Miss Missing You

[bunny]

THE COLORS HAVE FADED, and Henry cannot find beauty in the way he once did. After their last night together, Henry went off to Paris. He barely remembers the boat ride or getting there. The first few weeks are a blur as well, but over time he stopped drinking so much and threw himself into his art. Henry starts a series on Greek Tragedies, and he paints the Abduction of Ganymede first with some liberties of his own. It is perhaps one of his best pieces.  

Five months pass before Henry returns to London, and he is halfway through his next piece: Orpheus and Eurydice. He has painted the background of Hades, and when he returns to London he intends to work on the portraits. He's been pouring his pain into these pieces. He is lost without Benedict. 

He is a different person when he returns: a man who has thrown himself into much meaningless sex. He has grown a beard, keeping it to high society's expectations but having it all the same. Henry has had his hair cut so that his curls do not show as prominently. But, perhaps, worst of all is the emptiness in his gaze. Lucy saw it as soon as he got off the boat. He displays the Abduction of Ganymede at the Somerset House, and it reignites his career around town. 

The Queen commissions a landscape of Hyde Park, and he does not question it. He takes a break from Orpheus and Eurydice and goes out to the park early in the morning to start laying out his sketching. He works without his jacket, but it is a hot summer day and he cannot handle the heat when he works. He is alone and in his element. And in spite of his mood, he tries to make the colors as vibrant as he can. 

Henry looks up and sees a young woman in his frame. He sighs loudly; his patience, and perhaps his manners, is gone. "My lady," he calls out, "could you perhaps walk quickly?" He presses his lips together in agitation. He is a different man.

And no, he has not sought out Benedict Bridgerton, nor does he need intend to do so.

Tag: ali

[ali]

    How strange it is- to belong to a place or no, not to belong to a place, but rather to call a place home and to have a family to be linked to said place. It was more like having three homes in truth, one here in London, one at My Cabin, and the other being her Benedict, her husband. None of those things were objects that she ever would think that she would have and yet, now that they were here, she was not sure how she had lived her life without them or him.



    Much to her surprise and relief the transition from servant to wife had gone by fairly smoothly. Yes she was sure there was talk and she was sure there were doubts on her true intentions and feelings for Benedict, but she feared them not. The people who mattered much to her, Benedict ( and at least she assumed, his family as well ) seemed happy and didn’t mutter a harmful word under their breath. Even Lady Whistledown had not slandered either of them for their union, which had made returning to London quite a bit easier.

    And now here they were- back in London to support Eloise Bridgerton through at least one or two of her balls and be in the Ton for whatever social event the Duke and  Duchess would inevitably throw. Further she wanted to see at least one marriage, curious as to what these balls actually intended for the nobility- that was not at a masquerade ball, that is. She did find herself wanting to flee, though, and walking around the Hyde Park brought the comfort that she so desperately longed for. 

    Sophie never tried to lay out a path for herself, for one never knew what one would come across while strolling, at the moment having been stopped to examine some of the flowers that she might want to plan at her and Benedict's home when the man had called out to her, her eyes quickly darting in his direction. 

    For a singular moment, she hesitated, still not for too long though. She hoped that the man would not think her daft, but she simply still found it strange and not at all like her. She was not used to any such formalities, at least not yet, nor did she take too kindly to being talked to too sternly, but she tried not to let it ruin her day, walking slowly to greet the man and apologize sincerely, as well as to see what it was he was working on. 

     "My apologies." The softest of smiles is on her face, kind, though somewhat nervous and apologetic, moving to where she hoped was out of the way and in his direction rather quickly. "I did not notice that you were painting and would not have walked in the way if I had. My husband is an artist. I know how difficult it can be when your subject is not properly in focus." Her smile not yet fading all the way from her face, but softening slightly. "What is the piece that you are working on, if you do not mind me asking?"


Tag : ~bunny~ 

[bunny]

IS SHE APPROACHING? Henry sighs to himself, hiding his face behind his easel to mask his displeasure at being bothered. He goes back to mixing the color of the flowers, waiting for her to get closer. "You are forgiven, my lady." He says when he collects himself, putting on the picture of politeness once more. Though there is a hint of something beneath the exterior that is new for Henry --

My husband is an artist. 

Henry knows most of the artists in London, hell -- most of the artists in England. He has never seen this woman before in his life, and she is beautiful. Her hair is golden, cascading over her shoulder, glowing in the morning summer sun. How has he never seen her before? Certainly, he must have known her. Nothing clicks in his mind, though there is a new discomfort settling in his stomach. He doesn't hear what she says after that, not at first anyway. Her husband is an artist. How many single artists did he know that could've gotten married in the last half-year? 

No, no, no -- no. No. (Is he allowed to think no? When he told him this is exactly what he wanted?) 

"Oh, is he, my lady?" He asks, giving a smile. "I perhaps know him. Who is your husband?" His stomach is twisting; his heart is racing. Let his paranoia be wrong. What will he do if it is true? Nothing. He will do nothing. She asks about his subject matter, and he turns his attention back to the piece. "Ah, yes. The Queen has commissioned a view of Hyde Park of her favorite spot." Henry motions out to their current place. 

Tag: ali

[ali]

It was not often that she found herself in the public eye without knowledge of who she was. There was talk and though Whistledown had been kind she was sure that others would not have been in their discussion. She had heard murmurs but thankfully, so far she had heard nothing more than that. Even then, though, there was a strange tension to her shoulders, even when she had moved closer to the man. She had not known him, nor had she known whether or not he might have known Benedict, but there was part of her that was hoping that he would.



She had the Bridgerton’s, most certainly, but it would be nice to find some friends beyond her new family.



“I am sure that it’s turning out lovely! I would love to take a look at it, though, if you do not mind?” In her past time she had tried to take up the art to...limited success. Sophie liked to believe that one could do anything with enough practice. With art, though, she liked to believe that there was some luck involved. The man, though had asked her a question, and she intended to respond with a smile and a nod.



And when it came to matters of Benedict Bridgeton, it was impossible not to smile.


“Lord Benedict Bridgerton.” She stated simply, finding no need to ask questions or state anything else. The man before her had to know of the Bridgerton family, everyone did. “Might I have your name, my lord? I am sure my husband has met you.” Him being a painter and all, but if not well she would simply have to introduce the pair of them! “We are recently returning from our honeymoon and are staying here awhile.”


Tag : ~bunny ~

[bunny]

HIS BROW RAISES CURIOUSLY as she asks for a look.  Henry considers before taking a step away from his canvas to allow her to view his piece. He has been working on it for countless mornings (at least, they feel countless these days). The broad strokes are all there now, paint moving as though it was one with nature. He is doing the detail work on the path, on the trees, on every flower. The Queen expects no less, of course. Henry wants it to almost seem like a fantastical view of the park -- something familiar and yet fantastical. A piece worthy of a palace. 

However, any pride about his work dissipates as she speaks the name of her beloved.

Lord Benedict Bridgerton.

The breath leaves him all at once.  Why?  Why should he care that Benedict wed in the time that he was away?  He broke the boy's heart.  The time away was enough for someone to be romanced and betrothed.  It feels so quickly an engagement and marriage, but who is Henry to judge?  His marriage to Lucy was swift to quell his father and brother's fears.  He remembers the tearful gaze.  He remembers the pain in those beautiful blue eyes as they parted ways for what felt like forever.  

Henry has no claim to Benedict's heart, and yet. . .  and yet. . . He blinks away his emotions.  Sure, he has drank himself to near death in France for months, but that does not mean he has forgotten his place.  "My lady,"  he says suddenly, giving her a bow.  "My apologies.  Had I realized your were Ben---" His voice catches, "Bridgerton's wife, I would have remembered my manners!"  He rises, keeping his expression as neutral as he could manage, but if one looked too closely, they could notice something was off.  "Sir Henry Granville.  It is an honor to meet you, my lady.  And it is good to hear Bridgerton has been sharing his works with the world now.  I remember when he was just starting out."  He smiles tightly. 

Tag: ali