattering as always prince Y/n.- smiles making me a bow. -It will be a pleasure to be your supervisor this season.- she assures me with a smile.
Y/n: The pleasure will be mine Lady Danbury.- I assure her politely. -It is said that her role in the Duke's marriage was crucial.- I comment and she smiles holding on to my arm.
Danbury: It was and now I'll get you a wife.- she tells me with certainty. -If you'll excuse us, Your Majesty, I have to expose this boy and introduce him to several possible debutantes.- she says goodbye to the queen and pulls my arm.
We start to walk around the room, while she talks to me about each newcomer we pass by and giving me her opinion about them.
From one moment to the next, she lets out a small exclamation of emotion and pulls our joined arms with a little more force.
Eloise's POV
I can't believe my mom dragged me into this for another year and even less after what happened last season. I very much doubt that any man wants to marry the woman who goes to the market alone and joins companies with radical political ideas.
After what Lady Whistledown wrote about me, or rather; what Penelope wrote, everyone looks at me badly and the scandal did not bring my family much good fortune.
But as much as I have refused, my mother has forced me to participate again for another year and this time telling me that I have to really try. She will even force me to have two complete dances, complete dances with someone other than my brothers or she will take away my books and all my liberties.
I haven't even managed to convince her, saying that she can't supervise Francesca, Colin and me at the same time; and that I would take work away from her by not showing up this season.
But nothing, she has not accepted and has put aside every reasoning I have given her for not making my debut.
And that brings us to this moment. To the first ball in the palace, where as soon as we have entered the door the eyes of almost all the guests are on us and the looks on me are not entirely positive.
Violet: Look there is Lady Danbury.- my mother comments with emotion, but I only look around and I meet the gaze of my old best friend.
I keep looking at her with all the resentment in the world, remembering all the damage she has done to my family and especially to me. I still can't believe that she is Lady Whistledown and was able to write that way about me: her best friend since childhood.
I pay attention to my mother again, when I feel how she pinches my arm and I complain, caressing the area.
Violet: And this is my other daughter Eloise Bridgerton .- introduces me and I look away from my now enemy, finding Lady Danbury with a boy by her side.
XY: A pleasure to meet you all, Lady Danbury often talks about you Lady Bridgerton and always in very high esteem.- He greets her by kissing the back of her hand, as with my sister and approaching to do the same with me.
Violet: I hope so.- she jokes with him.
I just watch as the unknown man gently takes my hand and brings it to his lips while staring into my eyes. After kissing my hand, he gives me a smile and politely lets go of my hand.
Danbury: From what I see, dear friend, this season we will both be very busy.- she comments to my mother and I looked at her with confusion . -You supervising your three children debuting and I supervising Edwina Sharma and Prince Y/n of Hannover here present.- she comments amused and I open my eyes, impressed in the most hidden way possible.
Violet: Oh, so you're going to debut too? - asks my impressed mother to the prince.
Y/n: That's the idea, my father thought that it's the right time to start looking for that special person so I can get married.- he answers with a perfect smile; iugh what a rage of a man.
Violet: It seems to me that your father is quite right, finding a special person to fall in love with and thus be able to get married takes time.- she comments and I can see a certain citric expression on his face, but it's barely perceptible and covers it very fine with a smile
Y/n: It's the same thing he says.- He nods agreeing.
Danbury: Why don't you invite Miss Eloise to a dance, dear.- she suggests and I want to deny it immediately, but I see the look my mother gives me.
Violet: I think it's a great idea.- she supports her friend with a huge smile.
Y/n: I suppose that if Miss Eloise accepts I won't have any problem dancing with her.- he assures looking at me with a small smile and extending his hand.
Violet: She doesn't have any problem, right daughter?- she asks me with a smile between her teeth.
Eloise: No, I would love to dance with you, my lord.- I assure him, bowing slightly and accepting his hand.
Y/n: Perfect, so if you'll excuse us, there's a dance floor and a dance waiting for us.- he tells those present with a kind smile and guides me towards the dance floor.
We were immediately on the dance floor, with one of his hands on my waist and the other connected to mine. While my free hand rests on his shoulder and a new song begins.
Eloise: I have to apologize in advance for stomping on you during the dance.- I repeat what my mother has dictated to me so many times before each dance.
Y/n: It's okay, not everything in this life tries to dance perfectly and in sync.- He downplays it by starting to move. -And tell me, is it your first season?- he asks while we dance and I count the steps.
Eloise: Don't talk or I'll get involved with the steps.- I order, looking down at my feet.
Y/n: It's easier to look at your dance partner than at your feet.- he assures me with a certain amused tone. -If you only look at your feet, you'll end up skipping a step and you won't be able to continue counting the steps.- he explains with evident experience.
Eloise: Perhaps the Prince of Hannover had problems with dancing.- I scoffed with a bit of venom.
Y/n: Well yes and I'm not ashamed of it.- he admits standing up. -The dances and some other points of the social events seem too banal and unnecessary for a day to day .- he explained and I looked at his eyes completely surprised.
Eloise: What? - I ask completely surprised, I would never imagine that someone from royalty, much less the queen's nephew, would think something like that about social events.
Y/n: The fact that i'm part of the royal family does not mean that i do not have my own ideas and that I agree with everything that is done in these events.- he comments without much interest. -Besides, the dances are supposed to meet and connect, which is absurd since there is nothing better than a conversation to get to know someone.- He defends his point of view and I couldn't agree more .
Eloise: Then why are you participating as a debutante and dancing with me right now? - I ask with a frown.
Y/n: I guess for the same reason as you.- he answer directly.
Eloise: And what do you know about my debut.- I say defensively.
Y/n: People like to talk, Miss Bridgerton, besides that your disgusted face and little interest in dancing are clear signs that you 're not making your debut for fun.- he explains and I purse my lips a bit annoyed for how fast he has read me; and for what he will have heard from me.
Eloise: What have you heard about me?- I ask him in a somewhat aggressive way.
Y/n: The dance is over.- he says separating from me . -It looks like we'll have to continue this conversation at another time, Miss Bridgerton .- he comments, leaving another kiss on the back of my hand and guiding me back to my mother. -I return your daughter Lady Bridgerton in one piece.- he tells my mother politely.
Violet: I thank you my lord.- she thanks him and the prince makes a small bow and walks away from us. -How was the dance with the prince? - she asks me excited.
Eloise: Incredible mother, dancing with the prince has been such a compliment, it has been a dream come true and now I can die in peace. - I exaggerate ironically and she looks at me challengingly.
Benedict: He seems like a nice guy.- he comments with our mother. -Besides, he's endured a whole dance with our sister and it doesn't look like he's complained about her stomping.- he comments amused, causing Colin to laugh and for me to hit him on the arm.
Eloise: I haven't stepped on it.- I deny immediately in my defense.
Colin: Yes, you have.- he assures me with confusion and amusement . -You've stepped on him like five times at least.- he points out and I open my eyes surprised at not having noticed.
Benedict: We were betting on how many more stomps the poor man would put up with.- he comments laughing with our brother.
Violet: Stop talking nonsense and laughing at your sister.- she tells them seriously. -Now Benedict, help your sister socialize and you Colin; you come with me.- she orders us.
Eloise: And Francesca? - I ask confused not seeing my little sister.
Violet: Your brother Anthony has offered to help her this season with me. - she tells me and I nod in understanding. -Now move all of you.- she says and after grabbing our brother's arm she disappears.
Benedict: Let's go around and discuss some of the ridiculous dresses and accessories of your competitors.- he mocks, offering me his arm and I delightedly grab it with mine.
Benedict is my favorite brother, because he always follows my jokes and he is the person with whom I feel most comfortable to talk about anything. I have always felt a greater connection with him than with any of my other siblings.
As we walk around the room, talking about some of the tacky dresses and hideous costumes of the other debutantes at the ball. I can't help replaying my conversation with the prince during the dance in my head, trying to figure out what he meant by his words and what he knows about me
NEXT
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multifailures · 2 years
Text
Portraits When Writing Failed
Summary: In silent company, Benedict and Y/N would work until Benedict found something he definitely was not meant to see. 1.9k
A/N: I’m so slow at writing. I want to start getting at least two posts up a week but please be patient with me until I get there (: I also would love to get some song/lyrics/quotes prompts as requests-- it’s so much easier writing like that imo. if you want to send a request, i listed my preferred fandoms on my masterlist. hope you enjoy reading (:
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Words were Y/N’s first love. She spoke in elegance many were envious of and had her head stuck often in the highest quality of novels. She even kept a diary of unspoken words of her devotion: poems of unrequited love and prose of unrealised potential. Those lyrics often fell with a single muse: Benedict Bridgerton.
Together, the two creative minds would sit in comfortable silence—in his house’s drawing room or her family garden, it didn’t much matter where. Sat far apart on opposite benches, there was an unspoken inspiration between the two. Their heads would be stuck in their notebooks or sketchbooks, only looking at one another when certain the other was too focused to notice. When she was not looking at him and her head was down, Y/N’s hair fell to her face in an ethereal halo that Benedict admired so much he couldn’t help but sketch each individual strand and the tip of her nose poking through. He favoured in drawing her eyes, too, letting colourful ink flow between pencil markings just to witness her mesmerising gaze in times he cannot be next to her.  
When looking at Benedict, Y/N wrote of the brightest of days that could never be dulled and of conversations that she never wished to forget. She wrote in verse of the lightest of touches as they danced in silent yearning; she rambled of secret glances she swore she’d seen. However, words had failed her in recent weeks. Her diary had become a mess of crossing outs and unfinished sentences. What’s more? Where words had trailed off, sketches had replaced. Many were innocuous—simple tree doodles and night sky scenes; she had filled many of these pages without thought, just as a distraction. Though, hidden between the pages of writing and doodles were possibly Y/N’s deepest secrets. She had drawn portraits of a man where words had failed to describe him. They weren’t good, she was certain, and some even failed to capture his likeness at all, but her hand still drew with absent-mindedness. Benedict was the only thing she could draw when she thought of whimsical love and safe comfort. Those feeling had consumed her more and more each day now that they returned to London for the social season.
In their current session of silent dalliance, Benedict and Y/N sat like they always did with space between. In the Bridgerton’s drawing room, Benedict lounged with his back on the couches’ arm rest while, ever-so-proper, Y/N sat with a straightened back on the blue armchair opposite. Neither had ever dared getting closer, no matter how much they had wished to. Y/N had been told all her life not to get too close to handsome men; Benedict has been taught by his eldest brother that proper ladies weren’t worth his time. Yet, they still kept each other company in their distance.
So, they sat with pencils to paper in the drawing room, trying not to make the other aware of their subject of desire. For some reason though, Benedict seemed to be in much more of a talking mood today. It had only been twenty minutes of quiet working until he speaks. “Y/N,” He gains her attention. “What are you doing?”
She refuses to take her eyes off her page, though she can see him in the corner of her eyes as he puts his own work down. “I’m writing, as always.”
“You’re certain?” He quips his head, a hint of a knowing smirk on his face. His gaze makes Y/N shift uncomfortably. She hums in agreement but feels her face begin to heat under his scrutiny, though surely there was nothing to worry. She looks back down to her notebook and turns the page to a less criminal page. No longer were multiple sketches of Benedict’s face plastered on a two-page spread, but writings of the large tree outside her bedroom window replaced. Y/N eyes him suspiciously, as he seems to supress a mischievous smile. He doesn’t mention her quick page turning but watches her with an intent that seems slightly suffocating.
“Then you’re not too busy, I take it.” He sits himself up, patting the cushion that his legs were just lying on. “Can you help with this drawing of mine?”
She questions, “How would I be able to help?” She didn’t have any artistic knowledge, if she did it was all from Benedict’s mouth. Nevertheless, she closes her book and stands with a smoothing of her lavender day dress.
“Oh, you’ll be most helpful.” His eyes trail her movement as she walks closer. As she approaches the sitting man, she sees the book that had lost his interest only moments ago. However, she realises as she sees the page sitting atop the book, that he had not lost any interest at all. Rather, it was this page of a series of small sketches that piqued his interest when he found it crumbled up during their last silent meeting. Like always, some words and doodles marked the paper, but much of the page was filled with only one sketch: Benedict.
She stops mid-step when she realises just what it is he’s holding. He is sure he hears her curse under her breath, something he had never heard from her before. His eyes widen in surprise, only smiling more with that. She attempts to reach it out his hand, their fingers brush together. There was little contact in their friendship; when their skin touched, every stress seemed to melt away. In that sudden connection, Benedict uses the advantage of their newfound touch to pull the book away with a gloating smile. He puts it behind his head, willing her to reach again.
“Stop your teasing, Ben!” She cries with frustration and lunges for the torn page. “Just give it to me!”
He snaps it away once again. She knew better to fight him and sinks into the seat beside him. For the first time he had seen in many months, her lady persona breaks as she huffs down into crossed arms and a pouting mouth. He chuckles but is met with a grumpy glare that only brightens his eyes more. In fact, he deemed it an adorable face that he wanted to memorise to sketch later.
He could only contain his chuckles for so long to ask, “Why on earth would I tease you?”
“Because it’s horrible! It barely even looks like you!” It wasn’t perfect, of course. His nose seemed a bit too big. His eyes may be looking in different directions, she couldn’t even tell. Yet, she did capture him in all that he is with a mischievous smirk and a suit a bit too dishevelled for his mother’s liking. “And it’s the most mortifying thing I’ve ever done.”
“It’s good, Y/N! Anyway, no, that’s not what I mean.” He passes his own sketchbook to her. He nods to the closed book, willing her to open it up and look at his work. She flips through numerous pages. She was not his only source of inspiration, but enough to shock her. She had known of a few of these sketches; he had asked her, amongst many others, to sit for him numerous amounts of time. The ones that caught her off guard, however, where the ones she was unaware of; the ones she had not seen after he said she could relax her pose. “How can I be teasing you, when I have done the exact same?”
She lands on one particular page towards the middle of the sketchbook. In this sketch that spread across the entire page, Y/N was drawn in charcoal hues as she sat at the pianoforte next to Hyacinth. She remembered that day clearly, their studying interrupted by the Bridgerton youngest, asking for an impromptu music lesson. Her nimble fingers fell on the keys just the same as Hyacinth, but she seemed merely a figure whilst every imperfect strand of hair and line of concentration on Y/N’s forehead were presented. She could not tear her eyes away from the masterpiece that was made in her image. She looked—no, he made her look— ethereal.
“Please, look at me Y/N.” He lifts her chin to meet his eyes with the softest of touches. He could not bring his voice to more than a whisper. “I have spent hours studying those eyes of yours and still find myself lost in them.”
“Ben,” Her breath hitches in her throat. Her heated cheeks are no longer the result of shame and embarrassment, but from being in such close proximity to the man she had spent years of quiet friendship with. “It’s beautiful.”
He chuckles, “I had never thought of you to be so arrogant.”
She whacks him with that very book, her eyes rolling at his failure to stop his teasing. He takes the book from her hands and drops it dramatically to the floor. Y/N watches it fall, worried it would ruin any work, but he keeps looking just at her. Her nervous eyes meet his yearning ones again. He lifts his finger to the fallen hair that he so obviously adored to draw and sweeps it away from her face. “It is not hard to make a drawing beautiful when its muse is the greatest beauty in every room.”
Her pout finally drops from her lips as she processes what he is saying. She tries to bring her eyes down to her fiddling hands but his hand that swept away her hand is now caressing her cheek. He keeps a light smile on his face, but a shaky breath escapes him as the only hint of anything other than teasing. He is just as nervous as she is, just a lot better at hiding it.
“It’s not something I ever wanted anyone to see,” She admits. He swears he could feel her head lean slightly into his touch. “You just always seem so lost in drawing and I got bored of writing one day but didn’t want to leave.”
Her quiet confession makes Benedict smile like he had never before. He didn’t think it possible to grin so hard. “You didn’t want to leave?”
He thinks he’s offended her as she sighs, but she shakes her head. She, for all he could describe, had an eye of a nervous wreck. Though, she was the writer, and he was the artist.  “Spending time with you is the best way to spend time in London. And when I’m not with you, I spend every minute I can be alone looking at the sketches I’ve drawn of you. Writing failed to capture you the way I wanted to in portraits.”
He trails his eyes down to the book and page discarded on the floor. He analysed just how he was captured: in between the markings and the erasings, he finally understood. He was drawn with love at the forefront of her mind. It was the same heart-warming emotion he felt any time he would pick up a pencil and think of her. His eyes left the book, trailed to the door that showed the empty hallway. When he was certain no unwelcome visitors would interrupt, his eyes finally landed back to the wonderful woman that seems to melt in his embrace.
“Y/N?” He whispers in quiet staring. “May I kiss you?”
She softly bites her lip and replaces it with a smile. The small tilt of her head signals a nod, and she places the fingers he loved draw on his forearm. Perhaps when writing failed to express her feelings, she could draw his portrait to express the love she sees in him. However, a simple drawing would never replace the feeling of soft lips on his and the slight grip, begging for him to never let go.
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salvawhores-world · 10 months
Text
Benedict Bridgerton X OC PART 2
Benedict bridgerton x Helen Ashford (OC)
Warnings - Character death, mentions of pregnancy
A/n - This concludes their story I’m in love with Helen and Benedict they’re my babies. It has the same energy as Fix you by coldplay.
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Benedict and Helen had been wedded for a week, and though their time together had been somewhat awkward, they found solace in their individual pursuits.
Benedict would often retreat to his art studio, engrossed in his paintings, while Helen sought the company of the Bridgerton siblings and Kate, who graciously guided her through the intricacies of her new life.
Eloise, in particular, was enchanted by her sister-in-law. The two would engage in spirited conversations about literature and their shared distaste for societal conventions.
Eloise, ever inquisitive, inquired of Helen, "Have you perused the recent theories on gravity, dear sister? I would relish a further elucidation from you."
Helen, with a gentle smile, replied, "I possess a modicum of knowledge concerning the origins of said theories, commencing with an apple's descent and culminating in a comprehensive equation."
Their discourse was momentarily disrupted as the spirited young Hyacinth bounded into the room. "Ah, Hyacinth, do come hither," Helen called, retrieving an item from a nearby table.
"Behold, I have completed this for you. inspect the design, and should it displease you, I shall make suitable alterations."
Hyacinth's eyes gleamed with delight as she held the intricately embroidered handkerchief in her hands. "I adore it, Helen! Truly, I do," she exclaimed, marveling at the artistry. "The colors are most pleasing to my senses."
Eloise, eager for more of Helen's attention, playfully intervened, drawing her away from Hyacinth's side. A light-hearted banter ensued between Eloise and Hyacinth, each claiming Helen's exclusive company.
Sensing the need to restore harmony, Helen interceded, her voice gentle but firm. "cease this quarrel, dear sisters. Eloise, fear not, for I shall gladly elucidate the topic of gravity to you presently. And, Hyacinth, my dear, why not prepare the chessboard? Once our discussion concludes, we shall indulge in a pleasant game."
As the lunch hour arrived, the family gathered around the table, their eyes wandering in search of Benedict and Colin. Helen couldn't help but wonder where her husband had disappeared to, especially as Colin's absence was equally peculiar.
"Pray, where have the two young gentlemen ventured?" Kate inquired, her curiosity piqued. Eloise, unable to resist a teasing remark, chimed in, "Ah, Helen, do enlighten us about the whereabouts of your dear husband. It seems he has chosen an intriguing path of seclusion."
Before another word escaped her lips, Eloise felt a sharp pinch from Anthony, a silent reprimand for her audacious jest.
Helen, embodying grace and poise, rose from her seat and cleared her throat delicately. "If you would all kindly excuse me, I shall embark on a quest to locate our elusive gentlemen," she announced with unwavering composure. With a polite nod, she made her exit, leaving the Bridgerton siblings to exchange furtive glances.
Violet, the matriarch, took notice of the unfolding situation. Determined to maintain order, she commanded, "No one shall leave this table, do you comprehend?"
Her words carried an air of authority, prompting the family members to feign nonchalance, suppressing their desire to investigate further.
"But, Mama, one cannot deny your yearning for a glimpse into the private dynamics of their relationship," Francesca mused mischievously, hoping to lighten the mood.
Violet, catching on to her daughter's playfulness, responded with a hint of wry humor, "Indeed, my dear. However, it appears we must grant the couple some precious time for personal interactions."
Anthony, unable to resist a sardonic retort, interjected, "Ah, yes, because clearly they have been starved of such moments thus far."
His remark elicited laughter from the assembled family, their mirth filling the room.
Helen embarked on a mission to find Benedict, starting with his art studio. She traversed the grand halls of the Bridgerton estate, her steps echoing in the silence.
As she approached the studio, she knocked thrice, but there was no response. With a sense of anticipation, she pushed open the door, only to be greeted by an empty room adorned with scattered palettes, papers, and canvases. Benedict was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was in their chambers.
Sighing, Helen made a mental note to admire the paintings later. She reached their chambers and, before knocking, heard muffled sounds of commotion within.
Determined to uncover the source, she knocked once, then twice, but each time, she was met with an eerie silence. Frustration began to brew within her.
Without further ado, Helen boldly barged into her bedchambers, only to be met with a disheveled and perspiring Benedict, accompanied by a concerned Colin. Both Bridgerton brothers turned to face her.
Surveying the room, Helen's eyes fell upon a scattered sketchbook and a few charcoal sticks strewn across the floor.
Two cups of tea sat abandoned on the table. Benedict, looking rather unwell, attempted to muster a playful tone:
“If I must, what is happening here?" Helen asked, her gaze sweeping the disarrayed room.
Before Colin could utter a word, Benedict interjected, his words laced with a touch of mischief. "Colin, my dear brother, do enlighten me. I fear this lady is a stranger to my acquaintance."
Benedict squinted his eyes and giggled, maintaining a distance as Helen approached.
Just as she was about to inspect his countenance, he took a step back, declaring, "No, no! I shall not permit you to touch me! I am a respectable married man, and I refuse to engage in anything that might displease my wife."
With a sullen demeanor, he retreated to a corner near the window, resembling a sorrowful child.
Helen was taken aback, her heart swelling with a glimmer of hope. She hadn't expected Benedict to acknowledge their marriage so openly or exhibit such integrity towards her, especially within the second week of their union, when they still knew so little about each other.
Turning to Colin, Helen adopted an elder sisterly tone, despite their similar ages. "Colin Bridgerton, pray tell me what has befallen my husband. I am certain you possess knowledge of the matter."
Colin sheepishly ran a hand through his hair, attempting to alleviate the tension in the room. "Well, you see... he was under considerable stress, so I thought a small amount of my traveler's powder would alleviate it."
Helen scrunched her nose, unimpressed. "I highly doubt that is its proper name."
Benedict continued to gaze out of the window, discontented by the unwelcome intrusion of an unknown lady attempting to touch him. How dare she? What about his loyalty to his wife, regardless of love or friendship? Loyalty must prevail!
Colin cheekily whispered, "Opium," as he explained the true nature of the powder. "He was meant to take a pinch, but he ended up consuming the entire quantity," Colin confessed in his defense.
Helen, resting her hand on her hip, eyed him with mock annoyance. "Colin Bridgerton, do not think you shall escape the consequences of subjecting my husband to such misadventures. Once this ordeal is over, you shall be in for a most amusing retribution, my dear brother."
Colin looked at his sister-in-law sheepishly, realizing the predicament he had caused. "Very well,Colin, now properly chastised, glanced at Helen with a mixture of guilt and amusement. "I shall leave you both now and join the others for lunch. But I must inquire, what of the two of you?" he asked before making his exit.
Helen flashed a warm smile. "Fear not, dear Colin. We shall manage just fine. Inform your Mama that Benedict is feeling under the weather, and I am attending to him. Rest assured, we will join you soon."
As Colin left the room, Helen took a deep breath, preparing herself for the task of dealing with her high-as-a-kite husband.
Helen's delicate hand came to rest upon Benedict's shoulder, causing him to turn around in confusion. As he looked into her eyes, a spark of recognition flickered within him, and he whispered her name, "Helen."
"My lord," she spoke with grace, a smile reserved solely for her husband adorning her lips. "I have brought you lunch, for you have not partaken in any sustenance."
Benedict furrowed his brow, his mind slowly piecing together the puzzle before him. "There was a lady here, was there not? Where has she gone? Did Colin escort her to his chamber?"
His words spilled forth in a mixture of confusion and concern, while Helen silently grimaced at the mention of Colin taking her to bed.
“Yes, my lord," she replied, playing along with her husband's musings. "She departed when I arrived. Fear not, for you need not worry. I assure you, all is well."
Relief washed over Benedict's features, and he fervently grasped Helen's hands, smearing charcoal upon them. "I pushed her away, Helen. I promise you, I did." His urgency conveyed his sincerity, and Helen understood the importance of loyalty and integrity in her life. It was the foundation upon which true love could flourish.
Helen gazed at Benedict, her voice a mere whisper. "Benedict," she spoke softly, using his name rather than his title, as he had requested. "I believe you, my dear. Now, let us proceed. I shall accompany you to the bathing chamber."
With gentle guidance, Helen led Benedict, the disheveled artist, towards their private sanctuary.
There, amidst the flickering candlelight, she began the tender process of undressing him, her movements both delicate and awkward.
Benedict's words tumbled forth, his gaze intense as he expressed his admiration, "Have I ever told you how exquisite you...look?"
Helen held her breath, her heart fluttering at his words. Countless men had uttered such sentiments to her, but the intensity and proximity of Benedict's gaze had a profound effect, melting her resolve like a puddle of mud. "I do not believe you have, Benedict," she replied, a teasing smile playing upon her lips.
Benedict gasped dramatically, as if he were a a lady wronged. "How incredibly rude and inconsiderate of me," he lamented, drawing a giggle from Helen. She found his antics endearing, and gently she removed his hands from his beautiful face.
"Fret not, dear. There is always a first time for everything," she reassured him, her voice filled with tenderness.
Helen sat beside Benedict, the room filled with the faint scent of opium as the effects of the drug lingered in his mind. She held a spoonful of soup to his lips, her eyes brimming with concern and affection.
"Open wide, dear," Helen coaxed gently, her voice filled with tenderness. Benedict, still under the influence, opened his mouth like a child eager for a sweet treat.
Helen carefully guided the spoon, ensuring he swallowed each mouthful.
"Goodness, Benedict, you are being quite the handful today," she remarked playfully, her fingers brushing against his cheek as she wiped away a stray droplet of soup.
Benedict's eyes sparkled with a mixture of confusion and childlike innocence. "Am I, my lady? I cannot seem to recall."
His words were laced with a touch of mischief, despite the clouded state of his mind “Shall I sketch you? Capture your beauty?” He offered
Helen let out an awkward chuckle, her laughter slightly nervous, yet filled with genuine affection. "Oh, Benedict, you always find a way to surprise me. But, I must warn you, my face might not be the most captivating subject for your sketch in this state."
Benedict's brow furrowed, his cloudy mind struggling to comprehend her words. "Nonsense, Helen! I... I want to capture your... um, beauty on this paper. It's... part of being a married couple, right?" He scratched his head, a touch of uncertainty in his voice.
Helen couldn't help but blush, feeling the weight of their arranged marriage in the air. She hesitated for a moment before responding, trying to find the right words. "Well, yes, I suppose it is. But let's not put too much pressure on this sketch, shall we? It's just... a friendly attempt at art."
Benedict nodded, his eyes flickering with a mix of determination and self-consciousness. "Right, just a... friendly sketch. Nothing more." He picked up the sketching stick, his grip a bit unsteady, and glanced at Helen, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.
Helen sat still, her posture slightly rigid, as Benedict started to draw. His strokes were hesitant, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to capture her features.
The resulting lines on the paper were far from perfect, but there was an endearing quality to the sketch—a rawness that mirrored their newly formed connection.
The night grew late, casting a serene ambiance over the Bridgerton estate. Helen, finally finding a moment of respite after a demanding afternoon caring for her husband, sat at the pianoforte, her fingers delicately dancing across the ivories.
Lost in the melodies she composed, she sought solace in the harmonies that flowed from the instrument.
Just then, Kate entered the room, carrying a dainty cup of tea. With grace, she approached Helen and extended the offering. Helen accepted it graciously, her eyes filled with curiosity. Taking a sip, she relished the delightful warmth that caressed her senses.
"My dear Kate, this tea is truly remarkable. Pray, may I inquire about its origins?" Helen inquired, her voice tinged with intrigue.
Kate chuckled softly, settling into a nearby seat. "Why, my dear, this tea is brewed in a manner reminiscent of our Indian traditions. Back home, after long and arduous days, I would prepare a cup for myself, finding solace in its comforting embrace."
"How do you find it, my dear?" Kate inquired, her voice gentle and curious. "Well, as I mentioned earlier, it is quite refreshing and unlike anything I have experienced before,"
Helen replied, setting the cup aside with a delicate touch. "But pray, Kate, I believe we both know you are not referring to the tea. You speak of my marriage to Benedict. How has it fared?"
Helen took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before responding. A faint smile adorned her lips, revealing a touch of awkwardness. “It has been... good. Benedict is a truly remarkable man, one with a kind and gentle spirit." Her words held a mix of sincerity and uncertainty, as if trying to navigate the complexities of her emotions.
Kate observed her sister-in-law closely, attempting to decipher the emotions that danced across her features. "I know that a love match was your heartfelt desire, as it is for many in our family. While your marriage may not have sprung from romantic love, I do believe that you and Benedict complement each other. He is a free-spirited soul, a ray of sunshine who lives life on his own terms. Trust me, in due time, he will come to truly love and cherish you, treating you with the utmost care you deserve."
Helen's smile grew slightly more genuine, her gaze drifting to a distant memory. "Of course, with time, I shall strive to know him better," she replied, recalling a recent incident that had left an impression.
Kate nodded, her smile warm and understanding. "Helen, it would be unjust to ask if you are in love with him, for we all have our own beliefs and paths to tread. But tell me, how do you truly feel? You can be honest with me, dear Helen," she gently encouraged.
Helen paused, contemplating her response. She spoke with a quiet certainty, "Kate, I have always viewed marriage as a duty, a means to bear children and foster a certain level of companionship. Love, in the romantic sense, has never been a concept I hold dear. So, I would be content if our relationship remains as it is, devoid of passionate love. I have no secrets from you,Kate. You are dear to me, and I bid you goodnight," she concluded, gracefully stepping away from the conversation, leaving Kate alone, caught in her own thoughts.
Kate was left astounded, realizing that perhaps she had underestimated Helen's true nature.
She considered the similarities between Helen and Eloise, both strong-willed and resilient in their own right. In different fonts, they were cut from the same cloth.
How could she have expected anything less from Helen
Soon the next day Colin couldn't resist sharing the amusing tale with Benedict, recounting how Helen had come to his rescue.
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Benedict, torn between avoiding Helen and expressing his gratitude, realized it was time to have a conversation with her. As the evening grew late, Benedict searched every nook and cranny of their home, determined to find his elusive wife.
"Look at him, scouring the house like a lost puppy in search of his wife," Anthony chimed in, unable to resist a teasing jab.
Colin, quick-witted as ever, couldn't help but add fuel to the fire. "Oh, dear brother, do you recall your own escapades with Kate, our dear sister-in-law? You're hardly one to lecture about following wives like loyal puppies."
Kate, always one to join in the banter, interjected with a playful smirk. "Colin, are you suggesting that a husband's devotion to his wife is a dreadful thing?"
The words hung in the air, leaving Colin momentarily flustered. Before he could respond, the conversation took an unexpected turn.
"Would someone please enlighten me as to the whereabouts of my wife?" Benedict exclaimed in frustration, his patience wearing thin.
Hyacinth, ever the mischievous one, couldn't resist poking fun at her brother. "Seems like everyone knows more about your wife's whereabouts than you do, Benedict," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Benedict, growing more exasperated by the minute, snapped at Hyacinth. "Silence your tiny mouth, Hyacinth! Aren't you the one attached to her like a leech at all times? Now, tell me where she is!"
Anthony, always the charmer, interjected with a smirk. "Oh, dear brother, what happened to the free-spirited Benedict who once lectured me endlessly about loosening up and learning to take a joke? Has marriage tamed you, perchance?"
Francesca, adding her own tidbit to the conversation, joined in with a knowing smile. "Ah, the yearning of young love. I happened to see Helen heading towards your art studio, Benedict."
Benedict, fueled by a newfound determination, scurried off towards his art studio, eager to reunite with his beloved wife.
Helen was engrossed in her scribbling, her eyes filled with a passion as she observed the ethereal sky. Benedict, silently admiring his wife's presence, couldn't help but appreciate her uncommon interest in astrophysics.
It was an enchanting trait, for it was not often that one found a woman during this era with such a fascination for the moon, stars, and the vast night sky.
Benedict longed to know more about her, but he lacked the courage and opportunity to delve deeper into her world.
"Helen," Benedict called out, his voice filled with awkwardness as he cautiously approached her in his studio. Helen, too absorbed in her thoughts to notice his presence, simply hummed in response.
Benedict took a few steps closer until he stood directly behind her. Helen turned, inadvertently meeting his chest, and when she looked up, she found herself face to face with her husband, his baby blue eyes locked with her own.
Helen's brows furrowed in her classic frown, but before she could utter a word, Benedict impulsively reached out and smoothed the line on her forehead, as if fixing a stroke on one of his paintings.
It was the closest they had been in the two weeks of their marriage, except for the incident when she had cared for him, but she disregarded that moment.
The tranquility was interrupted by the rustling leaves, and Helen took a step back, leaving Benedict fidgeting awkwardly with his hands.
"You were searching for me, my lord," she stated matter-of-factly.
"Helen, how many times must I tell you, I am Benedict," he sighed, a hint of weariness in his voice. "But forgive me, it has become a habit for you, I suppose."
She forced a smile. "Benedict, tell me, how may I be of assistance?"
Benedict cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. "I was hoping we could discuss the events of the other day when, well... you know..." He trailed off, finding it difficult to express himself.
"You were quite high and behaving like an adorable little child," Helen Questioned, her voice filled with amusement.
"I had no idea you found me adorable," Benedict replied, a playful tone in his voice.
"I find children adorable, Benedict, and that's exactly how you were acting," she retorted, continuing her teasing manner.
"Ah, yes, I apologize for burdening you with the task of caring for me in such a state. I should have been more responsible. Nonetheless, thank you sincerely for looking after me," Benedict expressed his gratitude.
"I will always take care of you," she responded with a smile.
The lack of communication between them had led them to play a dangerous game. While Helen fulfilled her duties out of sheer obligation, disregarding matters of the heart, Benedict felt a glimmer of happiness. Perhaps, slowly, he could foster a genuine friendship with her.
“Well, I would love to hear you talk about how navy blue should only be mixed with Prussian blue because, as you once said, they understand each other. Now that you are sober, of course," she laughed, attempting to keep the conversation flowing.
If she were to make any progress with Benedict, to move beyond the awkwardness she needed to engage in normal conversation.
“Then, dear, you are in for a treat. But first, tell me, why do you constantly fixate on everything you gaze upon in the sky?" Benedict playfully inquired.
"Come, let me show you," she said, turning around excitedly to peer out of the window, her hand still clasped in his.
“You see, I spot one star, and then the adjacent stars create a precise spacing here," she explained, showcasing the paper she had been scribbling on.
“Finally, I attempt to connect them to form constellations, understanding them better in the process." She pointed out of the window.
"You see right there? These stars together form Orion, the hunter from Greek mythology. Its brightest stars are the blue-white Rigel and the red Betelgeuse," Helen informed Benedict.
Benedict, a man of passion who had always sought solace in his art, resonated deeply with the concept of having a true passion.
He understood the sparkle in his wife's eyes, even if he didn't comprehend the details of her explanations. What he knew for certain was that Helen Bridgerton's eyes shone the brightest, even more so than the blue-white Rigel and red Betelgeuse.
After that encounter two days later, Benedict stepped into his art studio one evening, a playful grin adorning his face. "Ah, my dearest wife, it seems you have taken a fancy to invading my sacred artistic haven," he jested, arching an eyebrow in amusement.
Helen's eyes twinkled mischievously as she turned away from the window, meeting Benedict's gaze. "Well, my lord, if you do not guard your territory diligently, I shall have no choice but to claim it as my own," she retorted playfully, a soft laugh escaping her lips.
A routine had formed between the newlyweds, where after their evening meal, Benedict would immerse himself in painting, and Helen would gaze at the night sky, finding solace and fascination in the celestial wonders. She had discovered that the view from Benedict's studio offered a remarkably clear panorama of the heavens.
In the tranquil embrace of the studio, their companionship flourished. Benedict cherished the calm presence of his wife, finding solace from the boisterous energy of his siblings.
He relished the moments when she offered feedback on his art, expressed admiration when prompted, and engaged in delightful conversations on various subjects.
Helen, having grown accustomed to solitude, found joy in the presence of another. While Benedict may not fully grasp her passion for the stars like Eloise did, she treasured the instances when he would pause his brushstrokes and stand beside her, gazing out the window at the vast expanse of the night sky.
It was during those moments that he would listen intently to her passionate musings, even if they were mere fragments of her thoughts.
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It was a tranquil morning within the Bridgerton household, seemingly filled with serenity. Benedict and Helen had gradually developed a budding friendship over the past week, slowly unraveling the layers that separated them.
As they savored their morning tea, Benedict alongside his brother Anthony, and the rest of the family engaged in their respective activities.
Kate had taken Eloise to visit the modiste, Colin was out with Gregory, imparting his equestrian knowledge upon the young lad, while Violet and Fransceca engaged in the art of embroidery.
Meanwhile, Hyacinth and Helen found themselves absorbed in an intense game of chess, their minds focused on strategic moves. However, their tranquility was abruptly shattered by the arrival of Earl Henry Ashford, Helen's brother, who stormed into the household unannounced, leaving the family members stunned.
Helen's heart skipped a beat upon seeing her brother, her face initially lighting up with delight at the unexpected visit. But before she could even extend her arms for an embrace, Henry delivered the shocking news.
His voice trembled as he spoke the words they never anticipated. "It's mother... She is... she is no more," he announced, his voice heavy with grief.
The sudden revelation left the Bridgerton family in a state of disbelief. While the family had known of their mother's absence, with the Dowager Countess Ashford choosing to reside overseas following her husband's death, they were unaware of the true circumstances.
Helen's world stood still, her throat constricted with a mix of emotions she struggled to comprehend.
In the midst of her overwhelming emotions, Benedict swiftly moved to Helen's side, his touch gentle as he clasped her hand while providing support at the small of her back. His presence was a grounding force, offering solace amidst the storm.
Anthony, ever the gracious host, extended his condolences to Earl Henry, exhibiting his empathy for their loss. Violet, concerned for her daughter-in-law, sought to offer comfort, inviting the earl to take a seat and partake in some tea.
As the room enveloped in a tense silence, Benedict softly whispered Helen's name, cautious not to startle her fragile state.
She slowly lifted her gaze, her expression revealing a complex amalgamation of emotions. It was not sadness that etched her features, but rather an unexpected anger simmering beneath the surface.
Benedict couldn't fathom the object of her ire, but he knew that she was grappling with a storm within.
In a voice tinged with an undercurrent of resentment, Helen finally found her voice amidst the turmoil. "You could have conveyed this news through a letter, dear brother. There was no need for you to make the arduous journey," she uttered, her words laced with bitterness, leaving those present bewildered by her uncharacteristic response.
Earl Henry, expecting such a reaction from his sister, composed himself before continuing. "I have come to invite you to the funeral, which is to take place at dawn tomorrow," he informed, his voice carrying a tone of finality.
A defiant spark ignited within Helen's eyes as she firmly stood her ground. "You know very well that I refuse to attend. I want no part in mourning and offering empty prayers. Excuse me," she declared, abruptly releasing Benedict's hand and making her exit from the room, leaving her loved ones stunned and searching for answers.
The anguished atmosphere lingered, heavy with unanswered questions and the haunting absence of understanding. Helen's unexpected response to her mother's death shattered the family's perceptions, leaving them to grapple with their own emotions while trying to comprehend the turmoil that resided within her.
"I beg your forgiveness for my sister's uncharacteristic behavior," Henry offered a sincere apology, his voice laced with concern.
Violet, the ever-understanding mother-in-law, quickly reassured him, dismissing his need for remorse. "Oh, no need to apologize, dear Henry. Each of us grieves in our own way. Let us grant Helen the time she requires."
With his apology acknowledged, Henry took his leave, departing from the household.
Benedict, torn between his longing to seek out his wife and the counsel of his brother, found himself at a crossroads.
Anthony, sensing his brother's confusion, placed a hand on Benedict's arm, imparting his wisdom. "Give her the space she needs, Benedict. Allow her to confront her emotions in solitude."
Benedict nodded reluctantly, his heart aching to reach out to Helen, yet understanding the necessity of granting her time.
He couldn't comprehend the depth of her turmoil, for he had never witnessed her in such a state of wavering emotions. As the family gathered for dinner that evening, an oppressive silence filled the air.
Helen, noticeably absent from the table, sought solace in her solitude. The family, ever empathetic, respected her need for distance during this trying time.
Later that night, as the hour grew late, Benedict retired to their shared chamber, expecting to find Helen still awake, her mind plagued by restless thoughts.
To his surprise, she lay in peaceful slumber, her countenance serene like that of a contented child. The familiar furrow between her brows, an almost constant companion, had disappeared, granting her face an uncharacteristic tranquility.
Benedict's confusion deepened, his mind flooded with a multitude of unanswered questions. He had an overwhelming desire to be there for Helen, to provide her with the support she so clearly needed.
The morning sun cast a gentle glow upon the room as Benedict entered, his worry etched upon his face. His gaze fell upon his slumbering wife, her form peaceful yet troubled. He hesitated, hesitant to disturb her rest, but the growing concern within him outweighed his reservations.
Helen needed to awaken from her prolonged slumber, for the consequences of such continued isolation could be detrimental to her well-being.
Approaching the bed, Benedict leaned in, his voice a hushed whisper. “Helen," he gently nudged her arm, hoping to rouse her from her deep slumber.
She remained unresponsive, lost within the depths of her dreams. With a tender touch, he ran his hand through her tousled hair, calling her name once more. Startled, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open.
"Hey, hey, shhh," Benedict murmured, his voice laced with reassurance. "It's me. You're safe. You're okay." He offered her a soft, comforting smile, his presence a soothing balm for her startled soul.
In that moment, she whispered his name, and he nodded, conveying his understanding and support.
Benedict extended a glass of water to Helen, her trembling hand accepting the offering. Concern laced his voice as he asked the inevitable question, aware of its futility. "How are you feeling now?"
Helen's response was swift and dismissive. "I'm fine, don't worry. My mother's death doesn't concern me. I just needed time to process. I'll return to my usual self from today." The words held a hollow ring, a façade that barely masked the turmoil within her.
Sensing the walls she had built around herself, Benedict reached out, his hand enveloping hers. He understood the hollowness that resided within her, the grief that silently consumed her. He yearned to break through those barriers, to be a source of comfort and solace for her.
"Helen, that's precisely why I am here," Benedict spoke with earnestness, his voice carrying a gentle plea.
“People often speak when something affects them, but shouldn't we also talk more when something doesn't, particularly in moments like this?"
Helen's gaze fixated on his captivating features—the mesmerizing blue of his Bridgerton eyes and the softness of his lips. He was undeniably beautiful. "I have nothing to say to you," she responded, her tone devoid of hostility yet resolute. Adjusting her nightgown, she prepared to face the day.
Unwilling to let her retreat, Benedict grasped her wrist firmly. "I know you may not wish to discuss this with me, but..." Before he could finish his sentence, she abruptly tore her wrist from his hold, her voice now laced with frustration.
“Then don't say it. What do you gain from forcing me to acknowledge my mother's death?" Her words pierced the air, leaving Benedict stunned.
"Helen, she was your mother. It is clearly weighing on your heart," Benedict stated, rising to his feet. "Yes, she was MY MOTHER. It's BOTHERING ME. But what does it matter to you? How does it concern you?" Helen retorted with simmering anger.
"I just want you to have someone to talk to, Helen. I'm your husband," Benedict expressed, his eyes filled with a multitude of emotions. "And even before that, I want to be your friend. I want you to know that you don't have to face this alone. I refuse... I refuse to let you bear this burden alone." Tears glistened in his eyes for his wife.
Helen met his gaze, her spirit shattered and vulnerable. Benedict's touch on her cheek sent tremors through her, breaking down her defenses.
A loud sob escaped her lips, a dam of emotions finally giving way. She crumpled to her knees, bringing Benedict down with her, and unleashed a torrent of tears.
Benedict held her tightly, cradling her in his embrace, his gentle hands soothingly stroking her hair and back. Whispers of reassurance escaped his lips as she wept in his arms, the weight of her anguish finding release in his steadfast presence.
“I loathe... I despise her... I have harbored this deep…de..deep hatred towards her my entire life... and now that she's departed, she has no right to inflict this anguish upon me," Helen whispered amidst her sobs, her words muffled against Benedict's chest.
Benedict held her even tighter, providing a steady anchor amidst the storm of her emotions. "Darling, it's alright. You have every right to feel whatever you feel. Let it all out. I'm right here by your side, and I'm not going anywhere," he reassured her, his lips planting tender kisses upon her trembling head.
As time went by, Helen's cries began to subside. Gently, Benedict lifted her from their embrace and placed her on the bed, his hands delicately wiping away the tears that stained her face. Reluctant to let go, Helen clung to his hand, seeking solace like a lost child in his unwavering presence.
Helen slowly composed herself, clearing her throat to reveal the hidden truth behind her intense resentment toward her mother.
"During my childhood, I bore witness to the profound love shared by my parents," Helen began, her voice trembling with memories as a faint smile graced Benedict's face. "Their union seemed destined, as if crafted by fate itself, spanning every realm and transcending lifetimes," Helen continued.
Benedict couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty, even in her nightgown, with flushed cheeks, a runny nose, and sorrowful eyes, she resembled a model in a painting depicting melancholy.
"As children, my brother and I were regaled with tales of our parents' love, straight out of fairytales. We were the epitome of a perfect little family, the four of us," she recalled, her voice laden with sorrow.
“My parents shared a true love, a love match, and they were utterly smitten with each other. It was all like a beautiful dream," Helen said, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes once more.
"And then I was fourteen, I wandered into the backyard one day. Usually, my father would teach my brother and me fencing in the afternoon, but not that day. Instead, I stumbled upon my father's lifeless body. He had taken his own life," she choked out between sobs.
Benedict, all too familiar with the pain of losing a father, pulled her closer, his embrace a shield against the anguish.
“He discovered my mother's infidelity and could bear the weight of it no longer," Benedict listened in stunned silence, his mind reeling with the weight of this new revelation.
“And when she arrived at the scene, not a single tear fell for the man she professed to love, her husband, the father of her children," Helen muttered bitterly.
“No guilt, no shame tarnished her face. That wretched woman," she spat. “Within a week, she disappeared, running away with her lover,"
Helen continued with a scoff. "Leaving my brother and me to fend for ourselves," she said, clutching Benedict tightly. "I want nothing more than to erase it all from my memory.”
Benedict held her close, his protective arms encircling her. "My love, I am profoundly sorry that you had to endure such pain. And look at the remarkable woman you have become. I am immensely proud of you," he whispered, coaxing her to find strength.
“It is not easy to bear this burden and speak of it as you have done."
Helen gazed up at him, still clinging to him with unyielding determination. "I am proud of you too," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
“And I promise, I will never allow you to feel even an ounce of the suffering I endured. If you do, I will be here to shield you, to hold you close," Benedict vowed, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
In that moment, Helen felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude for the stars that aligned to bring Benedict into her life, to be her husband. Benedict's presence filled her with emotions she had long suppressed, burying herself within his comforting words.
He seethed at the injustice suffered by Helen's father, the cruelty thrust upon a young girl at the tender age of fourteen, and the strength with which Helen had fought to become the remarkable woman she was.
From that day forward, Benedict vowed to be the husband she truly deserved, to offer her every moon and star she gazed upon in the sky, placing them upon her very brow.
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Weeks passed by, and Helen found herself moving beyond her grief, or whatever it was that had consumed her.
She and Benedict grew closer, though Helen insisted there was nothing romantic about it. Their interactions became filled with simple gestures of affection—holding hands as they strolled together, playfully splattering paint on each other, and Helen effortlessly fixing Benedict's collar or shirt.
Benedict would peck her forehead with contentment or before he set off somewhere. It was the regular stuff, but it meant the world to them.
Helen found solace and comfort within the Bridgerton household, unintentionally falling in love with not just Benedict but with the entire family.
She felt her walls crumbling as she slowly opened up, allowing herself to feel safe and protected.
Violet shared stories of her own love with Edmund, and Helen listened intently. Anthony and Kate playfully argued over how they fell in love, their banter filling the air with laughter.
The family even teased Simon about his fake dating ordeal. Helen couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the Ashford bad luck was fading away, replaced by the fortunate embrace of the Bridgerton name.
And perhaps, amidst it all, Helen entertained the notion that falling in love wouldn't be such a bad idea. After all, she had her best friend by her side, ready to catch her, to hold her close.
The possibilities seemed endless, and Helen allowed herself to dream of a future where love bloomed and happiness was within reach.
Benedict Bridgerton was utterly and irrevocably smitten with his wife, much to everyone's amusement—everyone except his oblivious wife, that is.
His eyes would light up like a thousand suns whenever he laid eyes on her, his enthusiasm rivaling that of an overexcited golden retriever.
She brought a perfect balance to his life, and it had only been their second month of marriage. So much could change, but what he adored about Helen was her profound understanding of things, her delightful sense of humor, her unwavering courage, and her unmatched compassion.
And he couldn't help but be teased mercilessly about how he melted into a puddle whenever she was near.
Helen, on the other hand, was discovering more of herself within their relationship.
The couple found themselves engrossed in conversation in a cozy corner of the room. "Do they even talk to anyone other than each other?" Colin groaned, earning a mischievous smirk from Francesca.
“Well, news is, Colin Bridgerton has taken a fancy to Penelope Featherington. If we discuss that, perhaps Helen and Benedict will join us," Francesca remarked, causing the ears in the room to perk up.
“I don't think I've ever heard someone say so many wrong things consecutively in a row," Eloise chimed in, disapproving of the idea of her brother and best friend together.
Helen and Benedict laughed at the duo's banter, with Helen gently brushing off biscuit crumbs from Benedict's shirt.
“You eat like a child," she playfully scolded him. Benedict responded, grinning mischievously, "Well, lucky for me, you find children adorable."
Eloise couldn't resist joining in the teasing. "Benedict, you're always hogging Helen," she remarked, whining about her.
Benedict replied, matching her tone, "Eloise, Helen is my wife." Eloise shot back with a same teasing tone.
“Legally and socially, perhaps. But emotionally and mentally, Helen and I have a connection." Helen giggled and added, "Absolutely, we do, Eloise," making a heart shape with her hands.
The rest of the family burst into laughter Benedict's expense.The butler interrupted their banter, entering with a letter in hand. "For Mrs. Helen Bridgerton," he announced.
Helen instructed her maid to leave the letter with the others in her bedchamber, and the family continued their playful banter.
Late into the night, while Benedict was engrossed in conversation with his brothers in the study, Helen retired to their bedroom.
She found herself surrounded by piles of letters, both opened and unopened, scattered about. "Goodness , Benedict really needs to find a better place for his opened letters," she muttered with a sigh, a hint of exasperation in her voice.
As she rummaged through the letters, Helen searched for the one she had received from her sister-in-law, Caroline. "Ah, there it is," she exclaimed, finally spotting it.
But before she could open it, her eyes fell upon another letter—a fresh one—neatly tucked underneath. Its bold lettering revealed it to be from the Royal Academy of Art. Helen didn't need the keen observation skills of Sherlock to deduce what was going on. It wasn't an old letter; it was recent.
She glanced at the date and realized it was from two weeks ago. Curiosity piqued, Helen took the letter and began reading it aloud.
Her heart swelled with joy as she discovered that her husband had been accepted into the most prestigious art school in the world.
The realization struck her—this was the same day Benedict had experienced his opium episode. Suddenly, everything started to make sense.
He was planning to leave in a week's time. But when was he going to tell her? Did anyone else in the family know? And if they did, why hadn't they told her? After all the closeness they had developed in their marriage, was Benedict really going to keep her in the dark? The audacity of not informing her! She had believed they were truly building something meaningful in their relationship as husband and wife.
Helen refused to give Benedict the satisfaction of seeing her sad and disappointed, especially when he was the cause. She needed answers, and she needed them soon. "I should have known better," she reproached herself.
Just as she heard shuffling outside the door, Helen quickly placed the letter back in its rightful spot, swiftly breaking the seal of Caroline's letter and beginning to read it.
A radiant smile lit up Helen's beautiful features as she devoured every word of her sister-in-law's letter. Just then, Benedict entered the room, his eyes falling upon his beaming wife.
"Ouch! Whatever the reason, I see that it's not me who's responsible for putting such a joyous expression on my wife's face," he exclaimed with his usual flair for drama.
Helen looked up from her letter, her gaze meeting Benedict's handsome face. "You give yourself too much credit, Mr. Bridgerton," she teased playfully, her eyes dancing mischievously.
Slowly approaching the mirror, Benedict began removing his jacket and waistcoat, leaving him in a simple white shirt. Feeling Helen's gaze on him, he couldn't resist a playful remark. "It is improper to stare," he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Without missing a beat, Helen strode over to him in just a couple of steps, gently smacking him with the letter she held in her hand.
“Oh, hush! Caroline is with child! Finally, after trying for so long, they are blessed with such wonderful news. I can't express how overjoyed I am," she exclaimed, her smile radiant and her eyes shimmering like Venus herself.
"Wonderful news indeed! Congratulations, Auntie Helen!" Benedict beamed, his hand gently cupping her cheek. Helen blushed at his touch, the warmth spreading through her.
That night, the couple retired to bed with a sense of peace and contentment. Helen made a silent vow to herself that she would confront Benedict.
the morning sun illuminating her radiant features, Helen turned around to find herself face to face with her husband, who was already up and gazing at her. "Good morning," she hummed, her voice filled with warmth and a hint of uncertainty.
"A very good morning indeed," Benedict sighed, his eyes fixated on her. Helen found herself lost in his mesmerizing blue gaze, which held the depth of an ocean. Her own hazel-brown eyes resembled the sand upon the beach, constantly drawn back to the captivating allure of the sea.
It was a beautiful metaphor, made even more poignant as the morning sun streamed through the window, their hands brushing together as Helen tenderly held his.
Gently running her hand through his light brown eyebrows, Helen couldn't help but leave Benedict smiling.
He leaned in slightly, a spark of anticipation igniting within her. But suddenly, Helen's protective walls rose around her, reminding her of the pain she had experienced before.
Acting quickly, she planted a soft kiss on Benedict's forehead, then rose from the bed, leaving him in a state of adoration and confusion.
"Eloise must be waiting for me. We are starting a new novel today," she explained, teasingly chuckling at his slight frustration towards Eloise.
As the day progressed, Helen searched for the right moment to talk to Benedict, but it seemed elusive, slipping through her fingers like sand.
Finally, she thought she had found the opportunity when Eloise ran off to join Penelope, leaving Violet and Francesca to admire the dresses delivered by Madame Delacroix.
Helen inquired about Benedict's whereabouts from one of the household staff, who pointed her towards the outside.
With a nod of gratitude, Helen walked outside, only to be met with the unexpected sight of her husband engaged in conversation with the modiste.
It seemed peculiar—what business could Benedict have with a dressmaker? Madame Delacroix appeared remorseful, while Benedict appeared awkward.
The conversation abruptly halted as they noticed Helen at the door, her husband arching an eyebrow and the modiste fidgeting nervously.
She despised being subjected to such a scene. After the incident with the letter yesterday and now this encounter, it was clear to Helen that every man in the ton was the same.
Benedict called out to his wife, his voice tinged with curiosity. Helen straightened her posture, her tone cool and distant as she replied, "When you're finished with whatever this is, I would like to discuss something with you." With that, she stormed inside without waiting for his response.
Thoughts suffocated Helen, her mind plagued with self-criticism. Of course her husband was involved with other women.
She had entered into an arranged marriage with a Bridgerton, an artist no less. What had she expected? Declarations of love? She berated herself for lowering her defenses and allowing him to enter her heart, even if only a little. She knew her purpose, her goal was clear, yet the foolish woman she was had succumbed to this vicious cycle of emotions.
Benedict hastened after his wife, his explanation trembling on the tip of his tongue. "Helen," he breathed out, opening the door to their room. As he entered, he found Helen standing by the bed, her gaze fixed upon him, her expression filled with concern.
Taking her hands in his, Benedict frowned at the sudden distance he felt from her. "What you witnessed downstairs," he began, but Helen, ever straightforward, interrupted him.
“I do not wish to know. You are a man, and whatever you do is deemed acceptable by society," she stated, pulling her hands away, leaving him with closed eyes, consumed by eagerness.
Helen continued, her tone formal and distant, "However, if you had at least informed me of your departure in a week's time, I would have appreciated it. I extend my congratulations and offer my best wishes for your pursuit of art." She smiled politely, the formality of her words echoing in the air.
Benedict despised this distant treatment from his wife, as if she regarded him as a complete stranger.
Furthermore, the fact that she believed he could be disloyal to her stung him deeply. Helen started to walk away, but Benedict held her wrist, “Hear me out, plea..”
She forcefully pulled her wrist free, her words laced with bitterness. "What could you possibly have to say? Empty apologies and sugar-coated expressions?" she retorted sharply.
"I am your husband, Helen. I would..." Benedict began, only to be cut off once again. "I know all about it. I'm sure being my husband is hindering your path, and I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do," she hastily replied.
Benedict's frustration reached its peak. "My God, woman! Do you ever listen?" he exclaimed, his voice resonating with exasperation.
"Helen, I am your husband. I would gladly take a bullet rather than entertain thoughts of disloyalty," he declared, holding her shoulders firmly.
“I know we began with an arranged set up, but what kind of monster do you take me for? Madame Delacroix was a mere thing from the past, offering her congratulations. But every word she spoke, I despised because it was not you," Benedict confessed, tears welling up in his eyes.
Helen stood there, utterly perplexed, as she attempted to process his words. "Because I hate anything anybody says these days, unless it's you," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion.
“And yes, initially, I had contemplated leaving any wife I might have and attending art school. But now, the mere thought of being away from your side, even for a moment, feels like divine punishment. The reason I didn't tell you is because I am considering not going. I couldn't care less if it's the most prestigious art school in the world. I would abandon every art school in the universe if it meant spending every second of every day with you," he professed, his gaze locked onto hers.
Tears now streaming down both their faces, Helen vigorously shook her head. "No, no, don't... don't say it. Don't do this to me, Benedict," she pleaded, her brow furrowed with the familiar frown that Colin liked to call "the Helen frown."
Slowly, Benedict cupped her cheeks, his touch gentle yet filled with determination. "No, you will not bury your feelings or keep them bottled up, hurting yourself more than me in the process, Helen," he asserted, his forehead gently resting against hers.
“I refuse to believe that a woman as extraordinary as you would live a life devoid of love, especially when I have the opportunity to give it to you."
They cried in each other's arms, their tears mingling, as Benedict whispered, "Helen, I love you. I am in love with you. You have made me feel emotions I once escaped and expressed.
“And I know you feel the same way. If uttering these words makes it all real, then, Helen Bridgerton, I will provide you with the most magnificent reality imaginable, within the universe that you explore." He continued
Helen clung tightly to Benedict, her walls crumbling beneath the weight of his words. Only he had the power to accomplish such a feat.
“And until you can finally admit that you are in love with me, I will do so on behalf of both of us. I promise," Benedict vowed.
In this dramatic moment, their love blossomed, and fear mingled with longing. "Ben... Benedict, I am scared. I don't know... all my life, I have prepared myself for a loveless existence. Why... why would... you..no," Helen struggled to form coherent sentences, her voice choked with emotion.
Benedict, anguished to see his beloved wife in such a state, held her tightly, his voice trembling with sincerity. "Helen, I refuse to let you go through life without experiencing love. I am here, and we shall both fall in love together, stay in love together, and grow in love together," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Just know that even if I fail to hold you, I will be there, falling alongside you."
With tears streaming down their faces, they embraced, their hearts entwined in a love they both longed for.
In that moment, the world faded away, leaving only their profound connection and the promise of a future filled with unwavering love.
As they reluctantly parted, Helen delicately removed her silk gloves, using her bare hands to tenderly wipe away Benedict's tears.
A radiant smile graced her lips, causing Benedict to mirror her expression. Cupping his cheeks, she gazed into his eyes and spoke with heartfelt sincerity.
"Benedict, I could never bear the thought of you sacrificing your passion for me. I would never wish that upon you. You must follow your dreams, and I am incredibly proud of you. You deserve this opportunity and so much more," she whispered, her forehead gently touching his.
Benedict, the always second in line, had never before heard such words of pride and admiration directed at him, particularly not with such genuine love.
Overwhelmed with emotion, he tentatively brushed his lips against hers, testing the waters. Helen responded fervently, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened.
They reluctantly broke apart, their lungs gasping for air, but Benedict couldn't resist the allure of her lips and chased after them, eliciting a joyful giggle from Helen as she playfully evaded him.
In that moment, she realized she was exactly where she needed to be, and she silently expressed her gratitude to every star in the universe for granting her such a remarkable husband.
"Come with me," Benedict whispered, his voice laced with longing. Helen furrowed her brows in confusion, and he gently ran his finger along the crease, smoothing away the lines of uncertainty.
“Come with me. I refuse to leave your side. We will find a place near my art school," he proposed, a hint of excitement in his eyes.
Helen's heart fluttered, and she couldn't contain her delight.
“Yes, yes, I would love that," she beamed. Perhaps, against all odds, Benedict had indeed discovered love, and Helen relished the idea of love blossoming within their marriage.
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A year later
Impatience etched across her face, Helen straightened her posture and addressed Benedict with a sense of urgency. "Benedict, how much longer must we wait?"
"Stop fussing, my love. We are almost there," Benedict reassured her, his brush gliding across the canvas. "You must learn to be patient."
Helen couldn't help but fidget, her swollen belly a constant reminder of the precious life growing within her. "Tell that to your little one here. They keep kicking me," she said, gently rubbing her protruding belly.
A smile graced Benedict's face as he set aside his palette and brush, making his way towards his wife.
Helen stood before him in her nightgown, a vision of beauty, while Benedict wore a plain white shirt with the first four buttons unbuttoned, tucked into black trousers. The simplicity of their domesticity was a scene worth adoration.
"It's just that they want to express their love for their mama, just as papa loves their mama," Benedict mused, his hands caressing her belly as he leaned in to place a tender kiss on her forehead.
Leaning down to address the precious life within, he whispered, "Well, hello there. I hope you're doing well. Go easy on mama, for we already love you so dearly. We cannot wait to welcome you into our lives. With all my love, papa."
Helen ran a gentle hand through Benedict's hair, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you, and I love them so very much."
In that moment, their hearts were filled with a love that knew no bounds. This was their happy ending, the beginning of a life they longed to share together, forevermore.
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toilandtroubled · 1 year
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— 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲
characters by @babyroblns
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eddysocs · 4 months
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The way that look was exchanged across the gardens, anyone in the crosshairs would plainly see the genuine affection that was there. Eyes narrowed at one another, the uneducated might find disdain rather than fondness, but truly it was a look of appraisal, of realization. His eyes searched for her as much as hers did for him. Only when their eyes met did they consider their actions. They look for each other wherever they are, and are only satisfied once they lay eyes on the other. Yet, just how long will the two pretend that it isn’t the truth?
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Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @bossyladies, @getawaycardotmp3, @misshiraethsworld, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw
Marianne Hardwell: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @dollvi3e
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fanaticfangirl001 · 11 months
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Tolerable, Dutiful and Half A Brain
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Ch 2: The Interview of Miss Ottoline Greggett
Author's note: Fun fact: Ottoline means "Prospers in battle" in French. I picked it because I saw it in a Bridgerton themed baby name inspo video on tiktok.
Chapter 2 
Dearest Gentle Reader, 
There is of course another unknown identity at present.Though this one you  will be able to unearth.I speak of the season’s diamond wherever she may be. 
Your Move, Your Majesty. 
Eloise’s torment begins right after her attempted presentation. She didn't even get a chance to speak to Ottoline. The two typically chatted about their favorite authors during dull moments at balls. She practices dancing with her youngest brother as Benedict pokes fun from the settee.
Her dance lessons are interrupted by Anthony announcing he needs his father’s betrothal ring. 
“Did someone catch your eye at the presentation brother?” Benedict asks. 
“I thought all of the young ladies looked beautiful.” Franchesca says. 
“Not particularly and all the young ladies looked the same. Like young ladies. I’d simply like to be prepared for when the opportunity presents itself.” Anthony answers. 
“The opportunity?” Violet asks. 
“I’ve compiled an index of the season’s eligible misses and arranged interviews.” Anthony nods confidently in his interview system 
“Interviews, Dearest, I shall be more than happy to give you my ring when you find someone with whom you are very much in love. Besides, it is safe keeping at Aubrey Hall.” Violet answers as she walks over to Benedict and says to him  “See that he is quite well.” 
“Me?” Benedict asks. 
“I’m not in need of coddling. I assure you all everything is in order.” With a check of his watch Anthony leaves the house to begin his interviews. 
Within the weeks, Anthony has crossed off many young ladies, for either being immature, naive, foolhardy or simply giving the wrong answer. He checked the list for the last of the ladies on his list, the forgettable and boring Miss Ottoline Greggett. He had heard very little about Miss Greggett, just that she is intelligent but fretfully boring to speak to. She is well acquainted with Eloise and Penelope. Boring could be good, thought Anthony, it would help him know that will never fall in love with her throughout the marriage. All he needs is a tolerable, dutiful, suitable enough hips for childbearing and a brain. That of which Ottoline had several of. Her older brothers are quite the bunch taking up a full table at the Gentlemen’s club. None of them scamps or rakes. Anthony takes a deep breath as he knocks on the door for his late interview of the day. A butler answers the door and takes Anthony into a drawing room with Ottoline and Arabella. 
“Ah Viscount Bridgerton nice to meet you. I’m Arabella and this is Ottoline. We have some tea and cakes prepared.” Arabella introduces. 
Ottoline closes the book and pushes it to the side. “Hello Viscount.” 
“Hello Ottoline, you have a lovely home.Rather a big home to fit you and your brothers in your childhoods.” Anthony sits down. 
“Thank you, yes it is. We have always been quite tight knit, my brothers and I.” Ottoline pours the tea.
“Would you like to have multiple sons?” Anthony takes his teacup. 
“I hadn’t put a number on my future but I’d rather have more daughters than sons.” Ottoline passes a tea cup to her sister-in-law.
“Why is that?” Anthony asks. 
“My father explained that every man’s daughters are diamonds and that daughters are an expression of wealth. Not monetary wealth but the wealth of life. Love and sorrow, everything that makes life worth living.Daughters are a celebration of life itself. I would love to bless a man with many diamonds.” 
“I have never heard of fatherhood quite explained like that. It’s a rather unique perspective.” Anthony says a bit bewildered by the unexpected answer. 
“May I ask you a question, since you have turned this visit into an interview.” Ottoline smiles disarmingly. 
“Of course.” Anthony says a bit taken back. 
“How many children were you in want of? What subjects are expected of them in their education? How would you like them disciplined? If one child or many had the new condition asthma  could we buy a second home near the seaside. The salty air does wonders for the lungs.” Ottoline asks in one breath. 
“At Least four. Literature, Languages, Mathematics, Sciences, Art. I’d like them to be well-behaved. Yes we could have a house on the seaside.” Anthony answers. 
“I’d like to see all my children have lessons in several subjects: rhetoric, horticulture,astronomy, and what of dogs? Do you like them? Could we get several for the children to play with? I grew up with plenty of dogs, mostly schnauzers due to my uncle's penchant for travel. He would bring us puppies from Germany after a Botanist conference. What if our sons have a penchant for travel?” 
“I do see the logic of rhetoric for young men but why ladies? And yes I do like dogs, and a penchant for travel is no problem, my brother Colin already has one.” 
“If a young lady is to stand a chance at arguing with her husband within the first few years she needs some lessons in crafting an argument. And good,the boys can accompany Colin on his travels to Greece and Venice.” Ottoline trails off sipping tea. 
“Young ladies should not argue with their husbands in the first place and I do not believe our sons should travel with their Uncle Colin, he is still young.” Anthony demands. 
“If you do not believe in arguing with a spouse than why are you indulging me in this fictitious debate about our children. 
“I’ve had enough of this conversation. Good day Miss Ottoline, Miss Arabella.” Anthony abruptly stands and storms out of the house. 
Arabella shakes her head at Ottoline. “Why did you have to do that?” 
“Do what?” Ottoline asks. “He’s the one who went straight into these invasive interview questions. Like he needs to be wed tomorrow. We are both trying to find a spouse. Why does he get to interrogate people.I only had my own questions.” 
“Fine, we will practice questions for the next suitors.” Arabella sighs. Getting Ottoline married would be harder than she thought. 
Anthony returns home frustrated. His family seemed to notice over dinner. 
“How did the interviews go, brother?” Benedict laughs. 
“Rather uneventful except for the last. I thought Eloise’s friend Ottoline Greggett would be the most welcoming and most forgettable but she was the opposite.” Anthony vents. 
“Oh and what did she say? I haven’t spoken to her in ages.” Eloise perks up. 
“She said that all daughters are diamonds to fathers, and that daughters are expressions of the wealth of life. Love and sorrows and everything that makes life worth living. Anthony says angrily stabbing chicken with his fork. 
“Oh that’s beautiful Anthony. She seems wonderful.” Violet muses. 
“There’s more of her radical beliefs.” Anthony starts up again “ She wants all the children educated in subjects beyond the general education. She wants lessons in horticulture, astronomy and rhetoric, so our daughters can stand a chance arguing with their husbands within the first few years of marriage.” 
“Quite smart.” Violet can’t help but laugh at the marriage argument lessons and her son’s growing anger by the answers he pursued with his interviews. His other siblings are just as amused at Anthony’s frustrations. 
“She wants dogs too, schnauzers, a seaside house on the off chance one of our broods has this new condition called asthma, and our sons to go on adventures with Uncle Colin to who knows where.” Anthony finishes. 
“I’ve heard the sea air is good for any lung conditions.” Violet pipes in. 
“I’m sure Colin would love to be a fun traveling uncle.” Benedict adds. 
“That is not the problem, Ottoline Greggett is .” 
“Why does she bother you so much, you just met her?” Eloise asks.
“Her reputation is that she is boring and too intelligent to be a wife. I was expecting a dull conversation, not a lively debate about fictitious children.”  
Anthony sulks off into the study after dinner like he has for weeks now after the various interviews. 
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