Sweet Honour- Benedict Bridgerton

23. Inspiration

(Benedict's POV)

Morning came, crisp and sweet, yet still so somber. Benedict stared at an empty canvas. Bored, unwilling, unmotivated. His muse had left him, what else was there to do but move on? He huffed and strode out of his art room, down the hall and rapped on Maude's bedroom door.

She opened the door promptly, with a bright smile. "Benedict! Good morning." She said.

"Morning, Maude. Do pardon my intrusion, but I am suffering a rather large artists block. I wish to ask for your help."

"My help?" She halfheartedly asked, had she been expecting something else from him?

"Yes, I would appreciate it if you could pose for me." Emboldened, he smiled hopefully.

"Why, of course. I will ready myself and meet you at ten after nine."

Benedict nodded and left. He readied his paints again, picked a larger canvas as sometimes the details were easier to focus on such a thing, and sat waiting. He mechanically adjusted his brushes over and over again. Usually inspiration had overcame him by this point.

"Here I am!" Maude said enthusiastically, waltzing into the room.

"Ah, just in time." Benedict looked at his watch, she was in fact half an hour late, but by the by, he brushed it off. She looked at him expectantly. "Oh yes, do please sit on the chair across from me."

She did as he asked, sat cross legged, and crossed her arms over her chest. Benedict studied her for a second. He huffed involuntarily, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, Maude but might you uncross your arms? There is detail in your dress that I would like to capture." She did so and put her hands on her hips. "No, no. Do pardon me for this."

Benedict walked up to her and took both of her hands, and propped one hand resting on her knee, and the other up to cup her face. "Look up to your left." He said, aiming for Maude to look wistful, almost drawn away. She did so and he took his place at his canvas again.

"We really must promenade today, Ben." She said, he looked up from his canvas and her hand was away from her cheek, fiddling with the rings on her other hand, she was looking down.

"Please remain posed."

"Oh, yes." She nodded furiously and resumed the position Benedict had instructed.

This went on for the next two hours. Maude moved and chatted and chatted. Benedict told her to pose. Didn't she understand he was trying to get her to be his muse? Gods sake. Why wouldn't she stay still?

"Thank you, Maude. That's plenty for today." Benedict said, and left the room. What does it mean to be a gentleman anyways? On her way out, Maude looked at the canvas, hoping to see some astonishing work of her beautiful face only to be met with a blank expanse.

~~~~~~

Later that evening, Benedict retired to his room after dinner. He looked into the mirror, the bridge of his nose was red from how hard he had been pinching it for some sort of solace or relief, his hair was out of sorts and he desperately needed a shave. Turning his head to the window, he noticed the sky was glazed over with pinks and purples and reds. Red sky at night shepherds delight, he thought to himself. Inspiration calls.

He shaved quickly, grabbed his sketchbook and watercolours and darted off into the garden. He thought that maybe if he captured the green leaves of the forest against the red sunset he might lift himself out of this rut.

He settled himself against a tree and started painting, the water of the lake rushing beside him soothed his mind.

The sound of twigs snapping tore him out of his concentration. "Dear God, the closer I get to a finished piece the more I am distracted." He uttered out loud, and stood up. "Shoo, white rabbit, shoo." He waved away at a small white hare that leaped past him along the lake and off among the trees. But before it got out of sight, it turned back to look at him.

"I told you to shoo. My brothers like to shoot things like you for game so best get going." He huffed again. "Why am I talking to a rabbit? Have I gotten that lonely?" The hare stared back, unmoving.

"Fine." He said, closed his sketchbook and started to follow the hare. "What have I to lose?"

The hare hopped further on into the garden, on and on. Benedict grew tiresome and looked up, he had missed the red sky which had turned quickly into a dark blue. "Damn you, rabbit." He went to follow on further but stopped and blinked when he saw a yellow light through the trees, it was stark against the darkness of the night.

He blinked again and the light grew closer.

He looked down and the hare had vanished, looked up again and saw that the light was attached to an arm, and therefore a body. Blonde hair shone against the lamp held by the arm, like the morning sun streaming through an open window.

He crept forward slightly, trying his best not to make a noise.

The blonde girl sat at the very end of the lake, and opened a book. He squinted his eyes, "Undine" he could just quite make out the title of the book, shining in gold lettering. He had noticed this book in Victoria's room while she stayed with him.

"Victoria." He sighed. "What are you doing out at this time of night?" He asked to himself, but he physically couldn't move closer to ask her. His body simply wouldn't let him. His head swirled with apologies and possible sentences that could perhaps reconcile their friendship - was it a friendship? But it was no use.

He sat down silently, and tactically out of sight of her eye-line. He opened his book, and he painted.