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"Grief is not a disorder, a disease, or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve."- Earl Grollman
Wincing at the pain flowing though every part of my body as I shuffle around, trying to find a comfortable position, I settle down and reach for my new book. My damp hair causing a tremor to rack my body as the cold air from the open window wafted over me. Mary was currently downstairs, arranging for a small lunch to be bought up for her, me and Edwina. Speaking of which, I smile as I hear Edwina talking to her suitor from outside, the wind carrying small and quiet parts of their tryst.
Since the carriage accident yesterday, every Bridgerton has visited the house. Daphne and Simon were the first to arrive mid afternoon and although I have only seen Daphne, she came to mine and Anthony's bedroom with a small bunch of flowers from The Duke and another from herself, the former sat with my husband in his study while my Sister-In-Law kept me company. Next to visit, while they had still been here, was Violet, Francessca, Hyacinth and Gregory. Each bringing a different method of help.
Violet oversaw the running of the house for the evening, making sure everyone was taken care of, as by the time night fell, we had every member of the Bridgerton clan sat in the living room. Francessca bought me the book that I'm currently trying to focus on, with a promise that it will take my mind of the horror of what had happened. Hyacinth snuck me some fruit cake, wrapped in a hankercheif, when no one was looking and sat on the bed next to me with her head on my shoulder, claiming that it always made her feel better when she was poorly and it had, both the cuddle and the cake. Although I haven't yet to see Gregory or his gift, I knew from the commotion it caused that it had been let back out into the wild, hopefully unhurt.
Minutes after, Eloise came running into the bedroom, dragging a sweaty and bright red Penelope with her. The redhead, when she regained her breath, told us that they had heard about the crash when a friend of Mrs Featherington's came to afternoon tea and they had run from there to here immediately. Lastly had been Benedict and Colin, who arrived an hour before it grew dark. Once again, I have yet to see either of them but they had bought me two big flower bouquets and a bottle of brandy, for 'medical usage only'.
While they persuaded Anthony to eat a small dinner with them and Edwina, Mary helped me bathe, as well as I could without getting up or moving. I had wanted to wash my hair but the headache made it a chore to even turn my head, let alone have someone touch me there. So instead of washing it, Mary waited until the pain subsided slightly and gently brushed and braided it, just like she did when I was little. The familiar gesture and tender kiss on the forehead nearly made me cry as the days events caught up to me, so when Mary left to join the others downstairs, after I convinced her that I'd like a short nap before attempting to eat something, I let the tears free.
The most vivid thing I remember just before I passed out was the sounds around me. Edwina screaming in terror and Newton's frantic barking as we launched into the air and were jolted around the inside of the carriage, like a ball after you catch it in a cup. As a teenage girl, one of our friends back home accidently hit me in the head with a cricket ball, missing the intended mark it smacked me on the back of the skull, making me feel nauceous while the thump reverbarted on a loop throughout my bones. That was the last sensation I felt before blackness overtook me.
My leg throbbed at the memory. Only six weeks to go. Then I can get out bed and move about again. That's what all the Doctor's had promised.
Coming to, all I could here was muffled sounds, as if I had water in my ears and could not remove it. Creaking of wood and the indistict words being exchanged between my Sister and my Husband roused me. My name being called and the Horses were a bit clearer as my hearing started to clear. Then the first words I had heard from Anthony since I left him at Bridgerton House the previous morning.
'It was supposed to be me.'
My heart clenched as his confession about his fears refused to leave me, sitting at the back of my mind. His grief over his Father slowing seeping into me as he layed everything bare for the first time. The picture he painted of the day the Bridgerton patriach died made me feel like I had been there, had known him. While I could only imagine the pain Violet had gone though and I pray to god that I only even imagine it, I ended yesterday with a new found respect for her and every one of her children.
Edmund Bridgerton's death would not stop him from living. He will live on through his children and grandchildren, even beyond. Never to be forgotten, only loved by every new generation. If we can teach our future broods one thing, I wish it to be that finding love is to never be given up on, like both sets of their grandparents before them and when they find it, to fight for it with everything they had.
Looking back on the past few days, I know I'm probably one of if not the luckiest woman in London. My Husband returning my love, having a family so big and close, surviving a crash that could have very easily killed me. Unlike many women, my future holds a promise of being amazing. Even if things go catastrophically wrong, I will never be truly alone.
That has always been one of my biggest fears, that everyone will move on and leave me behind, even if deep down I know that will never happen it still doesn't stop the thought. I was always scared that Edwina would marry and slowly forget about me. Maybe Mary would die with no warning and me and my Sister would be separted. I had been convinced until a few months ago that I would never be married, so I'd have no one to miss me when I pass away.
Now however, that isn't even a possibility. It is almost like a weight off my heart, letting me breathe properly for the first time in as long as I could remember. Leaving me pleasantly light and with a sense of excitement over my, well our, future. Mine and Anthony's.
All the promise he made me yesterday while me were alone. The confession of love. Him confiding in me. The strong bond we had before has only been strengthed.
I've known many types of love before. The Greeks think there are eight, according to one of Edwina's books. Agape, philia, storge and mania are the ones I can place experiencing before the season began. The feeling of each has bought me many different emotions over my so far short life.
Now I am swimming in the remaining four. Eros, pragma, philautia and ludus. Love wasn't just one of these things, it was so much more. The reality is far greater than any fantasy I have had.
It's joy, laughter and sadness. It's lust, pleasure and pain. It's confidence, strength and self doubt. It's safety, comfort and terror.
All at the same time. I would not wish for it to feel any other way. It's like suddenly coming alive. The most beautiful thing to ever happen to anyone.
The worry. The fear. The torment. The devastion.
It's the price you pay for love.
The price you pay because it's better you feel it than them.
A soft knock on the door interrupts my thought process. As my eyes refocused on the book, I realise I'm still on the first page. Placing the bookmark inside and laying it on the bed next to me, I lift myself up and smooth my hands down my front in an effort to look presentable. Adjusting the covers so they cover my chest, I call out.
"Enter."
Soft brown hair appears before his face does as he leans his head inside, smiling.
Smiling back, I reach out my hand for him.
And he takes it.
"My love for you spans over the lines of my past, present and future. You are what I love remembering, what I love experiencing and what I love looking forward to."- Steve Maraboli