Jazzymina2610
Oh, hello it is me, worlds laziest writer, yes moi. Truth is I haven't felt like writing, as if I kinda lost my motivation to do so but.. here is Chapter 16, as promised with the time jump. I have been meaning to say for ages now, that; while the name Alina is NOT deriven from "Shadow and Bone", I do envision Tommy to look like Archie Renaux. Eleanor I imagine to look like Tamzyn Merchant (known for playing in "The Tudors", which is really original of me because I also imagined a character to look like her in another fic.
Worth mentioning furthermore, is that I might have gotten the ages of the kids mentioned wrong, Barthelomew Fair WAS INDEED held in London (but usually in September). However, I made the part of the play up and thought of a street name because I am fucking lazy. Lastly this has two endings, lemme know the one you prefer. Lastly, part two: this took ages to write, over several days where I started (I think I did two weeks ago) then stopped etc etc. Someone tell me to write shorter chapters and to get the hell of the Bridgerton sub of a certain social media app starting with an R.
As always I probably need to do some hefty editing but not now.. I am exhausted.
FIVE YEARS LATER
When she could finally rest her head on the pillow, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of fatigue. Several times today she had run after Alphie, who made it a sport to run away just when his mother was occupied, much to Alina's chagrin.
Whenever she reprimanded him though, the 4-year-old boy with eyes similar and haircolour similar o hers, respectfully being green and brown offered her a disarming smile in which it was difficult to remain angry with him.
Yet today, this time he had deserved punishment for nearly crashing into a carriage if Alina had not prevented him from doing so last second. Alphie sat, sulking, in the corner for a while until he came to bribe her with a 'sowwy mummy' and succeeded too. Neither she nor Tommy believed in corporal punishment, much to the dismay of Shelly who strongly urged her to discipline the little boy more severely.
Today, Alina tried to ignore her mother-in-law and her 'well-meant' advice as best she could. When Shelly would get carried away telling her and Tommy what they were doing wrong, the latter would wink at her and smile. As if to say that once again she should not take Shelly too seriously.
Speaking of Tommy, he was very busy with the second Watson's Bakery and had big plans to open more in London and the surrounding area.
"You'll see, Alina," he said to her as they laid in their bed that night.
"Soon our bakery will be located not just in London, but in other cities too. Think about, a whole chain of shops". Alina just looked at him encouragingly and said that she hoped this would be the case. Tommy had then smiled at her and afterwards bent down to a kiss, innocently at first but soon she felt him come even closer and his body on hers.
"Tommy.... Tommy" she spoke, through his kisses and he stopped after hearing his name for the second time, pulling back but not quite yet as he still lay on top of her and looked at her with a mixture of disappointment but also understanding.
"I know you're scared... I know... It is just that it's been a while and you don't have to get pregnant. I can, I can...".
He didn't finish the train of thought but instead shook his head, quickly moved by moving away from her and returning to his earlier position.
Silence engulfed them and both remained silent for a few minutes.
"You have been very patient with me. I appreciate that.", she said at one point, breaking the silence as she positioned herself towards him and was now staring at his back. He turned to her and looked at Alina.
"I am s..".
"Don't say it. Don't be. If anyone should apologise it's me" Tommy interrupted, reaching for her a second later to take her face in his hands.
"I'll wait, okay. Take your time".
Tommy kissed her on her forehead only to turn back and fall asleep not long after. Alina tried to do the same, but it wouldn't work for her.
It was the second miscarriage that Alina had had, she had experienced another one 1.5 years after Alphie was born, and this one had been so disastrous, with a considerable loss of blood, so much so that Alina had fainted, that the midwife had strongly advised her not to get pregnant again. It was a tough pill to swallow as they both wanted nothing more than to give Alphie a little brother or sister, as they both didn't have one (anymore). Alina had lost her brother at an early age and Tommy's parents had been content with having one child.
And Alphie would be an only child as well, but they counted themselves lucky for having him. The little boy brought them much joy even though they both scratched their heads sometimes at the 'umpteenth' mischievous adventure of their offspring.
The miscarriage had been a little more than two months ago. The recovery period had been hard, although she had had support from Tommy and even her mother-in-law, although it was difficult to deal with Shelly's sharp tongue.
Shelly Watson didn't like the fact that Alina was still working. There was no need for it as Tommy was earning enough. Alina was supposed to stay at home with her son and take care of him and Tommy, but that wasn't Alina's thing. She was used to earning her own living, she liked to go to work because it meant distraction. Distraction meant not thinking about him even though she was, still indirectly, confronted with him. The Bridgerton's were still good customers of Madame Delacroix's shop, so it happened that Alina still had to work on various ball gowns for the family, including Eloise, who had long had her 'coming out' but was still forced to go to one ball after another, she suspected.
However, her employer made sure that she did not run into them and never did the initial consultation with them, and Alina kept herself in the background, not wanting to run into them. This she succeeded in doing wonderfully well. Of course, there had been times when their paths could have crossed but it had not.
The name Bridgerton did not mean that much to her anymore, it was nothing more than a name to her. It was nothing more than a name to her, something that reminded her of the past, something that belonged in the past and should remain there. She tried not to mind when her new young colleagues (Emma and co had already left the sewing shop after they were married) devoured the gossip leaflet, animatedly discussing the love lives of people they did not know. Of course, the Bridgertons were in on it. She knew that a few were now married, Colin, Francesca, and Eloise. The Viscount stayed at Aubrey Hall with his family for most of the year. Only the youngest children were left except for Gregory, she suspected.... Who should be around 17 now and was probably studying at some expensive university, no doubt.
And then there was him. Every time his name was mentioned her heart winced, whether she wanted it to or not, and every time she pricked up her ears, even though she did not wish to hear from him. Nothing at all.
Stupid she had been. Careless. Highly arrogant even, to think, to think in the slightest that she could be anything more to him than a fling, the umpteenth dumb woman from the lower classes to fall for the promises of a 'gentleman'.
It had been an illusion, a mirage not a charade and she had been the fool. He had used her, she told herself. To him she had been nothing more, she was convinced, than an escapism.
He had been leading her on... he had had an appointment with Eleanor all along and she had fallen for his lies.
Because lies they had been. She refused to think of him anymore.
And yet... in the moments she didn't want to... in the moments she didn't want to, the memory of him overwhelmed her. The soft way in which he held her, his engaging smile that seemed to light up his whole face, the way he looked.
At such moments her heart seemed to want to say, you did not imagine it. It was real.
Ten days after her miscarriage, she had gone for a walk with the intention of returning soon, on doctor's orders, who felt that some exercise would do her good. Alphie was with a cousin of Tommy's, Sally, and Tommy was at work. So, she walked out on a brisk day for the month they were in, May.
She walked away from her house. She didn't really know where to go even though her feet were leading her there. Consciously or unconsciously; see didn't really know but afterwards she wondered what on earth had possessed her. Alina headed towards the inner city and then went on to the 'better' areas and suddenly she was there. Bruton street.
She stood there, a bit bewildered but with a sense that she had to be somewhere, the corner where she had a good view of the oncoming traffic.
And she waited and waited without knowing why, or at least knowing very well why. It took a while. Alina guessed that she had been standing there for at least 20 minutes before a carriage arrived on the other side of the street. Many had passed, but something inside her said that this had to be him, and she was right. The carriage came to a stop and the coachman stepped off to open the door and Alina watched, tense.
She recognised Eleanor Bridgerton at once, by her impeccable figure, dainty and sophisticated as ever and dressed to perfection. Thankfully for her and less thankfully for Madame Delacroix, she now preferred 'more subtle styles and a more innovative look' to her clothes and had withdrawn her clientele.
Eleanor walked to her house looking extremely elegant from head to toe and did not look back at the other passengers in the carriage. Now that she had gotten out that could only mean Benedict would be next.
HE was not, though. The coachman helped with getting a little girl off the carriage which Alina reckoned to be around six. Her hair was chestnut brown, she could tell, just like Benedict's but she sported the illustrious girls of her mother. Unlike her mother though, the girl did look back and opened her arms to whoever was following.
And there he was. Benedict Bridgerton. A little older but not much changed, still looking as handsome and charming as ever in his outfit, which consisted of a black coat, beige trousers, and a white cravat.
Benedict glanced at his daughter and pulled her upwards towards him, into his arms and showered her with kisses which led to the little girl exclaiming sounds of pure joy. Shortly after Benedict put her down, proceeded to take her hand and initiated to leave.
Alina stepped forward slightly from the place she was hiding at, a large oak tree that provided her anonymity or so she thought. The tree should have been blocking his view, made her remain anonymous from where she was located it.
And then suddenly he had looked in her direction, unexpectedly and it startled Alina to her core. It took a while for her feet to react to the signals from her brain to hide, but when they did, she reacted quickly. Oh God. He hadn't seen her, had he? Hadn't he?
She didn't dare to find out anymore. As fast as she could she ran away, towards her house, where she scolded herself until deep in the evening, inwardly, prompting several questions from Tommy as to whether she was all right as she had remained silent ever since he had gotten home.
Alina answered the questions with a guilty conscience and just said she was a bit tired, making her errors even worse because now she was lying to her husband as well. Her dead husband, whom she loved in her own way.
She had realised that affection could be expressed in many ways. In her case, it was the loyalty Tommy had shown to her; he had taken her hand and not let it go.
That too was love.
But what had possessed her then? To walk all that way in a misguided mission to what exactly? Relive the past?
It made no sense, he had deliberately avoided Benedict all these years, did not get involved in the discussion with her colleagues when they were talking about one Bridgerton after the other getting married; even though a jolt did went through her every time she heard this name.
She had lost her mind, or at least she had not been entirely clear-headed when she had made that impulsive decision, she reckoned and in a way she blamed her fragile state for this display of nonsense.
No more, she thought as she lay in her bed trying to find the sleep, tossing, and turning but not finding any respite. From now on she would never think of Benedict Bridgerton again, she resolved. He would remain to her, just like he had been prior, someone out of her past, a mistake she could not undo.
She lay tossing and turning around in the bed for a long time until she finally fell asleep that night... and dreamed... of him... the very man she wanted to forget.
Dearest reader,
There was little fun to be had at the spring ball of Benedict Bridgerton and his impeccably dressed as always, wife Eleanor. Numerous guests left shortly after their arrival, making up excuses to leave the oppressive atmosphere as quickly as possible. The host behaved abominably, more interested in knocking back champagne than with engaging and entertaining his guests. Furthermore, the icy rapport with his wife was not only noticed by this writer, although both was trying to conceal this as best they could. But my eyes... see all, dear readers and it seems to me to establish that any love between the two seems to have been lost long ago....
Benedict crumpled the piece of paper into a ball and then threw it away savagely, not even going towards the dustbin or the fireplace, the latter mentioned still lit from time to time as it could still be chilly for spring.
Lady Whistledown had been a sweetheart compared to her 'successor' Lady Canterbury. The latter was many times worse and did not hold back, proclaiming the secrets of the elite loud and clear. Whistledown had retired. She had not really given a reason for it in her last leaflet and had only commented that it was 'time to involve herself with matters more important than whether a debutante had worn the right colour dress or not.
The 'Ton' had felt relieved, knowing that their secrets would be kept until less than two months later when a new publication and a new author startled them and rocked their world.
Many times, more vicious was this new exposer of secrets, the significant difference with Lady Whistledown being that she always wrote 'obligingly' about the Bridgerton's, indeed mentioning them but not denigrating them. When his sister-in-law Mara had temporarily left (writer's note: see my story 'Last Chance') Whistledown had even summoned the crowd to stop gossiping.
This was not the case with Lady Canterbury, who for some reason, thought it was necessary to focus on Eloise who had not married yet. The writer proclaimed her to be a spinster that likely would never marry. Eloise pretended not to care; she didn't like to dally herself with what people thought of her but Benedict that it hurt her.
Lately she had been more withdrawn, but Benedict noticed but something else was peculiar too. Her hands were often covered in ink stains, but he wasn't the only Bridgerton to notice that.
When Colin inquired if she was writing someone, and who that was Eloise had blushed and then remarked that it was none of Colin's business, before glancing at his wife, Penelope, conveying something with her eyes that neither Benedict or his brother were privy too.
Colin had been married to Penelope for a few months now, the union had surprised everyone, especially Portia Featherington who had sat with her mouth open for a long time when Colin had come to ask for Penelope's hand; NOT Felicity's. Colin shared what happened in amusing detail which garnered many laughs at the Bridgerton's house that day. Daphne had come to visit with her children and Simon as was Anthony and Mara with their children, changing the countryside of Aubrey Hall for the city for once.
AS for Benedict's youngest siblings. Hyacinth and Gregory still liked to annoy each other, even though they could not live without each other for long. She would never admit it, but Hyacinth missed Gregory very much now that he was going to Eton.
As for Francesca.. She had unfortunately been widowed recently and was grappling with the aftermath of her husband's sudden death. Havin spent a few months in London with her family Francesca decided to return to Scotland, to the mountains and valleys that pleased her immeasurably more than the hustle and bustle of the city. Benedict suspected that she always felt a little uneasy growing up in London, and within a large family and preferred quiet and solitude.
She was to take over the running of the estate in the absence of John's nephew, Michael who had was away in India, she had told Benedict.
Benedict was secretly jealous, obviously not of the fact that his sister had become a widow at a young age, but that she could leave and could get away from here.
Life in the Scottish Highlands had seemed nice to him; perhaps there he could find the peace he so desperately sought but could not find.
Benedict could not possibly leave. He had his daughter Olivia, and that was reason enough for him to want to stay in London, to stay in the marriage. The little girl gave him a lot of joy and love, a love he did not think possible.
She looked very much like him, everyone told him, especially his mother who said she was a mini-Benedict. She had also inherited her easy-going nature from him and was therefore an easy-going child, at least so far, and one who was very fond of her father, much to her mother's chagrin.
Oliva was also besotted with 'Aunt Frannie' and missed her very much, but Francesca promised to visit her and invited them to come, even though she knew, or at least suspected what the status quo was between her brother and his wife.
It had become a marriage of convenience. It already had the appearance of it, but things had not improved.
They agreed on almost nothing; not even on the upbringing of their child nor on the way the house was run. Eleanor, he suspected, was secretly jealous of his sister-in-law Mara, or the Viscountess, and wanted to outdo her in giving balls for the ton.
But they could not afford this at all so his father-in-law felt called upon to help. Mr. Shelby believed that his daughter should not lack for anything and that it was not her fault that she had married a 'less fortunate' man. It had been a casual remark and Benedict had given him a scathing look whereupon his father-in-law had stopped talking.
Mr. Shelby was right about one thing though, his finances were not that good. Anthony had secretly increased his allowance without his knowledge, and he appreciated that, but it felt wrong.
The second cause of disagreement between Eleanor and him was the raising of their almost six-year-old daughter's education. French? Why did a little girl have to learn French already? It made no sense to him. Her usual daily programme was already quite heavy, he thought. Where did she get the chance to play?
The third obstacle was that they had nothing in common, or little, They were both attached to their families, Benedict was more often to be found a few doors down or at Colin's than at home. Violet had a suspicion but hadn't said anything until now. Eleanor chose to go out with her brother, Richard Shelby had been widowed by a tragic accident involving his wife, the official explanation was that his wife had gone swimming and did not come back up.
However, within the ton there were people claiming that Richard Shelby's frequent cheating with both female and male London had driven the poor woman mad and she had deliberately taken her own life..
Richard, now a rich widower as all his wife's hefty allowance were his to spend, wore black, the sign of mourning, though Benedict knew that had not meant much and he had seen his brother-in-law leave the Byron's house two weeks after his wife's death.... And there were as many rumours about this couple as there were about Richard.
It was none of Benedict's business and if he was going to be berate Richard, Benedict had better look in the mirror as he was also cheating. The intimacies between him and Eleanor had all but stopped, he wasn't sure when. He had tried. His wife was beautiful but there was 0.0 attraction between them so on the occasions they had been intimate things felt forced and neither Benedict nor Eleanor could find pleasure in it.
On top of that, they were constantly arguing, and Benedict knew that she had lured him into marrying her, along with that damned brother of hers which she vehemently denied but he knew better.
Benedict felt utterly miserable in his marriage and often spent many nights elsewhere, in one of the many brothels of London. His brother Anthony had tried to talk some sense into Benedict, that it was now becoming very noticeable, but Benedict did not care what people said.
He also no longer was the cheerful, easy-going Benedict that he was, his family noticed. He had become unfeeling and careless and often seemed distant, with his head somewhere else.
It worried his family especially his mother and she had therefore called in Anthony to have a talk with Benedict, but Benedict had waved away all objections and said there was nothing wrong with him.
Nothing could be further from the truth though.
Benedict felt restless and without a purpose. He despised going to balls now, having the same boring conversations with the men and women he had known all his life. It bored him, seeing the elite enjoying themselves at yet another ball where they discuss the same things all over again.
It made him want to not bother attending to attend and he sometimes didn't, to Eleanor's chagrin who then had no other option than to go with her parents. Then Benedict stayed home, drinking sorrows away or visited a brothel, even in the mornings where he refused to go to the millionth family function of the Shelby's.
But when even the most beautiful woman there could no longer charm him, he would walk or summon his coachman to drive him to a place in town far away from the ton and their stately homes.
He had taken the precaution to change his clothes to blend in more with the people walking around there. He knew that she was still working at Madame Delacroix's, so Thawes had informed him, the private detective he had hired before. Benedict wisely did not go there again.
Thawes informed him that she had moved with her husband a few streets away, that she had had a son and that the Watson bakery had expanded with a second branch.
He had visited this one. In a sudden surge of curiosity, Benedict had stopped by, to see who Tommy was on one of the days that Alina worked.
Benedict had stepped into the new shop, which looked clean with all the bread nicely displayed, and waited. Suddenly someone came in from behind.
"Ah. I thought I heard the bell" said the man who was as tall as Benedict, had brown eyes and short black hair. He wore a white shirt with an apron in front.
"Good morning. Excuse the way I look.... The shop assistant is ill today so that's why I'm in the shop until someone else comes. How can I help you?" he asked kindly.
The customer didn't answer for what seemed to be a long time but just looked at him, taking him which Tommy thought was strange. It was odd.. The man looked like someone who should be walking around in this neighbourhood, but his clothes didn't seem to match per se. His hands did not resemble those of the workers he saw in the factories that came to fetch bread at the end of the day, never in the morning though.
"Uh. Good morning... I um..."-, Benedict let his eyes go over the rows of sandwiches that had been set up.
"Can I have one of those, please," he said, pointing to the small brown bun. Tommy reached for the brown bun, grabbed some paper, and folded it in, then set it on the counter.
"Alright, that'll be 79 pence".
Benedict reached into his pockets but then realised he had no money with him at all.
"Oh.. I'm afraid... I don't have any money with me.... Never mind, sorry.", mumbled Benedict.
Tommy looked at him a bit suspiciously at first but changed his demeanour soon after.
"Tell you what... It's on the house to celebrate the fact that we opened a new shop" and Tommy made a circling motion to suggest that this was the one he was talking about.
"Are you certain? I can come back and pay later," Benedict suggested.
"It's okay, don't worry." Tommy replied.
"Thank you, that is kind. I appreciate it. My apologies for inconveniencing you and uh congratulations on the new establishment."
Hm. No this man didn't speak like Tommy's peers either, there was something 'uppity' about the way he pronounced things. It seemed as if he didn't belong in these parts at all.
"Thank you. Like I said, its fine. You have a good day." Tommy said and then, after a friendly nod to Benedict, he was off again and disappeared to the back.
So that was Tommy Watson. Benedict wanted to find something to dislike about him but could not. Tommy was a nice man, someone who, no doubt, would often give a customer a loaf of bread out of kindness when he had no money to pay for it.
No, he could find nothing to hate about Tommy apart from the fact that he was married to the woman he loved.
Yes. He still loved her.
Despite frantic attempts to drive her from his mind and heart, it had not worked. She belonged there, in both his head and heart, and even though they were both married now, even though she should have been a shadow from his past, she was ever present in the present and in the future too.
Benedict went to see her, a few times a week, and then secretly set himself up in one of the streets they crossed, at the end of it, waiting for her to make her walk home. Occasionally he would miss her in the crowd, but not usually. He would watch her walk home in a hurry, sometimes accompanied by a colleague, but mostly alone.
And every time he saw Alina, he wanted to get out, speak to her, and then pull her to a hidden alley, push her against the wall and do the things to her that he wanted to do to her in the depths of his being. But just holding her would have been enough for him, feeling her head against his shoulder, resigning himself to her touch. Perhaps then he could find the peace, the calm, the bliss he missed so much.
However, he did not approach her, did not give in to his desires. She would reject him anyway, secondly it was inappropriate, Benedict now realised, so he kept his distance, sought her out but kept his distance even though he wanted to see her.
However, he could swear that he had seen Alina, a few times weeks ago. They had returned from a visit to his mother's, where she at least wanted to keep up the pretence of being a happy couple, although Violet knew better.
Benedict had got out of the carriage and intended to enter his house yet occupying himself in the study, far from the presence of his spouse, Olivia was expected by her governess so Benedict could go about his business for an hour or two.
As Benedict stood there an inkling, feeling he could not ignore felt that he was being watched. Benedict had then looked in the direction where he thought someone was standing and there she had been, he thought so at least, hidden behind a tree at least, because the next moment she was gone.
His first instinct had been to go and investigate right away, and he walked in the direction of the oak tree from where he had seen her until a simple 'daddy' brought him back to reality.
"Where are you going?" Olivia had asked him with wide eyes.
Benedict had taken her hand, squeezed it, and had replied, "Nowhere, nowhere at all, dear. Let's go inside."
******************
If there was a place where all classes in London came together, it was the Bartholomew Fair. This event was held once a year in London, normally in September but this year it was held in May.
A variety of performers, including magicians, knife throwers, street bands, circus players but also food booths were represented such as version meat pies and vegetables.
The fair was a welcome diversion for all in the big city, regardless of standing and wallet, there was fun to be had for all.
Tommy wanted them to go but on the day they were to planning to something had happened at the bakery which Alina's husband could not attend. He had apologised and said that she could go with Alphie, but he too apparently had other plans.
Tommy had a cousin that Alphie loved and vice versa who was named Sarah. She had come by to ask if she could take Alphie to her house. Her son leapt into Sarah's arms, looked back, and waved at her before the two friends left.
And then she was alone. She didn't much feel like going by herself, but Tommy said it might be good to get away from it all. Why not, really? The last few weeks she had felt extra worked, as the season was ending and a lot of ladies in the ton wanted a new dress before that last ball, which was always the most extravagant.
A break would do her good. She did not have to worry about going alone, it was busy there and she would be back before evening. Besides, she didn't mind being alone for a while, without others.
She loved being a mother, but sometimes it was nice not to have to worry about her son. After taking two carriages she was finally there, Bartholomew Fair, and immediately she was overwhelmed by the sounds, smells, and people. People were playing music, magicians, singers, dancers, and her nostrils filled with the delicious smells of food and her stomach contracted. She found the booth responsible for her rumbling stomach, stopped there and bought a meat pie which she greedily consumed. From there, she walked further into the fair, stopping frequently to take in all the influences.
She arrived at the field where the horses and their riders were displaying their best tricks, either racing or having the horse do tricks. It had been extremely entertaining; she had seen a lot and now it was time to go home until a poster caught her eye.
"Romeo and Juliet," a romantic tragedy, it said, and it started in half an hour. Her interest piqued, she walked over to the tent and got a nice seat in the middle and waited for the performance to begin. She was all alone there, which she did not mind, moreover she was tired and wanted to sit down. So, she waited for the performance to begin, but it was quite warm in the tent, so she decided not to go. Alina stood up and turned around, taking a few steps towards the exit, not looking up. When she heard steps, however, she did look up and a second later all movement had ceased, and she stood as if petrified.
**********
Benedict Bridgerton also needed distraction and thought he could find it at the fair. He had suggested taking Olivia along, but Eleanor had been adamantly opposed, giving as her reason that Olivia could have contracted some illness or other among the common folk. So, Olivia was not allowed to come. Fine, then he would go alone.
With hindsight, he believed the meeting should have been fate, because in all of London, he'd come across it right there, at Bartholomew's fair, among all those people. Not that it mattered, he knew, he could recognise her out of thousands if necessary. Benedict followed her, he had no choice, it was as if his feet drove him to her, while she visited the various stalls. Then Benedict saw her looking at a poster, "Romeo and Juliet", how appropriate. Then she walked in and again he followed her, like a moth drawn to a flame.
**************
She could not say anything. She could only stare. She blinked her eyes a few times, trying to identify whether she was crazy or whether he was standing in front of her. It looked like it.
It was he who broke the silence.
"Romeo and Juliet... A classic" he said.
She still didn't reply because it felt like someone had taken her throat, she was hot, very hot, and she didn't know whether to blame heat or his presence.
He didn't speak for a while either and they both stood there looking at each other. Benedict still looked sophisticated with his hat in his hands.
"It's good to see you, Alina," Benedict stated, taking a few steps closer.
"How are you?", Benedict asked, lifting his head slightly to the right.
Alina swallowed the lump in her throat and answered.
"I am well, thank you. How are you, Mr Bridgerton?".
Benedict frowned at hearing his surname but decided not to pay any attention to it.
"Thank you... I am well too," he lied.
"That's good to hear... now if you'll excuse me, I have to go" she stated, though her legs did not move.
"Don't you want to see the play?", he countered. "Like I said, it's a classic. I recommend you see it".
"Another time, perhaps. Good day Mr. Bridger-", she wanted to say but he interrupted her.
"Do you know what the story is about? Two lovers and their doomed relationship. You see Romeo is a Capulet and Juliet a Montague. The two meet and instantly fall in love". Benedict stepped forward.
"Now you would say, well and good, were it not for the fact that thin families are at odds with each other. They could never marry each other even if they wanted to. Does that sound familiar to you?".
"No", she lied, and Benedict chuckled.
"You're still a bad liar, Alina", he said with a smile, a smile that overwhelmed her and made her feel all sorts of things she didn't want to feel.
Silence enveloped them again for a long while.
Benedict then took a deep breath and looked at her in a way that she could hardly ignore.
"It's really nice to see you up close this time" he confessed once more.
Alina looked at him in confusion. This time? Where there other times then?
"Oh", Benedict stated nonchalantly.
"You thought I could resist not seeing you, as if that is easy. As if nothing ever happened?" asked Benedict, and it came out bitterly, yet there was no mean undertone to be detected.
Benedict was now standing in front of her, a few steps away from her.
"It is not easy. Do you know how difficult it is to pretend that you do not exist when I know that you live in the same city as I do? So close and yet so far away".
"I have not forgotten you and something tells me that you have not forgotten me either", Benedict stated. His fingers darted to a lock of her hair that hung down her face. Gently he placed it between his fingers and then positioned it behind her ear.
"Well?" he asked her with a pleading look, his eyes making their way down from hers to finally rest on her lips.
"Do you want the truth or the lie?" she asked him suddenly, bringing him out of his stupor. Inside her she felt a mixture of hope, fear, affection, anger, anger because he was telling the truth and
"What do you think?" he countered, looking at her in earnest.
"I was able to leave things that belonged to the past, in the past.".
She detected disappointment in his gaze but soon his expression changed, he looked at her inquiringly as if to weigh the words she had just spoken, to check them for authenticity. Alina had great difficulty in maintaining the steely gaze she had been trying to create, especially now that he was standing so close to her.
"If you say so I must believe you", Benedict said, taking a step back and Alina thought that was it, he believed her. She was going to walk away like that and never see him again.
"Is that why I saw you in my street a few weeks back?", he suddenly asked her.
Her reaction didn't disguise anything, so it was true. He had not been blind; he had seen her.
"I... don't know what you're talking about" she tried to resist, prompting another big smile from Benedict.
"I really believe you are the worst liar in all of England," he quipped, to which Alina's angry look followed and this made him happy. He was glad that she was angry with him because for a moment, just for a moment, things were back to normal.
"Why were you there?" he asked softly, coming closer again.
Oh, it was no use lying, Alina thought. Not anymore. She lowered her eyes and spoke.
"I don't know...I didn't want to but before I knew it I was in your street. I couldn't resist" she spoke softly.
"I know how that feels", Benedict sighed.
"On the days you work I wait for you in Colington street, in the alley, just to catch a glimpse of you. Occasionally you've walked past before I care but often I can spot you in time," he said.
"It's madness but I have to do it, I have to see you."
Benedict was on the verge of breaking. He wanted to take her hand and hold it in his until his attention fell on the steel, sallow ring on her fingers and he stopped. He wanted to continue but could not, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, to give in, to give them both the resolution he knew was needed.
Yet it would be wrong.
"Are you happy at least? Are you? It would be nice if at least one of us wasn't so miserable" Benedict said with a miserable look.
"He's a good man. He takes care of me and of our son", she replied softly; her face deliberately not looking at him.
"That's good", Benedict stated with a sad smile.
They stared at each other, without words, but that was not necessary either. Their souls communicated and told each other everything they wanted to know, telepathically, and in that instant they were one.
"I still love you," she heard.
"I still love you," she replied.
"I always miss you. Every day".
"I try not to think about you but at the end of the day, I can't".
"I'm so sorry. for everything."
"I'm sorry too" but the words didn't make their way into their vocal cords.
"I have to go", she said after a while.
"Right", stated Benedict wistfully.
"I'm sorry for keeping you".
"It's fine", said Alina.
Behind them the curtain of the tent went up and slowly some people walked in.
"I'll walk you out" suggested Benedict but she shook her head.
Ah of course... she didn't want them to be seen together.
"Well then... goodbye Alina". It had been a brief expression, but it felt final, this time.
"Bye Benedict", she said before walking away from him with legs trembling and tears welling up.
Benedict stood there and stood there... but while everything in his being screamed at him to go after her, his psyche demanded to know why he let her go.
But he endured it once more and let himself be overwhelmed by a great sense of despondency, stayed there until that feeling passed and he could command his limbs to move. Back home. Back to a home where she was not.
**************
ALTERNATE ENDING TO THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE I CANNOT FUCKING RESIST. NOte: I am not using this one... likely. I think. Maybe. I dunnooo. It is a not original ending and I feel guilty to write this, guilty towards a certain character y'all love (I love him too though).
No, he couldn't bear to see her walk away again, he couldn't bear it, so he called out to her. She turned to him in surprise and watched as he ventured towards her.
"I forgot to tell you something," he said out of breath.
"What then?", she asked in slight confusion.
"This", he said and before he knew what he was doing, she knew what was happening to her, he had pulled her towards him, placed his hands on either side of her face and his mouth on hers.
He attacked her lips with a passion, savoured the sweetness of them, how they fit perfectly with his, and there it was again, the familiar feeling that this, they together, this is how it should have been, even though it was years ago. The kiss had caught her by surprise but soon she lost her resistance too. But kissing was no longer enough for Benedict, he had to feel more of her, he had missed her so much, so terribly much and only now he realised it. So, he let his hands slide over her body, over her curves, starting at her bottom and then moving up her lower back, resting for a moment on her midriff but then slowly moving towards his desired destination.
It was the moment when Benedict had gently cupped and squeezed her that broke the spell. She flinched in horror and could only manage 'Oh my God, what have I done'. Even before he stopped her she had already run away, leaving Benedict behind in the aftermath of the chaos.