𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 | benedict bridgerton

► pour toi

Marie was getting her hair done in the bath by Bea who had deep circles under her eyes and was so obviously hungover. "I don't understand why you won't have the day off," Marie chuckled at her stubborn motherly maid. "It will teach me to drink less next time," Bea shook her head, drinking the tea left for her on the side. "What am I doing today?" Marie asked, whistling as she read through Lady Whistledown's new article. "Painting in the morning room for most of the day and then your neighbours have invited you for tea," Bea told her, pulling her hair into a plait. "Please tell them I am busy, I am not dealing with that merde for a while," Bitterness obvious in Marie's tone. "It is not the Bridgerton's who have invited you, Miss Howard, it was the Featheringtons," Bea told her, watching Marie's expression change. "Ah, then I shall meet them for afternoon tea," Marie decided, grabbing the towel next to the copper tub and standing, draining the water off herself. "Take a nap whilst I paint for the morning, Bea, it is deserved," Marie smiled, walking to her wardrobe - staring at the intricately painted designs before opening the wooden doors. 

►►►

► Marie's hair

► Marie's dress

Marie patted down her dress before tying her painting apron over it and pulling out a new canvas - many of which had just been shipped over for her to use. She swirled the paint on her glass palette, placing herself in front of her paint-covered easel and setting herself onto a wooden stool. She called in her violinist, listening to the classical tunes played as she played around with colour and precision. Bea woke up a few hours later, bringing in tea and a cheese board - gifted by the Addington's. "Ah, what a lovely family," Marie told Bea as she nibbled gracefully on a biscuit. Bea sat down - due to Marie's request - and the two spoke for the next few hours as Marie painted. Bea was like a motherly figure to Marie, caring for the girl in an informal way. The pair had a special bond which no other maids and mistresses in the Ton had. 

"Bea, undo me," Marie asked, gesturing to her apron and wiggling her paint-ridden hands. Bea loosened the knot on the back of Marie's apron, watching as she hurried to go and scrub the paint off her hands. Marie took herself to her bathroom, using the cooled bath water which Bea had yet to get rid of, as a luke-warm base to scrub off the paint. 

Bea shuffled to the front door as a knock sounded through the house, her eyebrows raising as Benedict Bridgerton stared back at her. "Good day, Ma'am. I'd like to see Marie if that is okay?" He stepped forward but was blocked by Bea's tough figure. "She has declined your presence, Mr Bridgerton," Bea said, glaring at the man who had hurt Marie's heart. "I need to see her," He barged his way past Bea, her petite frame no match for his strong figure. "Hey-" Bea shouted, but stopped as he did, waiting for him to move. But Benedict had frozen as he entered the drawing room, his whole existence in awe of her talent. 

The entire room was covered, every space on every wall plastered in canvas'. Each one hand painted by her fingers, each one bursting with passion and flavour as they presented a story. A woman lying on the beach, a child playing with a dog, a bride running in a field from a wedding, an angel falling from the clouds - it's wings turning dark. Every painting thought through with an image unforgettable in his mind. He turned, seeing the stacks of paint, canvas' painted and blank filling the floors space. A half-eaten cheese board and cups of tea placed on a mahogany table, the only thing free of paint. He gasped as he looked up, his heart thrumming in his chest as he was swept away at the paint gracing the ceiling, every stroke a part of a giant picture which was heavenly to an artist like himself. He was speechless - as he always was once he breathed in her stupidly recognisable scent. 

"Bea, what is it?" Marie asked, breaking him from his trance. His eyes observed her as she rushed to her maid who stood watching him. He looked as her eyes fluttered to him, her eyelashes casting shadows under her eyes. Her expression went cold, her mouth shut as she glared at him. "Did you paint all of these?" He asked, gesturing to all the pictures, his eyes returning to the room. "Get out of my home," Marie told him, sending Bea to clean her room. "You have no right to come here after insulting no only me, but my family, my country and my soul," She stood her ground, her mouth stuck in a sneer. "Oh please, you were just as bad," Benedict retorted, closing his eyes in regret - he had come to apologise and had already begun an argument. "You are in my house, on my land. I can ruin you in an instant with the connections I have, and the rest of your family," She stepped forward, watching him stay where he was. He knew she would never do anything to hurt the rest of the Bridgerton's but her threat was enough for him to stay silent. "Do not test a Princess," She warned, taking another step. Her throat was now raw from all the shouting she had done. "All you have is that title, you will never rule France, your parents will forbid it," He then stepped forward, his own voice raised. "You know nothing about my family, or me, what makes you so arrogant about your knowledge Mr Bridgerton," She yelled, overtaken by anger and shock as his lips graced hers. 

They stayed there, their hearts beating rapidly as they both kissed, his hands wrapped around her waist, the rings banded over his fingers catching on her dress. They stayed there, desire and hatred pouring into the connection between them. Marie pushed him away, her hand staying on his chest. He looked down at her, her heart thumping in her chest. 

"Get out,"