People Who Hate Happiness for Elizabeth

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ 💔 ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Tag Elizabeth Davenport

                        the rules of society.

[Elizabeth Davenport]

Elizabeth sat with a book on her lap, reading the words that created images within her mind. Not easily distracted, she found herself unable to focus for longer than a few minutes. With Benedict sitting across from her, whatever he did was not the distraction. Instead, it was her own thoughts that distracted Elizabeth from focusing on the book she had been so desperate to get her hands on in the first place. She did not know if it was simply time that had brought this thought to the forefront of her mind or if it was because she knew if she could talk to anyone about it, it was Benedict. Elizabeth had carried this secret for so long, thinking that it was something she would die with. The guilt would eat away at her before she would even consider talking to anyone else about it.

But Benedict was the person she trusted the most in her life and if she could not tell him, then who could she talk to about it? Sighing, Elizabeth put the book down, placing something inside to keep her current place, even though it had been several pages since she had been able to comprehend the words she was reading. Glancing over at Benedict, she watched as he drew and wondered what it was he was drawing. What did he think about when he drew and did he have a secret that he'd never told her?

Looking back down at her lap, Elizabeth decided to break the comfortable silence between them. "Have you ever done something, or had a secret, that makes you think you might not be the decent person everyone else believes you to be?" Elizabeth asked. She kept her gaze on her hands, fiddling with them instead of looking over at Benedict.

50. My muse tells yours their dark secret

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Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

credit to Laura of Adox

[Benedict Bridgerton]

Tag: Elizabeth Davenport
Note: Better layout coming soon!

i' m    n o t    b o u n d    b y 

THE RULES OF SOCIETY

Benedict enjoyed these quiet moments where silence filled the room, though it was a comfortable one. His hand glided over the paper in his sketchbook with ease, feeling inspired to attempt to finish this portrait he had been working on for sheer practice. Elizabeth broke the silence, which was not unwelcome, as she asked whether he had done something or possessed a secret that may cause others to think them indecent. Benedict did not look up from his attempt at art as he processed the question. "The very term decent is subjective," he began to say casually.

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Yes, there were indeed things he had done that could be considered indecent by the ton's standard. But, things that also felt quite natural. It was why he enjoyed frequenting the Granville residence, and why he had not told anyone of what took place there. Bedding two woman at a time may be considered indecent. Having relations with a married woman may be considered indecent. And yet, Benedict did not carry regret for either. The Granville residence had became a safe haven to him . . . a place to truly be himself and be fully at ease. In his role outside of it, he was often the support. The supporter. The second son. The protector.

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But inside there, people regarded him as not a Bridgerton, but as Benedict. And such, was a rarity indeed. Presuming that more of an answer was expected, he continued, still working his charcoal on the paper while doing so. "If you measure decency by the ton's standards then I imagine a great deal would indeed be restricted." As was the case. But individually . . . "But if you engage in acts where you can leave with your conscience clean and without remorse or regret, then perhaps it is a different standard of decency that should be measured." He presumed Elizabeth was going somewhere with this, so allowed her to divulge as much as she wished, without him prying.

[Elizabeth Davenport]

Elizabeth let out a sigh. Of course Benedict would focus on the definition of the word decent instead of realizing that she was trying to have a deep conversation with him. He was, after all, a man. Focusing on the less important things were not unlike him but Elizabeth kept quiet and let him continue nevertheless. He had some good points, however far from home they might have been. Elizabeth did not consider her own definition of the word to have anything to do with society or the ton, but rather what she considered to be decent as a person. Her and Benedict often discussed the constraints of society. Elizabeth thought it was silly that her life should rely so heavily on getting married and that she had no autonomy outside of a marriage. So surely, he knew that she did not believe obeying the ton and society when it came to those things was what she was referring to.

"I mean to say," Elizabeth began, "or to ask, if you have ever done something that makes you feel bad about yourself? Outside of the ton or society's expectations. Just something within your own soul that you know just isn't good." She bit the inside of her cheek and kept her gaze on her fingers. After a moment of thought, Elizabeth dropped her book on the floor before crossing the room and sitting down on the chaise that Benedict occupied. She moved his legs so she could sit, but instead of pushing them off the chaise she brought them onto her own lap. "Do you remember how we said we would always tell one another everything?" She asked, the smallest look of desperation on her face. Elizabeth looked down and played with an invisible piece of lint on Benedict's pants. "There is something I never told you. I just, never wished to burden you with it." But now Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to share it with Benedict. But was that even fair? Why should she burden him with her own sin and her own guilty conscious? If she loved Benedict, as she did, then surely she would not put something like this on her dearest friend.

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Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

credit to Laura of Adox

[Benedict Bridgerton]

Tag: Elizabeth Davenport
Note: Better layout coming soon!

i' m    n o t    b o u n d    b y 

THE RULES OF SOCIETY

Benedict listened as she now spoke of . . . guilt, or remorse. Ah yes, now that was quite different from decency. The two different to compare so he wondered what caused her to first ask about decency in the eyes of others or in others expectations to now . . . the inner self feelings about feeling bad due to ones actions. Perhaps she needed prompting to help, hone in the cause of her questioning. For Benedict also knew she was going somewhere with this. Speaking of something specific. He saw from her peripheral as she started to cross the room, moving his feet and placing on her lap while she spoke of something that she had never told him, not wishing to burden him. He looked up from his sketchpad, watching her reluctance.

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"That has never stopped you before," he said teasingly, speaking of burden, and ensuring she knew his tone was light in the words spoken. Truth was, Benedict was rather accustomed to it. His own personal affairs often kept contained as he knew his role and duty was to support those around him. It had not been specifically mapped out as such, it was simply the way it had been . . . the way it had always been. He sat upright, moving his legs to the ground and turned at an angle so that he could look at her. "If you want to tell me something Lizzie, you know you can," he said softly, without force. "I will not judge you for it and perhaps it will help ease your conscience." As such ways of unburdening oneself so often did.

[Elizabeth Davenport]

His comment made her eyebrows raise and she laughed. "Rude!" She said through her laugh. Elizabeth knew he was teasing and it was what she adored the most about their relationship; the fact that they could mercilessly tease one another no matter what was going on. "Do not make me throw something at you," she chastised him, instead reaching out and giving him a small pinch on his legs as they rested over her lap. Whether he moved his legs because of the pinch or he simply wanted to sit up, Elizabeth wasn't entirely sure but she was certain it didn't matter. Hearing him call her Lizzie, something that so few people she loved did these days, could have broken her if her resolve had not been quite as high. Sighing, Elizabeth knew she wanted to tell Benedict but still struggled with it. 

"The man I was previously engaged to, Arthur Fraser," Elizabeth began, "the truth is, I had heard a rumor that he was going to war or to visit the battlegrounds." Elizabeth felt as if the ugliest part of her was showing in that moment, to confess to such a thing. "I accepted his engagement and his courting because I knew these things and I thought there would be little chance that he might . . . return." In other words, Elizabeth had hoped the man would die so that she might maintain her freedom. She felt tears sting at her eyes and utter guilt and shame wash over her. "I am such an awful person. To hope such a thing so that I may maintain my life."

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Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

credit to Laura of Adox

[Benedict Bridgerton]

Tag: Elizabeth Davenport

i' m    n o t    b o u n d    b y 

THE RULES OF SOCIETY

Benedict lay his teasing to rest, aware that she was to tell him something of great import and it was a time to be serious. The second Bridgerton son was capable of being serious after all, when the moment called for it. And such was the circumstance. He listened intently as she began to explain about her late fiancee. To hear that she had accepted the proposal because she knew he was going to war was . . . surprising indeed. But not one he would condemn her for. Perhaps, because he knew her well. He knew she was good hearted, and incredibly kind. He knew that marriage, particularly to the wrong man, was a fear and one that entrapped many a woman. He knew his sister struggled with such thoughts, as did Elizabeth.

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Reaching out, he gently placed his hand on top of hers in attempt to comfort his dear friend. "Just because you thought it so, does not mean you had any hand in his death." Even if she did not wish to marry him, she certainly did not kill him. "The risks of the battlefield are great," he continued. Right now, he did not need to say anything to encourage shame or blame . . . not that he even held any such thoughts or any words to give to intensify these emotions. He could see them so evidently upon her face, the threat of tears upon her eyes. "You, did not do this." She did not kill him, nor free herself of the burden of marriage to him. "You took a risk in accepting the proposal, and you do not deserve to be in an unhappy union." She deserved far better than that, though knew of course -- especially for women -- that marriage, was indeed always a risk.