THREE YEARS LATER
Not much had changed for the second born Bridgerton son, he had completed the art course, surprising himself when he had told of his succession in it - he had spent the long dragging months in mourning of a failed relationships. His family had tried desperately to lift his ruined spirits, suggesting several treatments but he had only recently taken the advice, but only the advice of Colin.
Benedict remembered Colin's tales of his travels, and he was told it relaxed the mind to an unimaginable state, something no one could've ever dreamed of. And well, if that was what was promised then Benedict was all in. However, he opted to travel all of Europe, well what he could manage, and up until this moment he had skillfully avoided Sweden but now his travels could only continue if he stopped and stayed for a while there.
When he had arrived, he remarked in its beauty, he visited rolling hills that stretched far into the distance, loved the lush greenery that surrounded it all, enjoyed how his Swedish flourished and always stared in awe at the sky, as dusk approached quietly how pastels bled into the blue.
He was staying somewhere make shift, hardly spending time there as he explored Swedish culture. Benedict had decided to branch out further, making travel to Halland to explore a rumoured fair. The event was loud and bustling, women laughed and children ran around, chasing each other in a game, straw was thrown carelessly on the ground, covering up the pure earth they all stepped on.
Benedict was lost in all sense of the word, he believed himself well read and experienced in Swedish culture, but he was surrounded by several events, dances happened - he found out one was called the polska - there was no instruments present, so they made music with their own voices, and it all sounded heavenly.
Traditional foods were offered, and it all was so crowded but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face - everyone was genuinely happy, they all seemed to have no problems or had atleast forgotten their burdens. As he studied varpa, the Swedish equivalent to boules, he spotted a familiar face in the crowd but as he tried to lock eyes in the crowd, they ducked out of sight. Benedict sighed before walking off into the crowd.
•
Florence couldn't believe her luck. She must've been cursed, it was the only reasoning as for why she just saw him. Her hand turned clammy and tensed, she only realised following a small whine.
"Mama, hurts," A little voice complained, Florence immediately dropped her daughters hand, and bent downwards so she was at eye level with the toddler.
"I'm so sorry Astrid, that Mama hurt you," Florence apologises, holding her daughters hand carefully now before placing dozens of kisses on it causing a buttery laugh to spill from her daughters lips, "Darling, you have to do me a favour now, we're going to continue walking but when you see Tant Viktoria (Aunt Viktoria), you have to tell me but then you can run along with your cousin. Does that sound okay?"
Astrid nodded eagerly, she had no idea what her mother had truly said but aslong as she could play with her cousin, all was well for her. She gripped her mother's hand again and they continued to walk but her feet kept catching on the straw, slowly infuriating her so she was thankful when she saw Viktoria emerge from a crowd.
"Mama!" Astrid shrieked, holding out her little hand with a pointed finger in her Tant's direction. Florence looked in the direction, relieved to see her sister's face and told her daughter to run along. Her daughter did so and therefore Florence began to walk over to her sister but before she could get any closer, a hand wrapped around her arm, halting her.
"Tusan också (Damn it)!" Florence mumbled, before coughing and loudening her voice, "Benedict, just let me go."
Benedict laughed and Florence turned around, her face covered in anger and her eyebrows were knit together in annoyance. But to Benedict she was more beautiful than anything, better than anything he could fathom, her body is the same as previously, if not smaller but it was evident it was still healthy, her skin radiated and glowed, her hair had gotten lighter as time had passed. For him nothing momentous had changed, but for her, for Florence everything had changed, after all she had a child, therefore a husband - a whole decade seemed to have passed for her even if it was in the span of three mesely years.
"You look.. beautiful," Benedict complimented, with whatever breath he could muster, he felt like he was meeting her again and with the way she composed herself now, he definitely was meeting a different version. Her eyes look haunted with sadness after that but it disappears in an instant.
"Benedict, don't. That isn't fair, you disappear and then show up, and what for? To lie your way back in? No. Just leave me alone. Please, do me that atleast." Florence speaks, Benedict watches her and regret floods him, he drowns in his own messed up mistakes.
His mouth falls open, trying to aid his defence but no words escape, he has ruined any potential with his own curse and just when a sentence had started formulating a little girl came running. But not to him. To her.
Florence immediately catches her daughter, and embraces her. She knowingly shields Astrid away from Benedict, she holds her head close to her shoulder, allowing her daughter no view of Benedict. Astrid would've recognised him, from that stupid miniature of him that she had gifted her daughter. But that was when Florence believed neither of the two would ever see Benedict again, but now they were so Astrid couldn't say anything about her father.
Benedict watches in awe of the relationship, Florence's husband was lucky, she seemed like a naturally excellent mother.
"I didn't see a husband, I'm sorry," Benedict automatically says, Florence's face turns sour.
"I don't have a husband, Benedict."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Benedict speaks, this conversation just kept getting worse and worse. He didn't know why he kept talking, he was making it all awkward.
"I've never been married, there was this one, well the one for me atleast, that I wanted to marry awfully, but sometimes you don't get thing you want. I haven't fallen in love for going on three years now, I have never had a husband," Florence confesses, she says everything so calmly that anyone normal wouldn't notice anything wrong with her but Benedict had some unresolved feelings with her and could read her endlessly.
"Is she-?" Benedict chokes out, he couldn't even finish his sentence. He knew he was right all those years ago in England. He absolutely knew it.
"And what if she was? You don't want anything to do with me, so please just leave us be," Florence asks, she didn't want to answer bluntly - didn't want only her daughter to be the reason he stays now, she wanted Benedict to want her too and not just their daughter. And that singles the conversation as over, Benedict couldn't even fight with his words, he watched Florence leave, again. And it ripped his heart out all over again but he didn't miss when her daughter's face lit up when she finally saw Benedict. She must've been whispering something to Florence with how excited she evidently was.
Florence got back to Viktoria, "Let's go. John can stay for your two, but I need you to stay with me, please. Before I mess everything up."
Florence had to deal with a struggling toddler whilst begging her sister, and was relieved when her sister finally agreed but had to excuse herself to try and find John to tell him atleast. Florence left after that, disappearing to find the exit and to wait for her sister.
Benedict had started to walk away but was twisted around, he had expected anyone else but who it was. The woman who by all means despised him but reluctantly gave him her blessing. Viktoria.
"You never wrote me," Benedict spoke, and Viktoria sighed.
"I know, I know. Don't lecture me on that right now however, I wanted to write you three years ago, tell you everything, from how she left to when your daughter was born. And if its any condolence, I think Florence is going about this all wrong."
Viktoria said 'your' daughter, not just Florence's, Benedict's too, what he had only let himself believe was confirmed.
"She's mine?" Benedict spoke, "Of course she is, you're the only one Florence loves," Viktoria lectures.
She hands him a slip of paper, "This is where she's living, it's with me and my family, but she's there with Astrid."
Benedict stares at the paper and such a great, wide grin tramples on his face, highlighting random wrinkles on his face.