Post by Anthony Bridgerton on Oct 31, 2022 18:48:50 GMT
Tag: i am a viscount
IT IS MY RESPONSIBILITY
Anthony started at the papers in front of him, without actually being able to truly see anything. He felt numb. Empty. And yet somehow, devastated at the same time. He did not know how he was functioning. He felt as if he was just watching everything unfold around him, a hallow shell of a man while his spirt ghosted over him and merely witnessed. And yet, things were happening. A great deal was happening. Both quickly, and at a slowed pace. How was it possible? Anthony hadn't the faintest idea. What he did know was that . . . he felt like he could not breathe. He hardly felt alive from the devastation of losing his father. Losing the man that he idolized. The strongest, wisest, bravest . . . every heroic trait that a man could possess, was encompassed in Edmund. No. It had been encompassed in Edmund.
But time did not stand still for any loss. Life moved on and Anthony had to use every ounce of strength within him to make it so. Hyacinth had recently been born and the events surrounding her birth had been traumatic. He'd been asked to choose between the baby or his mother. What kind of choice was this? How could he ever decide such a thing? He left it to his mother and . . . moved forward. For the sake of his family. Hyacinth would have no memories of her father. Gregory, so far and few. His other siblings, distraught over the loss and their mother . . . their dear mother. Anthony feared that they would lose both parents. Edmund, they had lost physically. And Violet . . . he was terrified that they would lose her emotionally. For she was just, not . . . there. Pushing his papers forward and out of sight, Anthony hung his head for a moment.
The hour was late and everyone was sound asleep. He hated being in this room, in his father's office. It felt cold and empty. Not like when he was here before and he would keep his father company while he worked. Now . . . he simply hated it. Taking hold of a candle he made his way upstairs. He first checked on Gregory, who was sound asleep. Then, made his way to check on Francesca, then Eloise. Daphne. Colin. Benedict. And as he neared his mother's room, he could hear Hyacinth. A faint crying sound. But, he could not hear his mother. Stopping outside her door, Anthony took a deep breath, needing to compose himself. He could not accept the title of Viscount despite the legal placing of it . . . so he would settle for simply being the eldest son. And the one who could not mourn in front of his family who needed him.
Lightly knocking on the door, he waited but a moment before entering to see his mother and Hyacinth. "Mother?" He said in a low voice, allowing himself entrance into her room whether she liked it or not. "Has she been fed?" He wondered if her cries were simply for attention, or if she was hungry. His knowledge of children known only from having witnessed so many born into the family. But this would be the first, that one was absent a father. And yet . . . Anthony would do whatever he could to step into that role, as mediocre as it would be for no one, absolutely no one compared to Viscount Edmund Bridgerton.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
But time did not stand still for any loss. Life moved on and Anthony had to use every ounce of strength within him to make it so. Hyacinth had recently been born and the events surrounding her birth had been traumatic. He'd been asked to choose between the baby or his mother. What kind of choice was this? How could he ever decide such a thing? He left it to his mother and . . . moved forward. For the sake of his family. Hyacinth would have no memories of her father. Gregory, so far and few. His other siblings, distraught over the loss and their mother . . . their dear mother. Anthony feared that they would lose both parents. Edmund, they had lost physically. And Violet . . . he was terrified that they would lose her emotionally. For she was just, not . . . there. Pushing his papers forward and out of sight, Anthony hung his head for a moment.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
The hour was late and everyone was sound asleep. He hated being in this room, in his father's office. It felt cold and empty. Not like when he was here before and he would keep his father company while he worked. Now . . . he simply hated it. Taking hold of a candle he made his way upstairs. He first checked on Gregory, who was sound asleep. Then, made his way to check on Francesca, then Eloise. Daphne. Colin. Benedict. And as he neared his mother's room, he could hear Hyacinth. A faint crying sound. But, he could not hear his mother. Stopping outside her door, Anthony took a deep breath, needing to compose himself. He could not accept the title of Viscount despite the legal placing of it . . . so he would settle for simply being the eldest son. And the one who could not mourn in front of his family who needed him.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Lightly knocking on the door, he waited but a moment before entering to see his mother and Hyacinth. "Mother?" He said in a low voice, allowing himself entrance into her room whether she liked it or not. "Has she been fed?" He wondered if her cries were simply for attention, or if she was hungry. His knowledge of children known only from having witnessed so many born into the family. But this would be the first, that one was absent a father. And yet . . . Anthony would do whatever he could to step into that role, as mediocre as it would be for no one, absolutely no one compared to Viscount Edmund Bridgerton.
