A Bittersweet depature - Chapter 27

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Exactly sixty-four days had passed since the funeral. Sixty-four long and persistent days. Days filled with silence and solitude. The Walseworth manor remained empty, only the ghostly presence of three siblings stayed, soon to be two...

Eden sat completely alone in her room, the floor messy with crumpled garments, chairs tipped over and piled up dishes left to rot. Eden found small comfort sitting on a chair in the exact same position for hours on end as the sunlight dripped in through the curtains until it is disappeared, and the stars shun through that's when Eden would drag herself into bed and try to sleep tossing and turning for hours on end. She'd left the house a couple of times only to visit George's grave, she felt the cold stares of the ton they're pity and uncomfortable eyes scanning the grief stricken woman for a few moments before whispering words to one another. The constant constructing hug her grief held on her like a python suffocating its prey slowly, brutally and endless holding no remorse left Eden a ghost of herself. No longer did she dawn her hair up in fancy dos or wear pretty jewels on her neck left bare her hair down and have done while she wore basic dresses.

Gerard was silent more than usual. He'd check in on Eden and Clara, but no words were exchanged, just a sullen look and a nod of his head. He was just checking to make sure they were still alive as he continued about his daily routine of writing and running around the ton, fulfilling his duty. He must think that what he's doing, but with the piled up bottles and the constant headaches and grogginess his face held alongside the darkened purple baggy under eyes and his emaciated pale face. Eden knew he wasn't doing too well, but she didn't have the energy to ask.

Clara didn't get any better, she continued to act like nothing had happened, like George was breathing and still living. Her routine also continued the same, she didn't experience any loss or pain, just a constant state of blindness and denial of her older brothers' death.

That routine changed though when Aunt Polly reared her judgemental and self-centred head through the manor, demanding that the three of the sort themselves out and that this wasn't a reason to mope about acting like decayed corpses.

The day was just like any long, gruelling day. Eden got up, got dressed and stayed in her room. Gerard woke up late, going out to the city and then returning to retreat to his study, but that was stopped when Aunt Polly marched through the door, forcing the siblings to come out of hiding and rush downstairs.

"How are you all doing ?" The older woman offered nothing but a sour smile, "we're doing great" Gerard answered strained by chewing off the side of his mouth. Eden looked down at her brother from the middle of the stairs, "great"... what a fucking liar.

"That's excellent, have you been out in the ton ?" She stripped away one of her many layers, waiting for someone to come and take the jacket from her hands. "Where's Elizabeth ?" She questioned, "Elizabeth ! Elizabeth !" She shouted through the house, an anger in her voice at the woman's laziness.

"Elizabeth left." Gerard spoke, and he could feel the painful stare his sister was giving him. He looked up seeing her falling lip and narrowed eyebrows, her face with a constant scowl and sadness no longer the sniggering or usual eye roll. Looking at her too longed pained Gerard, so he did what he's done best he ignored it.

"And you have not yet employed a new one ?" Aunt Polly held the jacket out still, "no I haven't...I've been meaning to do so but have been so busy with everything else." He took the jacket from the woman's arm, placing on the coat rack.

"Where's Clara ?" The old woman searched for the girl, "Clara dear" the older woman called out to her youngest niece. "Yes Aunt" Clara emerged from the hallway "there you are, at-least someone is taking care of themselves" she grabbed the girl's hands "How was your birthday ?" She asked, taking a quick glance at the other two in the hallway.

These days |Benedict Bridgerton|Where stories live. Discover now