It is said that second-born sons have all the fun. This much is certainly true for Benedict Bridgerton, free from the burdens held by his eldest brother, the Viscount. One must wonder, how does the second eldest Bridgerton spend his time?
To the to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When Benedict was fifteen years old, he watched his father die.
He had been rounding up the children to get ready for dinner, all on the way to the dining room when he heard his elder brother shouting for help. He ushered the kids into the dining room before heading to the front door, where his mother already stood. She gasped and began running to the garden, and Benedict's heart began to race. He stopped just outside the front door when he saw his father in Anthony's arms, his mother collapsing down next to them. Something was not right, he knew that for sure. He was about to run over when he heard his younger sister call his name.
"Benny, what is it? Is mother all right?" Daphne's voice got closer, but Benedict couldn't tear his eyes off the scene before him. This feeling of fear was one he had never experienced before, and he felt as though his heart might beat out of his chest. The other children soon followed their sister, all coming outside to see what was going on. Benedict attempted to keep them by his side, not wanting them to watch what he couldn't take his eyes off of. He couldn't help but notice his hands shaking as he attempted to hold back the children at his side.
He heard his mother shout Anthony's name as she sobbed, and soon his brother began rushing toward him. Anthony helped Benedict to get all of the kids back inside. Benedict picked up his youngest brother, who began to giggle, unknowing of what was happening at the ripe age of two. He shushed him, setting him down in the drawing room with the rest of the children and running after his brother, who was now walking down the hallway.
"Anthony! Anthony, what's happened? Is father okay?" He called desperately, trying to catch up. At fifteen, he was already almost taller than his older brother, but it seemed his legs were no match for him in this case.
"Brother, please! What's going on?!" Benedict begged, his brother halting in his steps but not turning to face him. Benedict walked to meet his brother, looking him in the eyes, and his heart plummeted.
Anthony was crying.
Benedict felt a sense of dread creep into his stomach as he looked at his brother with terrified eyes.
"No.. he's not.." His voice failed him as his own tears began to well up. Anthony pulled him into a hug, as both boy's bodies racked with sobs. The two mumbled things to one another, but neither could get any words out.
Still, Benedict knew what Anthony was trying to tell him. Their father was dead. He felt as though his body was going to crumble, his legs almost giving out beneath him.
"My lord, might we begin the arrangements?". A voice pulled the two brothers away. Anthony wiped away his own tears, but Benedict couldn't seem to stop his. Both stood there, staring at the man who had spoken with bewildered eyes. The cries of their mother were loud in the background, the man stepping closer.
"The minister will need to be called, and the casket of course, one will need to be built."
Anthony nodded at the man's words, the bewildered look not leaving his eyes. Benedict's eyes darted between the two, the boy unable to comprehend what was happening.
