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There was no greater torment than to witness your child in pain and being powerless to alleviate their suffering. When she had gone to visit with Benedict after he'd insisted upon isolating himself away from their family, she had never seen him looking so lost.

It was clear that he was suffering through the most painful of grievances one could ever endure. She had told herself that she would not pry into his business and that he would come to her if he wished to, but how could she keep to herself when he looked so broken, so unlike himself.

The truth was unspeakable. That he had fallen in love with a married woman was scandal enough, but the fact that she was carrying his child? It had left her at a loss for how to comfort him, because what was there left to say? The woman was married, and yet... She had somehow captured Benedict's heart.

Violet had promised not to meddle once she learned the truth of Benedict's distress. Inviting the woman of her son's affections might be seen to some as a breach of that strictly verbal contract, but she considered it a courtesy. To extend the hand of friendship towards a young lady whose social circle thus far seemed rather limited.

Then there was the simple matter of the child, that would technically be her grandchild, in blood alone if not in name.

Sipping her tea as she sat across from the woman who had somehow managed to seduce her second son, she allowed herself a smile. "You have done it twice before, the third really is no more different" it had been many years since she last had a baby in the house, but once you had raised one child through infancy, you were well equipped to do it again

"I had my husband; he was a wonderful father and devoted much of his time to helping with the children" the smile slipped from her face as she replaced her cup upon the table. "We lost him before Hyacinth was born and the idea of raising my daughter alone was daunting" she gave the other woman a knowing look. She almost pitied her, for it was obvious that she did not have the love or support from her husband, or why would she search for it elsewhere?

"Now, Hyacinth was a handful when she was small. I do not think I would have coped, if it weren't for Anthony" her son had stepped up in the absence of his father. Clearing her throat, she took to refilling her cup with fresh tea, not looking up as she spoke "I think it much depends on the child, Hyacinth was a handful but then Benedict was such a quiet baby, I often found myself checking that he was still breathing"

Her eyes met Kitty's over the table "more tea?" She reached to fill her cup, stilling her hand as she awaited word to do so.

There was something wrong, and Violet was clueless as to what it was. It was apparent that something had happened for Benedict to isolate himself. He had taken himself away from the family and had not visited in days. It was most unlike him, and she was beginning to suspect that whatever had caused this drastic shift in behaviour was serious.

She had opted at first to give him space. He would return when he was ready, whether he chose to confide in her, she would respect that. Or try to. But when the days stretched on without word from her son, Violet had begun to worry.

The decision was made to make the journey out to check on him. She would not pry, but she had to know that he was alright, that he was eating and that he was not punishing himself. He could be so hard on himself sometimes; she feared it was a trait many of her children shared and one that was difficult to overcome.

Standing in the entrance, she smiled but it did not reach her eyes, not when he could not even bring himself to smile at her in return. She had told herself that she would not pry, but how could she stand by when her child was in such distress. He was a man grown, but he was still her son, and it was obvious that he needed her.

"I came alone, though Eloise was quite adamant she accompany me" she could not blame the girl for being concerned for her brother, with how distant he was being. However, she had opted to refuse any such offer of company, assuming that Benedict would not appreciate the bombardment of his siblings, no matter how well meaning they happened to be.

"We miss you at home, when will you return?" she felt that it had gone on long enough, but to tell him as much would only result in him pulling away.