Secret Truths

chapter one - analysing artwork

Just so you know, this is set in the same narrative as The Downfall Of Viscount Bridgerton so Aurora will be present in this story too - in fact her and Eleanor are going to become quite close friends.

If you keep an eye out you might also see Eleanor in TDOVB.

Anyway, shall we begin?

*****

Benedict Bridgerton needed an escape. Over the past few weeks the Bridgerton household had been in a state of excitement over the upcoming weeding between his older brother Anthony Bridgerton and his soon-to-be wife Aurora Grey.

That was not to say that he himself wasn’t excited, only that all this wedding business was rather stressful and had put a strain upon everyone - especially considering the frequent arguing between the couple.

Furthermore, Benedict knew that as soon as Anthony was hitched (if they managed to get both him and Aurora down the aisle that was) then his mother’s attention would turn to him.

So here he was at Somerset House. They had been putting on exceptional art displays there ever since the East Wing had opened the year before and he often found himself wandering through, analysing the paintings.

He was now in the second room of the display, studying a newly added piece by the mysterious F. Waterstone when a voice spoke from behind him.

“This has to be my least favourite of all his works that I have seen so far.”

Benedict turned abruptly to face the speaker and was struck by her astonishing beauty. She had dark chestnut skin and a large mass of black hair that had been neatly tamed into a circlet of flowers and pearls. Her white dress stood in stark contrast to her skin and made her glow slightly.

“You do not like it?” Benedict was surprised, he had yet to hear a member of the ton critique Waterstone’s work. He seemed to be a kind of god amongst London society.

Eleanor chuckled. “Indeed I do not, there is far too much yellow! And it is such a shame as usually his country landscapes are my favourite.” The young lady paused, remembering her manners. “Oh I’m so sorry! Lady Eleanor Hayward, and this is my companion Lady Dukesbury.”

Benedict nodded to both of them in respect.

“Benedict Bridgerton.” He could not help the smile that came into his face.

“Ahhh, I see. Tell me, Mr Bridgerton, what are your honest thoughts on the piece?”

Benedict thought for a while, studying the portrait diligently.

“I think it is very beautiful - wherever it is. And I think Mr Waterstone must be a very kind man.”

Eleanor chuckled and took a step forward so she was stood beside Benedict.

“Why do you say that?”

“There is something emotional and gentle in his works, something -“ he struggled for the right word.

“Feminine?” Eleanor suggested, turning her head to look at him.

Benedict shot her an odd kind of smile, as if he were astonished by such a notion. “You think Waterstone to be a woman?”

“What I think is that whoever they are, they could do with a little more practice. Some of the perspectives and shadows are really very peculiar. And some of the pieces make no sense at all!”

Eleanor was intrigued to see the Bridgerton laughing.

“I think Waterstone means to create something abstract for us to interpret how we see fit.” He had returned to studying the painting, searching for the imperfections Hayward had mentioned.

“How bizarre” Eleanor commented. “It has been lovely speaking with you Mr Bridgerton, but I think I must take my leave now and return to my companion. She looks quite done with all this artwork.”

She was about to leave him completely when Benedict called after her.

“Lady Hayward, you wouldn’t happen to be attending the Lucas’ ball tomorrow evening would you? I hear they have rather a collection of Waterstone’s work. Perhaps we might judge them together?”

Eleanor smiled at the suggestion having found the Bridgerton to be a pleasant source of company.

“Yes, I had intended on attending and I should like that very much. Although I must warn you I have spent some time already at the Lucas’ and know those works well.”

“And I’m sure you have much to say about them.”

“Oh indeed. There is one in particular which I do not like at all.”

“You best hope I am not Waterstone. I should be quite offended by your comments if I were.” He jested.

“I think you’ll find my criticism most far, Mr Bridgerton.”

And with that Eleanor Hayward seemed to vanish into this air leaving Benedict Bridgerton to study the conversation as diligently as he had the artwork.