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The weight of the recent events weighs heavily on her shoulders as she searches for her misplaced necklace. Her heart aches for the family in particular, Francesca, over losing her dear husband. Sophie had not known John Stirling personally, but she had heard he was kind and gentle, most undeserving of the fate he received.
She couldn’t help but think of Benedict in this difficult time. They had not been together when the news travelled, but she had seen him at the funeral. His brave face for his family when he stood before them, especially considering Anthony and his wife, Kate, could not return from Audbrey Hall in time for the funeral. Sophie could see his broken soul even from her position on the sidelines.
Her heart ached to reach out and comfort him when his voice broke during his mournful words.
But that was not her place.
His eyes had been sorrowful when they met hers, and selfishly she thought back on their last conversation in the conservatory. She could not tear him from his family, not when they all clearly loved each other so much. She knew very well how it felt to have no family to be loved by, and she refused to be the reason that he knew of that tragedy too.
They would never be able to be together, not with where they stood in the eyes of society.
All her thoughts crash to halt with the thundering sound of items striking the floor and the sound of a frustrated cry. She would recognise that voice anywhere.
Without thinking, she rushes to the study door, worried he has hurt himself. Upon entering, she sees the flurry of papers littering the floor and the way his head had been in his hands until he heard her enter.
“Forgive me, I heard a noise.” She keeps her voice low, sensing the emotion stemming from him.
He avoids meeting her eyes, “I did not mean to startle you.”
They both move quickly and at the same time to gather up the papers, “I have been tasked with organising John’s affairs, and, uh—“ He takes the stack Sophie has retrieved from the floor to reset them on his desk, “I have misplaced a document.”
She turns and spots another sheet that had fluttered further into the room, instantly moving to clean that up too, “You need not explain.”
But he holds out a hand, rounding his desk, “Please, I will do it.”
He doesn’t move to pick it up though, instead pacing in front of his desk, his eyes trained on the floor, as if scared she may disappear if he were to look at her fully.
”It has been a hell of a week.”
Her posture softens at his vulnerable admission, nodding along, “I know.”
He halts his pacing, facing her completely for the first time since she entered the study, “Every time I see you, I am conscious it may be the last.” His hands go behind him to find purchase on the surface of the desk, as if its sturdy wood can stabilise the whirlwind of emotion flooding through him. “I hated how we said goodbye at the funeral.”
Sophie’s eyes soften, despite the fact she knows they shouldn’t be doing this, she cannot help it. She steps toward him to join his side and lean against the desk. Her hand grips the edge of the wood near enough to his own hand that it is almost unbearable.
They both stay silent, rigid in their postures against the wood. Sophie’s eyes stay trained on the other side of the room, while Benedict cannot look up from the floor.
She knows she should not, she mustn’t. They said their goodbyes. They cannot be together.
Slowly she inches her hand over until her pinky finger rests over the edge of his hand. His skin is warm and soft, their touch, despite its sorrowful nature, still sparks feelings within them both.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she witnesses his shoulders release some of the tension they have been holding. Then his hand slips over hers entirely, squeezing tightly, terrified she may slip away any second.
Both of them turn their heads to face each other again. Her heart shatters again by the pain that echoes in his eyes, and when he turns his body to her completely, she reaches for his other hand, both of them standing up fully to gently lean their foreheads together.
She looks up at him to see a single tear escape him, and he tightly screws his eyes shut to prevent the onslaught of them.
Sophie breaks for him, all of their recent struggles gone from her memory, she only wishes to comfort him. She lets go of his hands, and his eyes open again, perhaps even more emotionally destroyed than before and he swallows roughly and nods his head despite another tear rolling down his cheek. “Forgive me—“
With a simple shake of her head, she reaches up to his cheek and gingerly brushes away the tear with the pad of her thumb. His eyes close again in response, a shaky exhale confirming her suspicions.
”Benedict. . . .” Her voice breaks on his name, and she quickly slides her other arm around his shoulder and uses both hands to pull him down into a crushing hug. His response is instantaneous, his body crumbling into hers as his hands come around to clutch the fabric of her uniform and his face retreats into the comfort of her neck to muffle the soft sobs that suddenly escape him.
She tightens her hold around his neck, and without thinking, one of her hands finds its way into the hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through the strands softly to offer him any semblance of comfort she can with soothing strokes through his hair and his arms tighten around her.
He doesn’t make a sound, but she can feel the tears against her neck as he cries. Her heart shatters for him, wishing there was anything she could do to change things for him, a tear of her own slipping out.
All thoughts of the door being open and someone discovering them vanishing as they stay embraced in the relative safety of the study.
Eventually she can tell the tears have come to a stop and she keeps her hold on him tight through the whole thing, but he doesn’t seem eager to let go. And despite all that her brain is whispering to her about impropriety, she will not let him go until he is ready. When he does eventually pull his head out of her neck, he doesn’t remove himself from the hug, allowing their foreheads to rest against each other again.
Her hand is still in his hair but no longer moving, and she can see the tears streaking his face, which she suspects are now on her uniform too, but she does not care about that. She bites her lip as she watches his eyes remain closed, almost as if he’s afraid to face their reality again. He breathes her in and she watches his face relax into her presence.
She suddenly wishes she could kiss him freely, kiss the tears off his cheeks, and hold him to her until his eyes no longer have the stain of grief etched into them.
But she cannot, not as a maid.
His eyes open and settle on hers, soft, vulnerable, and loving. Everything they cannot have together in the outside world, in reality.
Benedict does not make her feel like a maid. With him she is simply Sophie. Right now, the outside world is not of her concern. He is.
His head tilts, a clear sign he wants to kiss her, but she sees him hesitate. She had told him they couldn’t be together, and he’s respecting her wish. And then she realises she does not wish him to do so, not at this moment.
It might be a completely selfish choice to make, but the rational part of her brain is no longer in control. It hardly ever is in his presence.
Sophie leans slightly forward, her intent clear and she sees the vulnerable hope in his eyes. She rises up to very gently kiss his lips, light, barely there, and chaste but still she can taste the salt from his tears and feels how his body relaxes against hers again.
She pulls back to look at him, agony mixed with devotion swimming in his open eyes, and her heart aches wantonly. There is nothing she wants more than to be with him without shame and without society’s expectations. She wishes desperately to be able to be by his side in the wake of tragedy.
Is it so bad to do something for themselves?
Slowly, they both lean in again for another soft kiss, not one of passion, but of love, devotion, understanding, and acceptance. They love each other and it’s gentle and kind, reassuring and deep. Her presence brings him great comfort, his body sagging against her lips as she revives him through her kiss. He did not think it possible for one person to solely be responsible for his contentness. But with Sophie right in front of him, the tension from all the recent events flows out of him. If he were only permitted one wish in the entirety of his life, it would be to have Sophie by his side for as long as he might live.
When they break again, she moves to kiss his cheek gently, reverently, and his eyes fall shut to memorise the feeling.
They both know this could be the last time they ever get to do this, so they both savor the sweet moment before they brave reality again outside this room.