Dearest Gentle Readers

She reached out, trailing one fingertip lightly along the embroidered edge of his waistcoat, just above his heart—barely touching, yet the contact sent a visible spark through him.

“But here’s the thing, Benedict…” Her gaze flicked up to meet his, bold and unapologetic. “I suspect that very thought is half the thrill for you. The scandal. The secrecy. The delicious little rebellion against all those perfectly starched expectations.”

"You're right," he said softly, his other hand moving to her waist and pulling her closer. "I do love a good rebellion. And I believe you enjoy it just as much as I do." His lips barely brush against hers. "Tell me to stop and I will. We still have a chance to walk out of this garden without ending up in the latest Lady Whistledown edition."

“Violet, if you blush any harder, the entire ton will assume you are the one about to debut.”

BEING LEFT ❛  wait! you can't just leave me here alone!  ❜ ❛  i don't know how to live in a world where i'm all alone.  ❜ ❛  everyone i've ever loved has either left or died.  ❜ ❛  i'm not yet ready for it to end.  ❜ ❛  will we ever see each other again?  ❜ ❛  please! you promised! you promised you'd never leave.  ❜ ❛  if you leave now, i'll never forgive you.  ❜ ❛  are you really going to leave after everything we've been through?  ❜ ❛  how am i supposed to keep on like before when you're not here anymore?  ❜ ❛  i knew this day would come, but i hoped it wouldn't be today.  ❜ ❛  please don't go. not yet. just stay a little longer ...  ❜ ❛  don't just walk away. say something, anything, before you go.  ❜ ❛  so that's it? you're just ... gone?  ❜ ❛  you can't just walk away like none of this meant anything!  ❜ ❛  why does everyone i love always leave?  ❜ ❛  i should've known better than to think you'd stay.  ❜ ❛  is it really that easy for you to walk away?  ❜ ❛  you said we'd face the world together. now i have to face it alone.  ❜ ❛  if you're going, at least look me in the eyes and say goodbye.  ❜ ❛  i don't have the strength to watch you walk away again.  ❜

LEAVING ❛  i'm sorry, but i cannot stay here any longer.  ❜ ❛  for once, i'm trying to do the right thing.  ❜ ❛  you don't need me here anymore. you've always been stronger on your own.  ❜ ❛  i wish staying was enough. i really do.  ❜ ❛  don't look at me like that. if i don't walk away now, i never will.  ❜ ❛  one day, you'll understand why i have to walk away.  ❜ ❛  i wish i could stay, but this isn't my place anymore.  ❜ ❛  don't wait for me. i don't know when ... if i'll be back.  ❜ ❛  i wish there was another way. but there isn't.  ❜ ❛  this isn't goodbye because i don't care. it's because i do. too much.  ❜ ❛  this goodbye is the hardest thing i've ever had to do.  ❜ ❛  i'm leaving because i love you too much to keep hurting you.  ❜ ❛  i'm sorry i couldn't be what you needed me to be.  ❜ ❛  i have to go find who i am without all this.  ❜ ❛  just because i'm leaving doesn't mean i stopped caring.  ❜ ❛  i'm not running. i'm just done waiting.  ❜ ❛  every step i take away from here is breaking me.  ❜ ❛  i can't keep pretending this place feels like home.  ❜ ❛  the hardest part isn't leaving. it's knowing you'll be here when i'm not.  ❜ ❛  sometimes goodybe is the kindest thing we can say.  ❜

She chuckles into her book lifted gently as a shield between herself and Eloise, soft breath ghosting over pages. “It is not all bad… marriage.” Francesca’s, however, does come with its own… repercussions. What she doesn’t dare confide in Eloise about. She clearly has more important matters to fret over.

“At the rate Hyacinth has been practicing, it very well could be tonight if she had her way. I believe she is far better trained than Daphne and I were when we entered society.” Delicate hands let her book fall shut, page marked with the tip of her thumb. “Are you two getting along?” @gccdgraces

Dark eyes watch her sister's reactions very carefully. As they were so close in age, Eloise certainly felt the closest to Francesca, and found it far easier to confide in her than any of her other siblings — except perhaps Benedict. Lips purse slightly as she folds her arms, like it might shield her from the word marriage itself. "It's easy for you to say when you've found the one you love. Not all of us are going to get our love match, despite what Mama thinks."

she laughs again, and this time it is genuine, though still wet from how close she is to tears. she suspects it will take a while for them to fully dry. the shock of his return, and the grief of how they were lost to him... it will not fade for a while still. finally, the water is brought, and she hands him the cup gently, encouraging him to drink.

" yes, it is... it is full of noise, and laughter, and love... " and grief, for they were without him for so long. but that, she does not say. instead, she stands. the chiildren will be looked after, she is sure, so she might show him the portraits in the entry hall without worrying about them seeing.

she leads him there gently, allows him to lean on her if he needs to. towards the first portrait, of their eldest sons. " anthony, our firstborn. benedict, and colin. " she says, her voice near a whisper. she does not trust it to be any louder, without breaking. " and these... " she points to the other side, to the portrait of their girls. " are our older daughters. daphne, eloise and francesca... " each of them so perfectly beautiful. each of them an artifact of their love. and each of them a perfect mixture of their parents' features.

Edmund lets her lead him to another part of the house, eyes taking in every new piece he saw. He is silent as she names their children and he surveys their faces carefully. He can see the resemblance of all of them, even though he barely knows what his own face looks like. He only had that fleeting moment in the mirror before he left the hospital.

i must have meant quite a lot to you, he says, and she cannot help it. violet laughs mirthlessly, because god above, is that an understatement. no less than eight children that they share proof enough of how deep their love ran, and for how many years. what else can she say except that she loved him. desperately, with every last piece of herself.

" of course..! you are my husband! " she says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world. like their love was something ordinary, and not, indeed, so very exceptional. she cannot help but notice, either, that he is keeping his distance from her... her heart breaks a little at the notion that they are now strangers... but she does not blame him. can not blame him.

he woke up in the hospital and the first thing he had done was to come home to them... that gives violet hope. something had called him here, after all, and perhaps... perhaps that means, somewhere deep down, he knows this is where he belongs.

she steps a little closer, cannot deny herself that now - she had always loved him with every inch of her, every fiber of her being. that love had not waned, not even in the years that have passed. " it is alright. " she says, gently, though her voice is strained with tears that force themselves to her eyes still. " i can-... i will remember for us both. i can tell you everything. every last detail. " she promises.

The words strike him hard in the chest in a way he is not prepared for. More than her expression. More than the sight of a large portrait hanging on the wall that seemed to be of the pair of them. The thought of this woman — Violet, he reminds himself — waiting for him to return tugs at his heart. Makes him frown as he seats himself on the couch beside her. Because it can only mean one thing.

oh she had so rarely seen him like this. so unsure of himself, so stiff, so... confused. she had imagined their reunion so many times. the day he would finally wake and embrace her again. it was nothing like this. she never considered he might... forget her. forget their children.

" edmund, i-... " and now, she is at a loss, because what if telling him all this will only frighten him further. but he seems to steady when she holds his hands, and that gives her hope. that even if he does not remember her, he might still feel what they have shared... that their love was strong enough.

"You are...my wife," he says with a small frown. Not because he was upset by the news, quite the opposite actually. He felt sorrow with the knowledge that he couldn't remember her. He was trying desperately to pull the images from his mind, but it was like every event of his past was gone. Just flashes of images that didn't make sense. He doesn't miss the mention of children either.

But it seems as though he has miraculously made his way home, though he did not know it at the time.

over a decade had passed, since her husband's accident. he had slipped into a dream nobody thought he would wake up from. the doctors had told her to not hold out hope, but she could not let go of it. of him. she visited him still near every day, and some said it was her presence that sustained him. that he shuld have long since been dead.

and now he stands before her. his warm brown eyes bewildered, his frame so much lighter than it used to be, singular grey hairs on his head, but it was him, she had no doubt. it was her edmund.

" oh, edmund..! " the viscountess cannot contain herself, the pamphlet of whistledown she had been holding falling to the floor as she rushes to his side, hands taking his, her clear blue eyes becoming hazy with tears that she refuses to let fall. she has so many questions. how are you here? why did you not wait in the hospital? how are you awake? but before she can ask any of it, his own question comes.

Her hands are delicate against his. Though he cannot place her face or her voice, he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t want to. His body is weak from however long he’d been in that hospital and it feels as though she’s the only thing keeping him upright. She felt like she was anchoring him to this place.

A servant appears with a glass of water, another with a chair they place behind him. Edmund takes the glass, sipping it slowly, but doesn’t sit. Not yet. Because something she had said caught his attention.

“Viscount?” He questions. Surely, she cannot mean him. “I am sorry, My Lady. I don’t — I do not —“ words failed him. Then, a soft sigh. “Pardon me, I am struggling. I do not remember…”

@whistledcwn, edmund bridgerton.

there is commotion at the door, and violet hears her footman attempting to send a man away from their front step. she is the lady of the house, and curiosity wins over - she walks into the foyer, and freezes for a moment.

the man at the door looks just like him. in torn clothing a rather unkempt beard, but she would recognize these eyes anywhere. her heart stops, and her hand goes towards her lips, to stifle the scream of disbelief that attempts to escape her.

Edmund caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror as he slowly sat up. Unshaven and unkempt, he looked far older than he thought he was. But unable to remember his own name was far more jarring.

The image of a building flashed in his mind — a large estate, beautiful and peaceful. He couldn’t put a name to it, he just knew he had to get back there. Hurrying to stand, he had slipped on a pair of shoes and slipped out of the hospital ward, dodging doctors as he did so. To his luck, a carriage was waiting in front.

It took a moment of describing the building for the footman to understand where he was talking about it and Edmund was pleased to hear he knew exactly where to go.

The estate was exactly how he’d seen it. It had to hold answers.

But the footman wouldn’t let him pass the threshold when Edmund could identify himself. He had been asked his name but he had no answer to give. He was beginning to become furious until a voice sounded from somewhere in the distance and he turned.

She was stunning.

For a moment, all he could do was look at her. From her dark hair to the color of her eyes. Every part of her enthralled him. More than that, from the moment he looked at her, a sense of safety settled in him. Like somehow, unbelievably, this was where he was meant to be.

The name Edmund did not ring any bells.