To Paint With Shadows | Benedict Bridgerton

To Paint With Shadows

As the morning sun crept into his room, Benedict already found himself awake; the gnawing feeling in his stomach had not let him sleep: today was the day of the exhibition, this evening his painting would be displayed in front on the entire Ton, but they were not what most concerned him.

After his discussion with Elouise, he had decided to do something rash: something that may ruin his career prospects and himself entirely. This morning, he was to meet with Mr Crozier at Somerset House, so the painting may be hung.

As Benedict was let into the room, he found himself lost in the works that hung on the wall: to think that his would be up there, with some of the greats.
'Morning.' Mr Crozier greeted, coming to stand beside Benedict as he stared at the paintings. The man eyes followed. 'Magnificent, aren't they?'
'Indeed.' Benedict stated simply. His mind longed to ask what had occurred between Mr Crozier and Sophie at the ball, after all the pair seemed to be having quite the heated discussion, but he found himself too entranced.
'Is this my masterpiece?' Mr Crozier asked, beginning to reveal the painting from the cloth it had been wrapped in.
However, Benedict stopped him, quickly searching to find his words: 'I had hoped it may remain a secret.' A playful smile disguised the nervous movement of his eyes.
The man eyed him warily. 'I do not believe I understand.'
Benedict sighed. 'This painting means a lot to me, and I would rather no one were to see it.'
William's eyebrows furrowed playfully. 'You do know it is to be displayed to the entirety of London, right?' He asked teasingly.
'Yes, I know.' Benedict mumbled, realising just how idiotic what he just asked was, 'But you said at the Danbury Ball that you trusted me completely.'
'I would be putting my career on the line, if I allow you to showcase it, without me approving it.' William countered, growing rather bemused.
'I know, and if that is the result, I will hold myself accountable.' Benedict quickly answered, fearing the answer was to be a no.
William watched him in silence for a moment; Benedict did not think he had ever seen the man quite so serious. What he was asking him was ludicrous, but there was no other way.
William exhaled: 'Fine.' He said curtly, 'But this is on your head, Bridgerton.' He warned.
Benedict nodded, trying his best to hide the smile, trying to force its way upon his lips.
William offered the man a sharp nod, before exiting the room.
A footman took the painting from Benedict, another prepared the space where it was to sit. He only hoped this would work.

A series of knocks were heard at the door.
'Mr Bridgerton.' Frances exclaimed in shock.
'Frances, I must speak with her.' His breathlessness hindering his speech.
'She does not wish to see you.' Frances answered defeatedly, beginning to close the door as she did.
Benedict stopped it with his hand. 'Then perhaps you may tell her!' He exclaimed, preparing himself with a deep breath before continuing, 'I need her to attend the exhibition this evening.'
Frances' eyes narrowed. 'She will not go.'
'Please.' Benedict pleaded, 'You must convince her.'
Frances took a deep breath, sensing the urgency of his pleas.
'How did you know she was here?' Frances asked softly.
Benedict chuckled slightly, looking down at his feet.
'She never stopped speaking of your, Frances. Where else would she be?' He jested.
Frances could not help but smile: 'I will see what I can do.' She offered.

As the evening arrived, the halls of Somerset House soon found themselves overrun run with visitors; many a young debutante tried her hand at feigning an interest in the art, in the hopes of attracting a suitor, or one suitor in particular for that matter.
'Good evening, Mister Bridgerton.' A group of ladies giggled in unison. Noticing his brother's lack of attention, Colin offered them a polite nod in greeting.
'You needn't be so antsy, Brother. I'm sure the evening will be everything you hope.' Colin reassured his brother, however he could not help but grow slightly perturbed by his brother's lack of eye contact.
Benedict hummed, his eyes focused on the door: she was not here yet.
'Are you expecting someone, Brother?' Colin quipped, looking at the door now too: yet, as Colin asked the question, realisation struck him, 'You invited Miss Taylor.' Colin clarified.
Benedict nodded, his disappointment growing. 'I do not believe she is coming.' He stated, making a note of how everyone seemed to have arrived now.
Colin placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder, knowing no words could offer any consolation.