The Art and The Artist

[L]

It had been too long since she had seen Benedict. She had discovered this the other day whilst looking at her calendar. She could see where she had met with her mother for tea, with a variety of her siblings poking their noses in to pine on some subject or another. But not Benedict. Which was how she found herself making her way to Montagu House, in Bloomsbury if you please, to see her beloved brother. Not that she had any objection to the area itself; as Benedict himself had pointed out not so long ago, there was nothing wrong with people who worked for a living. Bloomsbury was perfectly respectable, it was just a little far to travel by foot from Hastings House. Especially given her condition. At least Simon had not objected to the excursion altogether. Not that he could have truly stopped her, but it was so much the better for all involved when husband and wife were in agreement. And so, she had hopped into a carriage, bundled tight against the blossoming autumnal chill, and ridden off for the Museum.

She closed her eyes against the rocking of the carriage. She had already lost her scant breakfast to the chamber pot, it would not do for her stomach to rebel against her with only tea and a few bits of toast to bring up. No one knew, of course. She and Simon -- and Rose, she supposed -- had sat in their happy, blissful bubble, content to share only with themselves. Eventually, eventually they would tell everyone. For now, though, she would have to press on and pretend that nothing was different. She supposed that looking at beautiful things might help to improve her countenance.

The carriage stopped and she sat up, throwing off the warm blanket she promised to keep with her as she traveled. There were worse things one could have to promise to ensure a bit of freedom, she supposed. Without waiting for the footman to announce that they had arrived, she scrambled through the open door and alighted to the street. The crisp air against her face steadied her, and she drew a deep breath in, smiling. Before her lay the Museum, its wings outstretched in greeting. It was, she thought, a place most welcoming of diversion. This would be a lovely afternoon. She turned to the driver.

"It shall be several hours, I should think."

tag Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict was rather excited for today. While he knew that he was perhaps more interested in art than the rest of his family, some of them still enjoyed seeing it. And today, he was going to be spending the day with Daphne at the museum. It had been some time since Benedict spent time with her, let alone it just being the two of them. But he had been quite excited when she agreed to come all this way, for he knew the journey was not a short one. Having already arrived, he was waiting by the door and by the time he made way to the carriage, Daphne was already out and letting the driver know that she would be several hours. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "At the very least," he said with a smile, as he made his presence known, referring to her being several hours long. Moving forward he hugged his younger sister in greeting. "It is good to see you Daff," he told her sincerely, as he drew back from the hug. Looking at her, he could not help but notice that her features were slightly paled. "Are you well?" He asked. "I know the journey was a long one." Gratitude in his voice for the fact that she had made it, just to spend time with him. A sentiment that he would not take for granted, especially as it pulled her from her husband and others in their family. But today, he was simply glad to spend the day with her. Tag L

                        the rules of society.

[L]

"Are you well? I know the journey was long."

Blast Benedict and his ability to notice that something was off. No, that was not fair. She knew that he was only asking out of concern. Indeed, if he had only waited another moment or two, she would have appeared greatly improved, the air providing her with much needed fortitude. She took a breath to still her thoughts and verify that the rest of her was back to rights, then shot him a quick smile.

"Absolutely, brother. I am perfectly well." She looked up at the Museum in front of her, its great windows stretching floor to ceiling and shining in the light as though recently cleaned. "This is well too. I thank you for suggesting such a lovely outing." Truly, this would be a highlight for her, having the chance to experience a day of beauty in the company of one of her beloved brothers. Perhaps Benedict would elucidate some of the more obscure aspects of whatever pieces they looked at today. After all, it had been he who suggested the trip.

"Shall we go inside? I am rather earnest to explore, having not visited the Museum for quite some time." She looked at him expectantly. He was the author of today's journey, and he would lead. She was only too glad to follow.

tag Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict was not entirely convinced . . . but, he knew better than to argue with his sister. For the time being, he would merely take her word and keep a close eye on her. He almost wanted to suggest that they go for a short walk in the hopes that the fresh air would serve her well, but she quickly moved the topic along to the museum. That would have to do . . . for now. Benedict smiled looking up at the grand building. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "Thank you for accepting the invitation," he told her gratefully. "I hope it to be a rather, artistically enlightening journey for the both of us." Though, he had of course been here before. Yet even still, the experience going with someone different, changed every time. He extended his bent elbow towards her so that she may take his arm as they ascended the steps. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Benedict gave his name to the porter who greeted them, having previously made this arrangement and once it was struck in the books, they were handed tickets and granted entrance. Benedict tucked them into his pocket as they proceeded inside, pausing for a moment to take in the sights. "Would you prefer to start on the lower or upper level?" He asked, wondering if she had a preference. Tag L

                        the rules of society.

[L]

To be frank, Daphne was not inclined towards any one style of art, not any particular artist. She simply liked the stories that could always be found. And, of course, she liked beautiful things. Thus, in an ordinary moment, she would have simply wandered, flitting between floors as her inclination and eye took her. Today, she would have to be slightly more strategic, for her body was beginning to tire more quickly than it had. She supposed that it took quite a bit of energy to build new life (certainly she had expended a good amount in creating it).

“Upper floor, I think. The better to catch the evening sun in the garden, should we remain here at that time.” A reasonable, if false, excuse if ever she heard one. “Unless, of course, you have a more specific focus you would like to start with.”

She was unsure where Benedict’s interests lay these days. Her own life had become so very separate from his, but even before, they had not shared such a particularly special relationship. Not like the one she had with Colin. She loved each one of her siblings desperately, but Benedict was six years older than her, a seemingly unsurmountable schism of age for such a young girl. Now that they had both reached adulthood and, dare she say it, maturity, she hoped to learn more about him and deepen their bond. This outing was a good step along the path.

tag Benedict Bridgerton