The phone call
Little pearl, you think you're in gold
But I can see the dirt in your lines
-Alrighty Aphrodite by Peach Pit
Swerving the large puddles on the road was proving to be a bigger challenge than he anticipated. The wind whistled past Theo’s ears as his bicycle tore through the dark streets. Usually, he looked forward to the ride back from university. The rest of the world seemed to collapse away as everything warped into mere blurs of light and colour. Today however, his stomach was churning like a feverish sea. It had to do with the weather, or maybe even the mushrooms he scarfed down during lunch, and definitely not the weight of Becoming a Writer in his bag that he borrowed right after Bridgerton left the library, her ponytail swinging like a guillotine.
“Theo”, Granville greeted him with his usual booming voice when he opened the door. He pulled Theo into a hug.
“You’re back!”, Theo exclaimed, grinning as he was led to the kitchen. Henry Granville was a legend in his hometown- paperboy turned artist after acquiring a scholarship to study in one of the most prestigious universities in the continent. In two generations, Theo was the only one to ghost his footsteps, which was why Granville graciously offered to let him stay at his cottage while Theo attended the same university, Mayfair Academy.
“Scotland was enchanting”, Granville said, his fingers tracing the vines of the flowers hanging from the pots, “You wouldn’t believe the pieces I sold. I brought one back too. It’s in the kitchen.”
“I am a work of art now, am I?” came a voice from the kitchen. Theo walked to find a handsome bloke leaning against the counter. He was strong jawed with an athletic build which would have been intimidating if not for his easy grin. Granville laughed, throwing a petal at him, before busying himself with a kettle of tea.
“Oh,” Theo blinked, “Hello”.
The man held his hand out, and Theo shook it gingerly
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sharpe. My name is Benedict Bridgerton.”
“Bridgerton?” Theo blurted.
Benedict winced as he sat down, “Our reputations precede us I’m afraid. I assume you’re acquainted with my brother, Colin?”
“I know of him”, Theo said, taking the chair across him, “he’s in the year above me.”
Benedict stared at him intently as Granville set two mugs in front of them. Through the curling steam, Theo noticed how similar he looked to his sister- she had the same look in her eyes every time she figured out what a metaphor meant.
“I see. Which degree do you do?”
“English Literature and Language.”
“Ah”, Benedict said, “you know Eloise.”
Theo allowed himself a chuckle before stirring honey into his tea. ‘Know’ would be a particularly strong term for two people whose interactions mainly consisted of hisses and glares, unless one would count an argument in class an interaction.
That is the same point I said
I just said it better
Benedict cupped a hand around his mouth, “Don’t tell Colin, but I am her favourite.”
“Your secret is safe with me”, Theo said, taking a sip, “So, Mr. Bridgerton—"
Benedict waved his hand, “Please, Mr. Bridgerton is my older brother. Call me Benedict, or Ben.”
Theo didn’t think he could call a man wearing a suit that looked more expensive than this cottage, ‘Ben’
“Benedict, are you and Henry colleagues?”
Granville alighted a hand on the back of Benedict’s chair, his eyes glinting in the warm yellow light “Something of the sort. We met at an art exhibition I was hosting, and I overheard him calling my art—ah, what was it?”
“I don’t think that’s a matter of importance, Henry”, Benedict said. Theo couldn’t help but notice Eloise rolled her eyes the exact same way.
Theo sipped his tea. There was an unspoken agreement between him and Granville to not ask too many questions. If Theo heard strange sounds from Granville’s bedroom or noticed him lingering for a bit too long at the front door when a guest left, he was supposed to assume perhaps someone dropped something, or a guest had forgotten his scarf.
It was a reminder pressed into him like a brand of a hot poker, that he was just a child who had no right to ask anything.
He sometimes wondered if he had just opened his mouth as a child, he would have been able to keep his family together.
He stared at Granville’s hand that had apparently no other place to rest, “So, Granville”—for there was no way Theo would call him Henry after hearing the way Benedict said it—“how is Mrs. Granville doing?”
The smile on Benedict’s face vanished like it was wiped away by a sleeve and Granville removed his hand from Benedict’s chair like it had been burnt.
“Fine”, he let out a cough, not meeting Theo’s eye, “Just fine.”
That night, as Theo was walking down the hallway to get a glass of water, he ran into Granville.
“Theo”, he said, looking at him as if he was just caught upsetting a cookie tin, “you shouldn’t have mentioned that”
Theo grunted, filling a glass from the tap.
“Theo, I thought we had an understanding. You told me you didn’t mind, that you weren’t like them.”
“I don’t care that you like men. I understand the danger you are in”, Theo said flatly, “After looking at Mr. Briger- Benedict, I can’t blame you for bringing him here either. I do mind that you are cheating on your wife.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” he hissed, “She is well taken care of, financially. She was wealthy when I met her, the sole heir of her dead father, and I still send her money without spending any of hers.”
Not spending the money of the woman you’re cheating on was the bare minimum, in Theo’s opinion. He gulped down the water, his throat tightening as it burnt through his chest.
“Theo”, Granville said gently, “This isn’t like what your mother did.”
A surge of anger, red and raw as a burn rose up in him. He gripped his glass tightly.
“I wish to speak of this no longer.”, he said, holding his hand up, “I am going to bed. Just make sure she doesn’t come here. I have no interest in helping you pretend your guest is a milkman like last time.”
“It would have worked”, Granville snapped, “if it wasn’t the bloody evening.”
“Uh- sorry to interrupt”
They both turned. A rumpled looking Benedict was standing outside Granville’s room, half his shirt unbuttoned.
“Theo, the phone in your room won’t stop ringing.”
“Right, sorry”, Theo said, rubbing his forehead. It was probably Preston or Dev calling to ask about homework. He regretted giving his friends the landline number.
He stalked back to his room, and felt all of his cheek muscles strain as he gave Benedict a small smile. He picked up the phone off the hook and pressed it to his ear, “Hello”
“Sharpe, did I wake you?”
That was definitely not Preston or Dev .
“Bridgerton?”
“I am sorry for calling so late” Eloise let out a breathy chuckle, and he could almost picture her crossing one leg behind the other and playing with the cuff of her sleeve like she did when she was nervous, not that he noticed, “or well, calling at all.”
“What do you want?”, Good God, was Eloise calling to ask about her brother? Did she find out he borrowed the book they were squabbling over?
“There’s no need to bark”, Eloise said, every trace of hesitation vanishing from her voice, “I simply wanted to know when you wanted to meet Danbury tomorrow.”
“You want me there too?”
“Well, yeah. You have so many opinions to share I thought—”
“My, my, Bridgerton”, Theo smirked, “Tread lightly, duchess. I think you just implied you find my opinions important.”
“Whatever helps you sleep. You clearly need it, and don’t call me duchess.”
“I’ll call you worse when I am there tomorrow morning”, Theo said, “I want to see how you’d plead your case.”
“Indeed”, Eloise drawled, “and Sharpe?”
“Hmm?”
“I want to write a really good story.”, Eloise said, her voice had dropped almost to a whisper, “So tomorrow, don’t hold back.”
The call was cut before he could respond, or even ask how she got her manicured hands on his landline number.
Tossing the books back into his bag, he fell onto his bed face first. He had a long day ahead of him, and he wasn’t looking forward to starting it with a conversation with the most arrogant person he knew.