A Rose In Bloom
Bennet Drake walked the streets of Whitechapel for hours, long enough in fact, that he felt his senses return to him as drink slowly dissipated from his person. With sobriety came the clarity of his actions. With clarity, came wisdom tempered with no small amount of shame. He had acted poorly that night past and needed to make amends for his grievous misdeeds.
Truth be told, he had loved Rose Erskine from the moment he'd laid eyes upon her. Her profession had mattered naught. He was not a man to look upon others and cast judgement reserved only for God. She'd done what she needed to in order to survive this world. It was but all any of them slaved and toiled to do.
But, this night, his own fear of losing that which had never really been his own, had brought him disgrace. In fact, the panicked look of trepidation in her eyes haunted him even now, hours after the American had intervened and escorted him from the music hall. With drunken slurs he had made demands upon her, fuelled by jealousy he still felt even now, mingled like muddied soot with the shame he bore. She had feared exposure, not only of their affair, but of the consequences thereof which might ensure she lost everything she had spent years building. He would not have her sink so low again. He had lived six years without her. And though their impending separation brought him near crippling sorrow, he would live the rest of his days as such, if it ensured her continued happiness.
Bennett approached the music hall, aware that at this hour, the only clientele around would be toffs too drunk to see themselves towards the comfort of their fine lodgings. Inside, the mood was dim, the air thick with the acrid smell of smoke. He tread lightly, not wanting to run into Rose's intended. He had an apology to make and then he would take himself home and not look back towards this place.
"Bennet? Bloody hell," she hissed, "what are you doing back here?" He turned and saw her approach him, her stance defensive, her voice low. Already she guided him to a shaded alcove, to hide him, he suspected, should her fiancé appear.
"Now Rose," he began, gentle like, "I did not return to cast a scourge upon the life that you have created. I would have but a few words and then I aim leave you in peace."
He cast his eyes downwards, his hat in his hands. His own pain rose to choke him but he beat it down. He had survived much worse. A broken heart would not kill him.
She took his arm and firmly led him to the back entrance, closing the door behind her. Outside, he was grateful for the breeze. The clouds hung ominously overhead, the smell of rain permeating the air, promising perhaps to wash them both clean of their sins.
"Well?" Rose folded her arms, shivering slightly in the cold morning air. Her eyes were weary, as if she expected him to make further demands upon her. He swallowed hard. This was not what he had wanted.
"I come Rose, to offer an apology for what has transpired this night past. I can offer no excuse except that I grew impatient with our present circumstance and urged by drink and the American's bad judgement, I made way here to seek cause to force your hand."
"Bennet-" her eyes had softened some and he steeled his nerves against the temptation to lay waste to his plan.
"Please girl, let me get the words out before they fail me. I would do this proper."
Her eyes widened and he looked away, anywhere but at those blue oases. Around them, signs of life began to stir. Cocks began their morning crow and vendors stirred as a new day dawned. Hope. He feared he no longer knew what that felt like.
"I am sorry for all I have subjected you to. I blame none but myself for the disregard I have shown towards my very own common sense. I should not have lay with you Rose. In doing so, I have risked your future and if you believe nothing else of me, I would ask that you believe my sincerity in wanting only what is best for you."
His fingers ached as he crushed his hat between them, rubbing and squeezing the weather-beaten fabric. "I would be dishonest if I made attempt to lie to you, so I shall not." He took a deep breath. "I have loved you Rose, since that first day." His throat constricted and he cleared it, taking a moment to expel the breath he had been holding in a rush. "But you did not feel as I did-" she made attempt to interject but he rushed on, "and I blame you not. Feelings for another cannot be manufactured like a product in a factory, at a whim upon a day. I deserved better than obligation and you deserved to love with all your heart."
She took a step towards him and he stepped back, daring to catch a glimpse at her face. Her blue eyes were large, confused, a mist of tears threatening to spill forth. He must be quick.
"Four years hence and you have made yourself new. You are a successful entertainer with the love and esteem of a good man. Sir Edgar Morton is kind, I see that in his bearing and I would speak falsely if I pretended otherwise. Such a man can give you more than I ever could. And I have come to realise that."
She stepped forward then, her hands grasping at the lapels of his jacket. "Don't you dare give up on me Bennet Drake."
His own hands circled her wrist and gently dislodged her grip. "I face the reality sketched so plainly before me. I have tread this road before and I fear my heart cannot," he took a moment, "will not," he clarified, "survive losing you again. And I shall, inevitably, should this connection go any further than it already has. I fear it might have already gone too far. This is your life Rose, and I would not have you choose between it and me."
"Bennet-" Her tone had become desperate as the first drops of rain fell from the sky.
"So I will step aside. I will bother you no more and I ask you to respect this decision. I was driven by fear last night, fear of losing what we had, fear of the future I could envision slipping from my grasp."
He took her hands and brought it to his lips, placing a long kiss there. Bennet felt numbness creep into his soul and let her go. "But you were never mine Rose, not for a season, not for a day. And that which I feared most was naught but a fantasy, brought to life by your misguided gratitude."
"Misguided gratitude?" she called, tears sliding from her eyes.
He looked at her then and slowly, reverently, he wiped them from her face.
"I love you," she choked out. "I might not have known it then, but I know it now, as clear as I know my own name Bennet. There be nothing misguided about my feelings for you. They might have bloomed a little late, but they have taken root. You cannot ask me to forget."
He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to revel in her admission. He realised it had been the words he might have been waiting his entire life to hear. Except, with this cheerless circumstance between them, it brought him no peace.
"Goodbye Rose."
"Why are you doing this?" she called after him. "Were we not happy? I promise, I'll tell Edgar! I just need a little time."
"Don't you see girl?! You should not have to give up your dream for me!" Anger. Anger helped. And now it burned within him, no balm to the ever gaping hole in his heart. "I am past any prime there is for a man such as I. I am nothing but grain left in the sun too long. I have festered and you, you are a rose, ready to bloom."
"You know what Susan once asked me?" she called, desperate as he turned to leave. "She asked whether I knew what it was like to lie with a man I loved. How it was different. I never knew Bennet! In all the years I'd... I'd..." she could not say it out loud. But he knew her meaning. "I did not know how it was different. Until you!"
He kept walking and fortified the wall of his heart against her calls. He turned the corner and only once out of sight, did he slump against the nearest wall and give in to the burning upon his chest. He heaved in, trying desperately to gain control of his raging emotions. Bennet closed his eyes and breathed, in, then out, concentrating on containing his pain – at least, the thought, until he was in the privacy of his own quarters.
"Oi, dirty copper, what brings ya to the slums of Whitechapel?"
Bennet's gaze barely flickered over the young child who had called out, turning the other way. He would not be arrested for fisticuffs with a child barely past puberty. In his currents state, he could not guarantee that whomever he engaged with would survive the match.
He needed sleep and he needed food. But both of those things felt elusive. He walked for a while longer, the rain soaking him to the bone. Outside his lodgings, he raised his head to the sky, feeling the icy droplets pelt his skin. He yearned for it, welcomed it even. He thought the rain might cleanse him. All it seemed to do was match the chill in his bones to the one in his heart.
"Bennet!" He heard the call and squeezed his eyes shut. Would he be haunted by her forever? "Bennet Drake! Are you out of your blinking mind? Have you gone and lost all sense?"
He was pushed and he jerked his eyes open, digging his heels into the spot. Before him, Rose stood, her own clothing now hopelessly soiled. The hat she wore was perched at an awkward angle, the barrage of rain proving a destructive force.
"Dammit Rose! I told you-"
"You'll catch your death!" She began shouting back, both calling out to the other until in the end, neither could make out what the other was saying.
It was then that he saw the bags at her feet, the cases now battling to keep its contents dry. He cursed under his breath and reached for them, moving them onto the dried safety of the porch. But a couple shouting at each other in the rain had drawn a bit of a crowd. He was a part of the police force, and Rose a veritable Whitechapel celebrity. It would not do to have their current discord aired in so public a forum.
His litany of curses continued as he raised her suitcases and carried them inside, up the stairs until finally they came to rest inside his room.
"You learn that from the American?" she asked, slamming the door shut behind her.
"Dammit girl, I thought I had made myself clear!"
"You had," she said. "I choose not to pay you any mind!"
He shook his head, annoyed, frustrated – and damn his blackened soul - slightly hopeful. The latter sentiment he tried hard to extinguish. This became difficult when she threw her arms around him.
"Marry me Bennet."
He blinked rapidly, sure that his ears were false. He stammered, "Rose, please."
"You will not be rid of me that easily. It might have taken me longer than it ought to, but there is no man, no profession, no life on this earth that equates to more than you." Her eyes searched his, trying to gauge his reaction. In truth, stunned was all he felt. "You have nary a word to say to a proposal?"
He assumed she saw his silence as a positive thing because she continued, her hands brushing through his damp hair.
"Do you not see? There is no life for me Bennet Drake, if you are not in it. There is naught. Not hope, not love, no light to the darkness of my past. If I cannot have a life with you, then I want no life at all. The music hall, the success, it means nothing if I do not have you to share it with me."
He did not know how it had happened, but both their faces were wet, tears running from aching souls.
"We are, you and I, two halves of one whole. The one cannot sustain life without the other."
"We did before." His words were false. He knew it even as he uttered it.
She laughed, placing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "That was not life Bennet. That was not living."
Her arms encircled him and he felt the fight drain from him. Hope, it flickered inside of him. He dared not trust it.
"A proposal?" His voice was gruff.
"I realise that if I do not become the force behind my own destiny, I will never have the things that matter most. Besides, I want a family Bennet, children..." Their eyes met and he felt his heart soar. "I want our babies." Her courage seemed to be failing her because he voice dropped. "Marry me, make me your wife."
"What of your intended?" Dared he hope?
"My bags came with me Bennet. They stand all around us. I think you know the answer to that. What barriers would you continue to place between us?"
His arms, so stoic, slowly moved to wrap themselves around her, pulling her as close as he could. Bennet buried his face in her neck, smelling her sweet lavender scent. The relief flooding his veins made his knees weak, though he would never admit that to a soul.
He cupped her face in his hands, their eyes fixed upon each other. Right there, he saw the love he had always wanted to see, the devotion, the care. "Would you, Rose Erskine, agree to be my wife?"
Her lips hovered above his own. "I, Rose Erskine, agree to be your wife Bennet Drake." She kissed him, long and deep. "I love you Bennet. I am only sorry it has taken me this long."
He shook his head, shaking off their collective sorrow. "Rose, I am no longer... what I mean to say is..." She raised a brow as he continued to struggle with the words. He shrugged. "Babies? You are sure?"
Her eyes sparkled with mirth and he felt a lovesick fool. "We best not waste time then Mr Drake."
"No," he said, their hands discarding clothing as their bodies melted together. "We best not."
a/n: Bennet and Rose's road to happiness seems to be endless. I hope the close of S3 gives my favourite character the happiness he deserves.