The Greatest Showman #1318 - Admiration

Renly felt a surge of clarity as he broke through the water's surface. He could sense the oxygen filling his lungs, the warmth slowly ebbing away. His vision blurred by the brightness of the sky, his body became lighter. He had surfaced from the deep and felt completely free.

In that moment, Renly knew exactly how it felt: he had fought back.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a small, satisfied smile. It wasn't because of the victory over George or the affront against Viscount Bioford, but because Renly had stood his ground—dignified, unshaken, and proud of himself.

"This is me," he thought.

It was perhaps the most daring and humorous act Renly had ever performed. His expression was calm, yet bold in its defiance. For the first time, he fully revealed himself to the world without reservations, the same way he had in his past life. A rebellious, youthful spirit surfaced, as if he were a teenager again, insisting on his dreams and ideals, refusing to compromise. The once-mature, older version of Renly now looked back at the passion of his youth with a bittersweet fondness.

But even at fifty-five, Renly realized, there was something immensely gratifying about that youthful defiance.

"You... proud now?" came Edith's voice, breaking into his thoughts.

Without turning, Renly nodded, replying simply, "Yes."

Edith and Arthur approached, their expressions unreadable but their eyes betraying the surprise at his directness.

"You know," Edith said with a hint of admiration, "sometimes I envy you."

Arthur, still a bit dazed, gave a small nod in agreement.

Renly, sensing their surprise, couldn't resist a teasing smile. "Rare. You two are actually envious of me?"

Edith quickly denied it with a roll of her eyes, "Slip of the tongue, slip of the tongue!" But her halfhearted attempt to backtrack made Renly's smile only widen.

"Does that mean I have an angelic side after all?" he teased lightly.

Edith, flustered, turned away, as if trying to preserve her pride. Arthur, on the other hand, pretended to lose interest in the exchange but Renly caught the subtle discomfort in his demeanor. He wisely chose not to press further, though his subtle smirk gave away his knowledge.

Arthur fidgeted awkwardly, lifting his hand, but only to adjust his silk tie. There was no real reason for the gesture, other than the tension in the air.

After a brief silence, Arthur finally broke it, quietly murmuring, "Thank you."

Renly raised an eyebrow, confused, but Edith, sensing Arthur's discomfort, shot him a look. Arthur quickly explained, his voice barely above a whisper, "Don't make me say it again. I'm embarrassed enough as it is."

Renly, amused, decided to shift the subject. "Next week, I'm heading to Nice. Would you care to join me?"

Edith, who had been waiting for a change of subject, perked up, "Cannes Film Festival?"

Renly nodded. "Just for a vacation. I think you both might enjoy it."

Arthur was a social butterfly, so the idea of the Cannes Film Festival—the pinnacle of Europe's Vanity Fair—appealed to him. Edith, being a photographer, would find inspiration among the art and the coast, so the invitation was not unwelcome.

Still, they didn't immediately give an answer.

Before long, Edith added, "By the way, I think Elf appeared tonight."

Renly raised an eyebrow. "But I don't think she'd want to join my party."

Just as the conversation was flowing, a familiar voice called from a distance. "Your Excellency Renly!" Beatrice was rushing down the stairs, unable to wait any longer. Her enthusiasm was palpable as she quickly approached Renly.

Arthur and Edith exchanged glances, realizing this was likely an important moment. They wisely decided to leave, not wanting to interrupt the conversation that was surely about to unfold.

Renly turned to Beatrice with a smile as she reached him. "Lord Renly," Beatrice said, her voice sweet, her eyes gleaming with admiration. She curtsied shyly. "Your performance was breathtaking. The power of your performance, the way it captivated the audience, was amazing. You were born to be on stage."

Renly inclined his head, accepting her praise with grace. "Thank you," he said, maintaining his gentlemanly composure.

Beatrice hesitated, clearly nervous about what to say next. After a long pause, she gathered her courage and finally spoke up. "Next week, I'm hosting a private gathering at my house. A small tea party, with a few close friends. I was wondering if you might like to join us?"

Renly, ever polite, maintained his calm demeanor, although his expression subtly shifted. "I appreciate the invitation, but unfortunately, I won't be able to attend." He didn't make excuses—he simply declined, choosing honesty over pleasantries.

Beatrice, slightly crestfallen, fought to mask her disappointment, but Renly's words soothed her in a way. "Perhaps if you're free, you can visit the Almeida Theater sometime. We can enjoy a play, exchange book lists... anything that interests you."

While Beatrice couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes, Renly's offer to engage in a different way showed that he valued their connection. It was the art of diplomacy at its finest.

"Of course," Beatrice replied, her voice betraying the faintest hint of a smile. "That sounds wonderful. I'll be attending some events for the anniversary of Les Miserables, and I can introduce you to my book club friends. We can exchange ideas."

"It would be my pleasure," Renly replied, bowing slightly.

But Beatrice was already looking for a way to escape. "I see a friend I need to catch up with," she said with an awkward smile, before turning to leave. As she walked away, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, hidden from Renly's view.

Renly watched her leave and, once she was out of sight, he turned toward Matthew and the others. It was clear they had been waiting for the right moment.

From a distance, Andre couldn't resist a teasing comment, "Well, the golden bachelor's title won't last long. A new generation is rising."