The Muse // Benedict Bridgerton

Could this day get any better?

A/N: trigger warning – mentions of illness, emetophobia, spoiler - character death

Lucy and Benedict rushed to her former London home. As the couple approached the front door, the Butler was already in the frame, opening the door wide and allowing the couple to walk through as though he had been waiting for their arrival.

"The Duchess is in her chambers being attended to. Lady – I mean Princess – Eleanor and Prince Alfred have also arrived," He informed, looking as disheveled as he sounded.

Lucy noted that the situation was probably as distressing for him as it was for any other member of the family since he had been with them for so long. His normally slicked-back black hair was untidy, and his usually handsome yet weathered face drooped and looked less than sharp. Lucy nodded at him and headed straight to her mother's chambers. Her heart was pounding the entire time, and beads of sweat collected at her temples. She and Benedict walked through the halls wordlessly, the only sounds heard being the echoes of their footsteps in the dark halls.

The Duchess was lying in bed with her eyes closed and shivering, yet sweat was glistening against her skin in the candlelight. As Lucy entered the room, she was quickly greeted by her brother-in-law and Eleanor, whose eyes looked red and puffy from crying.

"I'm so glad you're here, Luce," Eleanor whispered, as a few stray tears escaped her eyes and she hugged her sister tightly.

"We came as fast as we could, Ellie. What happened? She seemed fine when we left the palace – that was only yesterday!" Lucy exclaimed as she released her sister from their tight hug. Henry approached them from the other side of the room, startling Lucy as she hadn't realized he was sitting there.

"She just collapsed. She went to father to tell him she was not feeling well, then just collapsed," he responded glumly. Lucy scanned the room with her eyes, noticing her father was nowhere in sight.

"Where is he?" She asked.

"Drinking in his study, perhaps. Or the gardens. Or the guesthouse. I don't suppose it matters – he will certainly be drinking somewhere," Henry scoffed.

"Henry," Lucy warned, a stern look on her face. He was free to speak like that about their father with a select few, but Eleanor was certainly not one of those people. Lucy had managed to keep her sheltered from their father's ways, and she was not about to change that. Henry glared at her and then nodded, looking away. Eleanor was not a stupid girl – she could always tell that there was tension radiating off of their father, and Lucy knew that, but thankfully it was never directed to her so she did not have to worry about anything. He was still a good father in her innocent eyes, and Lucy did not want to take that away from her little sister. One Blackthorne sibling deserved to still have a father, she thought.

"The royal physician has seen to her, My Lady – I thought it best. Unfortunately there is nothing we can do except wait for her to wake," Alfred spoke as he cleared his throat, shooting a pitiful look at Lucy.

"Thank you, Your Highness. Your kindness is greatly appreciated," Lucy responded politely. The prince smiled at Lucy and placed his arm affectionately around Eleanor's waist.

"Alfred, please," He reminded her.

"Of course – only if you also address me by my good name," Lucy smiled softly and the prince returned it, nodding.

The group sat in silence in Margaret's chambers, some looking at the ground and others watching the nurses at work. Lucy fiddled with the detailing on her dress but was interrupted when Benedict took one of her cold hands and held it in his warm one. She turned her head to look at him, their eyes meeting, and she could not help but finally shed a tear, which he brushed away with his thumb. Lucy sat back on the comfortable seat and laid her head on her husband's shoulder, and he laid his head on top of hers. They sat like that comfortably for what felt like an age, until Lucy felt a familiar feeling in her belly. Not now, she thought, irritated with herself. That sick feeling bubbled up inside her and her mouth filled with saliva, a warning sign, making her stand up suddenly and run to the chamber pot in the adjoining room. She heard a commotion behind her but ignored it, focusing on emptying her stomach contents into the chamber pot.