Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

February 1814, two months before the start of Eloise’s first season.

‘Eloise, I’ve been thinking about going to Gloucestershire’, Penelope announced.

Penelope knew her mother wouldn’t approve, especially now that money was tight. Her only hope rested with Eloise, yet she knew that it would be hard for her to convince Eloise to go see Marina.

‘What’s in Gloucestershire?’ Eloise asked with a frown, popping in another bonbon.

‘Marina.’

‘What?’ Eloise asked, righteously confused.

‘Well, it’s just… It’s been so long, you know? And I worry for her. She was so devastated when she left.’

‘My brother was devasted when she left too. Or did you forget that? How she almost trapped him into a marriage? She lied to his face, or at least wilfully neglected to tell him that she was with child. My brother loved her. He still hasn’t come back from Greece. And he’s a worthless correspondent, we barely receive a letter every month and a half! Since Marina left, we lost our Colin’ Eloise raged, sitting up straight.

Penelope knew that. She knew the exact number of days between each of his letters. Some days she wondered whether she’d saved him by making Marina’s situation known to him, or she had shattered his heart so much it couldn’t be fixed again. Her selfishness had ruined so many lives. She’d ostracized her own family from society, had almost caused Marina to be sent to the poorhouse together with her child and worst of all... She made Colin desperately unhappy. And all of that just because she was jealous.

‘Eloise…’

‘No. How awful was she? If you love someone… You shouldn’t keep secrets from them! Especially not secrets like that. She could have at least been honest. But no, she hid it from everyone, even from your family. I don’t get why you’re not angry. Your entire family was ruined by her actions. You were sent away from the queen’s garden party! That was so embarrassing. Now that I think of it... Isn’t it queer how you had a servant and a guest both secretly pregnant outside of marriage in your home? Well, at least your servant was honest about it to you…’

Eloise paused, looking back at her friend.

‘No. No. Pen. Tell me you did not use the “I know a person” trick to discuss someone we both knew? Tell me that we have not discussed Marina the entire time we were discussing this supposedly pregnant servant?’

Penelope paused. Her friend was always quick of mind.

‘You knew? You knew! Oh my god, it was Marina. And you were going to let her marry Colin? And here I thought no one knew until Lady Whistledown did.’

‘I wasn’t going to let her marry Colin!’ Penelope bit. ‘I tried telling him.’

‘And if you knew… you couldn’t have been the only one. Everyone in your house probably knew. While I fully believe Mrs. Featherington to be mercenary enough to hide the pregnancy to get Marina married, I expected more from you. Actually if your household knew about the pregnancy… anyone in your house could have leaked it to Lady Whistledown. Anyone except for you, your sisters and your mother, of course. You wouldn’t have been so foolish, knowing the consequences such a scandal coulf bring to your family’, Eloise rattled on. Penelope did not even try to stop her. Once Eloise started analysing and ranting, you could only ride it out.

Penelope’s cheeks burned with guilt.

Marina had made Penelope so angry on the night Penelope discovered that one letter had been forged. Like an angry child she had lashed out with her most powerful tool, her pen, not even minding the consequences. She still hated Marina for her condescending speech, but most of all she hated herself for being angry and exacting vengeance for a speech that had contained nothing but truth. Marina's words had cut so deep because Penelope knew them to be true. Colin did see her as a sister and Marina as a wife. Meanwhile Marina liked Colin and had been acting out of helplessness, to protect her unborn baby. She had been selfless, and Penelope? She had been selfish. And cruel.

‘You know, I really admired Lady Whistledown. She was… an aspiration. To just pick up the pen and become wildly successful? To call things out for what they are? I admire that. She critiqued people and was a bit mean sometimes, but I admit I had to laugh at her humour more than I paused at the consequences of her words. Even as she wrote off my sister at the beginning of last season and it resulted in Daphne having virtually no suitors left except that horrid Berbrooke. But that column about Marina? That was more than a scathing comment about a debutante losing attention. That was deliberately ruining a woman and the entire family who housed her. If it hadn’t been for Daphne and our general good standing we would have been looked down upon as well. I don’t care for marriage. But my sisters? My brothers? They all want to wed. Whistledown could have ruined that. I even protected her, Whistledown, you know? The queen had set up a trap for her. You have any idea how much effort you have to go through to make the queen of England want to catch and expose you? But I warned her. I thought it would be a shame if we lost one of the few free women who make their voices heard. But I do not admire her nearly as much anymore. She ruined people, Pen. She ruined you’, Eloise ended her speech. Her eyes shone with compassion for all the people hurt by Lady Whistledown.

It spoke volumes of Eloise’s kindness and ethics that she protected a free woman despite vehemently disagreeing with her. To Eloise there was no greater crime than attacking and ruining her friends and family.

I ruined me, Penelope thought miserably.

‘I admit that column was harsh. And I could have done without the consequences. And it is kind of Marina’s fault. Because if she hadn’t become pregnant, hadn’t hidden it and hadn’t tried to marry Colin, Whistledown couldn’t have reported it’, Penelope sighed.

Eloise nodded, putting away the box of bonbons. So emotional was she still that the thought of eating was revolting to her.

‘But Marina… She’s not as guilty as you believe. Or at least, she shouldn’t be blamed as much.’

Eloise raised her eyebrows expectantly.

‘Marina was in love, very much so, with a man called George. And she didn’t plan to get pregnant, but she did. She only found out when he had left and waited to marry him. It was only when so many weeks had passed without an answer from him that she feared he, like so many other men, had used her ill, and washed his hands of her now that she was ruined. She didn't want to trap another man in marriage but felt she had to for the sake of her child. She needed to marry before her condition became known, or she and my family would be ruined. Worse, if she didn’t marry and got a child, she would be out on the streets. She and the child would starve. She had to marry, for the child. Her eye fell on Colin, I told her not to, but he was pursuing her. She liked him, time wasn’t on her side, she picked the one man whom she believed could like her and care for her and the baby. She felt that she had to make sure her child would be cared for, and had to ignore ethics.’

Eloise was, for once, silent.

‘Well, I can’t pretend like that wouldn’t have happened. Colin can love people a lot’, Eloise muttered, looking none too pleased. ‘To be honest, this is just one more example of a woman being punished while a man walks free. So he is somewhere, completely unharmed by the scandal, while she sells herself into marriage because of his child. Men should be forced to marry the women they get pregnant. Then all her actions would have been unnecessary, and both her and my brother would have been spared the heartache. Where is she now? She disappeared rather suddenly.’

‘She uhm… married. Here in London. But it wasn’t in the papers. They didn’t want to draw attention to it, didn’t think people would want to read it either.’

‘Who would want to marry her though? Her situation was public knowledge. He must be very kind, rescuing a woman from poverty and scandal, risking that if the child is a boy, his inheritance goes to a boy who isn’t his’, Eloise reasoned.

‘Sir Phillip Crane. He is George’s brother. Your sister managed to contact someone from the military, who in turn contacted Sir Phillip. The man came to our house one morning with the news that his brother had died, but he was willing to help her. He also gave her a letter George was working on but hadn’t been able to send before he died. He was going to marry her so they could have their child together.’

‘Oh my. Gods, that’s truly a tragedy of Greek proportions’, muttered Eloise.

‘She’s had a really rough year. Last time I saw her she was very unhappy. They must have had the child by now. I just want to see her to check if she’s okay. Mother won’t let me go. Not when there’s all this business with father’s heir and money and so on.’

There wasn’t a day that went by that Penelope didn’t think of her with tremendous guilt. Marina had trusted her like a friend. Had always told her everything whenever she asked a question and had been kind to her when her mother was mean to her. And the one time she had been mean to Penelope she had apologized to Penelope for everything, she had repented. She had even wished Penelope luck with Colin. She felt like a monster for treating such a poor desperate girl by pushing her even deeper into the ground. Penelope needed Marina to be okay after all the damage she had done. She had to know Marina had recovered. She didn’t deserve to be miserable.

‘You’re such a good and kind friend, Pen. You know, I do hate that she made me lose my brother, but he’ll get over it. I’ll forgive her for her desperate act. If you can forgive her for the damage she’s done to your family, I have no reason to hold a grudge. That girl has been the victim of circumstance and after the way Whistledown ruined her, I’m sure she’ll be very happy to see there are some people still wanting to visit her. She must take great heart from a visit of you.’

Penelope just about managed to keep herself from cringing.

‘Yeah. But the thing is, I can hardly go alone, can I? With everything.’

‘I gathered as much. I don’t know her, and I don’t know that Sir Whatever she married but I’ve never seen Gloucestershire. I’ll never say no to a trip to a new place. I’m sure it’ll be fun. And with any luck, we’ll miss the start of the season.’

‘Are you using my trip to delay your execution?’ Penelope laughed.

‘No. But it would be nice’, Eloise sighed.

Eloise looked down at her hemline that now reached until her feet. Her mother had bought her an entirely new debutante wardrobe. The few old pieces she held from the years before had been altered so they now had lo'g frilly hemlines that befitted a lady. She hated it.

‘So when do you want to go?’ Eloise asked to divert the topic.

Chapter Text

Romney Hall, late February 1814.

Romney Hall was a Jacobean construction, Marina informed them. The building was erected in red brick with white limestone details on the sides of the towers and walls and white balconies and window decoration. The inside was dark, despite the many windows.

Marina had welcomed them just an hour earlier, and although she had not smiled, she did seem happy to receive them. It had been awkward at first, with Eloise being Colin’s sister and all. But Eloise managed to quickly put those concerns off the table.

‘He’s happily enjoying the sun in Greece. His last letter was nothing short of an ode to the country. I do believe he’s happy’, Eloise had said.

Marina had nodded.

‘Good. I’m happy for him. He… deserves to be happy.’

‘I hope we’re not your first visitors’, Penelope had laughed in an attempt to turn the topic away then.

‘Who else would visit me? My friends from home are far away, my father hates me now, and everyone from London avoids me’, she’d answered coldly. ‘But it’s good of you to come. You’ve always been kind to me.’

So when she next asked Penelope and Eloise whether they wanted to rest a bit before supper, both girls had insisted there was no need for it. They wanted to be the best and most social guests for her.

No, it was much better now, as she showed them around. Despite the fact that Marina had never shown anyone around the house, she did do a fine job of it.

They paused at the gallery filled with paintings of Crane baronets.

‘And this is the old Sir Crane’, Marina explained, giving some of his accomplishments. ‘We still need to alter the frame, add a date of death’, Marina mused. ‘Hadn’t thought of that before.’

‘Oh, is he dead?’ Eloise asked, a stupid question really. One couldn’t add a date of death before one was dead.

‘He died two weeks after news arrived of George’s death. He was very distraught.’

Marina’s lips twisted in a way that made Eloise burn to know what she wasn’t telling.

‘He must have loved George a lot’, Penelope said, interpreting Marina’s frown as sadness.

‘Yes. Him, he loved a lot. He was very sorry to lose him.’

The mystery thickened. Why this emphasis on George?

She looked down at the ground as she continued, pausing in front of two young boys.

‘And these are George and Phillip’, she explained.

Eloise paused in front of it. One had blond hair and blue eyes and looked tall and proud, while the other with his dark hair almost blended into the background. She could relate, she looked awful in most family portraits too. She studied the boys. This husband of Marina must be terribly sad. He had lost his brother and his father within two weeks of each other. Even now, a decade later, Eloise still missed her father. The influence of his presence still lingered in their home, from the way Anthony had torn away from them and tried acting like a more distanced fatherly figure, to how many times he popped up in conversation. Eloise was barely used to his absence. The thought of losing one of her siblings was just unbearable. She refused to even imagine it.

‘Which one is which?’ Eloise asked.

Marina frowned. ‘Right, you haven’t met them. The blond one is George. The next portrait of him is bigger’, she said, a small smile growing as she moved forward.

Her hand tenderly touched her pendant with a lover’s eye around her neck.

‘It was made for his twenty-fifth birthday. It was going to be used as his official portrait once he succeeded his father.’

‘Doesn’t the other one have a portrait?’ Eloise asked.

Her mother always had all children painted at regular intervals. She couldn’t imagine ending up in the Bridgerton gallery at home as only a child in a group picture, Anthony being the only one with an adult portrait.

Marina ignored Eloise. ‘And here will be mine, with the children.’

‘Children?’ Penelope asked, eyes growing.

‘Are you pregnant again already? Oh Marina that’s –‘ the look in Marina’s eyes silenced Penelope.

‘No. I’m not. I had twins.’

‘Twins! Oh, that’s wonderful. Congratulations’, Penelope said instead.

Marina gave a tired smile. She hadn’t yet addressed the children before, and they hadn’t wanted to pry. They supposed they would meet them at some point. All mothers seemed to be absolutely obsessed with their brood, they had fully expected her to show her children before the day was over.

‘What are they called?’ Penelope asked.

‘Amanda and Oliver. Named after his mother and grandfather.’

‘Their names are lovely’, Penelope agreed.

They sounded perfectly bland if one asked Eloise. But she knew better than to comment on such a thing, so she just nodded along.

‘They’re sleeping now. I wish they would sleep during the night. They are a terror.’

Eloise blinked, that was the first time she’d heard someone talk about their children in anything less than the highest terms. Children were always described as perfect angels. A lot of horse crap, Eloise had grown up with six other children. She’d been a child herself. They were absolute monsters.

Eloise looked away from the paintings, gazing through the window. She noticed a huge greenhouse. There were lights burning inside. She admired the servants still working away at this time of day.

‘I’ll show you the rooms where we receive guests now. You know, I don’t understand why people must have so many drawing rooms and sitting rooms. At home we just had the one where everyone sat together when we received guest’, Marina explained. She showed them the drawing room of the lady of the house, the study, the library, and the closed door to the sitting room of the men.

‘Not that Phillip ever goes there. He spends all his time outside’, she sighed.

‘I don’t understand why he’d want that. Even when it was freezing and snowing he was outside most hours. I’m a country girl but he really missed a career as a farmer. Give me a book and company indoors and I’m happy.’

Penelope shot Eloise a concerned look as Marina walked on.

She didn’t sound happy.

‘And this is the dining room. We always eat at eight, so you still have some forty minutes to freshen up. I’ll lead you to your bedrooms.’

They were put in bedrooms right beside each other. They didn’t look too modern, but they were excellently furbished and of high quality. Eloise begrudgingly put on one of her new frocks, its only redeeming qualities being that it was lavender and had a relatively high neckline. If it had just been Penelope and Marina she would have just kept her hair loose, she still had a mind to, but she decided to do the mature thing and put her hair up.

As she got ready her hand itched to write. The carriage ride and new house had given her poetic inspiration. But there was no time, she could write tonight.

By the time Penelope and Eloise descended, despite them being two minutes late, Marina still hadn’t arrived. Which was awkward, given that who could only be her husband was already pacing up and down the dining room.

Eloise noticed that from the back, he was not so different from her brother, tall and broad of shoulder, with thick brown hair. But his posture was far from as graceful as theirs.

‘Oh. Uhm. You are her guests’, he reasoned, straightening his jacket.

‘Yes. Penelope Featherington, we met?’ Penelope asked, deciding that since Marina couldn’t introduce them it was best that she did.

‘Yes. I do remember you’, he replied with a hesitant smile.

Eloise had never entered a house where laughter was more rare. What a dreary place this was. But then again there was little reason for them to be joyful. They were both still wearing black for his brother and his father. He had been forced to marry for duty, and she for her child. Still, it was very odd.

‘This is my friend, Miss Eloise Bridgerton.’

Eloise nodded.

‘Eloise, this is Sir Phillip Crane.’

‘How do you do?’

‘Alright. Thank you. Our trip was good, roads a bit bumpy but that was to be expected with all the recent rain and snow turning the roads to mud. Marina just showed us around, she’s a very good hostess’, Eloise rattled, wanting to break through the awkwardness.

But it appeared her speech had the opposite effect, rendering Sir Phillip who had been able to perform the traditional polite questions and remarks quite the mute.

He blinked.

‘Yes. She has not had a lot of opportunity to host. It is good of you to come. She could use the conversation and support. She’s had a hard time ever since the children… well. Parenthood takes some getting used to.’

‘We’re glad to be here’, Penelope replied.

‘My mother was always bone tired the first few months after having a child. She had eight, you know? She was always happy to have friends over to distract her a bit. I uhm. I don’t know where I was going with this again. Oh, yes. Knowing how much good some company can do when one just had a new baby, I’m glad to be here.’

Despite that it hadn’t been her main reason for coming, she did find herself growing more worried for the girl. She’d arrived not very confident she’d be able to muster kindness for the young woman who had hurt her brother, but she could not help but feel for her circumstances. Her sister was just pregnant, she could not imagine Daphne going through being a new mother all alone without anyone coming by to support her. It seemed cruel.

‘Eight?’ Sir Phillip asked.

Eloise had to keep in her annoyance. How was that the thing of her entire speech he had decided to focus on? He was so slow.

At that moment Marina arrived.

‘Oh, you’re here already.’

‘It’s ten past already’, Phillip pointed out.

‘Oh who cares about some ten minutes?’ Marina smiled, turning to her guests.

‘Sit, sit. I see you already did the introductions.’

Eloise sat down beside Penelope. Her eye fell on Marina’s necklace, and with shock she realized that either that was the worst impression of Sir Phillip’s eye, or Marina was still wearing the portrait of George. Given the blond eyebrow, the latter was probably true. That meant Sir Phillip was looking right into the eye of his deceased brother hanging around his wife’s neck every time he ate with her.

‘Are your rooms alright?’

‘They are perfect’, Penelope assured her.

‘Good.’

‘Mm, food smells delicious’, Penelope said as the servants came in.

That managed to get a smile from Marina.

‘Yes, the food is very good here.’

The servants revealed the food. The soup was perfect and thick, ideal for a cold day, but the main course…

Mutton. It just had to be mutton stew. On the bright side there were mashed potatoes and many lovely grilled vegetables dripping with butter and graciously sprinkled with pepper. Eloise focussed on those, and pushing in a bite of stew every ten minutes out of politeness.

Marina tried leading the conversation, asking everyone after their day and sharing something about a melancholy philosopher she’d read. But only Penelope knew him.

So Eloise allowed them to continue their conversation and decided to engage this Sir Phillip, who was quietly eating his food.

‘I saw a greenhouse outside. Is that where the vegetables come from, Sir Crane?’ Eloise asked.

The man didn’t reply.

‘Sir Crane? Sir Crane?’

It was only when she waved at him that he looked up. ‘Oh right, me. What did you ask, Miss Bridgerton?’

Eloise would have laughed if it hadn’t been so sad. Anthony had also taken a long time to get used to being the viscount. And right now Eloise had to bite her tongue to correct him that she was Miss Eloise. She was Miss Bridgerton now that Daphne was married.

‘Whether the vegetables came from the greenhouse?’

‘Oh, yes. Well, the carrots are. They were quick to grow. The greenhouse is still quite new, you see. I only built it when we came to live here.’

‘You built it?’

‘I… Well. I had workmen helping me. So I can’t take the credit. It was only finished just in time for the winter, in November.’

Helping him meant he had done some of the building himself. She appraised his shoulders anew. She couldn’t imagine any of her brothers making their hands dirty in such a way. They were too polished for it.

‘Oh. Well, it looks impressive to be built so fast.’

‘Oh… Well. Thank you’, he smiled.

‘Talking about the greenhouse, the roses are coming along nicely’, Sir Phillip tried to start the conversation. ‘At this rate you’ll be the first lady to have roses in her home. They’ll be ready for plucking at the start of March. You liked red roses, didn’t you, Marina?’ Phillip asked his wife.

Marina paused her conversation with Penelope, giving her husband a smile.

‘Yes. I like roses.’

Phillip then started talking about how the roses were grown, expanding about the breed and how they had been coming along, and the pruning, and all kinds of things Eloise had never considered were necessary or important to growing flowers.

The table quieted, listening to him talk. She could see Marina’s tiredness growing into impatience, and then annoyance, before finally, she snapped.

‘I like roses but Phillip, you know none of us have a clue what you talk about. Can’t you talk about something else for once?’ Marina asked, exhaustion heavy in her voice.

Sir Phillip deflated, and Eloise could not help but feel for him. It was not fair that his interests were crushed so harshly. It hit too close to home, especially since she was so often ridiculed for her interests.

‘The stew is really delicious’, Penelope said, trying to save dinner.

Although the conversation moved on, the awkward atmosphere remained.

After dinner everyone sat together in an emerald drawing room with a blazing fireplace. Eloise admired the heavy woodwork in the room. It looked really rural and old, giving it a gothic atmosphere. She admired that, the Bridgerton houses were very refined and recent, with high ceilings and pale pastels. It fit Marina and Phillip.

‘Pen, I never asked, do you play?’ Marina asked.

‘Oh, a little’, Penelope stammered, eying the piano with fear.

‘Want to play a quatre mains? It’s been so long.’

‘Sure’, Penelope agreed, moving over to the piano with Marina.

The song they chose was cheerful, and succeeded in wiping the weariness off Marina’s face.

The song ended and Marina proposed another, but they were hardly a minute in when the maid arrived, announcing the children had woken up.

Marina struck a bad note and looked up.

‘The wetnurse?’

‘They have been fed. But you know, it is their time of day.’

Marina nodded, looking at Penelope.

‘You want to meet them?’

‘Oh, I don’t want to push. But I would be happy to see them.’

Marina asked the maid to bring them down. Two maids appeared a short while after, each carrying a baby wriggling in their arms. They reminded Eloise of Gregory and Hyacinth, they had also been fuzzy. Marina accepted one of them, pressing them against her pale pink dress with deeper pink flowers.

‘This is Amanda’, Marina said, introducing two month old baby with black  hair and brown eyes. ‘And that’s Oliver’, she said, nodding at the dark haired other baby currently pulling on the lapels of Sir Phillip’s waistcoat.

Penelope cooed at the baby.

‘She’s very beautiful. She looks like you.’

‘I’m afraid my looks were quite dominant’, Marina said, frowning at her daughter. ‘I’d hoped they might take after… Oh well.’

But they all understood her meaning. Her mother had also loved the aspects of her children most that they had inherited from their father.

‘Oliver has his eyes though’, she said. Eloise shuffled a bit closer to Sir Phillip, noticing the child indeed had blue eyes, with which he was observing everything.

‘They have his temper though’, Phillip said, laying the child down on the couch. He looked down at Oliver, leaning on the couch with one arm and tenderly brushing Oliver’s hair with his free hand.

‘And what is that?’ Eloise asked.

Sir Phillip only smiled at the child, not even looking up.

Eloise took heart out of the fact that despite not being the real father of the children, he was obviously fond of them. Most men would have been very angry about becoming the legal father of children that weren’t theirs. Especially if one of them was a boy and would inherit his estate. But she supposed the case was a bit different since the children were his brother’s, and his brother was supposed to be the one inheriting anyway.  

‘They’re very bold, loud and adventurous.’

‘A sturdy baby is a good thing’, Penelope said.

‘Mother once said we would have had a sister, but she died within a couple of days. Very frail, she said. But they still look so tiny and frail, despite that their voices are able to cut through stone. I barely dare to touch them sometimes’, Phillip admitted.

Eloise suddenly had a vivid flashback to Hyacinth’s birth and how Colin, who had just started his growth spurt in width and height, tried to hold her with his awkward long limbs.

‘Don’t talk about dying in their presence. I don’t want to jinx anything’, Marina whispered, voice passionate as she held Amanda closer.

‘They’re all I have left of him.’

‘We have left’, Phillip corrected.

Eloise and Penelope shot each other a look.

‘Do you want to hold her?’ Marina asked of Penelope.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t know how’, she stammered. ‘But I’d like to.’

‘It’s easy, you hold your arm like so, and make sure you support their head’, Eloise explained, jumping over to put Penelope’s arms in the correct position.

‘If you’re not sure it’s better to sit down on the couch.’

‘I think I can handle it. Why do I support the head?’ Penelope asked as Marina tenderly put the child into Penelope’s arms.

‘Because they can’t support their head yet. Sir Phillip was right that babies are fragile. A new born kitten or fowl can walk around in a matter of minutes but human babies are delicate.’

‘Oh dear’, Penelope muttered, making sure she supported the head correctly. ‘Hello little one’, Penelope smiled.

‘Aren’t you a beauty. Yes, you’re going to be as beautiful as your mom.’

‘Not so beautiful anymore. You should have seen me two months ago. It’s a good thing I left London when I did, mere weeks after I started swelling like a pumpkin. I was tired all the time. Could barely move. I’m still tired. All the time. And they screech and wail at night, I don’t think I’ll ever lose the bags under my eyes. But at least I got back in shape. I thought I’d have to chuck out all my old dresses.’

‘You still look wonderful, Marina’, Penelope told her.

‘Some loss of sleep won’t make you look bad. Remember Lady Whistledown called you the true incomparable of the season. All those men who came to our house just to see you?’

‘Lady Whistledown can hang’, Marina growled, stalking over to the table to snatch her wine goblet.

‘What did those compliments matter? She only made my name important just so everyone knew who I was by the time she released that awful last column on me.’

‘It’s just empty gossip by someone with an abundance of time and a lack of useful pursuits’, Sir Phillip calmed his wife. ‘Nobody of substance attaches importance to gossip columns.’

All three women turned on Sir Phillip.

‘Then there mustn’t be a single person of substance in London. A bad word from Whistledown and my life was over, Phillip’, Marina pointed out. ‘That you don’t care for society doesn’t matter. Back there, everyone believed her words. ‘

‘London society is stupid. For heaven’s sake, only a tenth of the men in London could help in a harvest, replace a broken wheel or do their own accounts. They even need valets to dress. They live in a stupid bubble of self-importance while they’re not capable of anything but judging others.’

'That I cannot disagree with', Marina said. 'I am glad to be back in the country.'

Eloise, who felt that Phillip had called her without substance and had insulted Lady Whistledown as well, was next to attack.

‘Gossip is important in London. With or without a gossip column, people gossip. And if you have to navigate in those circles, you need to know the gossip or you can’t follow half of the conversations that are being held. Besides, there are plenty of stupider occupations with one’s time than writing. Like all these rich privileged men doing nothing but squandering time and money in gentlemen’s clubs where they do nothing but laugh, drink, smoke and lord-knows-what. She, for I am certain it is a she, is articulate, and clever and observant, and spends her time practising a profession women are not welcome in, providing society with the exact content they want. Women, women are made so useless by society. “Oh let’s go and visit a friend, oh, let’s have tea, oh yes, a dinner party. Oh, I’m bored, shall we make a walk or go riding in the carriage before going back home and writing letters to family members?” Why, it is because we can’t do anything else! We can’t work, we can’t study, we can’t do anything actually useful. She’s one of the few women who refuses to waste her time with such empty pursuits.’

Sir Phillip once again just blinked.

Eloise felt the heat creep to her cheeks. She’d said too much. Again. She wondered whether Marina and Sir Phillip ever exchanged as many words with one another in a day. They were both kind of quiet.

‘I know gossip is a currency, that doesn’t mean I approve of it or admire people encouraging others to indulge in so base a topic. As for what else you said, yes, society in London is filled with people with idle lives. Both men and women. I would not mind a woman finding a more useful pursuit than drinking tea. Just think of nuns women concerned with charity or even those women book clubs. If the woman is truly talented, she could use that talent to write something real. Obviously she, despite being a woman, has no issue getting things published.’

Eloise did not know what to answer to that. He was right. She frowned, filled with confusion. He was right and he had agreed with her. He didn’t even argue with the idea of a woman working.

‘Let’s not waste anymore breath on that woman. Eloise, do you want to hold Oliver?’

‘I’d be delighted.’

When they went to bed later that night, Eloise undressed and snuck into Penelope’s bedroom. To her absolute shock, her friend was crying.

‘Pen, are you okay?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine’, she said, smiling through the tears.

‘It’s just… She’s so unhappy. I thought perhaps things wouldn’t be wonderful, but I thought she’d be happy. She and her babies were saved, they would have a surname, they were taken care for, she’d even have a title, and she knew George had never abandoned her. And now she’d have his babies as a reminder of him. But she’s unhappy. She’s so unhappy.’

‘Well, she doesn’t have many reasons to be happy. If I lost my family, friends and freedom, I wouldn’t be cheered up because I was married’, Eloise said, sitting down beside Penelope on the bed. Marriage, to Eloise, had always sounded like a trap. A trap forced upon everyone whether they wanted to marry or not. And no two people she knew had ever looked more miserably trapped than Phillip and Marina.

‘For some reason, I’d tried telling myself that they would fit well together, and learn to love each other. They’re both very handsome. And he was very kind. I had hoped that they would help each other grieve, and find each other like that.’

‘But their grief makes them unable to connect. Marina is isolating herself just like Anthony did when father died. Did you notice the necklace she was wearing? That was the brother, not Sir Phillip. She doesn’t even allow him to get closer out of loyalty to his brother.’

‘I should have come sooner. No guests. No guests at all. Can you imagine how lonely they must have been since they married? Eight months and not a single guest for Marina.’

‘It is very sad. Whistledown really ostracized her. I’m sure my family would have forbidden me from coming too, if they knew I was going to visit a fallen woman. Just like yours forbid you.’

‘Wait. Then what did you tell your mother we were doing?’ Penelope asked.

‘Why, visiting a cousin of yours, of course. When voiced like that mother didn’t think I could be talking about Marina.’

‘Very clever, you were always so clever’, Penelope smiled, another fat tear rolling down her cheek.

‘I wish… Lady Whistledown had been kinder. It’s alright to tease. And to attack people who do bad things, you know? Like when a rake gambles a lot of fortune and then starts pursuing heiresses, it’s fine. Because he did it to himself. But Marina, it was just love. And if George hadn’t died, they would have married and have been very happy together. She was punished for something she had no control over.’

‘No control… You know, it only gets more confusing. First it isn’t between a husband and a wife anymore. Then my brother tells me if I’ve ever seen farm animals. Then people tell me it’s love, but plenty of couples don’t love each other and get children. It’s all quite confusing. You’re sure we can’t catch it if we have no control over it?’

Penelope huffed a laugh. ‘Oh Eloise, I shouldn’t say.’

‘You know? Pen, you can’t do this to me. You know! And you’re unmarried too. Tell me.’

‘When two people lay together, in bed, and touch each other, the woman can get pregnant. And sometimes, apparently, a couple needs to do that a lot to get a baby, and sometimes, one time even when neither wants to have a baby, is enough. It’s confusing and it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but that’s what Marina told me. Marina and George didn’t want a baby, not outside of marriage. But they really loved each other and wanted to, well, do that’, Penelope stammered, blushing.

‘Why would you do something that can cause a baby if you don’t want a baby?’

‘Eloise!’ Penelope cried, growing more uncomfortable. ‘I just said it, sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. They expected it wouldn’t happen, they took a gamble.’

‘But why gamble?’

‘I don’t know! Perhaps it must be nice! Just like kissing is nice, despite that it can ruin a woman, plenty of people kiss without an engagement. So why? I don’t know, because they wanted to! Can we drop it now, please?’ Penelope insisted.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’, Eloise said, knowing when she had pushed it too much.

Deeply confusing. Eloise shelved the information and went back to her room, opened her journal, and started scribbling.

The next day Marina, Eloise and Penelope sat in a pink drawing room, overlooking a frozen lake.

When Eloise enquired after it, Marina explained that it had been frozen over since the week the twins arrived in December and that yes, it was very thick ice indeed. She then went on to tell a story George had once told her of how he and Phillip had been so eager to go ice skating that they hadn’t waited long enough for the ice to fully freeze. Phillip had sank through and George had quickly rushed over to help his brother out, almost drowning himself. By the time they got to the edge of the lake, their father was waiting for them, ready to punish them for their recklessness.

‘And then, George said, he was actually glad he was so cold, because it had numbed his arse down so the beating didn’t hurt as much’, Marina laughed.

They all laughed, and laughed, and then Marina started crying. Little Oliver started crying as well, and the whole thing was a mess.

‘I’m sorry, little one’, Marina sobbed. ‘You’re my angel, you know, my very special angel. The only bit of your dada I have left. Because mommy was a stupid cow who burned his letters because she thought he had abandoned her.’

Marina buried her face in her baby’s shoulder.

Eloise rocked Amanda as she walked to the other side of the room, softly humming a lullaby to distract her from the crying while Penelope tried to comfort Marina.

No, this wasn’t a pleasant stay. But Eloise was glad she had come, as it was clear Marina was in dire need of support. She felt very guilty for hating Marina for half a year. And now, as she looked at the sad scene, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d married Colin instead. Colin was young, yes, but so was Sir Phillip. But unlike Sir Phillip, Colin was a chatterbox, easy to laughter, doing everything in life with gusto, be it eating, entertaining or sporting. And with the Bridgerton name, perhaps it would have been easier to rehabilitate her in London. She couldn’t help but think someone more social and joyful would have been a better remedy for her melancholy than Sir Phillip’s quiet awkwardness.

Marina went to bed to recover, and Penelope and Eloise remained behind with the children, drowning them in affection and attention until their eyes became bleary. Then they picked them up and carried them to the nursery to put them to bed.

Penelope went to her room to compose a letter for her mother, while Eloise decided to make maximum use of her time to explore freely.

Chapter Text

With everything explored inside, Eloise can’t help but make her way to the yet unexplored outdoors. The very cold outdoors.

Perhaps she better get back in, she wasn’t dressed for freezing temperatures. However, Eloise wouldn’t be Eloise if she gave up altogether. Instead, she decides, she will explore the greenhouse. Then she’d be outside, but not really.

There is a brief moment, right before she opens the door, when she doubts whether she should do it and invade a space she had not been welcomed into, but a second later the door is closed behind her and she’s inside.

‘It’s so warm!’ Eloise exclaims. It is almost as warm as the drawing room, and the air is seeped with moisture.

‘It’s actually warmer than this, usually,’ Sir Phillip’s voice calls out.

Eloise gives a very undignified shriek when the man appears from between a couple of plants. He wasn’t even wearing a coat or jacket, his sleeves were rolled up, hands covered in dirt.

‘The glass allows the sun to warm the air, but the past few days it was quite overcast.’

‘Oh my, I’m invading. Aren’t I? I’m putting my nosy nose in stuff where it shouldn’t be,’ Eloise stammered.

She’d never seen a man who wasn’t a family member undressed like that, and she suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She had to admit he was handsome in a very different way than his brother, or hers. His brown hair was too long, and he had a sort of careless air about him that not many men in London would have should they encounter a lady in such a state. He was rougher, she decided. Then she felt guilty for even thinking he was handsome.

‘Nosy nose’, Phillip repeated. ‘You’re free to explore’, he shrugged. ‘But if you consider plucking something, do ask me first.’

‘Will do, captain’, she said, making a military salute, and then quickly put her hand down after realizing that was in poor taste given his brother died in the peninsular wars. Her damned mouth, she wished she would think before she talked. Oh God, she hoped Daphne and Anthony never heard her admit that, she wouldn’t hear the end of it.

‘I apologize. So, what is it you do here?’

‘I grow plants.’

‘Isn’t that a gardener’s job?’

‘The gardener takes care of the gardens outside. I have some vegetables here, as you guessed last night, and some flowers. This is mainly my botanical garden.’

‘Oh’, Eloise nodded, looking around and noticing the meticulous perches containing different kinds of plants.

‘And what is that exactly?’

‘It’s a garden aimed at collecting, cultivating and preserving a wide array of plants. I plan on adding one outdoors as well, focussing my indoor garden on more exotic plants that need heat and moisture.’

‘And how is that different from a normal garden? I mean, I hope I’m not sounding stupid here, but I’ve seen some pretty nice gardens. And most of the owners boasted about their collection of beautiful plants.’

Sir Phillip took a step forward and sat down on his haunches in front of a plant.

‘Do you know at what you’re looking, when you’re in such a garden?’

‘Flowers? I don’t know, I can tell what some are, I recognize roses and dandelions and sunflowers and such.’

‘There’s dozens and dozens of breeds of roses. Rose is a very broad term.’

Eloise shrugged. ‘I can tell a rose from a primrose and other such. Why?’

‘In a botanical garden, you shall never mistake the plant you are observing’, he explained, beckoning Eloise to come closer.

‘All plants are labelled with their true Latin names. Because these gardens are mostly meant for research. That way people can practice plant taxonomy or another botanical science. It makes it a great deal easier to know what plant one is dealing with when one tries to describe and study one. The concept started in Italy, some two centuries ago, at universities. Professors used it to teach their students, and the students could research plants easily, and learn to care for them. It was very useful for the development of medicine. There are quite a few admirable gardens, like the exotic gardens in Kew. That’s in London in fact, you could easily visit it. But I admit, it sounds a bit stupid to have a botanical garden out here, where the only person who can study it is me. Especially since I’ll never work for a university. And no one around is interested in plants. But it keeps me busy, I suppose’, he said as he tenderly touched the plant before rising.

A fellow academically inclined person? Eloise approved of that.

‘I’m sorry, I must bore you. I know I bore my wife, I don’t really have my brother’s talent for easy conversation. Are you interested? In plants?’

He looked so hopeful and lonely that she didn’t want to say she wasn’t.

‘I tried planting roses this year.  Daphne, my sister, got so many of them, whole rooms full. But they always wilt so fast, you know? Flowers don’t seem to wilt so fast when they’re growing outside. I thought some roses would vastly improve our rather empty patch of grass we call a garden in London. And then we could look outside and see perfect flowers every time, instead of filling the house with ones that would start drooping within a week. I utterly botched it though. No green fingers.’

‘It’s a lot harder to care for roses than most people think.’ When Sir Phillip looked at her and smiled, there was an air of shyness to it, as if he weren’t quite used to smiling at women.

‘Besides butchering roses, what is it that interests you?’ he asked.

‘Poetry, literature’, she shrugged, knowing it wouldn’t be admired.

‘I have a friend who studied languages and literature. He’s teaching now’, he supplied. It was the only link he could provide to her topic of interest. He had no direct knowledge of the topic himself beyond what was taught in the schoolroom.

‘I would chop off a limb to go to university!’ Eloise groaned, her whole body shuddering as if to underline the gravitas of her desire.  She looked at him. ‘Scold me if you want, I’m past the point of caring for judgement. I know what men think of studying.’

She walked on, past tiny seedlings sprouting up from the dark dirt and some bright green stalks tied to small wooden poles.

‘I don’t judge you at all. When you’re interested in something you want to know as much about it as humanly possible. I could have spent a lifetime studying’, Sir Phillip admitted.

‘Why don’t you? You can. You’re a man. You can do anything you like. We can’t.’

He cringed, that stung. 

‘No we don’t. We have more possibilities, I’ll admit but there’s not a thing in my life I’ve chosen beyond my studies. I went to Cambridge and studied botany but I had to quit my studies when I married. I couldn’t even take my June exams because I was too busy with my father’s death and taking over the management of Romney Hall. Nothing was prepared for his death, it was unexpected. Probably the shock of hearing his heir died. And I wasn’t raised as an heir, so I had not a clue of what to do.’

Eloise turned around, laden with guilt.

All this time she’d been envying men, forgetting their choices could be limited as well. They had duties and expectations too. Her brothers were just experts at shirking it, except for Anthony, because he couldn’t as the heir. Although he had avoided the duty of finding a wife thus far.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t say sorry. It’s no one’s fault, it’s just life. Fundamentally unfair. No one asks for their lot.’

‘Preach.’

‘But you, you can do whatever you want with your days. You don’t have any obligations, do you?’

She blinked. She’d always seen her life as something to be endured, not something to be envied. But in his eyes she must have it easy. Unlike him she didn’t have any duties, wasn’t forced to marry anyone, wasn’t mourning a sibling, wasn’t suddenly thrust into the roles of spouse and parent. That definitely put things into perspective.

‘No.’

‘Why not use that time to do what you like then? Before life happens and takes that time away.’

Eloise swallowed. She’d always feared marrying. Because it seemed to her she had to just because it was expected and the only thing a woman of her rank could do in life. She was afraid that at some point she would be married to someone she didn’t care for, moving away from her beloved siblings and mother, having to be a mother and an estate manager and whatever her husband expected of her, proper, busy and bland. She wouldn’t be allowed to do as she pleased. Twenty-one was the reasonable age until which she could go without marrying, twenty-three was severely pushing it. She felt like she was rushing towards an expiration date of her freedom and had no way to stop it.

At twenty-one, she was supposed to be married. Trapped in a good match with a wealthy husband who would expect her to be the perfect little wife she could never be. And here Phillip was, exactly twenty-one, just as trapped in a marriage with expectations he couldn’t live up to because he wasn’t his brother. But he had a taste of absolute freedom only men can have, an envious voice whispered in her head.

‘I can’t. Women can’t go to university.’

‘Doesn’t mean you can’t study’, he shrugged.

‘You too, whether you did your exams or not’, she shot back.

‘I will. I’m even planning on taking my exams this year. Everything is finally getting settled now. So I might take some evenings off to study and take my exams a year late. I really wanted that degree, useless as it is.’

Oh no, he wouldn’t minimalize the dreams she had for herself. Not when he could achieve them. He should be happy.

‘It’s not useless. You’re using it right now’, Eloise defended.

‘I am’, he admitted with a smile as he pulled some rotten leaves from a plant with glimmering dark green leaves.

She looked at him between the greenery, considering that perhaps this was a safe space to him. He was living her nightmare. Trapped in marriage and unable to do what he loved. But he defied her bleak outlook. As horrible as his life seemed, he was still able to do something he loved. 

‘Is it hard, doing university exams?’ she found herself asking.

‘It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘You ask a lot of questions.’

‘As my host, it’s impolite not to answer them.’

‘To demand answers is generally deemed impertinent.’

‘That’s kind of what I’m known for, so such a comment doesn’t hurt me.’

‘It depends on the topic. You must have learned some things as well, right? Arithmetic, languages?’

‘Yes.’

‘Some you probably found easier to learn than others.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, there are exams I am good at, because the topic suits me better, than others.’

‘That makes sense, I suppose.’

‘So that was what you wanted then, to study?’ she found herself asking, knowing she had to be careful now.

‘I would have probably tried to become a professor, if my brother hadn’t died’, he replied.

‘I can’t imagine what it’s like, losing a brother. It would be like losing a limb’, it was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

‘Like losing a crutch. I’d leant on him like a crutch. He protected me, and encouraged me to do what I wanted. He was made for being the eldest brother, he could do the whole society thing, make conversation, and so on. He would have known what to do if father died. I’m just making it up as I go along.’

‘I know what that feels like. I had regular fights with Daphne, she’s older than me. Yeah, perhaps for future reference I should mention that we’re named alphabetically. So if someone has a name with a letter before ‘E’, they’re older than me. So Daphne was the oldest girl, and she’s just… perfect. Prim and proper and ready to be everything a girl’s raised for.  And I’m anything but. She said that her success and the way society perceived her, would pave the way for how all the following sisters would be perceived. I am ever so relieved I wasn’t born the oldest. I would have stepped on a million toes and made the Bridgerton name universally hated.’

‘You’ll manage, you haven’t stepped on any toes yet, at least not around here. Just like Romney Hall hasn’t come crumbling down despite my father telling me the building would rather tear itself down than suffer me as its owner for more than half a year.’

‘That’s rude.’

‘My father was a charming man. Let’s leave it at that he was stressed that he had to teach his second son how to go from spare to heir.’

Eloise wondered whether her mother would be as happy to have a season for Eloise as she had for Daphne. She wondered whether she could ever accept her role as a debutante with the same grace as Daphne did.

‘And how is it, going from spare to heir? Did you learn to like being a baronet? Have you become used to it?’

She bit her lip, awaiting his answer. Could she ever grow into the role of being Miss Bridgerton after being Miss Eloise? Could she grow into the role of a wife?

‘It just… is… the way it is’, he said.  ‘I don’t ask myself whether I like it. But one gets used to it. Everything takes getting used to.’

Not a satisfactory answer. Leave it to men to lack introspection.

‘I see’, Eloise said, without meaning. Well, if he could adapt to becoming a husband, a father and a baronet in seven months, she could at least become used to being Miss Bridgerton the debutante. She wouldn’t be weaker than a man.

She would never be a Daphne, but she could try not to muck it up too much.

Chapter Text

“I will watch the ballrooms at home, to report to you, my dear reader, what you really care about, some innocent gossip.

Before the season officially starts, let’s look at some of our favourite stars of seasons past, and potential rising stars. One cannot blame This Author for looking at the Bridgerton family. Although the youngest son has yet to return from his European journey, the eldest two Bridgerton Brothers are already in London. And this year young Eloise, sister of the previous season’s Incomparable Miss Daphne Bridgerton, now Duchess Daphne Basset, is set to come out. Will she make a match as advantageous as her sister and tame a Rich Rake of her own, or does she have other plans? Time will tell.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 APRIL 1814”

‘Eloise, have you seen what Lady Whistledown has written about you?’ Hyacinth asks with a grin.

‘Owh, don’t use my own words against me.’

‘Not so funny now, eh sister?’ Benedict laughed as he rubbed her hair.

‘Now watch Eloise doing something like tripping and ripping a curtain today, or worse, declaring for the whole court that women shouldn’t be presented like market ware right in front of the queen. Whistledown will have a field day’, Benedict grinned.

The children snickered and Eloise felt like she could die.

She really didn’t want to do her court presentation today. She positively feared the queen after their last conversation of the previous season.

‘If I needed any further proof that Lady Whistledown is some shelved spinster, her overt focus on young debutantes has by now made it clear’, Anthony decided.

‘Excuse me? How did you get that opinion?’ Eloise asked.

She’d considered servants, tradespeople, widows, but never single ladies.

‘Isn’t it obvious? She has heaps of time, clearly has no job, household or family to manage if you ask me. And a man would never be so focused on seeing people married.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘Eloise, aren’t you in bath yet?’ her mother demanded to know when she entered the blue drawing room.

‘It’s fine, I’ll be ready in time’, Eloise said.

Why did that make so much sense? Eloise needed to adjust her list of suspects.

‘Yes, you will be. Because you are on your way upstairs. Right now’, her mother said, raising her eyebrows.

‘But-‘

‘No but. You will allow us to doll you up one day. After this, you can relax. But it’s too important Eloise, think of your sisters. You must not ruin it for them today.’

Eloise was pretty sure that she’d already ruined the queen’s opinion of her the previous season, but she decided that the least she could do was to not give the queen any more reason to look down on her.

Eloise felt like a virgin sacrifice in her white gown. She was sure her hairpins were starting to push through her skin and her feet hurt in her new shoes. But she looked presentable, although she wasn’t a Daphne.

She watched other young girls being pushed forwards to be devoured by the stares of the public and the analytical gaze of the queen.

Right before her, two sisters were pushed forward. One had straight brown hair and dark eyes, and was obviously older, while the other one with her buttery-coloured hair and blue eyes, sparkled with the same youthful excitement her sister had exhibited the previous season. They marched forward, bending down.

And then, when they rose, the queen cocked her head to the side.

‘Which one of you is Katherine, and which one is Edwina?’

The brown haired girl stepped forward. ‘I’m Katherine, your grace, and this is Edwina.’

‘Edwina’, the queen said, ignoring the taller sister, ‘you show an air of grace I have not yet seen this season.’

The girl blushed prettily, curtsying and thanking the queen before both girls stepped back.

And just like that, the pressure was off for all other girls. The Incomparable was chosen.

Eloise was next. The queen just gave her a hard stare and a disinterested nod, barely acknowledging her.

Eloise retreated to the background. She watched the tall brunette sister, Kate Sheffield, who walked fast and was constantly fidgeting on the other side of the hall, hovering near her sister like a mother hen. Eloise decided right on the spot that she wanted to know and bond with another Incomparable’s sister.

‘Eloise Bridgerton’, Eloise introduced herself sometime later as she ended up in a circle of fellow debutantes, including the Sheffields.

‘Kate Sheffield.’

‘So, I hereby welcome you into the Incomporable’s Sister’s club’, Eloise smiled as they walked away from the group.

‘Thank you. Glad to join.’

‘Really?’

‘I’m glad for my sister, I was never Incomparable material.’

‘Nor I, but Daphne was’, Eloise laughed.

‘Oh yes, your sister married the Duke of Hastings, didn’t she? Their courtship was all over Lady Whistledown’s columns last year’, said.

‘You read Lady Whistledown?’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’ Kate asked back.

‘Kate tries to downplay it but she’s completely besotted with her. She reads every column at least twice’, Kate’s younger sister said, popping up beside them.

‘Weren’t you talking with some other girls your age?’ Kate asked.

‘But I’d rather be with you.’

‘Awh, that’s sweet’, Eloise couldn’t help but say.

‘Kate’s especially interested in what they say about the men.’

That earned Edwina a step on the foot of her sister. She was dignified enough to bite her lip instead of yelp.

‘A warned woman is worth her weight in gold. I take note of every rake she mentions and will not let any of them near my sister. And now that’s she dubbed the Incomparable I have no doubt they’ll be drawn to her like a moth to flames. We don’t have a brother, so I’ll be doing the protecting.’

‘A wise decision’, Eloise agreed.

‘She’s been practising her death stare for over fifteen years. Tonight she can finally unleash it at the Ashbourne ball. Will you come, Miss Bridgerton?’

‘I planned on going’, Eloise admitted.

‘You forget, dear sister, the Smythe-Smith musicale tonight is earlier than the ball. Will we see you there tonight, Miss Bridgerton?’ Kate asked.

‘Oh you won’t often see me there’, Eloise laughed. ‘No. My mother is planning her own musical soiree however. We don’t know yet how many people we can invite though. So I’m afraid I can’t extend an invite. Do enjoy though.’

‘What do you think Lady Whistledown will write about tonight?’ Kate asked of Eloise as she stood beside her and Penelope Featherington.

“The colour yellow makes the dark-haired Miss Katharine Sheffield look like a singed daffodil.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 13 APRIL 1814 ”

‘She’ll probably name three men unwilling to settle, your sister Edwina receiving a lot of attention, me being a disappointment after my sister’s season, and perhaps something about the food’, Eloise guessed.

‘Come now, she must also critique one of my family’s outfits and give two random names, saying they would be an interesting couple’, Penelope added.

Eloise giggled.

‘Oh Pen, you make these things bearable. I truly didn’t miss anything when you went and I stayed at home to read’, Eloise decided.

The three young women looked up when a handsome young blond man approached them. Penelope perched up.

‘Miss Sheffield?’

‘Yes?’

‘May I ask permission to dance with your sister?’

Kate frowned.

‘Does she want to dance with you?’

‘I don’t know. But she made it very clear she will only dance with someone once they’ve obtained her sister’s approval.’

‘I cannot agree to let anyone dance with my sister when I do not even know their name.’

‘Oh, right. I beg your pardon. It’s Sir Mason Matthews.’

‘Do you read, Sir Matthews?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s a simple question, do you read?’

‘Books?’

‘What else? Yes, books.’

‘Sometimes I do. When I studied.’

‘Tell her you can dance with her’, Kate decided.

The young man strode away, and Kate deflated.

‘She’s never going to marry him.’

‘Your sister requires a man who reads?’

‘She wants a scholar. That one there seemed to be functioning without a brain, despite biology claiming all of mankind must be in possession of one.’

Eloise laughed, looking at the dance floor. The ballroom was quite crowded, but not overly so. She remembered from Daphne’s harrowing accounts balls could be suffocating, and if the balls weren’t suffocatingly hot, then Anthony had been suffocating her by hovering around her, keeping every man at bay.

However, after half an hour of breathing down Eloise’s neck, during which Eloise rejected the request to dance of two pompous older men, Anthony decided Eloise was safe. Then he went away to fetch drinks only to never return. Her mother had stayed by her side for a while longer. But once Penelope arrived Lady Bridgerton decided she could trust the two friends to keep each other safe and had gone over to some other Mammas.

But right now, Eloise wondered whether her brother was in need of saving. She spotted him across the room, crowded by a horde of mothers and daughters.

No, she decided, Anthony had told everyone at home he planned to wed this year, he needed their presence around him.

It was not long before they were bothered again, this time by the slimy toad called Nigel Berbrooke.

‘Miss Penelope, Miss Bridgerton, Miss Sheffield’, he nodded.

‘Miss Sheffield, allow me to introduce myself, I’m Mr. Nigel Berbrooke.’

‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Berbrooke.’

‘I wondered if I could ask your sister to dance. She just looks so enchanting on the dance floor, I can’t help but want to dance as well. She looks like an angel in blue. It matches her eyes so well.’

Eloise stifled a chuckle. That man was desperate.

‘Oh’, Kate muttered.

Eloise shook her head behind Nigel Berbrooke’s back.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint, Mr. Berbrooke. My sister is already quite occupied this evening.’

‘Is she fully booked?’

‘Mr. Berbrooke, my answer is final’, Kate decided.

His hopeful face turned contemptuous before he slithered off.

‘He was awful to my sister last year, truly awful. He almost managed to strike a deal with Anthony behind her back, I’ve never seen her so desperate. Don’t let him anywhere near your sister.’

‘Leave it to a rake to have a poor taste in men’, Kate decided.

‘Anthony was too busy doing background checks to bother with personality’, Eloise explained. ‘He didn’t mean to make my sister unhappy.’

‘I should hope no one ever deliberately tries to make their sister unhappy’, Kate decided.

“The season has opened for the year 1814, and there is little reason to hope that we will see any noticeable change from 1813. The ranks of society are once again filled with Ambitious Mamas whose only aim is to see their Darling Daughters married off to Determined Bachelors. With the Duke of Hastings off the market, the Mamas have declared Viscount Bridgerton as this year’s most eligible catch. Indeed, if the poor man’s hair looks ruffled and windblown, it is because he cannot go anywhere without some young miss batting her eyelashes with such vigour and speed as to create a breeze of hurricane force. Perhaps the only young lady not interested in Bridgerton is Miss Katherine Sheffield, and in fact, her demeanour towards the viscount occasionally borders on the hostile.

  And that is why, Dear Reader, This Author feels that a match between Bridgerton and Miss Sheffield would be just the thing to enliven an otherwise ordinary season.

  LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 13 APRIL 1814”

‘Who even is Katherine Sheffield?’ Anthony demanded to know.

‘Really Anthony? You were at the court presentation where both she and her sister were introduced!’ Eloise sighed in exasperation. ‘You know, Katherine Sheffield, sister of this season’s so called Incomparable Edwina? You must have seen her at least. Small, blonde hair, blue eyes, surrounded by a flock of stupid men?’

Anthony’s eyes flickered to Benedict and the newly returned Colin.

‘Why would Lady Whistledown think I’d marry her sister if she’s the Incomparable?’

‘She literally wrote it down, because she has no interest in you. Your reputation precedes you, brother dearest’, Eloise smiled.

‘Well, I don’t need her to like me. I won’t be marrying her. Her mother and her sister need to like me.’

‘Excuse me? What are you planning?’

‘I don’t need to explain myself to you.’

Eloise’s brothers would be the death of her. And of Kate as well, probably.

‘Post’, the butler announced.

All Bridgertons looked up.

‘Three letters for Lord Anthony, one letter for Mr. Benedict. And… A package, for Miss Eloise’, the butler explained.

‘A package?’ Eloise frowned, standing up from the couch where she’d been scribbling in her book until Anthony had started talking about the Whistledown column.

‘Yes, from ah… There’s no further signature than Crane on it, ma’am.’

Eloise perked up.

Since Penelope and she had returned after a two week stay, she knew Penelope and Marina had kept up a conversation by mail, but by the time they departed, Eloise had not been on good enough terms to keep up a correspondence with Marina. They were just too different in character and interests. But Penelope, being her cousin and being a good friend, had decided to start up a correspondence.

So she wondered why Marina had suddenly sent her something. And a package even! That must have been expensive to send.

Eloise opened the package. First was a letter, und underneath that, three books and a journal. She blinked.

‘What is it?’ Hyacinth asked.

‘Books’, Eloise explained.

Hyacinth deflated, having expected something more exciting.

‘Who is this Miss Crane?’ Benedict asked with an entirely too cheeky smile.

‘A cousin of Penelope whom we visited in February.’

‘You know this cousin very well then, for her to be sending you packages.’

‘Oh hush’, Eloise said, picking up her package and racing upstairs before unfolding the letter.

‘Dear Miss Bridgerton,

Forgive me for writing, I know it is not the correct to write to an unmarried woman. But I took it upon myself to contact my old college friend and asked him whether he still had anything that could be of service to an amateur scholar. He was so kind as to send me his old belongings. Life is too short to not occupy oneself with the things one cares about. Should you be interested I’m happy to send up more, should you be unhappy with my contacting you, do let me know. I shan’t trouble you further.

Kind regards,

Sir Phillip Crane”

Eloise froze. And then she pulled out the books, read their titles, and took account of their content before she let out a squeal of glee. She’d never before gotten something from someone who wasn’t a family member and this was definitely the best gift ever.

If Eloise claimed sudden illness for the next ball so she could stay up reading all night, who could blame her? Well, everyone, but Eloise wouldn’t allow it.  She couldn’t say it were light reads, or that she understood everything immediately. But she was interested and hungry for knowledge and pushed through until she heard her brothers return from the ball.

The next morning Eloise was in the process of writing a letter of thanks when Daphne and her husband arrived, closely followed by Anthony barging in.

‘My, I skip a ball and the drawing room is still filled up with guests. I must be the most successful debutante ever’, Eloise teased.

‘What has gotten you so riled up, dear brother? Someone stepped on your toes?’

Anthony, if possible, turned even more livid.

‘Someone did, actually’, Benedict grinned as he balanced on two legs of his chair.

‘Kate Sheffield did’, Colin grinned before shovelling some more egg down his throat.

‘You danced with Kate Sheffield?’ Eloise asked. ‘I thought you didn’t care for her?’

‘I didn’t! I don’t! That woman is insufferable.’

‘Oh, couldn’t win her over in five minutes?’ Eloise asked.

‘Someone should muzzle you’, Anthony growled.

‘I imagine you must be great friends with her, Eloise. She has exactly the sort of wicked tongue you’d enjoy,’ Colin grinned.

‘Does she now, brother? Pray tell, how did you become an expert on her tongue?’ Benedict asked.

Eloise rolled her eyes. ‘If any of you had paid me any attention, you would have known that I already befriended her.’

‘Ah yes, I can see how you, she and Penelope Featherington fit together’, Benedict grinned.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Actually, I don’t see how Penelope fits in, she’s kind. You and that Sheffield girl are… Well. they’re in a league entirely of their own’, Colin pointed out.

‘Meaning?’ Eloise demanded.

‘Meaning there are few blades sharper than your words’, Anthony decided.

‘What? Mother!’ Eloise cried.

Her mother smiled sweetly, and drank her tea.

The others at the table laughed heartily at Lady Bridgerton’s subtle agreement.

‘So, why did you dance with her?’ Eloise continued, deciding that if she must suffer, than so did Anthony.

‘It is common knowledge that whoever wishes to court Miss Edwina, must be approved of by Miss Katherine. I thought it would be a good idea to introduce Anthony to her. I thought he, being such a seasoned wooer of women, would have an easy time sweeping her off her feet, and then he could easily haul in her younger sister as his bride’, Colin explained.

Eloise snorted.

‘Is this funny to you?’ Anthony demanded to know.

‘Yes, that plan was doomed from the start. She will never like you. She’s not persuaded by suave moves.’

‘I soon realized that Colin had set me up. He told me she was a shy old spinster.’

‘How long did it take you to find out?’ Eloise asked.

‘The second he introduced her. And if I was in any doubt, it was over by the time she…’

‘Yes?’ Eloise pressed.

‘By the time she told me I was almost as handsome as my brother.’

‘I’m the handsome brother’, Colin grinned, mouth full of food.

Eloise cackled, and even Daphne lost her composure.

‘Whoever decided a sister could decide whom her sister would marry?’ Anthony asked with a growl before taking a sip of coffee.

‘I would have thought that you, of all people, would have understood an elder sibling being protective of their younger sister?’ Eloise asked.

‘Daphne, would you like to remind Anthony what he was like, last year?’ Eloise said with a smile.

‘Last year? You mean to say he isn’t like that this year?’ Daphne asked.

‘Oh no, it took him less than an hour to realize that it were the men who had to fear me, instead of the reverse.’

‘Eloise, do be mindful that you’re not considered too rude’, Daphne pleaded.

‘Yes, yes. I promise I’m not being mean, not even when the person asking me to dance is an oaf. But I won’t say yes to men I know beforehand I won’t like.’

‘Sometimes… You can start out disliking someone and liking them better upon acquaintance, don’t judge too harshly’, Daphne said.

‘Yeah, I doubt it. I’m rash but my intuition is mostly right.’

‘God have mercy on the man who will ever marry you, you’re so full of your own right’, Anthony sighed.

‘Well, that makes me about just as bad a catch as you, doesn’t it?’

‘Daphne still thinks she’s always right, there’s hope for you both’, her husband informed the table.

‘Simon!’

The younger children laughed and Benedict snorted.

‘Dears, do calm down, you’ll make the lemon curd go sour’, Lady Bridgerton noted as she poured herself another cup of tea.

‘Anthony, Eloise, be nice to each other. Anthony, don’t talk down on your sister, she’s a wonderful woman in her own right. And I won’t hear about you being mean to an older sister, it’s most unbecoming. Imagine if Francesca came out and Eloise was protective of her because you were off somewhere, being married, if you are successful in your pursuit of this Miss Edwina. Would you like it if some man was after Francesca and was rude to Eloise for protecting her sister?’

‘I- no but…’

‘Then be nice.’

‘You know what? I will. I will be so nice she will have no reason to object to me marrying her sister!’ he decided, downing the remainder of his coffee before he rose.

‘I’ll go and buy them flowers, Edwina, her mother. Even for her. And I’ll pay a call, like any worthy suitor with noble intentions’, Anthony declared.

‘That’s my trick’, Simon laughed.

‘And everyone loved it, you sly old fox’, Anthony grinned, suddenly chipper. He pressed a kiss on Hyacinth’s and Gregory’s head before hopping out.

‘That poor girl’, Eloise sighed.

When Eloise later read something about an accident involving a dog, a pond, two wet Sheffields and one soaked Anthony Bridgerton, she couldn’t be blamed for cackling like a mad witch.

Chapter Text

‘Imagine we were like those people from the Decamerone, all fleeing London to hide from the plague. And then we move to this amazing place in the country with gorgeous gardens, doing nothing but tell each other our best stories of humour, woe, lust and love. Actually, isn’t it astounding how much modern day country house parties haven’t changed from country parties almost five centuries ago?’ Eloise asked.

‘Pen?’

‘I have no clue what you’re talking about’, Penelope laughed.

“The country house party is a very dangerous event. Married persons often find themselves enjoying the company of one other than one’s spouse, and unmarried persons often return to town as rather hastily engaged persons.

  Indeed, the most surprising betrothals are announced on the heels of these spells of rustication.

  LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 2 MAY 1814””

‘The Decamerone, you know? The most famous work of Boccaccio?’

‘I uhm… The title sounds somewhat familiar but honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever read something that’s five centuries old.’

‘Maybe you should, it’s truly delightful. The way he writes those days… In the morning they walk, then there’s lunch, the afternoon is spent in the gardens, then there’s music, then after dinner the whole group gets together to talk to each other. We’re so unoriginal, really. You should read it. He actually gives women the credit they are due. He calls them clever, resilient and resourceful. He even starts out saying women are subjugated by their families and forced into inactivity while men can explore, gamble, do business and pursue women. He encouraged women to not only pursue love. Can you believe we haven’t progressed in centuries despite the system being so obviously flawed?’ Eloise asked.

‘That does sound sad’, Penelope admitted. ‘But then I do believe only fools think brains are reserved for a certain gender.’

‘Right? Exactly!’

‘But I do believe men underestimating us has its advantages’, Penelope admitted.

‘Like?’

‘They don’t believe us capable of anything, so we get away with things more easily. Since they believe we’re too stupid to pull something off.’

‘Like murder?’ Eloise asked.

Penelope laughed, patted her friend’s hand and looked out of the window of their carriage.

They were riding to Aubrey Hall, where Lady Bridgerton had decided to hold a country house party. She’d invited quite a few worthy suitors for Eloise, but the focus was obviously on Anthony, as was evident from the men to women ratio of the company. The men also weren’t as wealthy or well connected, save the few married ones Her mother had left London a few days prior to convince a few local gentlemen’s sons to join their company.

‘Anyway, why are you talking about literature so often?’

‘What kind of question is that? We talk about literature all the time. We basically bonded over our reading the very first time the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons sat at a dinner table together’, Eloise protested.

‘I know, but it’s suddenly so much. And I’m not really following. You’re talking about all these works I never heard of. It’s one thing to talk about Walter Scott and Shakespeare and another to talk about… Who have you mentioned lately? Beowolf, this Italian, roman poets, Chaucer, Le Morte d’Arthur and then that French woman – ‘

‘Christine de Pizan’, Eloise filled in.

‘Yes, her.’

‘Well, it’s a more useful occupation than sitting around embroidering in the drawing room the whole day. Unless there’s been a party the night before, no man comes around to meet me. Not that I mind, I’m not exactly eager to marry. If this marriage thing doesn’t work out for us, we’ll be the most annoying old spinsters together, laughing at the ridiculousness of the ton as we see young debutantes flock in each year, right Pen?’

‘Sure. But I do want to give it a try first. It’s after all a good road to happiness and financial security. Even you must admit that’, Penelope smiled.

‘To financial security, certainly. Happiness, not so sure. In my family it certainly appears so, but I know that’s not always true.’

‘I received a letter from Marina just this morning’, Penelope announced. As if the topic of unhappy marriages automatically lent itself to discussing Marina. Perhaps it did.

‘Oh?’ Eloise asked.

She suddenly felt guilty for communicating with her husband in absolute secret, she hadn’t even told Penelope. Not that they wrote a lot, or said anything personal. But at the same time precisely that lack of personal talk, not even acknowledging Marina or the way they had gotten to know each other was the thing that made her feel bad.

‘Yes. She says the babies are trying to babble and they can already turn over. Amanda is even trying to sit. Marina fears the day they’ll start crawling’, Penelope smiled.

Eloise tried to smile, but feared she was failing. She’d adored her siblings when they were younger, but they could also be annoying in equal parts. She could remember their baby laughs as well as their god-awful wailing. And she remembered the days she had to watch over them with Daphne from time to time. They were indeed a menace when they just tried to crawl. Hyacinth had been so bloody curious. Eloise could not even begin to count the amount of times she only just managed to keep her from teetering off a pair of stairs to the garden or pulling a dog at the tail.

In fact, those memories were still so fresh, Eloise didn’t particularly wish to go through that again anytime soon. She understood Marina’s fear as a sister of infants, and wasn’t envious of the young woman having to manage two babies at the same time as their mother.

‘She says her and Phillip are getting along better. He’s getting out of his greenhouse more. When she’s too tired or needs a break he looks over them, takes them for a ride in a buggy.’

‘They don’t take care of them together?’

‘They switch, which sounds practical to me. She does lament that he doesn’t play with them as often as she’d like, he’s a bit distant.’

Eloise shrugged, deciding that carelessness was the best way to appear inconspicuous.

‘Perhaps they might get to be happy together after all. Mother told me she and father often had a rough time right after one of us was born, and that it got a bit better the more we grew’, Penelope explained. ‘Perhaps it just took them some time to get used to the babies and each other’, Penelope reasoned.

‘I hope so. For the children and for them’, Eloise said. She meant that. She felt the difference between her siblings, based on the amount of time they’d had with mother and father together. The youngest two had no actual memories of father. It had been Anthony who played with them and took care of them. Children deserved two parents. And she remembered how miserable mother was without dad. She had seen how tense things were between the loveless Featherington couple. She didn’t wish that kind of fate upon anyone.

They stopped in an inn for some Sheppard’s pie as the horses were rested, watered and fed. And only arrived at Aubrey Hall in the late afternoon. The lazy early May sun shone down on the warm yellow stone, giving it a pleasing luminescence that struck Eloise’s heartstrings. As it grew larger she realized everything was exactly as she remembered, the wide green lawn, the hyacinth carpet after which her sister was named, the ancient elms, the creek glittering not too far from the estate. This was where she and her siblings had played during seven blissfully happy years. She could still imagine her father carrying her on his shoulders, running after Anthony and Benedict because she was still too slow and small to play tag with them on her own. She remembered the last few weeks the most. Shortly after her father’s death she’d started penning everything she remembered down, because she feared to forget anything about him. Reminiscing on the good times had been her safe heaven, but memories had only tortured her mother, who decided to spend more and more time in London to avoid the ghost of her husband.

‘Perhaps we should visit them again, this summer. To see how the children are growing up, offer some company. I’d go now, as I know the company would be welcome, but mamma wouldn’t let me leave during the season. My duty is to find a husband. Like that will happen anytime soon when I look like a lemon meringue’, Penelope sighed, smoothing down the unflatteringly bright dress that didn’t suit her complexion.

‘If a man can only look at your dress and not your face or personality, that man is not worthy of your attention.’

‘How will they ever know my personality if they run before they get closer?’

‘If they’re scared by a dress, they’re pathetic. Like most men are oh so fashionable, imagine we wore velvet just because it was warm. Lady Whistledown would beat us in a column.’

‘She doesn’t critique people for their clothes as often anymore. She still does but not a lot’, Penelope pointed out.

‘No, she hasn’t. You’re right. She still has it out for my brothers but I have noticed she doesn’t single out spinsters or innocent debutantes anymore, unless to cover a courtship. And very funny incidents like the one with Anthony and the Sheffields? Hilarious. She doesn’t destroy anyone the way she destroyed Daphne last season.’

‘I’m glad for it, to be honest, I got quite afraid of her pen’, Penelope laughed.

Eloise nodded. ‘I must say, I feel a lot easier now. I imagine if she’d still been as sharp as she’d been last season I would have ruined my family by ending up in some unflattering story.’

‘But you haven’t done anything unflattering yet’, Penelope frowned.

‘Yet is the right term. We still have some months to go for me to embarrass my mother and a suitor’, Eloise laughed.

‘Ah, we’re there. Finally! Home sweet home.’

Before a footman could open her door, she threw it open, breathing in a breath of fresh air heavy with the scent of warm grass.

The footman jumped back, before regaining his dignity and offering her an arm to get out. She did, barely containing her excitement. Her mother would be disappointed if she started running in a day dress. Penelope followed close behind.

‘Mom!’ Eloise swung her arms around her mother, gaining a couple of frowns and lifted eyebrows. She quickly took a step back.

‘Eloise, and Penelope. I trust you’ve had a pleasant journey?’

‘Quite, Lady Bridgerton, the roads were most soft and pleasant, barely a single pit in the road. We had a very smooth ride’, Penelope answered politely.

‘I’m glad, you know where to get drinks and where your rooms are girls, same as every stay. Now I must greet the other guests’, Lady Bridgerton smiled. ‘Unless, Eloise, you want to learn how to be a hostess and join me as the Miss Bridgerton of the family.’

‘Maybe another time, I am a bit exhausted and stiff of the journey’, Eloise quickly decided, pretending to crack her back.

Her mother didn’t look too surprised or disappointed.

Penelope and Eloise ran up the stairs towards their rooms. The servants had already prepared it for her with fresh sheets, a vase of lavender on the desk and a vase of fragrant hyacinths on her nightstand. She sat down at her desk, trying to remember what it was like sitting down here as an eight year old during the summer following their father’s desk, trying to write poetry after butchering high quality painting paper for a doomed watercolour painting of the family home. Another one of the female accomplishments she’d failed. She pulled open one of the drawers, finding the old notebooks still in it. She let out a laugh at the infantile script, her penmanship had progressed immensely since those uneven lines and ugly spelling mistakes.

“Father has been dead a year now. I hate it. I miss him. Anthony trys to be dad, but he is not!!! He is so bosy, being very cevere with Daff, Col, Ben and me. He sent me to my room to think and reflect. I reflect that I was allowed to beat Gregory for putting a dead frog in my bed. He started it!!! It is unfair. He says Gregory is just a child while I am suposed to act like a lady, but it is still unfaire. Bad is bad! Now he plays with them outside while I rot here. I don’t want to be a lady, I went revench.”

Eloise laughed. Oh, the joys of growing up with brothers. They were always up to mischief. Mind, Eloise too. She had always made sure there was some kind of retribution whenever someone dared to bother her. But her methods had certainly matured. As she grew older she’d started seeing the dangers of some of her revenge methods. In retrospect, it was a wonder no one had ever gotten seriously injured. In a few years Penelope would without a doubt get such letters from Marina. If Eloise was a bit more immature, she’d suggest methods for one of the children to get back at the other.

Eloise moved over to the window. The room had without a doubt been aired before but it still felt somewhat stifling. She rather let some warm day air in than cold night air. Something moved in the garden beneath her. Was that… Kate Sheffield, dressed in a pale lavender frock… Standing with Anthony and… was he giving her a flower?

But Anthony had told them he was courting Edwina! Eloise could not make heads or tails out of it. Was he trying to impress Kate to get her approval, despite that he’d told his family that he would pursue Edwina with or without Kate’s approval?

She hoped Kate would push his flower in his face, and not fall for his smooth peace-making attempt. Kate was a very clever and strong woman, surely she wouldn’t? Kate was exactly what Eloise aspired to be. An older sister, probably not off the market anytime soon, outspoken and direct, yet still accepted by society. Eloise was sure she’d still be around by the time Francesca came out. If Anthony was married by that time, at least some of the burden of protecting her baby sister would fall on her.

To her utter devastation Kate accepted the flower.

Eloise rolled her eyes. She’d thought better of her.

The servants carried in her bags and Eloise just took out Sense and Sensibility, deciding to read until dinner. At least therein, rakes got what they deserved and ridiculous matchmakers were called out for their behaviour.

By the time she descended for dinner – she’d delayed having her hair properly coiffed and decorated until she was borderline late – all were already downstairs. Most young misses had gathered together in a corner of the drawing room. It was easy to spot Penelope in her canary yellow dress with ruffles and Kate’s tall figure in pistachio green. To her dismay, she noted Cresside Cowper was amongst them.

Eloise wondered whether her mother was truly so oblivious she hadn’t noticed Cressida’s vile behaviour towards Penelope and Daphne last year, or whether she had but had felt forced to invite her and her mother out of politeness.

Hang politeness, there’s nothing polite or pleasant about her company, Eloise decided. She’d never had the displeasure of meeting her personally, but she’d heard everything from Penelope last year. Some stories had even come accompanied with tears of anguish as the then-chubbier girl recounted the cruel comments Cressida had given.

Feeling defensive, Eloise moved forward but was paused by her mother who felt forced to correct a bow that looked a bit lopsided according to her. Her mother then dragged her along to greet the vicar and his awkward son, and some young bachelors. She gave them a few tight smiles and polite curtsies, always keeping her eyes on the group.

Penelope and Kate didn’t look happy. She wanted to go over. She was sure it was that Cressida again. She’d give her some piece of mind as the reigning Miss of the house. Anthony came over to whisper something in mother’s ear.

‘Anthony’, Eloise hissed. Anthony frowned but moved over.

‘Mother is keeping me hostage, could you check if everything’s alright with Penelope? Something’s up.’

‘I noticed as well’, he admitted.

‘Please? You’re the man. Manage the guests’, she hissed.

Anthony nodded and moved away.

Barely a minute later, Anthony was giving the sign that it was time for supper by leading Penelope into the dining room, giving her the honour above any other single lady.

Cressida almost stomped into the dining room.

Eloise was put beside Kate and Penelope, and across some gentlemen she cared but little about, even though a blond one did try to start a conversation an awful lot of times. Sir Greene, she believed he was called. Meanwhile Edwina was put across Anthony, showing her mother possessed little subtlety after all.

The two girls updated Eloise on what had happened and Eloise was practically fuming by the end.

‘If I were Lady Whistledown, I’d have no qualms whatsoever ruining her reputation. She’d be doing society a favour. It would protect good people from getting hurt by her, and prevent men from entering into the biggest mistake of their life.’

‘Only an idiot doesn’t see how awful she is, and if they do see how terrible she is and decide to marry her anyway, they deserve to be made miserable’, Kate scoffed.

‘Oh you should have just seen Anthony’s face when he discovered he had the pink mallet and Kate had his black one, mother! Priceless. I’d pay good money to have that expression painted to be committed to memory’, Eloise overheard Benedict laughing then.

Eloise turned away from her friends.

‘You played Pall Mall without me?’ she demanded to know.

‘Uhm… No?’ Colin said hesitantly.

‘I hate you, detestable bunch. You were afraid of losing, weren’t you?’ Eloise pressed.

‘As a matter of fact, we simply didn’t consider you. We were with three already, Miss Sheffield was closest by and invited herself and her sister, and Simon and Daphne were downstairs. We were already fully booked.’

Eloise rolled her eyes.

‘Well then, I hope you were all at least properly beaten, as is deserving of brothers who do not invite their sisters?’

‘Well, we decided not to finish it since the game already ended in the best way possible’, Daphne explained mysteriously.

‘How does a game end in the best way possible before it really ends?’ Eloise frowned.

‘Benedict?’ she asked, trusting her closest confidante to tell her.

‘Because Anthony kicked Kate’s ball into another county but she game back with vengeance and beat his straight into the pond.’

‘She didn’t! Did she? Did you?’ Eloise asked.

The oldest Sheffield sister tried to look down in modesty and shame, but Eloise could just see her smile.

‘Oh I adore you!’ Eloise grinned.

‘So Anthony, your so called skills were only due to the mallet, not your actual talent.’

‘I have talent’, Anthony scoffed.

‘Oh yeah, then why does whoever swings the mallet of death always claim victory, instead of you?’ she pushed.

‘Beginner’s luck’, he shrugged.

‘Whatever helps you sleep at night’, Eloise shrugged, earning her a very sour look from Anthony.

‘With such a tongue you’ll never marry.’

‘Good, then I’ll be your annoying little problem forever’, Eloise decided.

Anthony groaned, dropping his face in his hands. He muttered something incomprehensible, but Eloise was certain she heard the words ‘Lord’ and ‘Strength’.

The evening progressed as Eloise had predicted, with a silly game of charades. But then the men withdrew and Lady Bridgerton scolded Eloise for her much too lively imitations of some of London’s ton, warning her that with Lady Whistledown’s identity unknown and many people present, her unflattering imitations risked coming back to the people she mocked. Thus, with another failure under her arms, she went upstairs annoyed and frustrated. And read until the real world couldn’t bother her anymore.

She loved the gossip of the ton, but she hated walking on eggshells. Sometimes she wondered whether it wasn’t preferrable to hear about London gossip but live in the countryside where she was freer to express herself.

The next day Eloise and Penelope were in the drawing room together with Edwina, all writing letters to their family. Penelope to her mother, Eloise to her sisters and Edwina writing to some cousins when their mothers stumbled in, white as sheets and unusually quiet.

‘Mother, what is it? You look like you’ve seen the devil.’

‘One could say that’, Lady Featherington replied, but even she was distracted.

‘Edwina, dear, I need to talk to you, could you come along, please?’ Mrs. Sheffield asked, eyes full of empathy.

Eloise hadn’t understood. Mary Sheffield looked like she had to break the news of someone’s death.

But soon she found out.

“And indeed, if a scandal does erupt at Lady Bridgerton’s party, those of us who remain in London may be assured that any and all titillating news shall reach our tender ears with all possible haste. With so many notorious gossips in attendance, we are all but guaranteed a full and detailed report.

  LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 4 MAY 1814”

“This Author has it on the best authority that the new couple was caught in a compromising position, and that Mrs. Featherington was a witness, but Mrs. F has been uncharacteristically close lipped about the entire affair. Given that lady’s propensity for gossip, This Author can only assume that the viscount (never known for lacking a spine) threatened bodily injury upon Mrs. F should she even breathe a syllable.

  LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 11 MAY 1814”

Even a week later, Eloise was in shock. Anthony was to marry sensible, clever, direct Kate Sheffield. She could barely imagine how she had gone from professing her hate for philandering vain haughty men to wanting to marry Anthony. And Anthony had called Kate insufferable. Edwina was convinced she had seen the signs in Anthony, but Eloise was sure there had been none. Then Edwina pointed out how Lady Whistledown had suggested at the start of the season that Anthony and Kate would have been an interesting match and damn her, she was right. Lady Whistledown had said that. And Eloise could almost cry out in frustration that a stranger had predicted her brother’s actions with more accuracy than she, his sister. But then Eloise pointed out that not even Lady Whistledown could have predicted a bee would sting Kate, causing Anthony to offer to suck the venom out right as all mammas passed by them.

Eloise wondered whether an unhappy forced marriage was preferable to a small scandal caused by a bloody bee.

She hoped their marriage fared better than Marina’s and Phillip’s. Much as Anthony was sometimes insufferable, she didn’t want him to be unhappy. Nor did she want Kate to be unhappy.

Until this season, her brother had been unflinchingly convinced of his bachelorhood. She wondered whether she too would make that sudden switch one season. She couldn’t really envision it. Who would take annoying, nosy, pushy, bookish, stubborn little her in and accept her?

The week after returning the whole house was in disarray as the marriage was arranged with all due haste. There was still a lot to do despite it being a quiet affair. Eloise found herself so busy with little tasks and errands that before she knew it she was wishing Anthony and Kate well and waving them off.

Two siblings in two years. Her heart plummeted. If it kept going at this pace, she’d lose a sibling every year. Certainly, she still saw plenty of Daphne but it just wasn’t the same. They’d often been at odds, as they were polar opposites, but she was still not used to her absence. When she read a book in the drawing room now, it wasn’t Daphne’s virtuoso piano play but Hyacinth who made the piano wail in pain. When her younger siblings were being tutored, Daphne wasn’t around to talk to her, and she just felt… a bit deserted. And now Anthony would move back into the Bridgerton house as the patriarch. Worse, Kate would come to live in the house, not as her friend but as someone who was technically above her and allowed to tell Eloise what to do. She was sure Kate wouldn’t, but it still sat uneasy with her.

Three people she loved had moved on to a world she knew nothing about.

‘A shame, he always was a decent fellow’, Sir Greene sighed.

‘Whatever do you mean, sir?’ Eloise demanded to know.

‘Oh, that it’s only a shame a fine fellow like your brother was seduced into marrying beneath his station by some cheap scheme of a social climber. No doubt your family must feel terrible after having one of their own ensnared in such a way, and the heir, no less. I would never do that to someone. Nor would I allow my sister to act in such a way. I always tell her men and women should be honest about their intentions and noble in their conduct.’

‘You are wrong, sir. There was no seducing or scheming.’

‘Poor girl, you have no clue of the depths that some women would sink to, but your innocence becomes you. Good virtuous women should not know of such vulgar scheming.’

Now he started condescending her?

‘Sir Greene.’

Eloise disliked arguing with embodiments of stupidness, but felt insulted enough to rise to the occasion to defend the honour of her newly wedded brother and his wife. However, she knew it would not be a good look if she started shouting and insulting someone at a wedding. So she just nodded and marched away towards the garden.

‘Benedict, tobacco!’ Eloise cried, storming to her brother.

‘Wow wow wow, what happened? Did someone try and ask you to marriage?’ her brother joked.

‘I’m not in the mood for jokes’, she growled, yanking his cigarette from between his lips and taking a deep drag.

‘Such a lady, you are’, her brother chuckled. ‘Breathing smoke like a dragon.’

He rolled another.

‘So eh, what happened?’ he asked after drawing a fresh breath of tobacco himself.

‘Something good actually, I controlled my temper.’

‘Sure looks like it.’

‘That oaf of a Greene insulted Kate and Anthony. I was very tempted to beat him up or shout.’

‘Ah, yes. I can see how this is preferable’, he agreed.

Eloise puffed and puffed until she had nothing between her fingers anymore. Benedict quietly supplied her another.

‘So, it’s us now’, Eloise sighed after a while.

‘The new oldest bachelor Bridgerton man and woman.’

Benedict nodded, brow furrowing.

‘Yeah’, he breathed out a cloud of white.

‘At least I have less pristine footsteps to fill than you.’

‘Hmph.’

‘At least the pressure is off for this season, certainly the ton will be satisfied with one Bridgerton marriage.’

‘I’m sure those impoverished knights and baronets will feel less pressured to find a wife with a large dowry because a man married a woman’, Benedict mocked.

Eloise rolled her eyes, but she knew it was true. It would be too easy. Yet, she had hope that few men would find her dowry enticing if it came with the condition of having to live with Eloise Bridgerton.

Eloise’s hopes were dashed not a month later.

‘Miss Bridgerton, certainly you cannot doubt my intentions. I have been clear and transparent this entire season. I only ever visited your drawing room after balls. Believe me to be a most ardent admirer of you.’

‘Sir Greene –‘

Perhaps if she had shouted at him when she had the chance, she could have prevented this whole mess. But no, she had instead decided to go the Daphne route. Much good it did her.

‘No no, say nothing. I know I am not the most titled or wealthy man, but believe my intentions to be most honourable. I said I believed in honesty and proper courtship, I stand by my words. Miss Bridgerton, please allow me to court you. As proper, I already asked your brother and he agreed on the condition that you welcomed my suit as well.’

‘Excuse me?’ she brought out in disbelief.

She thanked the gods Anthony had drawn his lessons from Daphne’s season, but now she had to battle this man herself.

‘You are confused. I see, it is because you are so humble you cannot believe it. Believe me to be most convinced of your beauty, your elegance, your refinement and you wit.’

The presumptuous prick! She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm and dignified.

‘But, Sir Greene, certainly, I have given no sign of interest…’

‘As is only proper! Indeed, a girl should never throw herself at a man unless she has assured herself of the man’s interests. Of course men do appreciate a few hints, and do not believe I have not seen them whenever you smiled at me and engaged in conversation with me.’

‘Sir Greene, I assure you I did no such thing.’

‘Ah, it is alright, Miss Bridgerton, I would not hold it against you.’

‘You are mistaken. I had no interest in you and did not mean to encourage you. I apologize if you took my actions for something they weren’t but I honestly have no interest in you.’

She prayed he would leave it at that. She wasn’t certain how much longer she could be polite.

‘Miss Bridgerton, I’ll have you know that I’m aware I am one of the very few men having interest in you. Indeed I believe I am the only one willing to propose to you. I am no bad match for you. I am no duke but then you are not your sister –‘

‘That’s enough! I believe you have made yourself quite clear, Sir Greene. And I believe my answer was equally clear. It is obvious you have nothing of value to say anymore, so please, leave.’

‘This is no way to treat a suitor! You are without a doubt the rudest woman I have ever met! If society hears of the way you –‘

‘If so much as one word reaches me of you spreading gossip, I will have no qualms about telling everyone you tried to threaten and shame me into marriage! Leave, you are no longer welcome!’

Sir Greene took up his hat and took off fuming.

No sooner had the door closed behind his back then she deflated.

She had accepted she might receive a proposal from some dull desperate man, and she had prepared for awkwardly refusing it, but never had she expected it would be such a disaster. Her heart beat violently. She couldn’t believe she’d almost ruined the Bridgerton name without putting a single foot wrong.

Her hands shook, the marriage market felt more like a battlefield than a party. More than ever she understood why Lady Whistledown referred to the players upon the marriage market as careful strategists, hunters and victims.

Was it to always be like this for her? It was unfair. Why did Daphne get the romantic attentions of a prince and a duke who treated her as if she’d hung the moon while she got to deal with monsters like Sir Greene? And why was there no one to protect her the way she had tried to protect Daphne from Berbrooke?

Eloise decided then and there she’d had enough of the season. She needed to go. Hadn’t Penelope mentioned she wanted to visit Marina again? That suited her fine, there was only one man there and he was married. She’d ask her.

‘You will see why I could not accept his suit. He was too churlish by half and positively possessed of a foul temper. I should like to marry someone gracious and considerate, who treats me like a queen. Or at the very least, a princess. Surely that is not too much to ask.

from Eloise Bridgerton to Penelope Featherington”

She was making plans for her departure when late that night, she heard a clattering in the hall. Curiosity got the better of her. She hoped it wasn’t a burglar. Descending the stairs she saw instead that it was Anthony who was sneaking through the hallway.

‘Anthony?’

‘Eloise!’ he jumped.

‘Why on earth are you still up?’

‘And why on earth are you not in bed with your wife?’

‘I owe you no answers’, he scoffed, slamming the door of his office shut.

Eloise rushed back upstairs.

Why was Anthony here? Had something happened between him and Kate? She desperately hoped that the forced nature of their marriage wasn’t making them unhappy. Until now, they had both seemed perfectly happy.

She quickly reasoned that whatever it was, she doubted Kate could have any blame. It was probably Anthony who was acting like a brat. He was probably too used to being a bachelor. She had to write to Kate. Her friend deserved to know, if she didn’t already. She grabbed her ink jar but then she paused. The servants were asleep, and it would be cruel to wake them up. She had to wait until morning. Annoyed, she crawled into bed.

Her escape attempt would have to wait until the problems between her friend and brother were resolved.

Chapter Text

‘Pen! It’s so good to see you! Eloise’, Marina flung herself around Penelope.

Eloise gave a nod, pushing her by now outgrown bangs behind her ears. She’d forgotten to pin them. Or rather, she’d been too hasty to take care of it, as always.

‘Marina. I’m so sorry we couldn’t come earlier. You know how mother forces us to smile and dance at every ball all season.’

‘As long as that woman keeps putting you in those ridiculous clothes it will not matter whether you will attend all balls or none’, Marina scoffed.

Penelope smoothed the lime fabric of her pelisse with an unhappy expression.

‘I’m afraid we weren’t very lucky this year either. But our dowry was a bit compromised. Otherwise I’m sure Philipa would have married Mr. Finch last season already. But something might change soon. Mama is trying to get the heir to marry Prudence so that we are safe and provided for. He has been in the Mediterranean these past few years, him and father did not like each other a lot.’

‘And he is back now?’

‘Only since June. Apparently he had a wife, a woman of lower birth, but she died while giving birth a year ago.’

‘Oh heavens, and the child?’

‘Died the same day. I shall not repeat what my mother thought of that situation.’

‘No need. She is probably very happy with the possibility that her daughter might produce a Featherington heir.’

Penelope nodded, looking away.

‘Oh, are those – my, how they’ve grown!’ Penelope cooed, rushing over to a wooden playpen where one child was clumsily smashing a wooden to horse on the floor and another was crawling around, burbling nonsense.

‘They have, haven’t they?’ Marina smiled.

Eloise came closer as well, and noticed the children had become just a shade darker, and their hair had turned more curly. Such handsome babies.

‘They look so well!’

‘If only they acted well’, Marina replied.

‘I swear they know exactly how to push our buttons. When to cry, when to smile. And their antics fill me with terror. They cannot be left alone.’

‘They’ll grow out of it’, Eloise promised.

‘When?’

‘If they’re like my family, they become less annoying around eighteen.’

Marina sighed and murmured a prayer.

‘I cannot remember being so testing when I was twelve, surely, they might turn out to be angels too?’

‘Maybe, maybe not’, Eloise said unhelpfully.

‘Children often take after their parents, behaviour-wise, I’m told’, Penelope comforted Marina. ‘You were a quiet child, weren’t you? Was …?’

‘I don’t know. George never said, and with Phillip and it’s kind of a rule we don’t talk about their childhood. But if George was anywhere like he was as an adult, he was quite active and lively.’

Oliver looked up, gurgling at Penelope.

‘Oh, can I?’ Penelope asked.

‘Yes, just be careful, they can easily wriggle their way out of your grasp’, Marina warned.

‘Would you like to hold Amanda?’ Marina asked.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind but it’s not necessary’, Eloise stammered.

‘I don’t mind’, Marina shrugged. She deposited a wriggling baby into Eloise’s arms. Eloise took her to the couch and sat down, paying attention to her grip. It was a lot easier to hold one than she remembered. But then she had been very small back when her siblings were babies. A pair of clever eyes looked at her, and Eloise felt oddly watched. Then two small hands reached up, targeted, and tiny fingers wrapped themselves around Eloise’s nose.

‘Auch!’ She pulled her head back, small nails digging in her nostrils before she was free.

‘That’s them for you. Is motherhood looking attractive already?’ Marina joked, dropping into a pink armchair.

Eloise tried holding Amanda’s hands in her one hand, tickling her belly with her other. She shivered at the idea of having two children, no mere three years from now on. Stuck on the countryside with a man she didn’t care for, with little to do. It sounded so bland and suffocating. But this?

‘I never imagined motherhood to be anything else’, Eloise replied. ‘No child with Bridgerton blood could be docile. Francesca will be the only one of us who will perhaps produce a soft-spoken calm child.’

‘Colin isn’t so bad now, is he?’ Penelope asked.

‘He tied me to a tree when they went to a tavern and I asked whether I could join them two years ago.’

A smile ghosted across Marina’s face, but it was gone within seconds.

‘We should do something fun today’, Marina decided.

‘Oh, like what?’ Penelope asked, struggling to keep Oliver calm in her arms.

‘Go to town perhaps? We haven’t gone last time since it was still cold and rainy.’

‘Sounds good to me’, Penelope encouraged.

Eloise wasn’t excited for hours of ribbon and feather buying, but if she told herself she could get a treat from a bakery to make it worthwhile.

‘Sure. Why not?’ Eloise shrugged. At least it was vastly superior to being hounded by awful suitors and having tea with insipid young ladies.

As they got ready, Penelope spoke to Eloise.

‘She seems to be doing better, doesn’t she?’

‘She does appear to be in a happier mood’, Eloise allowed.

‘She must just be temperamental’, Penelope decided. ‘She’s had mood swings as long as I know her. She could do nothing but laugh at a ball and the next day she’d be incredibly stormy. And then she could be such a contrarian to mama and rude to guests… and even to me. While immediately apologizing hours later. I’d always assumed it had been the result of the stress, you know. And mama and the husbands she forced upon would test anyone’s patience. But…’, Penelope shrugged.

‘Oh well, no use in worrying about it now. It’s resolved. Isn’t it?’

‘Hm’, Penelope merely responded.

Town was… better than Eloise had assumed. It wasn’t too far off from Romney Hall, the roads were decent and there were even multiple shops. And this far from London, the prices really were a bargain. The bookstore was not more than a shelf on the wall of a general store, and there were no books that hadn’t been published at least five years ago, but that was hardly to be expected.

Eloise was dragged along market stalls with ribbons in every shade of the rainbow, buttons in all colours and dainty pieces of lace. Eloise wondered if she could have the lace turned into chemisettes and caps. Perhaps if she wore those to evening activities she would disabuse all present gentlemen of the notion she was something to just be gawked at.

If anything had become clear to her the past season it was that back when her hemlines were short as a child, no one looked at her twice or tried to find out her personality, and now that her hemlines were low, many wanted to talk to her, but none wanted to listen. She wondered what a lady had to do to get men to go beyond looks, and get the kind of admiration for their person her mama, Daphne and Kate had gotten. Whenever she watched them interact with their husbands, exchange teasing words and caring expression of affection that betrayed they knew each other so well, inside and out, she couldn’t help but feel some envy. She’d only ever had that with Penelope, and even then it had never been exactly like that.

‘Oh, this colour looks lovely on you, Pen.’

Marina held a lovely blue silk against Penelope’s skin.

‘It really brings out both the colour of your skin and the pink of your cheeks.’

‘Like a drawing on a  china cup’, Eloise supplied with a smirk. ‘No, I apologize. It looks lovely, indeed. Truly lovely’, she felt the need to express, since she knew how much her friend suffered under having to dress the way she did. And because her dress was so horrible, she rarely received any compliments on her looks, not even from her mother.

Her friend beamed at her, before her smile faded.

‘It does not matter. I have two dresses in my closet that are a nice colour, but mother always puts me in whatever she likes when we go somewhere. I’ve only ever managed to wear my pink dress to one ball, and that was because my mother could not attend.’

‘But you’re without her now, aren’t you?’ Marina asked. ‘And what will she do if you come down in a dress that is not handpicked by her? Force you to go back upstairs? Just tarry while getting ready so that by the time you go downstairs there is no more time for her to send you back upstairs for a change’, Marina continued.

Eloise had to admit she liked Marina’s disrespect for authority, especially when it concerned going against Lady Featherington.

‘I will even pay for it if your pin money doesn’t allow for it’, Marina offered.

‘Oh Marina, I couldn’t.’

‘I insist. It’s no use buying many nice clothes for me, as the countryside is dull and we’re virtually never invited to anything’, she admitted with a bit of a bitter smile.

‘I have enough money, really, believe me’, Penelope assured her.

And indeed, Penelope procured all money required for enough yards of fabric to make an entire two dresses out of it, despite that the fabric was far from cheap.

Eloise did wonder how Penelope could have so much pin money given the Featherington’s financial situation, even if she’d saved. Penelope spent it like she wasn’t even worried about spending so much. She would have to remember to ask Penelope about it.

Eloise bought a new blue ribbon for her hair, Marina bought some more fabric flowers for her dresses and afterwards they just roamed the town at their leisure.

They laughed at children running after dogs, men stumbling out of pubs and free-walking geese lashing out at unsuspecting market goers.

‘This is vastly superior to London’, Eloise couldn’t help but exclaim once they bought some sweets and pastries.

‘Why?’

‘Well, no man looks at me and thinks he’s entitled to me, which is a nice change. People are a good deal less full of themselves here. No empty chatter about china and silver cutlery.’

‘No mammas’, Penelope laughed.

‘No silly society, just gals being pals’, Eloise grinned.

‘My my, not that I ever enjoyed London. I much preferred my old town. But you two sound like bitter spinsters in the making. I dislike London for obvious reasons but you two always had the possibility to go everywhere, there is no door that doesn’t open for you, you both live in so much opulence with so many people who care for you in London’, Marina smirked.

‘I hope we won’t end up spinsters,’ Penelope said, looking at Eloise with a sad smile, ‘but we won’t settle for someone we don’t like if we get the choice. We both still have plenty of time to find love.’

‘Exactly. And we also can’t go wherever we like. To start off with, we always need to be chaperoned, we can never go somewhere and be free. Secondly, if I could go anywhere I would got to university, or check out what men do in gentleman’s clubs. They act so mysterious about them’, Eloise added. ‘A gilded cage is still a cage. I wish I could fly like a man. Take Colin, he’s been all over the Mediterranean the past year. I could never! Or parliament! I can’t go to parliament. Or a job!’

‘There are women who have jobs, Eloise. Most women actually. Shopkeepers, servants, modistes. And guess what, your lot either looks down on them or pretend they’re air most of the time’, Marina pointed out. ‘But indeed, you are not free like a man. But you are freer than most women. And sometimes you should just appreciate that instead of looking at things you cannot have.’

Marina took a couple of steps, marching in front of the two other girls. ‘I think I would gladly endure a hundred boring conversations over silverware – and mind I found just the two I overheard from Lady Featherington so excruciating I lost a year of my life – if that meant I could take my time to freely choose a husband and until I found one, frolic around with my friends.’

‘Marina, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean it that way.’

The older girl paused again, so the other two could catch up.

‘I know that. I apologize, sometimes it’s a bit hard to keep from turning bitter. In the end I could have had time, it’s the fault of only two people that I could not take my time and choose a husband, and I am one of those two.’

‘Is it really so bad?’ Penelope couldn’t help but ask.

‘What?’

‘Marriage. I- I know it was rushed, and that neither of you could choose one another… but… for example I like almost every Bridgerton. Because much as they are different, they’re also all very similar’, Penelope said, smiling at Eloise.

‘Phillip is nothing like George. In fact, it’s hard to even find more than three things they have in common. And those three things are their mother, their father, and their past’, Marina joked.

‘But’, she sighed, nodding, ‘it is not terrible. Remember that awful old man Lady Featherington dragged in one day? The pompous fat one who insisted on seeing my teeth and my figure like I was some sort of race horse he was buying?’

Penelope nodded.

‘It could have been worse. I could have been married to a monster like him. I am not mistreated. I am not seen as a decorative vase. I am respected. No one expects me to do things I don’t want to do. I have even more freedom than I did before I married, because now no one will tell me what to do. But, well… it’s a far cry from the kind of marriage I had dreamed about’, Marina admitted.

She let out a sad laugh.

‘I dreamt of a house filled with laughter, being away from home every day to be with friends, dancing until the sun came up, fun games, silly conversations. I’ll never have that. I knew I would never have that the second I heard George died. I can’t imagine there’s anyone on this earth able to replace him. Especially not his brother.’

Eloise froze. That’s exactly what her mother had said whenever she talked about father.  That’s how their house had been before father died. It had taken them years to find a new family dynamic.

Marina’s eyes grew distant, and Eloise knew that Marina was no longer walking along the dusty road to Romney Hall with them anymore. She was in a memory.

‘He’s as dutiful and honourable as George but that’s it. He’s quiet where George was loud, he’s studious and dull where George was social and lively, who was charismatic while Phillip manages to make everyone as awkward as him in a social situation. There wasn’t a book I didn’t agree upon with George, while there isn’t a single book I’ve read that Phillip is interested in, and vice versa. There’s no interest that connects us, no leisure activity we both enjoy. I’d love to go out and talk and dance and play cards. He’s happiest when he’s left to his own devices in his tiny little bubble.’

Eloise didn’t necessarily agree. Last time he was with them he had tried to make conversation, and one-on-one with her he had been able to appear intelligent, caring and funny in a very dry sort of way. But it was true he had the social graces of a rock. It was rather a shame, neither of them were bad or unpleasant people, they were just too different to be perceived as pleasant by the other.

‘So no, marriage isn’t that bad. Once we realized love was never going to happen and we had to treat marriage like a partnership instead of trying to force a relationship, it got better. We realized some months ago that we were unhappy because we were frustrated the other wasn’t what we looked for in a relationship. We’ve since accepted that this will only be a partnership. He does the duties of a father and baronet, I do the duties of a mother and lady of the household. We try to talk to each other as polite friends. And leave each other enough room and privacy to pursue our different interests.’

‘Really?’ Penelope asked. ‘That sounds so sad.’

‘We’re in a forced marriage. We’re nothing alike. No miracle will happen. It’s far better to be respected and have a friendship than hate each other and force each other to be true husband and wife when neither of us wants that’, Marina decided, shrugging.

She hesitated then, overlooking the two unmarried ladies.

‘Since we’re both trapped in this marriage we allowed each other to seek love and affection elsewhere. But… I doubt I’ll ever want anyone but George. And I refuse to ask Phillip to accept another child that isn’t his. And Phillip doesn’t want to disrespect his vows. So you see, we were both mature about it. We offered each other to become happy another way, and we refused it. We chose to have it this way, there’s nothing sad about it. It’s just life.’

They had allowed each other to cheat, Eloise realized in shock. A shiver ran down her spine. She couldn’t imagine ever cheating on a spouse. But then, she couldn’t imagine not loving her spouse to death.

‘I hope I’ll ever find someone who loves me’, Penelope sighed.

‘One day, a man must be smart enough to recognize your kind heart’, Marina comforted her.

‘That’s what I tell her, they’re all fools in London. Not that I necessarily want them to find out how incredible Pen is, because then she’ll be stolen from me. I’m not yet ready to lose my best friend to matrimony’, Eloise smirked, hooking her arm through Penelope’s.

‘I couldn’t suffer through all those dull balls and tedious dinners without her to jest with.’

‘How mercenary of you’, Penelope laughed.

‘That would mean you’d have to marry at the same time’, Marina pointed out.

‘Well now, there’s a thought’, Eloise grinned.

‘If Edwina could demand Kate had to approve of her suitors. Why couldn’t we demand that every time a man decided to court either of, they would have to make sure a friend of theirs courted the other? If we get courted at the same time, we must get married around the same time as well. We could be like Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. Being proposed to in the same week and marrying around the same time.’

‘That would be grand’, Penelope laughed.

‘Amazing’, Eloise added.

‘Superb’, Penelope giggled.

‘You two are strange’, Marina said as a servant opened the door for them.

They were back at Romney Hall.

No sooner were they in the drawing room though, than a maid rushed in.

‘Oh, oh Lady Crane, thank heavens your home’, the maid cried out.

‘Bess, what is it?’

‘It’s Amand-‘

Marina was already running upstairs.

The two other girls couldn’t help but follow, their curiosity too strong.

‘What?’

‘They were playing when Oliver hit Amanda with a wooden toy. On the head. We haven’t been able to stop her cry – ‘

Marina and the girls rushed past the maid into the nursery where Amanda was wailing like she was ten seconds removed from death. Oliver had been placed in another bed on the other side of the room. A nursemaid jumped up from beside Amanda’s bed.

‘Oh, my lady –‘

But Marina didn’t listen, instead lifting her daughter out of bed. There was a big bruise already forming on her very small head.

Marina’s fingertips shook above Amanda’s head, her lip trembling.

‘Oh my baby, oh my child. How could you, how could you, your father would never do such a thing!’ Marina cried, angrily looking at Oliver as she held her crying daughter against her chest.

Eloise didn’t find it very fair, the baby was barely half a year and hadn’t done it deliberately. He probably didn’t even understand what Marina was saying.

‘Didn’t his father fight in a war?’ Eloise whispered to Penelope.

‘That’s a wholly different thing. Hush.’

‘You abominable child. Beating your own sister!’ Marina continued, sinking through her knees and rocking her daughter against her chest.

‘Like that’s a strange thing to do to a sibling’, Eloise muttered quietly, remembering all the bruises the Bridgertons had delivered to each other.

‘My baby, hush now, oh. Whatever more could have happened? Had the blow been to your eye, nose or mouth. Or more blows!’

Marina’s posture stiffened as she looked at her other child again.

‘I could have lost her. I could have lost her. My baby, you are all I have left!’ she cried to her children. ‘You’re all I’ve got left of him, don’t hurt each other. I can’t bear the thought of seeing you wounded or losing you.’

Eloise exchanged an awkward look with the two maids. Marina started crying along with her baby. This was a private scene. Eloise doubted they could do much good here. So she grabbed Penelope’s shoulder and dragged her away.

Eloise and Penelope felt uneasy after the shocking turn of events that afternoon, and spent hours together on Eloise’s room, reading books and pretending like Marina wasn’t in all likelihood still crying a floor above them. By eight o’clock a maid knocked on their door, asking whether they were interested in supper.

‘We? But doesn’t that depend on the lady of the house?’ Penelope asked.

The maid looked at the floor somewhat guiltily.

‘Her ladyship doesn’t feel fit for supper from time to time. Or decides to have it in her room. By now we’ve established that if she hasn’t asked for it by seven thirty, we ask the lord if we should go ahead and serve it anyway. But the lord is currently away visiting friends so…’

With Sir Phillip gone and Marina apparently still unfit, it was up to the guests to demand the servants to prepare supper. Penelope and Eloise exchanged a look. They couldn’t go without food. The sweets and pastries had kept them filled for a while but Eloise’s belly had started protesting about half an hour ago.

‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. No need for a lot of fuzz. Please, we’d be happy to take our supper in the kitchen.’

‘Yes, no need for a dining room if it’s just the two of us.’

Eloise didn’t even wish to start to imagine what that would be like, her and Penelope sitting in a dining room alone as if they were the ladies of the house, two servants standing vigil behind them, another two bringing up plates of food. It really wasn’t fair to make four servants and the entire kitchen work to entertain two eighteen year olds who weren’t even being hosted.

So they had broccoli soup and turkey with green beans in the kitchen where it was nice and cosy as the servants were doing the dishes. After dinner Penelope decided to check in on Marina. Eloise, who didn’t feel it was her place to invade during such a private time, instead read some more in her room.

The night passed, and come morning the worst seemed to be over. Marina sat in the breakfast parlour, two separate play pens beside the table.

She looked tired, so Eloise decided against asking her whether she’d slept well. But with Penelope and Marina so quiet, Eloise felt compelled to take it upon herself to end the silence.

‘I slept very well. It’s so quiet and peaceful out here in the country.’

‘Oh yes, and I awoke to the wonderful sound of the birds. I had my window opened as I got ready. Only birds to be heard, no carriages or talking people or obnoxious clocks’, Penelope agreed.

‘Yes, quite quiet’, Marina muttered.

Marina kept her eyes on her children as she moved her spoon through her oatmeal.

‘Amanda looks much improved’, Penelope noticed cheerfully.

‘She has a bruise’, Marina pointed out.

There was something unsettling in her eyes. Something almost… dead.

‘It’ll fade. I’ve had plenty of bruises. Broken bones even, children are menaces. But she’ll live, she’s strong.’

‘She has to’, Marina said, voice shaking. ‘She has to live.’

‘It’s probably nothing but… Can’t blame a mother for worrying.’

The odd atmosphere remained, although all tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

‘It’s a lovely day outside’, Penelope said sometime around two.

‘Perhaps we could have a walk?’

‘I’m not leaving the children behind’, Marina decided.

‘You don’t have to. Perhaps we could push them in a pram?’

Marina nodded. ‘Yes. We could.’

With the assurance she could keep an eye on her children, they decided to get ready for a walk.

Marina didn’t care who pushed Oliver’s, but she decided to keep a hold of Amanda’s pram.

The birds and crickets were active, and the sun was pleasant without being too strong.

‘Oh, that house over there looks lovely’, Penelope noticed when they climbed atop a slope just a bit away from the lake.

‘That’s the Forrester’s house. They moved in just a couple of months ago. Mrs. Forrester invites me over for tea from time to time.’

‘Oh, that’s nice’, Penelope said.

‘Yes, she is’, Marina admitted.

They walked on.

‘Perhaps we could invite her for tea this week’, Marina suggested.

Penelope answered with enthusiasm but before Eloise could answer Oliver, who had been fuzzy before, started making more noise. Eloise couldn’t fathom why, nothing had changed. The sun wasn’t in his eyes, there was no wind, his blankets were still the same, he hadn’t thrown his cuddle toy away. He must just be in a little mood.

‘What is it, Oliver?’ Eloise asked as she continued.

‘What do you want to say?’

Oliver let out a little wail.

‘Yes, come on, do your best.’

He let out a louder one. Eloise almost laughed, but Marina came over with a pained expression.

‘Oliver. Oliver. What is it?’ she asked, touching her child. He beat her hand away, continuing his noises.

Marina closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

‘Please Oliver, everything’s alright.’

Oliver did not agree.

Marina trembled.

‘I can’t do this. I can’t… they do this all the time, crying without reason. I apologize. I need to get Amanda away. If one hears the other crying they always join in and encourage each other to continue’, Marina said.

‘It’s fine’, Eloise assured her.

‘I’ll try to get him to stop. I’m sorry, I don’t know why he got started.’

Marina nodded, returning to Amanda and pushing her away from her crying brother.

Eloise frowned at the baby, whose face was scrunched in concentration.

‘In want of attention, eh?’

The baby let out an angry wail.

‘Oh yes. Certainly’, she said, pretending she understood him.

‘I bet you’re jealous you’re not getting your mother’s attention. It’s a nice technique. Gregory often pretended he was hurt to get mother to fuzz over him’, Eloise explained as she pushed him forward. ‘Bonus points if he could pretend one of us had hurt him. But you can’t do that yet.’

The baby shook its fists.

‘Uh huh. Come on, give me your best performance. Yes, that’s a very convincing portrayal of anger and grief, with your face turning pink. But I must say that raspberry colour isn’t very becoming on you. I’d almost think you’ve been neglected for a full year.’

Eloise paused, rolling her eyes. Marina was far away enough.

‘Wee weee wee, you see, I can do it too’, Eloise said after giving a convincing mimic of his cries. The baby paused, looking up at Eloise in shock.

‘Yeah, it looks kind of silly, don’t you think?’

He moved but didn’t make noise.

‘You just really want attention, don’t you?’

She raised her arms towards him and he immediately started trying to push himself up, small arms reaching for her.

He was quiet as soon as he was in her arms. He looked around in fascination, drinking in the landscape.

‘Pen, could you take over the pram?’

Penelope rushed back, taking over from Eloise as Eloise continued carrying the child who was now very happy.

Eloise rolled her eyes.

‘I can’t believe I fell for this emotional sabotage’, she sighed.

In the evening Marina once again barely touched her food as she looked at her children.

Penelope and Eloise were just having an innocent conversation about which vegetables they liked best when  Marina finally decided to talk after over twenty minutes of silence.

‘It was good of you to help with Oliver this afternoon, Eloise.’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘You managed to get him to quiet very fast. Sometimes I don’t manage for hours.’

Eloise had a feeling that was not so much a compliment as it was a critique to herself.

‘Sometimes they stop sooner, sometimes later. Babies don’t make a lot of sense.’

‘Still, I should be able to. I’m his mother.’

‘Marina, I’ve no doubt they love you’, Penelope said.

But it was to no avail. After dinner, Marina decided to focus on Oliver, leaving Amanda to Penelope and Eloise. After enough hair pulling, pushing and prodding to make Eloise and Penelope desperate, the children were finally put to bed.

‘Certainly, after a full day of being with them without real accident, and now she’s seen that Amanda is fine, she will be alright tomorrow?’ Eloise asked.

‘I hope so. She was probably still somewhat shaken from yesterday’, Penelope agreed.

The next day, somehow, it had gotten worse.

Marina wasn’t downstairs by the time Eloise and Penelope went down.

‘Shouldn’t we call a doctor?’ Penelope asked, even though she knew Marina was not truly ill.

The servant blushed.

‘We can’t, miss.’

‘What do you mean, you can’t?’ Penelope inquired, leaning forward as she always did when she smelled a secret.

‘The doctor doesn’t want to come by anymore when our lady is just having a nervous complaint. He has been asked to visit too many times the past year. But please, we are not supposed to talk of our employers.’

Penelope froze, face growing pale.

‘We shall not tell, thank you’, Penelope said.

‘There was something else, a letter for Miss Bridgerton’, the servant said, giving the letter to Eloise before fleeing the room.

Eloise saw the letter was of Edwina, but decided to wait with reading it.

‘All this time… I had hope. I thought it was going better. I told myself it would get better. That she could still get better and happier and that I hadn’t… that I hadn’t…’

Penelope slumped down, burying her face in the palms of her hands.

‘Hey, what is it?’

‘It’s my fault, this is my fault’, Penelope cried.

‘No, no. It’s no one’s fault. She got pregnant by accident so she had to find a husband. You couldn’t do anything about that. And then Whistledown leaked it and ruined her. You couldn’t have done anything. The only people who could be blamed, as Marina said, were herself, her lover and… Lady Whistledown.’

Penelope sobbed.

‘To be honest, I think even that blame is misdirected’, Eloise said. ‘It’s society’s fault. We don’t know how to become with child, so we don’t know how to avoid it. Personally, when you first told me the story I was terribly afraid I could catch it. Now I know I can’t but it’s still scary. And it’s society who decided to punish a woman for sleeping with a man outside of marriage while men can have mistresses both before and after marriage. It’s a horrible double standard. Society forced Marina into her life, not you. Don’t blame yourself.’

‘But I could have helped.’

‘How? You didn’t do anything?’

Eloise didn’t understand why Penelope was so worked up. She could understand Penelope wanting her friend to be happy. She could understand Penelope wanting to support her friend by visiting, but this blame made no sense.

Penelope shook her head.

Great, now Eloise was stuck with two sad women. It was easier to deal with a crying babe. Those were simple creatures.

Eloise sat down beside Penelope, rubbing her back as she read Edwina’s letter, her eyebrows creeping up with every new line.

Penelope’s crying lessened.

Good, Eloise thought, she was sure this bit of news would guarantee Penelope’s crying would be a thing of the past. She could never focus on herself in the face of enticing news.

‘Better?’

‘Yes, I apologize.’

‘Think nothing of it. Want to talk about it?’

‘It’s silly’, Penelope muttered, wiping her eyes with her napkin.

‘Alright. I received a letter from Edwina.’

‘Edwina?’ Penelope asked before taking a sip of water and dabbing her eyes again.

‘Yes. Edwina Sheffield.’

‘I know who Edwina is’, Penelope said.

‘Edwina is engaged.’

‘Engaged?’ Penelope pressed, turning fully towards Eloise. Eloise bit her lip to keep from grinning. She knew that would work.

‘Mhm.’

‘Well?’ Penelope pressed.

‘Well what?’ Eloise teased.

‘To whom?’

‘Mr. Bagwell.’

‘Mr. Bagwell?’ Penelope asked.

‘Mr. Bagwell’, Eloise smiled, as if that explained everything.

‘The Mr. Bagwell from your mother’s party at your country home?’

‘The very same.’

‘But who is he? I don’t know any other Bagwells. And he wasn’t prominent at balls.’

‘Oh, he didn’t go to many. He isn’t a big name at all’, Eloise explained, keeping back as many details as possible.

‘But Edwina is this season’s biggest catch’, Penelope protested. ‘I mean, all the bachelors who wanted to settle this season were after her. Lords, sirs, your brother’, Penelope reminded.

‘Didn’t her sister tell us she wanted a love match with someone who had similar interests?’

‘A scholar’, Penelope agreed.

Eloise grinned, Penelope never forgot a face or words.

‘Yes. This Mr. Bagwell is an archaeologist who’s been to Greece twice.’

‘An archaeologist’, Penelope muttered.

‘Yes, apparently now that Kate’s married to my brother, she felt no qualms marrying for love to a plain old mister’, Eloise explained.

‘She’ll be happy then’, Penelope decided.

Eloise grinned, Penelope’s face was still a bit pink from crying but she had now fully forgotten her sadness. Time to deliver the final blow.

‘She is, she accepted him just days after he wrecked their carriage and almost killed them all.’

‘Wait, what?!’ Penelope demanded to know.

‘Oh yes, he and Edwina wanted to go on a ride, and Kate joined in to escort them, but the carriage tipped over. He was fine, Edwina got some bruises, but Kate broke her leg.’

‘Oh my god! And you only tell me this now!’

‘Why, I only just received this letter’, Eloise grinned.

‘Eloise Bridgerton. That is the type of news you’re supposed to start with.’

‘Why, everything is fine now, isn’t it?’ Eloise smirked.

‘Oh you… You Bridgerton!’ Penelope growled.

Eloise grinned.

‘So, do you know more about this Mr. Bagwell?’ Penelope asked.

‘Sure do. He looks pleasing enough. He’s a bit shy and awkward – ‘

‘How typical. I have yet to meet the first scholar who is actually sociable’, Penelope grinned.

‘Oh, you’re so judgy.’

‘Like you’re not?’ Penelope shot back.

Eloise only offered her a wicked grin.

‘Well, excelling in one area always comes at the price of lacking in another’, Eloise decided.

‘So, what would your brothers then lack, given they’re sociable, witty and humorous.’

‘They’re impulsive choleric rakes who don’t have the patience to sit still and read a book. Mind, they’re not dumb, but scholarly? Absolutely not. It takes them months to finish a single book. If they can choose between reading a good book and improving themselves or a night out drinking at a party, they always choose the latter. I can’t tell you how often I took books from the library with dust on the spine but a bookmark somewhere in the middle. Completely abandoned, clearly.’

Penelope laughed.

‘I pity Kate. Anthony is quite the challenge to take on.’

‘Eloise, you’re awful.’

‘What? It’s true. I’ll be so honest to admit I recognize that I am no treat either.’

‘Put softly’, Penelope grinned.

‘At least they’ll never be bored’, Eloise grinned.

‘Definitely. He’ll live in fear of your antics and rants every day.’

‘Hey, I take offense at that. There’s more to me than my antics and rants. I can be proper and pleasant if I want to. No Daphne material, but I can be nice. I can write letters and do calculus and I helped mother and the maids with the two infants when I was all but eight!’

‘I know, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing you’, Penelope smiled.

‘So, tell me more about him.’

‘Well, before you interrupted me I was going to say that he was clever enough and could hold himself in conversation despite being a bit awkward. He’s not the most humorous but he’s very sweet. He looks at Edwina with the utmost adoration and Edwina knew it. She was sometimes deliberately nice to him. But nice in such a way you knew she was doing it just to tease him, and it always worked. He stammered or became clumsy. But he was always so eager to please her.’

‘Sounds like a dream’, Penelope smiled.

‘Quite’, Eloise smiled. ‘I certainly understand her choice more than Kate. He was so open in his affection. And he has a brain. I only talked to him twice and although our topics of interest are quite different I could just keep listening to him. He’s the kind of person you just know that you’ll never run short of conversation with. And will actually learn a thing or two from. I could never marry a boring man who could talk of nothing but parties, horses, food and the weather.’

Penelope just smiled.

‘You want a scholar for yourself?’

‘He needn’t be a scholar as long as he reads a lot and stimulates his mind. I put so much work into becoming more well read and accomplished myself I don’t believe I could be satisfied with someone who has no cares for nurturing their minds. And they’d never understand me.’

Penelope nodded empathically.

‘Could you? Imagine you were with someone like Colin who does nothing but make jokes, play with the infants and talk of food’, Eloise laughed.

Penelope giggled.

‘Imagine.’

‘You’re just so clever and curious and inquisitive, a mind like yours would be wasted on him’, Eloise continued. If Penelope’s smile decreased, Eloise didn’t notice.

‘But aren’t you wasted on a scholar as well? You who loves the big city, visiting people and gossiping all day long. I doubt there’s many scholars who enjoy that.’

‘Mhm. Good thing I’m not getting married anytime soon. No need to compromise on anything. Oh look, a carriage’, Eloise pointed out.

It was the Crane carriage. And indeed, not long after, they could hear boots in the hallway.

Sir Phillip appeared in the doorway, his face a mixture of surprise, confusion and awkwardness as he bowed before the ladies. He was dressed very well, but his stance radiated unease.

‘Ladies, good morning.’

‘Sir Phillip’, they said as they rushed to stand and curtsied.

My ehm… wife, is not with you.’

Eloise bit her cheek. Could they say? She was his wife, he would find out soon enough. Yet it felt weird to tell this man his wife was still upstairs because of… reasons.

‘We… had no choice but to start breakfast alone. We’ve given our apologies to the servants but we were hungry and Marina is yet to come down.’

Sir Phillip closed his eyes and nodded.

‘I see. There is no need to apologize. Trust me when I say I understand.’

He knew, Eloise realized. Worse, his words and attitude indicated this was far from new to him.

‘I will go upstairs now’, he only said. The ladies nodded, and he left as abruptly as he had arrived.

‘He is ever so odd’, Penelope couldn’t help but say. ‘No enquiries to our wellbeing, no bon appetite, no excusing himself. I mean, we don’t say that in our house when it’s just ourselves. But we’re his guests.’

Eloise nodded.

‘According to your logic he must be very clever to make up for such lacking in social graces.’

Eloise laughed heartily.

Marina was down for dinner that evening. She was even less vocal than the previous day, and quietly stirred her soup as Penelope and Eloise tried desperately to get both her and Sir Phillip to talk. From Sir Phillip they could elicit some anecdotes of his stay at his friend’s house over in Cornwall. He talked about his friend’s – a fellow botanist – garden to quite some detail, but this time Marina gave no sign of irritation and just continued picking her food.

They continued conversation after dinner, when the children were once again unleashed upon everyone.

‘Edwina Sheffield wrote to me today, she’s the sister of my brother Anthony’s wife. She’s engaged to Mr. Bagwell’, Eloise informed Marina.

Marina hummed, quietly rocking Oliver.

‘He’s an archaeologist who’s been to Greece a couple of times.’

‘To Greece?’ Sir Phillip suddenly asked. Amanda was trying to crawl to his shoulder but he kept her in a good hold.

‘Yes?’ Eloise said, confused.

‘Will he go there again, sometime soon?’

‘I don’t know. But uhm… probably. That’s where the digging happens… Don’t most excavations happen in Italy and Greece?’

‘I’ve always had an interest in Garrigue and other kinds of Mediterranean vegetation.’

Ah, there was the link. Eloise nodded.

‘He said Greece looked beautiful’, Eloise said.

‘Why? Would you like him to take home some bushes and trees?’

‘No need for whole bushes, I’m sure that’s impossible. But perhaps… Well, I don’t wish to presume, I don’t know the fellow. And I am no one to him… But I did always wish for some seedlings so I could try growing some plants over here. They’re even capable of surviving outside in winter. Oh well…’

Eloise told herself she’d talk to Mr. Bagwell about it. After all Sir Phillip given her, she owed him one. And Edwina was technically family now, so she could ask.

But before she could answer Amanda wriggled almost tumbling over his shoulder, and Phillip had to quickly grab a hold of her. She let out a cry of displeasure.

‘Watch it! Be careful. She’s already bruised’, Marina called out.

‘Yes, I noticed. How come?’ Phillip asked.

‘Oliver hit her with a toy’, Marina said, rushing over and brushing her daughter’s forehead.

‘We must be gentle with them’, she whispered, tenderly rubbing Amanda’s head.

‘I’m sure she’s fine, it’s only a bruise.

‘Your child just beat your child. You should be worried for her’, Marina hissed.

‘I do worry for them. But she is fine right now’, he said, confusion written on his face.

‘I would think you of all people should be against children being injured’, Marina hissed.

Penelope and Eloise exchanged a glance, intrigued. What was she insinuating?

‘I do care, Marina, you know that. But it has happened. What do you desire of me.’

‘Utmost care. And help making sure Oliver doesn’t injure her further.’

‘He’s a baby, I don’t think he’d understand if I explained.’

‘Then they must be kept apart unless supervised until he’s old enough to understand when we explain him’, Marina decided, irrationally.

‘Alright’, he just said.

‘You agree, don’t you?’

‘I don’t want to see either of them injured’, he merely said.

Phillip let go of Amanda as Marina took her over. He looked at his great big hands with a grimace, nodding to himself.

The next day, it only became worse. Marina didn’t come down for either breakfast, lunch or supper.

When Penelope went upstairs to talk to Marina in her bedroom, Eloise remained behind on the terrace outside with her book. It was eight o’clock but it was still very light outside. She paused when she noticed something moving from the corner of her eye. It was Sir Phillip, who came from his greenhouse in nothing but an old shirt and a green stained waistcoat. He paused when he spotted Eloise, and awkwardly pushed back his hair with his muddy hand, which only put mud on his forehead and hair. Eloise tried and failed not to laugh.

‘He looked back at his hand, noticed the mud, and sighed.

‘A poor excuse for a baronet’, he sighed, sitting down on another chair.

‘Like a baronet comes accompanied with certain character traits and looks’, Eloise noted dryly.

‘They’re expected to come paired with that’, he pointed out.

‘I’ve seen fat ones, skinny ones, bulky ones, fair ones and ugly ones. Kind ones and pompous ones. Trust me, if I know one who is truly as a baronet is expected to be, it is a lot.’

‘I… Thank you?’

‘You’re welcome’, she grinned.

‘You are by yourself’, he noticed.

‘Penelope is upstairs with Marina.’

He nodded, rubbing his hands together to get some dirt off of them.

‘She is not always like this. She has good days. She was fine when I left.’

‘She was fine when we arrived. Oliver beating Amanda must have shook her.’

He nodded. Always that boring nod. Eloise sighed and decided to push for a conversation, since she wouldn’t be getting any with the others.

‘I could ask Mr. Bagwell for some plants, when he goes again. But I take it you’re not looking for just about any plant.’

‘I can’t ask that.’

‘Sir Phillip, you have taken the trouble of sending your friend for his college studies, and took the pains of paying for it to be sent to me. Accept those meagre plants, if you please, I feel indebted to you. He’s part of my extended family now, I can ask him.’

Sir Phillip nodded.

‘Would you remember if I told you what plants I looked for?’

‘Probably not, unless I know those plants.’

‘I’ll make a list, with drawings, that you can give him. But only if he goes, and they happen to be near where he is located. He needn’t trouble himself too much.’

‘Alright’, Eloise agreed.

‘And I must again thank you for sending everything over. That was really too kind of you. I’ve learned so much. And those books. Absolutely amazing. Great for my language skills too, they’ve become quite dusty since I was last tutored. Reading Italian and French has certainly helped. Not that it was easy, I was often in need of a dictionary while reading but I managed. And the notes… All books suddenly made so much more sense. It was at the same time so logical, yet novel. It wasn’t hard to understand at all. I thought university was hard. But if this is it I’m to be honest even more mad that we can’t attend, I would have breezed through it. But at least I feel like I am usefully occupied now. And I know so much more. So much more things make sense now. It’s like my understanding of the world has just expanded. And it’s so queer, I see logic and connections in everything now. Almost all names of shops and taverns refer to something language or literature related. And so many plays and books are inspired by something else, or reference it! It’s everywhere. Is that how you are with plants? Wherever you go you are reminded of your studies? It’s just amazing. I’m very pleased indeed. Thank you so much’, she rattled, pausing, and looking to her side.

He waited, just staring at her. Eloise raised her eyebrows.

‘Oh, I did not know my input was required’, he only said. He then frowned.

‘My friend gave me everything when I visited him in March. There’s still an entire shelf filled with the rest in the library. You can take it with you, if you wish.’

‘Oh my mm , yes, thank you! More? Amazing. I was really savouring the last few because I thought I was almost through with everything. But… I have so many questions. I wrote it down. I have a list of all kinds of thoughts and questions and remarks with every book and every set of notitions. The more I learn the more questions I have.’

‘I cannot answer them. I don’t know the topic’, he merely said.

‘I know you don’t. Do you have his address? Could I write to him? Of course I can’t. Whether he’s married or not it wouldn’t do to write to a gentleman as an unmarried maid. Whoever invented all these silly societal rules of who can talk and write to whom and when must have been looking for excuses to avoid conversation. Really, what benefit does it have to restrict people from speaking to one another?’

‘For someone who asks so many questions, you do leave little room for replies’, he pointed out.

Eloise had the decency to blush.

‘You are right in that he would not reply. But I remember that many of my professors accepted readings and presentations in exchange for coin.’

‘Oh yes! I know there are women’s readings clubs and gentlemen clubs where interesting people are invited to. But I can’t host such a thing. Mother could, but she has no interest for it. Oh, but Daphne sometimes organises a party for some of the upper crust young ladies of society. Perhaps I could suggest one afternoon for literature to her. That would make her look like such a patroness of fine arts, she’d approve of that, no doubt, and then I can ask all my questions in person.’

She looked at Phillip, who said nothing in approval or disapproval.

‘No input?’

‘Did I not just give it?’

This man had no sense for polite conversation. But she supposed she could not call her host strange.

‘Could you show me what shelf, please?’ she asked.

Direct orders and concrete questions apparently did work for him.

Men, simple creatures.

‘Ah, yes. I suppose I could. Follow me.’

Chapter Text

June 1815, a day before Lady Bridgerton’s masquerade ball

 

This Author waits with bated breath to see what costumes the ton will choose for the Bridgerton masquerade.  It is rumored that Eloise Bridgerton plans to dress as Joan of Arc, and Penelope Featherington, out for her  third season and recently returned from a visit with Irish cousins, will don the costume of a leprechaun.  Miss Posy Reiling, stepdaughter to the late Earl of Penwood, plans a costume of mermaid, which This Author personally cannot wait to behold, but her elder sister, Miss Rosamund Reiling, has been very close-lipped  about her own attire.

As for the men, if previous masquerade balls are any indication, the portly will dress as Henry VIII, the more  fit as Alexander the Great or perhaps the devil, and the bored (the eligible Bridgerton brothers sure to be  among these ranks) as themselves—basic black evening kit, with only a demi-mask as a nod to the occasion.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 5 JUNE 1815

‘How on earth did she find out!’ Eloise cried out, throwing Lady Whistledown’s paper away. But since it was paper, it could not dramatically be thrown far away, and instead fluttered straight into the butter.

Her brother Benedict, who sat beside her, picked it up.

He stroked his chin, lips quirked upwards with amusement as he read what the mysterious gossip had written this time.

Eloise noticed his fingers were still smudged with paint. That explained why Eloise had not heard him come home last night. She’d tried prying information about his mysterious drawing and painting from him, but he’d kept his lips tightly shut. And thus Eloise’s detective work had only delivered limited results.

What she knew was the following: Benedict painted, as was evidenced by the stains on his hands. This painting happened at Lord Grenville’s house, this she knew by asking the Bridgerton coachman who brought him to and from. And at these painting nights, creators from all layers of society met. On one very successful evening she had managed overheard a lady sigh about her sister attending another “cursed painting class”. She had managed to track the lady down for a private conversation sometime after, and once she’d explained with a sigh that her brother also attended painting classes very late at night, the gates of information had opened for her and it was revealed that Lord Grenville’s painting classes were not just about painting, but also about meeting fellow “alternative” people without being constrained by the boundaries and rules of polite society. Eloise could only guess what social rules and practices were going on behind the polite exterior of the painting sessions, but it was good information. Apparently, her brother had managed to take her advise and “be bold” and do as he pleased.

What she got from Benedict, after asking the same annoying question twenty times, was that his friendship with Madame Delacroix had “lessened”, whatever that meant.

‘I barely told a soul! Only the seamstress, the servants, our family and Penelope knew’, Eloise huffed in annoyance.

‘Nothing escapes Whistledown’, Benedict grinned.

Eloise huffed. This was the third year the gossip column circulated and no one was any closer to solving it, not even the queen.

But Eloise had not given up on searching.

Instead of only focussing on Whistledown’s identity, she had now decided on looking at the broader picture.

In a notebook she had written down a list of events Whistledown did not mention, then ones she mentioned in passing, and then ones she described in detail. Her theory was that Whistledown was always present at the ones she reported in detail, and probably didn’t attend the ones she barely wrote about. While the guest list of every event was enormous, the list of women currently without child or husband – which would give Whistledown time to write – was not that large, and the list of women who attended all the widely reported events was even smaller.

Second she took note of all the news Whistledown reported, and how fast it took for her to report it. Bridgerton news featured in almost every column of hers, Eloise granted her that most of the ton was interested in Bridgerton news and thus, Whistledown could merely hurry to report on them since she knew this was what the people wanted to read. Yet, she could not help but feel that Whistledown had to be close. She had reported upon three Bridgerton pregnancies by now, announcing everyone before they had even managed to inform most of their direct circle.

So either Whistledown had a network of eyes and ears, and paid good coin for rumours from prominent households – a possibility Eloise did not exclude – or she had to be relatively close to the Bridgertons.

Eloise swore to write this down as another piece of proof. The list of people who knew her costume was so small, and she knew her family would never sell out information about itself, but she also had little reason to mistrust the servants or Penelope.

‘Who cares, we’re Bridgertons, everyone will see through our disguises anyways, even if we wear a mask’, Colin shrugged before biting down on some toasted bread that was more jam than toast.

‘It’s a matter of principle’, Eloise huffed.

Penelope. One of the fifty names that kept reappearing time and time again. Eloise included her just to be inclusive, but it could not be her. For starters Whistledown said she had not attended the Bridgerton country party during which Anthony and Kate had gotten engaged, and her mother had been an eyewitness to the “bee accident”, she could have reported the full story. But then doing so would have easily given away her identity, so that could be an excuse to pretend she hadn’t attend. However, Eloise had more to the defence of her friend.

Why would she report about herself and her own family so often, and in such a bad light? Lady Whistledown’s column had almost succeeded in ruining her entire family’s reputation. It had taken them years to rebuild their dignity and be invited into most households once again.

Lastly, Penelope cared deeply about Marina. She could not fathom sweet Penelope would ever deliberately ruin her friend. It was evident she still felt so sorry for the way Marina’s name had been tarnished beyond redemption.

‘Principles, principles. Really, with the way you judge society like you’re in charge of the final reckoning, the way you jump onto the barricades to defend your causes, and the way you take every opportunity to monologue about the power of women, demanding a fair and equal world, half of society could have guessed your costume’, Benedict smirked.

‘Perhaps we should tie her to a pole again’, Colin suggested. ‘For authenticity.’

Eloise stuck out her tongue, which earned her a deep sigh from her mother.

‘Please, Eloise. Act your age, it is not becoming of a lady.’

Her mother rarely demanded her to act like anything. So most times when her mother begged her to behave in a certain fashion, she obliged, but this time, she couldn’t agree.

‘Apparently this very unbecoming lady still manages to amass enough suitors. So I’m fine, mother.’

‘Suitors don’t know you properly. You dance a couple of times with them, speak in public settings about the weather and music, you don’t really know who you’re dealing with. You haven’t allowed a single suitor to court you yet’, Colin pointed out, dropping his playfulness for a second. He had become quite jaded after the Marina ordeal, and didn’t much trust the façade people put up in public anymore.

‘What are you insinuating?’ Eloise demanded to know.

‘During a courtship, they would get to know you better’, he explained. ‘And if they find out about your true  meddlesome pedantic persona, they might yet run.’

‘Might?’ Benedict grinned.

‘Will, if it’s early enough to run without scandal’, Colin grinned.

‘Boys’, Violet Bridgerton said, raising her eyebrows at them in a stern manner.

They lowered their eyes to their plate and started eating.

‘It’s too late to change your costume, Eloise’, her mother said.

‘I know. And I don’t want to change it. I’m just… annoyed.’

‘It will still look beautiful. Whether people know what you’re going as or don’t, doesn’t change that it is a beautiful costume.’

‘Yes’, Eloise sighed. ‘I know.’

‘I have half a mind to forbid Whistledown during breakfast, it is always cause for gossip and frustrations and can put everyone in a bad mood for the rest of the day, before the clock has even struck ten in the morning’, her mother sighed.

‘That wouldn’t work’, Benedict pointed out.

Her mother arched another eyebrow.

‘Hyacinth wakes up early on Whistledown column days just to hunt down the servant who fetched it. She reads it before half of us are out of bed. Good luck intercepting her. And once she knows, it will be unfair to forbid us from reading it until after breakfast.’

‘She does?’

Lady Bridgerton looked at her youngest child, innocently smiling at hers from the other side of the table.

‘Why am I not surprised?’ Violet Bridgerton sighed.

‘Because you’ve raised us and live with us every day?’ Francesca asked.

Her mother gave the third daughter a look that made the daughter simultaneously blush and grin.

‘Alright, if you’ll excuse me. I will spend my morning occupied with something else than a gossip column. I advise all of you to do the same’, Violet informed her children.

Eloise did decide to do something useful with her day. Not much later she had seated herself behind her desk. On the edge of her desk lay a collection of eight envelopes tied together with a purple ribbon. The ninth letter was currently laying in front of her.

This would be her ninth letter of response. It was not a lot, but it was still a lot more than was proper between a married man and an unmarried lady. But no one else knew, not even Lady Whistledown. In truth she had not planned to make their letters a permanent thing but it had just happened. He was the first one who’d taken her interests seriously. The only one who didn’t complain when she ranted about her passions. If he just so happened to be a married man, so be it.

She’d read the ninth letter over ten times, but still hadn’t managed to come up with a response, which was odd, given that she usually answered his letters within five days. Sir Phillip was the one who took weeks to answer. She could understand that. He had a wife, two young children and a house to run, she was a low priority. She also knew it probably took him a while to come up with responses. In real life he was awkward, prone to long stretches of silences and short sentences, in his letters he appeared eloquent and charming. It was clear to Eloise he put a lot of thought and effort in his letters. It was almost sad how he clearly possessed charm and wit but couldn’t channel it in person.

She looked at the two sheets of paper in front of her, and turned one over between her fingers. It was the longest letter he’d ever written to her, he usually kept himself to one side of a sheet. Unfortunately, she barely understood a sentence of his two page letter.

In March she had convinced Daphne to host a ladies book discussion event. Scholars and writers had been invited to attend, including the one whose names just so happened to be written on the inside of Eloise’s books. She’d arrived with a whole five pages of questions. 

She had been satisfied with the answers for a while. Some of her suspicions and thoughts had been confirmed, some had been rebuked, and some answers had pointed out things she had not considered before. She reviewed the books, thoughts and theories from these new perspectives… But it was not long before she wanted her other questions answered…

She also took issue with some of the answers. To her never-ending frustration though, she probably wasn’t going to get satisfactory answers to everything. Ever. In the words of the very tired professor: “Literary sciences are about exchanging thoughts. Some of these writers died centuries ago and they did not leave behind motivational letters about what their works exactly meant. We can theorize, we can work based on what we know, but in the end we can disagree. And some questions, Miss Bridgerton, will never get answers.”

Eloise had started writing to Sir Phillip. She didn’t know who else to write to. She’d driven her family and Penelope to insanity during the two weeks after the book event so she couldn’t bother them further.

Perhaps it was unfair to bother him with it. After all, she knew he did not care for literature the way she did, but he was the one who had encouraged her studies and had provided her the access. And now he had to suffer the monster she had become because of it.

The final letter was five pages, describing how she’d gotten answers, why she was still unsatisfied, how she was still hungry for knowledge, and how she took issue with a great many points of literary theories. She also still vehemently disagreed on what constituted as a ‘great’ book. Then she had put her angry rant in an envelope, and sent it to Sir Phillip.

The answer had taken weeks. It had taken so long Eloise was certain that she wouldn’t get an answer at all. She had started feeling so guilty for the long pointless letter she had even gone out and bought him a book, sending it to him as a silent apology and as a means to change the topic.

She’d noticed it while perusing a bookshop for a new novel that might catch her fancy. The book was new, published by an Oxford professor in that very year, and although displayed on a pretty wooden holder, it was tucked away in the far back of the shop in the science section where barely a soul ever ventured. The title read: “Seeds of Change: how to transform staple kitchen garden plants into interesting crossbreeds”.

She didn’t know the next best thing about botany. For all she knew it could be the most rudimentary book ever, only repeating things that had been discovered five hundred years ago. But she hoped it wasn’t. She hoped it actually contained some new information. London was the place to buy new books, she was pretty sure it would be another two decades at least before the book would arrive at the rural one-wall-bookshop near Romney Hall. She was actually kind of pleased with herself for spotting the book. He’d sent her a stack of books and journals as tall as her forearm a year ago, and last summer she’d taken along a whole library shelf of precious study material.

Then, in May, she had finally received an answer. It had not been what she expected.

To her five pages of fury, confusion and philosophising he had answered with exactly one sentence: “Have you tried writing a book yourself?”

Then, underneath that sentence, he had thanked her for the book and sent her back two pages of remarks upon the book in what she was sure was a mockery of her original letter.

At first, Eloise had been unsatisfied with the letter. She was insulted he had replied to such a long letter with one sentence while she had taken the effort to write so much down. She also felt as if she had just gotten lectured. “Have you tried writing a book yourself?”, as if one could only critique when one tried something themselves.

Yet she became pleased after a while. Since he asked he clearly thought her capable of doing it. Perhaps he thought she could even do better, and write a book that was satisfactory to her when other authors failed to do so. It was not as if she hadn’t given the notion thought before. She had penned down everything that popped up in her head for years.

For a while she did not know what to respond. He knew she hadn’t tried writing before. Telling him she would try, would be too much like a promise she didn’t know she’d be able to keep. He could keep asking her about her writing then, and that was too much pressure.

So she couldn’t reply to his question, and she didn’t know enough about herbology to answer to his rant. She also had no wish to answer his rant, since he had not responded to her long letter.

She unscrewed the cap of her ink jar, dapped her pen into it… and sighed.

‘One day, I’ll pay you back for robbing me of words. I normally always know what to say, you infuriating man’, she sighed.

And then a thought struck, so sudden, yet so genius. She could give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Have you tried creating a crossbreed yourself?” she wrote.

If he could lock himself away in his greenhouse for so long, he might as well try to achieve actual science in it.

But because she was Eloise Bridgerton and she wasn’t as brief as him, she added another phrase saying she was glad he liked it underneath before signing off with her name.

Once the letter was sent, she started packing again. Most of her siblings let the servants take care of all the packing, and while Eloise was fine with them handling her clothes, she wanted to take care of her own more important belongings. She liked her own system of packing and ordering best.

So she unscrewed and stored away her telescope. She put away her sketches of historical events, her globe and her books. And the letters of Sir Phillip? Those she put in a small coffre she once got from her father. He’d given it to her with the intention of putting jewellery in it, but it was the only thing she had that she could close with lock and key, so in went the letters. She would be dead if anyone uncovered them.

It took the entire remainder of the day. When she went to bed at night, her room felt empty, derived of personality. She traced her fingers across the pale blue wallpaper, and even buried her nose in the pastel orange curtains. She’d miss her bedroom. Back when she was seventeen, she’d wondered how a woman could just leave behind her home and family to marry a stranger. She couldn’t imagine adjusting to a household without her family in it, and memories in every room. She guessed she’d soon find out.

The ballroom looked magnificent. Unshed tears burned in her eyes when she walked through the ballroom before the guests arrived. It would be the last time her mother would ever host a ball here. The last time Eloise would walk through this room as its resident and one of the ladies of the house. It was Anthony’s right to move in but Eloise would miss it more than she’d care to admit. She didn’t like to be sentimental. It didn’t fit her outside persona. But the truth was that she had a very small heart and loved her home with her whole heart. She hated that it had to change.

In 1813 she’d lost the sister she was closest to. Daphne was still the sister she talked to most, but it just wasn’t the same dynamic anymore.

In 1814 she’d lost Anthony to matrimony.

And now in 1815 she’d lose her home. Again. Just like she’d lost her home at Aubrey Hall when her mother decided to switch to London permanently.

Noise from near the front door drew Eloise’s attention. Her sister Daphne rushed in, closely followed by her mother.

‘Oh my heart, mother, it is truly beautiful. You have done magnificently’, her ever so polite sister complimented her mother.

Violet Bridgerton’s smile was wobbly but genuine as she looked around the house, a silent tear rolling from the corner of her eye.

She hadn’t been able to stay in Aubrey due to the memories, this house had held just the right amount of memories for her to enjoy living in it. But now she would be forced to move to a house where her husband had never set foot, where there were no bittersweet memories in every corner. And somehow, Eloise believed that must be even worse.

Daphne soon teared up as well, clutching her mother. Eloise looked away, for once not wanting to make a joke.

‘Eloise,’ Daphne said, scraping her throat and dabbing her eyes with a prettily embroidered tissue, ‘you look lovely.’

She didn’t, she wore chainmail that drowned out any feminine curve she might have otherwise had and her hair was loose so it looked medieval and wild, but the compliment was appreciated.

‘And you look like an angel’, Eloise complimented. It was true, her sister even had a pair of wings on her back.

‘You both look absolutely gorgeous’, Violet Bridgerton smiled before her eyes moved to the ballroom and the opened doors leading to the terrace and the garden.

‘I’ll miss this place’, Eloise admitted.

‘So will I, dear’, Violet agreed.

‘You were bound to move anyway’, Daphne shrugged. ‘Whether it was a marriage or mother moving. None of us, except for Anthony, could have ever staid here. It is his birth privilege.’

Eloise was almost ready to explode at Daphne for insinuating that Eloise had to marry, before she understood that Daphne was not necessarily expressing approval of the way the order of birth affected them. Daphne merely accepted the way things were.

‘Lucky him’, Eloise smirked.

How easy things could be if you could just look at reality and accept it.

‘Eloise, I went over the guest list today and saw that Mr. Romany is coming tonight’, her mother said in a tone that had Eloise’s eyes rolling before she was finished speaking.

‘Lucky him that he managed to snatch an invitation for our grand farewell party. If he has any taste, he’ll enjoy himself.’

‘You have been dancing with him the entire season.’

‘Oh one dance at a ball when I happen to have a vacancy in my book here and there does not mean I want to marry him.’

‘What does it mean then?’ Daphne asked with a smile.

‘That I enjoy dancing and he’s not horrible at it!’

‘Perhaps he’s not horrible at all?’ her sister suggested.

‘He’s not awful, I grant you, unlike Sir Greene but…’

‘But what?’

‘I still know virtually nothing about him. He has no distinct personality, no passions, no occupation… We only ever talk about bland stuff like the weather.’

‘Perhaps if you would talk to him, have an actual conversation instead of talking?’ her mother suggested.

‘I tried twice, he came to call after a ball once, and approached me as we promenaded in the park a month ago as well. He’s as bland as mashed potatoes. And he also doesn’t know me. I’m quite aware that I’m a bit –‘

‘Trying?’ Daphne offered with a sweet smile.

‘Yes. And he doesn’t know me at all. He’ll be horrified and hate me. And I’ll hate him for not appreciating me or listening to me. And we’ll be miserable. If he has any brains… he’ll enjoy his evening without ruining it for the both of us.’

Mr. Romany did not have a brain. In fact, there wasn’t a single way he could have made her more miserable, and the proposal more annoying.

Eloise had been talking to Penelope and her sisters when her brother Benedict arrived, presumably to fulfil his duties as resident man of the house to dance with some of the wallflowers. However, just like virtually every other man in the room, his head turned when she arrived, the woman in silver.

Eloise had never seen her brother forget his whereabouts or manners in public. It was like the Featheringtons had just stopped existing for him. Without a further word he’d turned his back on them, shoved a bunch of gawking men aside, and led away the woman in silver.

Eloise’s curiosity was piqued. Who was this woman? Where did she come from? What was Benedict going to do with her?

‘No worries Pen, I’ll make it up to you. That was a move befitting a rogue, not a Bridgerton’, Eloise swore.

She looked across the ballroom, and spotted her brother Colin not so far away. She waved him over.

‘Colin –‘

‘Mother already sent me. Miss Penelope, would you do me the honour?’

‘Oh I, well, of course’, her friend stammered, placing her hand in Colin’s.

Satisfied with the conclusion, Eloise waved her friend and Colin off before marching towards the door through which her other brother had disappeared.

‘Miss Bridgerton’, a low voice called.

Not important. She had a mystery to solve.

‘Ahem, Miss Bridgerton.’

She was almost at the door.

‘Miss Eloise’, the voice said, and now there was a hand on her arm, right at the door.

‘Mr. Romany’, Eloise greeted, plastering a fake smile on her face. ‘What a pleasure.’

‘It is. Indeed it is. Miss Bridgerton, I wondered if we could talk in private perhaps?’

‘Mr. Romany’, Eloise sighed. It was going to happen.

‘I would not usually choose a moment like this but you are quite hard to catch. You are rarely at home and at parties and soirees you are always so occupied with others.’

That was deliberate, Eloise thought.

‘In the hall perhaps?’ Eloise suggested.

Luckily, he agreed.

And finally, finally, she got a glimpse of her brother and the woman in silver.

They appeared wholly absorbed in one another. And they stood awfully close together too. Had her brother no mind for the fact that this was a crowded party? She tried to get a closer look of the woman. How could her face not ring a bell? Her mother had personally invited everyone. Eloise had to know her.

‘Miss Bridgerton, this past season, you have been a point of joy for me at every party you attended’, Sir Romany said, moving to stand right in her line of sight, obscuring the woman from view.

She tried not to look agitated.

‘I had hoped that in the future, you could be a point of joy for me at every party I attend. By my side. As my wife.’

‘Mr. Romany, this is entirely unexpected. We barely talked.’

Heavens, her brother did not even notice her, and she was clearly in distress. She was going to have to revoke her brother’s gentleman status.

‘We talked enough for me to be certain of it.’

So he was going to play this game? Fine.

‘How?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘How are you certain of it, that we match?’

Mr. Romany frowned at her like she’d sprung a second head.

‘You are a fine young woman of good breeding. And I can provide for you. I have three homes, sixteen horses, forty-two hounds, you’ll want for nothing.’

Really? They matched because he had money and she’d been born in the right household? He just scored a whopping zero points for romance and zero points for understand her question. She wanted a lot more than money from a husband. One could have enough horses to supply a whole army, but that wouldn’t make a marriage happy. If he couldn’t understand a marriage needed more than wealth to work, he’d never understand her.

‘Mr. Romany, I do not doubt that you are a good man who can provide for me –‘

‘I – ‘

‘But I cannot accept your offer. We are too different, I just realized that. I have no doubt you can make a woman very happy, but it isn’t me.’

He deflated.

‘I admit my ego is bruised.’

‘I apologize.’

‘At least my mother will now stop pestering me. My sister can try her hand at winning over one of your brothers. It’s my mother who wanted to add a Bridgerton to our family to boost our standing.’

Eloise let out a laugh.

‘Why me instead of my sister?’

‘I’m twenty-eight. I don’t fall for children.’

Eloise was only a year older, and in any other situation she would defend her sister, but she understood where he came from. There was a world of difference between the confident way Eloise carried herself, outspoken and loud, versus Francesca’s shy reserved nature. It was easy to consider the one most confident in her own skin as the more mature one.

‘Good luck Mr. Romany.’

‘And you, Miss Bridgerton.’

Alright, perhaps the proposal hadn’t been completely awful. It was nowhere near as bad as the previous one, but afterwards she’d ended up in an empty hallway with her brother nowhere in sight.

By the end of the night, Eloise wasn’t the least bit closer to solving the mystery. In fact, she feared the mystery would never be solved. The woman in silver had bolted on the witching hour – because of course – leaving her brother an empty shell for the remainder of the night.

She found him on her old swing, smoking away.

She sank down in the wet grass beside him, not caring about her costume.

Benedict wordlessly offered her one and lit it.

It was near three in the morning. The final guests were going home. The sounds of servants carrying away the refreshment table, glass breaking, and conversation floated to them through the opened ballroom doors.

Eloise looked back at Benedict. Usually she was the tense one, and he was the relaxed one who just had a smoke before bed without a care. She’d never seen her brother like this. If he noticed she was staring, he ignored it, blowing out a cloud of white smoke.

‘Do you think it’s possible to miss someone you’ve never really known?’ he asked after a while.

Another fallen soldier. All her siblings seemingly fell for another with no control over it whatsoever. Sometimes Eloise feared the moment she’d fall in love. And sometimes she feared she would never fall in love and get to experience that deep connection Daphne and Anthony had with their spouses.

She thought of Hyacinth and Gregory who didn’t remember their father.

She thought about the frustration that sometimes overcame her after another night of talking to men who did not understand or appreciate her, her heart missing someone to be valued by even though she’d never met them.

‘Yeah’, she admitted before inhaling deeply, letting the smoke go with a sigh.

Benedict nodded. A painful smile carved itself into his face. More of a grimace really, she decided as she observed him.

‘Nice.’

‘Let me know if you find a cure’, Eloise quipped.

Benedict nodded again. He chewed on his cheek, looking at the house.

‘I’ll miss it here’, he declared, dropping the topic of the woman in silver.

‘Me too. A lot.’

Eloise inhaled deeply, sucking in the dry woody taste of the tobacco. She observed the beautiful white house, almost all its windows dark by now.

‘You practically grew up here’, Benedict pointed out.

‘The children did grow up here’, she said.

This was their home. She knew every room, and had fond memories in each of them. She knew which floorboards creaked, and could even find some faint drawings on the wall papers that had not been able to be washed off completely by the servants. Wherever they moved to now would be devoid of memories. It would take years to get to know it as well as this house. And even if she got to know it, it would never be as meaningful to her as the place where she currently lived. It was a house for a bunch of adults just waiting to marry, not a family home.

‘I’ll miss living here. I’m sure I could convince Kate to let me stay, much to Anthony’s exasperation, but it wouldn’t be the same’, Eloise continued.

The corners of Benedict’s mouth pulled up.

‘Nowhere will be the same’, he admitted.

‘It has not even been the same the past two years, ever since Daphne left. But it’s still the last house where we all lived together. Christ, I barely got used to being without Daphne, then without Anthony. And now we’ll lose you, even without a marriage. And the house.’

‘Which one will you miss more, me or the house?’ he teased.

He laughed, bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

‘It was time for me, Eloise.’

‘But what will I do without our midnight garden talks as we sit on the swing?’ she asked.

Benedict shot her an apologetic smile. She could see in his eyes that he regretted that. He knew what they meant to Eloise. And they also meant something to him. Eloise, of all siblings, had understood him most. The overlooked sister and the overlooked brother.

‘You could have a swing installed at the new house’, he suggested.

‘Promise to come by at least a couple of times to join me for a smoke?’ she begged. ‘Come on, you know I can’t even buy tobacco.’

‘I promise’, he laughed.

‘Why do you want to leave?’

‘I’m almost thirty, it’s time I have my own private life. Isn’t it?’

‘A woman could turn forty and she still wouldn’t be allowed a private household’, Eloise smirked. She knew such a comment would vex him.

He let out a puff of smoke, throwing her a tired look.

‘And because women aren’t allowed, I shouldn’t either?’

‘No. I was just teasing you. It would be useless to not use the freedom your sex allows you.’

Benedict inhaled, and let out a breath of smoke as he observed her.

‘Would you want it then, to live alone?’ he asked.

Eloise chewed on her cheek, giving it some thought.

Benedict dropped the remainders of his cigarette, putting them out with his boot before he turned around and around on the swing, until it was all wound up. And then he let himself twist the other way.

‘No. I don’t think I do. I dislike not having the same options as men, but I would not enjoy living in a big empty house with no one to keep me company. I’ve grown up in such a large household, I don’t think I could stand silence.’

‘That’s why a bachelor is rarely at home’, he teased.

‘You know that doesn’t make sense, right? If you decide to live alone for independence, solitude and privacy, then why spend every moment away seeking company?’

‘I believe it’s the option of privacy, when one wants it. At least for me. And I will not have to hide all my affairs from mother.’

‘Affairs?’

‘All kinds of affairs.’

Eloise grinned, and he gave her a push.

‘Get your head out of the gutter, Eloise. It isn’t becoming of a lady.’

‘Moping isn’t becoming of you, but I’m not throwing stones.’

‘You just did.’

‘Because you started’, she said, sticking out her tongue at him.

Chapter Text

1816, somewhere in the county of Gloustershire.

“Few things surprise this author. London, despite its pleasures, can sometimes be a bit boring, which is why we are all so obsessed with scandals. Today I do not write of a scandal, but that does not mean it is any less surprising. A Featherington managed to get engaged!

Miss Philipa Featherington is to marry Mr. Finch. Theirs has been a union long in the making. This author has it on good authority that Mr. Finch was interested in the middle Featherington since 1813. However, the untimely dead of Mr. Featherington pushed the young woman into a year long mourning period. Perhaps the young Miss was still not over the death of her dear pappa last year and wished to wait yet another year before finally entering matrimony. Now we know our favourite writer of “Pride & Prejudice” has Some Thoughts on a prolonged engagement but we will see what the future brings.

1816 has so far been quite unremarkable. Politics have been boring since Napoleon was defeated, and the marriage market is boring because no notorious bachelor has decided to give up his bachelorhood, and no special diamond debutante is navigating her way through her first season.

Perhaps today’s youth is more interested in reading the many recently published novels such as Emma, Glenarvon, and the newest Walter Scott than they are in romance. If one is called Eloise Bridgerton, one might even be more interested in writing about romance than living it. The young lady’s book “Hestia” showed she had double the amount of the “Emma” author’s wit and sharp societal critique, and less than half of her subtlety. Her book would without a doubt have been the most shocking book in years, were it not that Caroline Lambe published her Glenarvon which is all but an outright caricature of Lord Byron and his fashionable set. This Author cannot express surprise at the modern notions in “Hestia”, which is filled with clever women, arrogant men and hubris. Miss Bridgerton has by now cemented her position as one of London’s most ruthless and ambitious women.

As Miss Bridgerton is writing yet another book, and traveling the country for a book tour, This Author does not expect we will hear of an engagement anytime soon. It appears the fifth Bridgerton takes after her brothers more than her sisters.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 15 MAY 1816”

Eloise, Penelope and Lady Bridgerton had been trekking through the country for three weeks now, combining sightseeing with presentations in local literary circles. Both young women had been out for over three years now, their reputations had been cemented, and they would not suddenly receive new suitors. All new bachelors on the market were younger than them, and all old bachelors they had met already. So both their mothers had agreed that they could miss some months of the London season.

They had traversed Kent, Greater London, Berkshire, Wiltshire and Somerset and had now ended up in Gloucestershire just in time for Philipa’s wedding.

The wedding would take place at Mr. Finch’s parish church and then a wedding breakfast would be held on his family estate. Followed by a walk around the grounds, an afternoon in the family maze, and a dinner. It was not at all the usual wedding, but the Finches who spent the largest part of their year in their smaller London home, rarely had the opportunity to entertain guests. So they had used the wedding to organize their first ever country party. Most guests were allowed to stay for three days, a small ball taking place on the day after the wedding and a farewell picnic – if the weather allowed it – on the third. After those three days the guests would return home or, in Eloise and Penelope’s case, go to the Crane estate for another visit. Her mother had been less than thrilled.

‘What cousin’s of Penelope do you want to stay at dear? You’ve mentioned it a couple of times throughout the years now, but I don’t believe you ever mentioned a name. Or I must have forgotten.’

‘It’s uhm… Marina Crane.’

‘Marina? As in…’

Eloise had nodded, and then her mother had frowned and shaken her head.

‘Eloise, I cannot go. That girl almost ruined and trapped Colin. She lied to all of us and broke his heart. I could overlook a certain reputation, but I cannot overlook it when someone hurts my children. Going would mean I forgive her. And I can’t.’

Eloise had expected it. Much as she understood Marina’s motivations, she knew that her actions could not be excused. Nor could her mother taint the Bridgerton name by openly visiting and thus forgiving such behaviour.

And so her mother arranged for her and Lady Featherington to visit an old friend, while Eloise and Penelope visited the Cranes.

‘My my, I did not think a romance author would genuinely avoid love’, a male voice laughed.

Eloise turned around, unable to refrain from smiling.

‘Miss Bridgerton’, Lord Wescott nodded.

‘Lord Wescott, good day.’

‘Any reason why you stood right at the back as the bouquet was thrown?’ he enquired.

‘Practical considerations, of course. I believe I have a great many stories left in me. All women of my class are expected to cease their professions the second they marry’, she smirked.

‘Did not Lady Caroline Lambe write Glenarvon? And I heard she is planning to write another. She is married. As are the ladies who write moralistic children’s books.’

‘Yes, and what do we call her and the duchess of Devonshire who also took up certain causes and patronages during her marriage?’ Eloise pushed.

He laughed, nodding in agreement.

‘Not the most charming things.’

‘And what do we think of her husband for still supporting her despite her actions?’

Lord Wescott laughed anew.

‘Alright, I admit defeat. You have proven your point. We do not talk well of them.’

Eloise, who was not the better person, couldn’t help but smile victoriously.

‘And so you wish to deny yourself matrimony to achieve your goals.’

‘Men can wait with marriage to achieve their goals, why can’t women?’

Lord Wescott pulled out a flask, taking a sip as he watched the first people starting to leave the church grounds to head over to the Finch estate.

Eloise tried not to look too judging, but it was ten in the morning!

‘Ah, but see, I can’t imagine a man who would not gladly drop his occupation when offered the opportunity.’

Eloise could not fathom wanting to stop running and reforming the country, if she was able to do it… but then again, men were stupid ungrateful creatures who did not appreciate the opportunities they were given. However, she remained silent.

‘And eh, not to be crass Miss Bridgerton, but men are not the ones carrying babies. It’s a fact older women aren’t as suited for it as younger ones. The older a woman gets, the more chances of complications and death. Men don’t expire.’

Eloise swallowed away the bile rising in her throat. So that was all women were good for? She was not just a baby-making machine with an expiration date. And she refused to sit around doing nothing her whole life, marrying young to someone she did not care for just to pump out enough children. She was more than that. And she wanted more than that too.

‘We all expire in the end, Lord Wescott. Over there is a graveyard, if you take a look around you’ll see there’s just as many dead men as dead women.’

He laughed again, clapping her on the back. Her shoulders tensed. He’d been tactile all season. And the one before as well. He’d always demanded a dance from her whenever they were at a ball together. He’d even winked at her at a musicale once. But she had not taken it personally, Lord Wescott flirted with a great many girls. She could by now, however, never feel safe around a bachelor unless she was on the dancefloor. She was certain no one had ever been proposed to while dancing.

‘Has anyone ever told you how amusing you are, Miss Bridgerton?’ he asked.

‘No, but I have been called annoying a lot.’

‘Annoying is what people who feel hurt by jokes call people who are amusing. I do not take offence so easily.’

‘How magnanimous’, Eloise decided.

He happily ignored Eloise’s sarcasm.

‘Should we follow suit?’ he asked instead, nodding at the train of wedding guests.

‘Well, personally, I’m quite hungry. So yes, let’s’, she decided. But she did hope she’d soon spot Penelope or her mother.

Lord Wescott made sure his hat was well attached to his head before starting to march, proudly tapping his decorative cane with every step he took.

Eloise determined to fashion a character after him, it was almost too easy. What would she do with him? Would he be a suitor? The exasperating husband of a married woman? The rogue in the background?

Ah, perhaps it would be entertaining to make him the oldest brother who gambled and drank his way to an early grave, leaving a ruefully unprepared younger sibling behind. A brother would have to take over the reigns of the estate, and a sister would have to quickly marry so she could keep the estate running. Perhaps the latter option was more attractive, then she could show an estate that wasn’t entailed being successfully lead by a woman. Perhaps it would push people to rethink the idea that women were not capable of inheriting and ruling an estate. That would be lovely, then she could critique drunks and the inheritance system with one stone. It would also mean she had a wealthy heiress with a lot of freedom as a protagonist. She could add in many men trying to tell her what to do, because that was what men did. And then she could sprinkle in some Greek mythology stories about how women were perfect to rule a home and were very resourceful while pursuing their goals.

‘I believe this is the first wedding I attend in five years in which the bride and groom actually liked each other’, Lord Wescott remarked, oblivious to the literary death Eloise had just planned for him.

‘Hm?’

‘Yes, it is rather queer isn’t it. They all vow to love yet most never do. Perhaps we should drop that part. Few people marry for love after all.’

‘Or perhaps people should try to live up to their vows and either marry for love or try to love their spouse after their marriage?’ Eloise suggested.

He let out a laugh.

‘A lovely idea, my dear, but that’s not likely to happen. Marriage is just a matter of good business for most of our kind. But it’s endearing to see you have such faith in it.’

Now Eloise wanted a drink, it was too early in the morning for a nihilist to ruin one of the few things she still believed in. Eloise was not a patient woman, or a kind one. She had already woken up much earlier than she liked, she was hungry, and now she was annoyed. She would not hold back anymore.

‘I simply believe people shouldn’t be forced to enter into a marriage for practical reasons. It’s not about having faith, it’s about wanting things to be right. And it is not right two people have to live together for their entire life if they have no love and respect for each other. Society should not enforce marriage as an end destination. Practicality and sense of reality be damned, why should we just accept the way things are?’

‘There there,’ Lord Wescott chuckled, retrieving his flask again and taking another sip, ‘revolution isn’t Britain’s forte, might I suggest hopping across the pond for that?’

Eloise inhaled deeply.

‘Young ladies these days really are something formidable, aren’t they, Sir Crane?’ Lord Wescott asked.

Ice ran through Eloise’s veins as she followed Lord Wescott’s line of sight to right behind them, where Sir Phillip was apparently walking all by himself. Some feet behind him she spotted Marina walking arm in arm with Penelope.

‘They are’, Sir Phillip quietly agreed, voice devoid of sarcasm.

Eloise could just die. Had he overheard her speech?

‘Sir Phillip, I didn’t mean –‘

‘I’m sure you did. I cannot fault you. In an ideal world, people are free to choose. But until we are free to choose, and are not judged for our choices by society, we should be practical’, Sir Phillip said.

Eloise bit her tongue.

‘My thoughts exactly, fellow. See, Miss Bridgerton. One can dream but one’s got to keep one’s feet on the ground’, Lord Wescott decided.

If Eloise had a single cautious bone in her body, she would have nodded, thus accepting Sir Phillip’s and Marina’s choice. However, Eloise chose to defend The Cause instead.

‘I understand that. But I just wonder how we can ever create change, if we keep accepting the way the world works and change nothing about our behaviour and morals?’

‘One should not risk being ostracized just to make a point. It is normal people wait for the rules to change before changing their behaviour. We can take into account the rules of society, and once the rules change we can act differently’, Sir Phillip decided in what had to be his most eloquent oral speech yet.

Eloise wanted to protest, after all, divorce was allowed but still everyone who tried out that option got ostracized because of public opinion. Instead, she took a deep breath, and nodded. She was learning that it was sometimes better to shut up, but it was a very hard learning process with a lot of ups and downs.

Eloise did not believe she had seen Marina smile so much in her entire acquaintance as she had that day. Which was odd, considering her husband was even more quiet and withdrawn than usual. In large companies he all but blended into the background.

‘How is your book full already?’ Penelope laughed, taking Marina’s book and going over the names. ‘You have more names now than you did when you were a debutante.’

Marina took her ball book back from Penelope’s hands. ‘Well, I certainly deserve it. I haven’t danced in years. I need to make up for that.’

Marina looked beautiful in a red gown, her dark curls pinned high on her head, spilling over the sides of her large sparkling tiara.

‘You do’, Penelope agreed.

‘How many spots do you have left, Eloise?’ Marina asked, taking some pleasure in how desired she was.

‘Some four spots left’, Eloise shrugged. ‘Suits me just fine, then I have some time to drink and catch my breath.’

‘Excuse me, Miss Bridgerton, but did I just hear you had some vacancies?’ Lord Wescott asked.

‘You did indeed’, Eloise replied, turning towards Lord Wescott.

‘Might I request you save two spots for me?’

‘Two, my lord? How bold.’

‘I am bold’, he smirked, tipping his glass at her before downing it whole. His eyes were already glazed from drinking.

‘Which ones?’ Eloise asked.

He frowned, snagging her book from her hands. ‘The fourth and the ninth one’, he decided, shoving it back in her hands.

‘Alright, Lord Wescott.’

‘I’m already looking forward to it’, he said, winking before he left.

‘Heavens’, Penelope breathed.

‘I do sure hope he won’t drink any more until your dances with him, or you’ll quadrille your way into the wall’, Marina joked.

‘He’s a decent dancer, I’ll be fine.’

‘Will you? Did you see how he winked at you?’ Penelope asked.

‘He is single, is he not?’ Marina asked. Penelope nodded.

‘But you don’t really admire him’, Penelope said.

‘I love dancing, I don’t care who it’s with. Picking a dancing partner isn’t anything like picking a husband’, Eloise shrugged.

And that was that. The first dance started and all ladies were picked up by their partners.

The dances continued and continued, until Eloise found herself in the arms of Lord Wescott for the second time. His smile was even wider than during their first time.

‘We meet again, Miss Eloise.’

‘Miss Bridgerton’, she stressed. She loathed the name, she still believed it suited her ill, but in instances like these she was glad she could use it. She did not want to be addressed by her Christian name by someone she did not care about.

‘So formal, so cold’, he smirked.

‘Actually, I feel rather warm’, she joked.

‘Oh Miss Bridgerton, so do I’, he grinned, his hand grabbing hers just a bit too tightly as they circled each other. Eloise swallowed, cotilloning into the wall would actually be preferable to this.

‘Perhaps we should cool down in the garden for a while? Catch some fresh air,’ he suggested, voice dropping.

Oh no, not again.

Before she could answer, he had decided for her, whisking her away.

‘Vastly superior, isn’t it?’ he asked, letting out a loud breath.

Eloise took a step away from him.

‘Yes. Ahh, I already feel much improved. You can stay here if you like but if you don’t mind I – ‘

He grabbed her wrist with surprising accuracy for someone who had to be down to his fifteenth cup of wine.

‘Now, Miss Bridgerton, we both know that was not the reason why we came outside.’

‘Lord Wescott, I assure you – ‘

‘Don’t act shy, Miss Bridgerton, it does not suit you. I know you’re clever enough to understand. And surely, such a trailblazer like you should not act shocked by someone abandoning decorum.’

Eloise cursed herself. Hiding behind empty pleasantries and propriety wouldn’t work this time.

He pulled her deeper into the garden.

‘I am perfectly capable of walking by myself, my lord’, she protested.

‘But I am perfectly capable of leading.’

Eloise wondered what it would feel like to connect her free fist to his head. Would it hurt him? Would it hurt her? It had been so long since she’d punched someone.

Eloise tried to pull her wrist free.

‘Oh, Miss Bridgerton, you are never boring, are you? I admit I like fire in a woman.’

He stumbled even though there wasn’t a thing obscuring his path in the dark.

Drunk, Eloise decided.

She had to stop arguing and start trying to flee. She was alone in a garden with a bachelor. And a party was going on inside. Anyone might walk to the terrace and spot them walking through the gardens alone.

‘Lord Wescott. Please. I demand you unhand me. This is no proper conduct.’

‘I thought you didn’t care for the rules of society.’

‘I don’t, but as we agreed this morning we need to act according to society’s rules as long as they are in place. At  present the rules dictate a single man and woman are not to interact unchaperoned lest the lady’s reputation is tarnished. You know perfectly well that if we are seen, we need to wed or there would be a scandal.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing’, he laughed. ‘Miss Bridgerton, I took you here to propose to you. Marriage was the plan.’

‘I do not agree to a proposal that includes forcing a woman into marriage. Then it’s not a proposal to a woman but an obligation forced upon a woman.’

‘The garden is empty.’

‘It might not be. Gardens have been thought to be empty before.’ Her brother Anthony had made that mistake once. He was married now.

‘Miss Bridgerton.’

‘Lord Wescott I am not joking.’

‘No, you look much prettier when you’re joking.’

Eloise’s fingers wrapped into a fist.

‘Come on, my dear, Miss Eloise – ‘

‘Is there a problem, Miss Bridgerton?’ a low voice asked.

The fine hairs on Eloise’s arms rose. The voice sounded angry.

‘Actually, yes, there is a problem’, she decided, looking Lord Wescott into the eye.

‘There isn’t’, he said, voice turning combative as he stumbled towards her and slung his arm around her neck. His breath stank of wine and scotch.

Sir Phillip appeared from between the trees.

‘And whatever you are doing out here, mind your own business fellow, leave the lady and me to mine.’

‘I will leave you to your business, once I have ascertained the lady agrees with you.’

His gaze sought her out. She was dumbstruck. Why did he overhear her awful conversations twice? She had held so much better conversations, said so many witty and clever things, and now he had to overhear her stumbling like a newborn duck through a conversation with Lord Wescott twice.

Lord Wescott said nothing.

Sir Phillip said nothing.

Eloise blinked, the words registering.

‘Yes. I mean no. Whatever response signifies that I did not agree to be dragged into some dark bushes by him’, she rattled.

‘Good. Unhand her.’

‘Sir Crane. Leave us.’

‘Unhand her.’

Lord Wescott opened his mouth to respond, but before an answer got out a fist slammed into his nose. Wescott immediately released Eloise, clutching his nose, shouting a thousand very colourful profanities.

‘You you – ‘

‘You’ll leave, or we’ll make sure the story gets around to Lady Whistledown’, Eloise said calmly, taking a step closer to Sir Phillip.

Lord Wescott looked up, looking positively murderous – or murdered – with his face covered in blood from his bleeding nose.

‘Foolish girl. I’ll make sure not a single one of my friends ever considers marrying you!’

‘If they’re friends of you, they wouldn’t be my type anyways’, Eloise decided.

He stumbled away.

For a while all Eloise could do was breathe. Now that he was gone, she suddenly felt cold and uneasy, her heart still beating furiously with shock. As the conversation replayed into her head, her fury grew.

‘Miss Bridgerton –‘

‘That contemptible maggot pie! How dared he, the shit scalawag? I told him no in ten different words!’

‘Perhaps he did not have the focus to listen to ten words’, Sir Phillip suggested.

Eloise’s hands were balled, teeth clenched, and she was ready to fume some more … when she realized he was joking.

‘Clearly’, she decided, putting as much rage in the sigh she let out afterwards as she could. To no avail, she could still feel the anger pumping through her veins.

‘Is there really not a single reasonable bachelor on earth? Heavens, I don’t ask a lot of men. Just simple things; treat me nicely, don’t patronize me, and listen to me. And they can’t even manage that. A no is a no. No isn’t a hard word, is it now? Just two letters? It’s virtually one of the first words people learn! No, don’t touch that. No, don’t that. No, don’t put that in your mouth. I believe half of the words said to me in my youth were “No”, and I’m not exaggerating!’ Eloise cried, kicking a tree.

Sir Phillip chuckled.

‘Being a parent, I’m pretty sure “no” constitutes of half the words I tell my children. Including the boy.’

‘See!’ she cried, pulling at her hair in exasperation. ‘There’s no excuse to not understand a no.’

She deflated.

‘I give up. I give up. I’m so tired of men.’

‘Hm’, he merely said.

‘What hmm? You don’t believe me?’ she pushed.

Sir Phillip just stared at her, shrugging.

She raised her eyebrows.

‘It’s a bit soon to give up on an entire sex’, he said when it became clear she expected an answer.

‘Believe me, you have no idea what London bachelors are like.’

‘I am not a fan of London society as a whole. The ton is not what I base my opinions of women and men upon.’

‘But all I see is the ton’, Eloise sighed.

‘Are your brothers not part of the ton?’ he asked.

A rational question. Eloise hated it. She wanted to exaggerate, be dramatic and generalize.

‘I can’t marry them’, she merely said, leaning against the tree.

‘Whistledown’s going to have a field day when she hears of this. Another refused proposal. That’s three now.  At this rate she’ll put me on the eternal spinster shelf by next year, and I’ll forever be known as difficult’, Eloise sighed.

Sir Phillip said nothing.

‘Where did you learn to punch like that, by the way?’

‘I boxed in university’, he said with a careless tone, as if it wasn’t of any importance or significance.

But Eloise’s curiosity snuck through her frustration.

‘Were you any good?’

He looked confused. It was almost as if he did not expect anyone to ask him questions or show an interest in him.

‘Good enough, I suppose’, he answered without elaborating.

Eloise had to resist rolling with her eyes.

Back when she was young she had sometimes thrown a ball at a wall whenever her siblings did not want to play with her. This felt much the same. Sir Phillip didn’t give her a thing to continue conversation on. She kept throwing balls at him, but he never picked them up.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? My brother in law is a proficient boxer, could you take him on?’

‘I don’t know him. Probably not, since I haven’t done any boxing since I married. I was good enough that no one actively sought me out to box against me.’

‘So you were intimidating’, she teased.

Sir Phillip blinked, his face going blank.

‘I suppose you could say that.’

Realizing the topic was going nowhere, Eloise decided to go for the next question that was burning on her lips.

‘What were you doing outside?’

‘Looking at the garden?’ he asked in confusion, as if it was the most logical thing on earth.

The sheer incredulity of his voice made her laugh.

‘Of course you would. And, what is the final verdict?’

‘Amateurs’, he responded quickly.

Eloise grinned. Well, this was clearly the one topic about which he had opinions and answers at the ready.

‘Why?’

‘I can see scar tissue on trees. Bushes and trees have not been trimmed properly. The flowers aren’t well maintained. It’s just a mess really. It doesn’t look bad at first sight but the plants are being severely mistreated.’

‘Dear, we should report that. Those poor plants are being abused.’

‘Are you mocking me?’

‘Me? You? I wouldn’t dare.’

‘You’d dare anything.’

Eloise could only grin.

‘You’re very perceptive’, she decided.

Sir Phillip blinked.

‘I’m usually better with plants than people.’

Eloise rolled her eyes. It was amazing how dry and sarcastic he could be at some turns, while he was completely oblivious at others.

‘Since we can’t help the plants, perhaps we should stop your torment by taking you back inside. Clearly seeing the poor darlings being abused in such a way frustrates you.’

Sir Phillip sighed.

‘Or well, you can do as you like, but I need to get back inside, before someone starts worrying about me. And well, I am getting rather cold.’

He nodded.

Eloise looked at him, waiting for him to decide whether to come with her or not.

‘Yes?’ he asked.

‘Are you coming or not?’

‘I’ll come’, he decided.

‘My’, Eloise muttered as she heard the music. ‘That can’t be.’

‘What can’t be?’ Sir Phillip asked cluelessly.

‘That sounds like the start of a German waltz.’

‘And that is?’

‘Only the most saucy dance possible. The Prince Regent introduced it at court only this year and apparently even Lord Byron is against it.’

‘Surely, affairs and public fights with former mistresses involving broken wineglasses are worse than dances?’ Sir Phillip asked, face etched with confusion.

‘My thoughts exactly. I’ve never danced one. They don’t look hard to do, though.’ Eloise paused at the threshold of the ballroom. The dance floor consisted almost entirely of young people, the elder generation was clearly not very enthusiastic about it.

‘Oh well, I guess I’ll just watch it’, she sighed.

She could hardly believe a dance was worthy of scandal. Not that she’d seen it, but this far the music sounded lovely. Dancers flocked to the floor, assuming a starting position. She spotted Marina between them, her bright dress standing out between the many white frocks.

‘Do you want to dance it?’ Sir Phillip asked.

‘I don’t know whether I’ll like it, but I’d love to try.’

‘That’s a yes’, he pointed out.

Eloise smirked, looking up at him.

‘I guess it is. But what does it matter. Nobody claimed this dance after all.’

‘I could?’

‘You would?’

‘Did I not just say that?’ he asked.

Eloise was about to ask him whether he did not believe it to be scandalous but she realized that: 1) that question might stop him from dancing with her while she wanted to dance, 2) he already said he did not see how a dance could be scandalous and 3) his wife was already on the dancefloor with the unmarried Mr. Raccett.

Eloise put her hand on his arm.

‘Then by all accounts, Sir Phillip, lead the way.’

They slipped in between the other couples.

Finally, a day with a butchered proposal that wouldn’t end on a bad note.

They assumed the posture of the others, Sir Phillip hesitantly placing his hand on her back. Eloise put her arms in fourth position, one arm around his waist and one arm curved above her head. He put his hand in hers above their heads. His arm was stiffer and more angular, but then she assumed he did not have as much experience dancing as she.

Her arms felt strained, she had to reach too much. She took a small step towards him, and felt her arms relax. Physical proximity really was required.

‘Come to think of it, is it not a bad idea to do this if neither of us knows this dance?’ Sir Phillip asked.

A shiver ran down Eloise’s spine. She could feel his breath on her face.

‘Probably. So what?’

They did not have more time to contemplate, the song started for real.

Both of them looked over the other’s shoulder to discover what the other dancers did. Turns out it really was simple. It was just taking one step forward, doing a quarter turn each time. The first step was the roughest, with both of them wanting to take a step forward and thus bumping into each other.

‘You take a step back, I take a step forth’, Eloise ordered.

And with a nod of him, they were off, joining in on the circle of waltzing people near them.

His hand was featherlight on her waist, but it still had an effect on her. No one had touched her for longer than twenty seconds except family members, she felt acutely aware of her body.

The music picked up in pace, turning more cheerful. Eloise looked over Phillip’s shoulder, seeing the others had put their hands on top of their partner’s shoulders. Now the couples took a jump forward, doing half turns with each jump.

Too slow to adapt, another couple bumped into them.

‘Sorry!’ Eloise muttered.

Once again, they first bumped into each other, before agreeing how to move. The pace was so quick Eloise felt her heart soaring to the ceiling. A laugh bubbled up from inside her. she was starting to feel dizzy with all the turns.

She remembered how back when she was a little girl she, Daphne and Francesca would sometimes spin around and around, heads turned towards the ceiling, for minutes on end. Whoever managed to keep pirouetting without stumbling the longest, won. It was never Eloise.

Confident she could not muck up such simple steps she finally looked at the face of her partner, and was surprised to find Phillip smiling as well.

‘I think whoever wants to outlaw these dances is just against fun’, she laughed as they twirled around and around. Her body felt light as air, propelled forward by momentum.

He did not respond, probably too busy with counting his footwork, but she didn’t care. The tune changed again, and now everyone held each other by the elbows, kicking their feet with every step.

Her breath was already straining in her lungs. Would they keep up this pace?

A minute later, the song slowed down. The couples placed their arms on each other’s backs, their arms crossed as they took slow steps forward. The bare flesh on Eloise’s arms tingled where it brushed against his coat sleeves. Although she now managed to catch her breath, her heartbeat did not slow down.

To her left she spotted Marina who was walking in another circle, quietly chatting and laughing with her partner. Since she was looking at her, she was on time to notice the couples turned towards each other again, holding one pair of joined hands above their heads and placing their right hands on the backs of their partners.

They were back to spinning around again. But this time they knew the moves and needn’t look at others. She met his eyes with a smile. They were so very blue, even in the candlelight. Her heart stumbled. Why did it beat so?

Cold and heat fought over her body, leaving her shivering yet hot in his arms. It was the oddest sensation. As they spun, his hand tightened around her waist. Through his glove, her dress, her stays and her chemise she could feel how hot his hand was.

And that’s when she realized just why this dance was considered dangerous. She had never felt this out of depth. All these touches, the ghost of his breath on her face, the intimate abilities to talk… these were all preserved for married couples only.

The song ended, his hands slipping from hers. Eloise felt simultaneously bereft and relieved. She pushed the feelings away.

‘Well, we managed’, she concluded with a laugh.

‘We did’, he agreed, looking just as conflicted as she felt.

It was just a dance. Just a stupid little dance. And he was just a one-off dance partner. She was sure that if this dance wasn’t as taboo, she wouldn’t think about it, or him, twice.

They left the dancefloor, standing to the side to watch the next dance start. Marina did not leave, instead another partner immediately appeared beside her.

'She looks so happy. I never -' he cut himself off.

Eloise looked at him. He shook his head, apparently arguing with himself internally.

'I could not give her this.'

Eloise felt sorry for him. And Marina. It was not really her place to comment.

'Do you try to support her as much as you're able?' she asked when he remained silent.

'I try.'

'Then you cannot be blamed. We can only try to our best ability to make others happy.'

Chapter Text

“This author was surprised to hear of a most juicy tale. At the Featherington wedding party Miss Eloise Bridgerton managed to break the heart of yet another lord. The man could be heard cursing all throughout the night whenever he was not occupying his mouth with a drink. It is not hard to imagine why such a brute and drunk would be refused, if one asks this author.

There was blood on his shirt and cravat and One cannot help but wonder whether Miss Eloise indeed takes after her brothers in every way. Her passion for boxing came as a surprise, at least to This Author. But perhaps it should not be surprising that a lady who so enjoys her independence would protect her own honour.

  LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 30 JUNE 1816”   

‘Ewoise!’ cried Oliver.

‘It’s Eloise’, corrected Amanda with all sass and exasperation a two and a half year old could muster.

Eloise crawled from behind the tree, smiling at the children walking towards her.

‘You found me, congratulations.’

‘Our turn!’ Oliver grinned, his mouth full shining small milk teeth.

‘Alright, I shall stay here and count’, Eloise decided, turning to stand with her face to the tree.

‘One…’

The children giggled as they ran away.

Eloise had disliked the idea of children, the memory of wailing Gregory and Hyacinth had been too fresh when she was seventeen. But now she had three nieces and one nephew calling and she adored spending time with them. She supposed it would be a bit different if she had to live with them every day, listening to every moan and cry and tantrum, but for now she could just enjoy children.

She’d heard the children were little demons to their nurses but aside from some minor mischief like cheating in a game, they were nice to her. Probably because they could approach her on their own volition instead of being forced to part from their parents and into the care of their nurses.

‘Ten…’

She decided to give their small legs some more times and count till twenty.

It would make the game last longer, and she knew Penelope and Marina would appreciate that. Marina fretted for them when they were in the room and couldn’t focus on a conversation.

She could hear footsteps in the grass.

‘You might want to consider hiding because I’ll be ready with counting in nine seconds and then you’ll lose!’ Eloise warned.

‘Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. Twenty!’

She turned around and gasped when she spotted Sir Phillip looking at her with a confused expression.

‘Sir Phillip.’

‘Miss Bridgerton. What are you doing?’

‘Nothing damaging to the tree, I assure you’, she smiled, patting the bark.

‘See? Right as rain.’

‘I see.’

‘I am playing hide and seek. The children are hiding somewhere, waiting for me to find them. You never played?’

‘I… no.’

‘What a boring upbringing you must have had. Tag then?’

‘Neither.’

‘Blind man?’

‘I don’t even know what that is.’

‘Gosh, did you grow up in the army?’

How cold, how boring his youth seemed. She wondered how he could have grown up with a brother without ever playing games.

‘One could say there were some similarities’, he replied.

‘I’d say’, Eloise laughed as she started walking.

‘You’re coming along?’

‘I suppose’, he answered.

‘You have a nice orchard’, she complimented, nodding at the pear trees, apple trees and the fig trees.’

‘Thank you. I’ve installed them some three years ago now.’

‘And they’re already this big?’

‘I bought them big, obviously. Bought some small ones too, those are at the back.’

‘Aha’, she nodded, looking around and straining her ears to hear giggles and shuffles. ‘You did an impressive job. That and the greenhouse.’

She heard none. Clever children. Good hiders. She needed to ask them for tips so she could use them to hide from future suitors.

‘That wasn’t all.’

‘Oh?’

‘Some agricultural things as well.’

‘Hmm, interesting.’

He remained silent as they walked.

‘That was an invitation to tell more about it’, she then said.

‘It was?’

‘Didn’t I just say so? Is it so hard to believe I wish to understand as much as possible?’

He chewed on his cheek.

‘No, I do believe you like knowledge. But it’s just… No one ever asked. Or if I did tell, they stopped listening.’

‘Well I’m me. Not them. Everyone can decide for themselves.’

‘It’s nothing much, just some new agricultural techniques I learned at university that I introduced, and now after a transition period the fields are turning a profit for the first time since . . . well, I don’t know since when. But judging by my father’s ledgers they weren’t making a profit. They were barely staying afloat. Couldn’t compete with the rest of the county.’

‘That’s impressive.’

‘You wrote a book that managed to dominate every teatime conversation from London to Kent. I merely manage my poor grounds.’

‘I don’t believe I could have done such a thing. I merely had to create something good. You had to fix something and make it good.’

‘You are very flattering, Miss Bridgerton.’

‘I’ve been called many things, never that’, Eloise laughed.

‘My brothers will choke and die of laughter if I tell them someone called me that.’

‘Your brothers don’t think well of you?’

‘Oh, they love me. But they believe me the second biggest nuisance on earth.’

‘Who is the first?’

‘Hyacinth, the youngest.’

Eloise froze.

She’d heard something.

She turned around, leaning forward to see better.

Another rustling noise from the right.

She beckoned him and moved forward, sneaky as a cat. Or as sneaky as a cat with floor length skirts could be.

And then she saw a flash of curls.

‘Aha! Oliver! Behind that tree!’ Eloise cried out.

With a lot of muttering he appeared from behind a rather wide tree trunk.

‘Alright, and now your sister.’

Eloise marched on. They must have run in a similar direction. It was most probable. And they couldn’t have gotten that far within some twenty seconds.

She paid careful attention to all trees, and even looked up at the branches, even though she knew they were still a tad too young to start climbing trees.

‘You’re covered in green bark moss’, Phillip sighed at his son.

‘I hid.’

‘I saw.’

‘Daddy angwy?’

‘No. Washing maids may be tired, though. You always get your clothes filthy.’

Eloise smiled. Ah, how many times had her mother sighed when they had gotten their clothes dirty?

She looked around again and spotted some longer girls and a hint of blue behind another tree. There she was. She rushed forward, grabbing the trunk.

‘Aboo!’ she cried, and laughed when the girl shrieked.

‘You scared me’, Amanda protested.

Eloise was laughing so hard at the accusation in her eyes she had to clutch her belly to not bend double with laughter.

‘Am I first?’

‘No, your brother.’

‘Again?’ Amanda asked.

‘We could’, Eloise laughed.

Amanda looked beyond Eloise, freezing when she spotted her father and brother, and then she ran.

‘Daddy! You came out!’

Phillip looked very surprised as his daughter clutched his legs.

‘I did.’

Eloise rolled her eyes. He treated his children like they were made of glass.

‘Daddy you play too?’ Amanda asked.

‘Daddy counts!’ Oliver decided, seeing a clever way out of his own counting.

They were already running when he called out.

‘I came to fetch you for dinner.’

‘What?’

‘Noooo! Please daddy. Again?’

‘Dinner time. No doubt you have both made Miss Bridgerton very hungry with all your running around.’

Eloise didn’t know if she wanted to go along with Sir Phillip’s story.

‘Ewoise, we made you hungry?’ Oliver asked with a regretful voice.

‘No, I am fine. I loved playing with you. But if we do not go inside for dinner your dinner will be cold’, Eloise explained.

Oliver and Amanda pouted.

‘How about a race to the house for a final game, hm?’

‘But that’s so far!’ Amanda complained.

Eloise bit her lip, another bit of childhood nostalgia coming to her.

‘I’ll carry you.’

‘But me?’ Oliver pouted.

‘Your daddy can carry you’, Eloise decided.

Sir Crane looked just as incredulous as his son.

‘You want me to run with a child in my arms?’

‘Or on your shoulders, whatever method you usually prefer.’

‘Usually prefer?’

‘What? You’ve never given piggyback… rides.’ She realized by looking at his face he hadn’t.

Eloise swallowed away her awkwardness. That had been such a substantial part of her childhood. Her father carrying them around so they could compete with the much older boys. Her brothers taking her and Daphne on their shoulders for wrestling games in the water. It had been so normal that older siblings and parents walked around carrying the younger.

‘Oh yes!’ Amanda smiled.

‘We will win!’ Amanda said, sticking out her tongue at her brother before stretching her hands towards Eloise.

Eloise sank to her knees, patting her shoulders. Amanda understood quickly enough.

‘Is it safe?’ Phillip asked, looking at his child like it was fragile glass and he a very clumsy drunk.

‘I’ve practically grown up on someone’s shoulders. It’s fine if you hold him tight.’

She rose, Amanda shrieking with glee as she grew and grew, now towering above her own father.

‘I am bigger than you!’ she cried with a triumphant grin.

‘Taller than me’, Phillip corrected.

‘Taller!’

‘Daddy!’ Oliver cried.

‘Up! Up!’

Sir Phillip awkwardly bent his long legs so his child could crawl on top of him.

‘So how do we do this? Do we just?’

‘On the count of one, two, three!’ Eloise cried, already sprinting away on the ‘three’ as she held onto Amanda’s legs.

Was it a clever idea to race against a man with legs almost double the size of hers while she wore long skirts and he trousers? Probably not. But she didn’t care. She ran and ran until her longs felt strained and her heart beat like mad. There were no shadows or moving figures in front or beside her, while the house was already coming into view.

She chanced a look over her shoulder.

Phillip was doing an awkward speedwalk, too embarrassed to break out into a full out run, to his son’s dismay.

Eloise grinned and picked up her pace. She was a Bridgerton raised on Pall Mall. She didn’t care that a win was easy or even undeserved due to cheating, winning was winning and that was all that mattered.

She arrived at Romney Hall first, well before Sir Phillip.

She sank through her knees and let Amanda get off, both sick with laughter when they spotted how far the men still were.

‘You lost!’ cried Amanda when they finally arrived.

‘Big loss! I win!’

‘Daddy’s fault’, Oliver protested.

‘I Eloise next time’, he said.

‘No, I Eloise. Girl girl. Man man’, Amanda explained.

Eloise pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from laughing too much.

‘Look at you, both surviving’, Eloise said to Sir Phillip.

‘I believe he prefers a faster mount.’

‘Perhaps with practice?’ Eloise suggested.

‘I don’t carry them unless they fall asleep. And they are awake much more often and longer than is preferrable.’

‘Children, pure delights’, Eloise shrugged.

‘Alright, off to dinner now’, Eloise told the children.

‘It did help in getting them here faster. Usually I have to drag them and deal with at least three escape attempts.’

‘It’s called the feminine touch’, Eloise smiled, batting her eyelashes.

‘I don’t have much talent for it.’

Ah, no. He wasn’t meant to take it as an insult to his capabilities.

‘You just didn’t know that technique yet. You’ve got to be sly. Put the idea in their heads so they want to do what you want them to do. Promise them cake. Bribe them. Encourage their sense of competition, tell them how proud you’d be if they managed one thing or another. You’ll quickly see them falling over their feet to prove themselves to you.’

Sir Phillip nodded, instead of his usual blank expression she saw him processing and storing away the ideas.

‘I would not like you to be my opponent, Miss Bridgerton.’

‘A wise decision. As my siblings and all poor unfortunate suitors can testify’, she smiled.

Marina was mostly quiet but pleasant at dinner as Penelope detailed what they spoke off and talked a bit about all big events in London of the past year with special attention to amusing and scandalous detail. Once again Eloise was stunned by Penelope’s great memory. She only knew so much because she penned most things down in letters and her diary.

Marina had to smile a couple of times at funny stories of coaches driving into the water, parliamentary scandals and spouses getting humiliated for cheating and Eloise considered that an improvement.

All went well, until Oliver threw peas at Amanda and she shrieked, crying for her mother. Eloise could just see Marina withdrawing.

‘Can’t you be nice to each other! Who taught you that? Apologize!’

‘Just fun mother. Meant no hawm.’

‘You could have caused harm. Apologize.’

‘Oliver Crane, apologize!’

‘Sowwy, Amanda.’

Amanda looked positively murderous.

Eloise took a big gulp of her wine.

She could just smell revenge ideas forming in Amanda’s head.

The next day, before Marina and Penelope were out of bed, Eloise was calling out the children to stop attacking each other with their breakfast.

‘How about you make funny faces with your food? And I rate the best face’, Eloise proposed.

‘What?’

‘Like this’, Eloise explained.

She sliced a banana and put it on her oats, using two blueberries as eyes.

‘Pretty adorable, right?’ Eloise asked. The children grinned and started forming their faces, glad that they could do something mischievous with their food that got the approval of an adult.

Sir Phillip walked in at the moment the children rushed to Eloise to show the monstrous faces they had made.

‘Look daddy, a face!’

‘I see’, Sir Phillip said, frowning at their projects.

‘Shouldn’t you two be in the nursery yet?’

‘No!’ the children sung.

Sir Phillip sat down at the table.

‘If the nursemaid comes to fetch you, you will follow her’, Sir Phillip warned.

‘But breakfast?’ Amanda asked.

‘I suggest you start eating a bit faster than’, Sir Phillip suggested.

Amanda frowned, but then turned back at her plate, taking two blueberries and some dark syrup.

Eloise observed her actions.

‘Look daddy, it’s you!’ Amanda cried out, shoving her plate to her father.

Eloise laughed as Sir Phillip stared at the bowl of porridge. Brown syrup was his hair, the blueberries were his eyes, and a line of red berries his mouth.

His eyebrows lifted high onto his forehead.

‘I see, a most striking resemblance.’

‘What’s wewemblance?’ Oliver asked.

‘Resemblance is another word for likeness. I just told Amanda that it looked a lot like me.’

‘Oh’, Oliver smiled.

And if Eloise hadn’t been laughing at their interactions before, she completely lost it when Amanda scooped a big spoonful into her mouth and cried out: ‘Mm, you’re delicious, daddy!’

Phillip turned white as a sheet.

Both infants giggled.

‘Are you having fun?’ Phillip accused Eloise, deciding she was an easier target than his children.

‘Oh, exceedingly’, Eloise sniggered.

‘Why are you even up? The others aren’t.’

‘Well. I see four people downstairs while there’s only two ladies upstairs. I’m just going along with the majority’, she explained, smiling sweetly.

‘You, joining the majority for the sake of it being the majority? I’ll believe that the moment the Prince Regent stops whoring around.’

‘I take insult at that.’

‘How so? Do not you represent yourself as going against the stream?’

‘Oh I do. But I’m in my twenties. The Prince George is fifty-three. Just by the criterium of age he hasn’t got a lot of time left to do… things like that. So you’re implicating that in ten years you believe me capable of joining a majority for the sake of it being the majority.’

Sir Phillip merely blinked, his mouth gaping open as he considered a comeback. But before he could, an urgent question needed to be answered.

‘Daddy, what’s whoring?’ Amanda asked.

Eloise suppressed a laugh, pressing her hands against her mouth. She wasn’t going to help him.

Sir Phillip turned whiter still, before covering his face and raking his hands through his hair.

‘A very bad thing only very bad men do. It is so bad that if your mother were to hear that word, she would be sick. So please, don’t use that word. It is a bad word.’

‘Like George?’ Amanda asked.

‘Like devil?’ Oliver asked.

‘Yes. Yes. Those are all words that should be avoided’, Sir Phillip agreed.

‘Then why did you say it?’

‘I am but man, and men are sinners. I made a mistake.’

‘Never pegged you for a zealot’, Eloise joked.

‘Not helping’, Sir Phillip hissed.

‘Your father is right. It is a bad word and I also dislike it. That’s why I refused to repeat that word. Nice people don’t use those words.’

‘Daddy not nice?’ Oliver asked.

Shoot.

‘Your father is nice, but as he said he made a mistake. And when you make a mistake you apologize and do not repeat it. For example, yesterday you threw peas at your sister. That was a mistake and not nice. You apologized. And now you should not do it again’, Eloise explained.

Oliver nodded.

‘I understand. So I am still nice?’

‘As long as you don’t throw peas at Amanda.’

Oliver frowned and looked at his plate, eating another spoonful before he lifted his loaded spoon.

‘And this?’

Eloise noted that he was a very clever boy. That was exactly how she and her siblings thought as well. When her mother forbid them to throw potatoes at each other they had started throwing carrots one night.

The look in Sir Phillip’s eyes grew desperate.

‘Do you eat that?’

‘Yes?’

‘Does your sister like being hit with food?’

Eloise turned towards Amanda who shook her head.

‘Then the same rule applies. No throwing food at your sister. It is a waste of food and it makes your sister unhappy.’

The nurse arrived and the children immediately protested they had not finished their meal.

‘I warned you’, their father said.

‘Please. No. Food first!’ Amanda cried.

‘Hurry then’, Phillip sighed.

‘Can I be with Eloise?’ Amanda asked.

‘No. You need to follow your nurse. You will learn how to behave and act like a lady and gentleman. Miss Bridgerton is very clever and will enjoy you more and more the smarter you get. If you listen to your nurse the next few years you will be able to write to Miss Bridgerton yourself and hear from her every week’, Sir Phillip said.

They were a lot of years removed from reading and writing, but Eloise saw the bait worked.

‘Ewoise comes every week?’ Oliver asked.

‘You will be able to talk to her every week’, Phillip corrected.

‘Yes. I would very much like to write to you. But you can only learn that if you do well’, Eloise smiled.

The children went away with their nurse.

‘You’re learning. Very clever’, Eloise smirked.

‘Yes, I’m quite surprised that worked’, he brought out.

‘They very much like pleasing us. It’s because they want attention.’

‘Ah. Is that the reason?’

‘Of course. If they do as is told they get rewarded with our appreciation or our time. I annoyed my siblings but I would go over corpses for my mother. We were with eight so if I did something good she would notice and praise me. It’s hard to stand out when you’re with so many.’

‘Attention’, Phillip said, swirling the liquid in his teacup, considering.

‘I see.’

Chapter Text

It was at a book club in London when Eloise, for the first time in forever, had no answer to a question.

‘You write romance so well, Miss Bridgerton, one cannot help but wonder if you have experience with it’, one lady had noted.

‘Yes, do you have a suitor? Don’t worry, we won’t tell.’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Oh my word, but you write it so convincingly.’

‘I had the fortune of observing my elder siblings fall in love and seeing them happy every day since.’

‘Are the men based on men you know?’

‘A bit.’

‘I really admire how you make the men change and become their better selves before rewarding them with a wife. I’m sure many of us have experience with the consequences of men’s flaws’, another said.

‘You do make high demands of the men. Has there ever been a man who met your criteria?’

Eloise was speechless.

She thought of every suitor she ever had. Every man she’d rejected. They’d all missed something. It was easy to point out their flaws. But…

‘I don’t know what criteria I’m looking for’, she answered after a while. ‘I only know what it is not.’

‘Well, Miss Bridgerton, we certainly wish you luck finding a man. If this is you without experience in love, I can only imagine how amazing a book must be written from experience’, a lady told her.

‘Yes. I do so wish you happiness. A woman shouldn’t have to choose between what she loves and who she loves.’

‘My thoughts exactly’, Eloise smiled, but she left her seat a bit wobbly.

She had just turned twenty-two two weeks ago. She was nearing shelving age. It was time to figure out what she wanted, her youth, beauty and surname would only serve her that much. In a way, she was lucky Lady Whistledown had declared her the most hard-to-catch bachelorette. It made men look at her who would not usually look at a lady who’d been out for that long.

Ah, Lady Whistledown. It was starting to become more suspicious every day now. Lady Whistledown was currently fully invested in the whereabouts of Benedict Bridgerton and the soap opera that was the housemaid shortage. She had yet to report on Daphne’s fourth pregnancy. Eloise was keeping a detailed list of who knew. Daphne had informed them a week ago. With Benedict gone, Anthony and Kate at Aubrey Hall where they recovered from the birth of their second child, Colin off in some exotic country and Gregory at school, only their mother, Francesca, Hyacinth and Eloise knew. Her mother wouldn’t spread the news, she always allowed the couple to make the announcement. Francesca wouldn’t spread the news. She had never been one to gossip but now she was also staying over at Daphne’s at their country home, having left just yesterday. Hyacinth was prone to talking, and since she’d healed her spat with the youngest Featherington yesterday, now two Featheringtons knew, since Eloise had told Penelope.

She was curious to see how fast Penelope spread the news. If it appeared in Whistledown tomorrow, Whistledown had to be one of Penelope’s acquaintances. If sooner, it had to come from the Featherington household. She hadn’t yet had the chance to read Whistledown today as she had so much running around to do.

The butler opened the door to number five, Bruton street.

‘Thank you’, she said, kicking off her outside shoes and coat.

‘Any news?’

‘Actually yes, my lady. Mr. Bridgerton has just arrived.’

‘Benedict’s home?’ Eloise asked in surprise. Why, it was high time.

‘Yes, he is in the living room.’

‘Oh my god!’

She threw her gloves at the general direction of the cloakroom and ran into the sitting room.

‘Benedict!’ she called out, throwing her arms around him. ‘Where have you been? Mother has been grumbling all week, wondering where you’d gone off to.’

Now that she got a better look of him he looked kind of pale and frail.

 ‘Funny, when I spoke to Mother, not two minutes ago, her grumbles were about you, wondering when you were finally planning to marry.’

Eloise sighed. This was her life now. She had gotten four years to take her time, and now everyone was starting to poke their nose in her business. She knew she couldn’t be surprised.

 ‘When I meet someone worth marrying, that’s when. I do wish someone new would move to town.  I feel as though I meet the same hundred or so people over and over again.’

‘You do meet the same hundred or so people over and over again’, her brother pointed out with a smile.

‘Exactly my point,’ she said. ‘There are no secrets left in London. I already know everything about everyone.’

‘Really?’ Benedict asked, with no small measure of sarcasm.

Alright, there was one secret she did not know: the identity of Lady Whistledown.

‘Mock me all you want,’ she said, jabbing her finger toward him, ‘but I am not exaggerating.’

‘Not even a little bit?’ he grinned.

She scowled at him. ‘Where were you this past week?’

He plopped down on a sofa. His posture bad as always. 

‘Went to the Cavender party,’ he explained, propping his feet up on a low table. ‘It was abominable.’

‘Mother will kill you if she catches you with your feet up,’ Eloise said as she sat down as well.

She spotted a letter and the Whistledown paper on the table right beneath his feet. But at present her brother who had reappeared after a two week absence was more interesting. He had missed her and Francesca’s birthday, for heaven’s sake. His excuse had to be good. 

‘And why was the party so dreadful?’

‘The company. A more boring bunch of lazy louts,  I’ve never met’, he said.

Eloise had to smile. This was why she missed him, he was the only person around the house she could have a blunt conversation with.

‘As long as you don’t mince words.’

 ‘You are hereby forbidden from marrying anyone who was in attendance.’

‘An order I shall probably have no difficulty obeying’, she smiled. She was quite a pro at rejecting men by now.

‘But,’ she said, looking up with narrowed eyes, ‘that doesn’t explain where you were all week.’

‘Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly nosy?’

‘Oh, all the time. Where were you?’

‘And persistent, too.’

‘It’s the only way to be. Where were you?’

‘Have I mentioned I’m considering investing in a company that manufactures human-sized muzzles?’

She was almost hurt. He’d always had a tendency to be secretive, wanting an own private life that was wholly his, but rarely had he shut Eloise out entirely. He knew how vicariously she lived through him.

She threw a pillow at him. ‘Where were you?’

‘As it happens,’ he said, gently tossing the pillow back in her direction, ‘the answer isn’t the least bit interesting. I was at  My Cottage, recuperating from a nasty cold.’

‘I thought you’d already recuperated.’

He regarded her with an expression that was an unlikely cross between amazement and distaste. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I know everything. You should know that by now.’ She grinned. ‘Colds can be so nasty. Did you have a setback?’

He nodded. ‘After driving in the rain.’

Men, such babies. But then she only knew a very limited amount of men who actually had brains and used them too. Just the one, actually.

‘Well, that wasn’t very smart of you.’

‘Is there any reason, why I am allowing myself to be insulted by my ninnyhammer of a younger sister?’

‘Probably because I do it so well.’ She kicked at his foot, trying to knock it off the table. ‘Mother will be here at any second, I’m sure.’

‘No, she won’t,’ he returned. ‘She’s busy.’

‘Doing what?’

He waved his hand toward the ceiling. ‘Orienting the new maid.’

He said it with such calculated carelessness she knew the statement was less innocent than he pretended. How did they suddenly get a new maid? There was a shortage in London and her mother had been looking for over a week to find a new one. If even the Bridgerton reputation could not lure one, how did someone just fall into their hands now? Coinciding with Benedict’s arrival? It was most suspicious.

She sat up straight. ‘We have a new maid? Nobody told me about it.’

‘Heavens,’ he drawled, ‘something has happened and Eloise doesn’t know about it. I thought you knew about everything that happened in London.’

She ignored the stab.

She leaned back in her chair, then kicked his foot again. ‘Housemaid? Lady’s maid? Scullery?’

‘Why do you care?’

‘It’s always good to know what’s what.’

‘Lady’s maid, I believe.’

‘And how do you know?’

‘Because I brought her here.’

Ah, that explained. And that also raised over fifteen additional questions. He’d been sick at My Cottage for a week, or so he’d claimed. Had the maid accompanied him from his cottage to home? How could he otherwise have met her if he’d been ill.

‘The maid?’

‘No, Mother. Of course the maid.’

And why would he bring a maid home? Did he know one of theirs had abandoned them? And even if he knew, Benedict had never cared for servants before.

‘Since when do you trouble yourself with the hiring of servants?’

‘Since this particular young lady nearly saved my life by nursing me while I was ill.’

Young lady? Young? She thought he only employed an old married couple. The plot thickened. She observed him. There was something almost defensive about his face, and dreamy at the same time. She’d never seen that look on his face before. Well, once before, but that had been almost two years ago.

 ‘You were that ill?’

‘I have felt better,” he said mildly.

Alright, that was enough. She needed to check for herself.

‘Where are you going?’

She’d already risen to her feet. ‘To go find Mother and meet the new maid. She’s probably going to wait on Francesca  and me, now that Marie is gone.’

‘You lost your maid?’

So he had not known. That only made it all the more strange he had brought her to London with him.

‘She left us for that odious Lady Penwood’, she explained before hopping out of the room.

In the hallway she strained her ears, detecting the voice of her mother upstairs.

She sneaked up the stairs, spotting a girl with relatively short bronze hair and a drab dress. She looked quite skinny. Intrigued, she stepped closer.

  ‘Well, it’s—oh, good day, Eloise. What brings you up here?’ her mother asked, surprised that Eloise had already returned from her reading session.

The girl turned, as well, and Eloise saw she was very pretty, with full lips and kind if scared eyes.

 ‘Benedict told me we have a new maid,’ Eloise said.

 Lady Bridgerton motioned to Sophie. ‘This is Sophie Beckett. We were just chatting. I think we shall deal famously.’

Famously? Her mother was kind to servants but she was never close to them. Never had she sampled a servant to check if they were nice to chat to. Something was going on. Why did Benedict suddenly show up with a beautiful servant without knowing they were in need of one and did her mother talk about her as if she was taking in a child instead of hiring a servant? Had Benedict told her mother something? Were they hiding something from her?

‘My brother tells me you saved his life,’ Eloise said, turning from her mother to Sophie.

‘He exaggerates,’ the girl said, hesitantly smiling.

There was something about her, something familiar. Yet she could not say if she had ever seen the girl before. Technically, she couldn’t have, as Benedict had found the girl outside of London. So the girl could not have worked for one of the families Eloise had ever visited before. The only other locations she visited a lot were Aubrey Hall and Romney Hall. And she would definitely remember a servant she saw there. But if the girl came from around My Cottage in Gloucestershire, then how did she come to have something of an upper class London accent?

And then she talked about Benedict in such a familiar joking way servants would usually not dare. It was most suspicious. The girl’s smile wavered, then grew. She knew Eloise was looking for clues and had succeeded in putting on a poker face, Eloise admired that. So Benedict had brought a clever pretty girl home.

Eloise smiled. She would find out whatever secret those two were hiding in due time. For the present, she would just roll with it.

‘I think my mother is correct. We shall deal famously.’

The girl’s smile grew genuine.

‘Have you met Francesca and Hyacinth?’ Eloise asked. If she answered positively, she would admit to having lived in London before. Eloise wondered if Hyacinth or Francesca would be able to recognise the girl.

Sophie shook her head, just as Lady Bridgerton said, ‘They are not at home. Francesca is visiting Daphne, and Hyacinth is off at the Featheringtons. She and Felicity seem to be over their row and are once again inseparable.’

Eloise chuckled. ‘Poor Penelope. I think she was enjoying the relative peace and quiet with Hyacinth gone. I know I was enjoying the respite from Felicity.’

Lady Bridgerton turned to Sophie. ‘My daughter Hyacinth can more often than not be found at the home of her best friend, Felicity Featherington. And when she is not, then Felicity can be found here.’

The girl looked as confused as Eloise that her mother shared so much family history.

And then , out of the blue, a tear rolled down the girl’s cheek.  Eloise frowned. Alright, something was definitely going on.

‘Is something wrong, Sophie? You have a tear in your eye’, her mother asked.

‘Just a speck of dust.’

Her mother shot Eloise a concerned glance, but both accepted that the girl would not release any further information.

Eloise went downstairs again. Time to check that mail.

‘Oh. My. God!’ Eloise cried.

But no matter how long she stared at the words, the ink remained the same.

‘What the devil! I’m going to kill her!’ Eloise cried.

‘Language’, her mother said from another couch. ‘What is the matter?’

Eloise plastered a smile on her face.

‘I just realized something. I’m uhm… I need to pick up Hyacinth. At the Featheringtons. It’s almost time for supper anyway’, she said, jumping up.

‘Eloise?’ her mother asked, standing up.

‘It’s fine. It’s fine!’ Eloise assured her.

It all made sense.

She threw on her coat, not even caring to button it before running outside.

Whistledown had written about Daphne’s pregnancy. That was less than twelve hours between Eloise telling Penelope and the publishing of the column. And the Featheringtons hadn’t seen anyone else after they had seen the Bridgertons out yesterday. It had to be one of them. And it wasn’t going to be little Felicity, who had been ten years old when the first column launched.

Only when the wind blew in her hair when she turned a corner, she realized she’d forgotten to put on a bonnet as well. Damn it. She was already known as quirky. And after all, what was the worst that could happen, Lady Whistledown would write about it? Ha!

It all added up.

It explained why Whistledown reported so much about the Bridgertons.

It explained why she always published Bridgerton baby news so fast.

And it especially explained why Penelope had been so guilty after the Marina scandal had been published. It also explained why Whistledown had changed her tone to a much more innocent and kinder one during the second year of the column.

It had been Penelope who had written the column. It was Penelope who had ruined her entire family and Marina to prevent Colin from being trapped in a marriage to a woman who lied. It explained why Penelope was so desperate for Marina to be happy, because she had been the one who had ruined her life in the first place.

Eloise felt stupid for taking so long to realize it. Lady Whistledown covered events Penelope did not attend, but always described them in much less detail than the ones she had attended.

She knocked on the door to the Featherington house.

She was certain she looked feral, her bun was coming loose and her coat hung off her shoulder, but she didn’t care. She shrugged it off and stomped it into the poor butler’s hands.

‘I’m here for Penelope Featherington. I’ll see myself in.’

After so many years, the butler didn’t bother asking if Eloise could be received. She had an always welcome card.

‘They’re in the music room’, he answered, perplexed.

‘Good. Thank you.’

With two steps of stairs at a time she marched up, but managed to find enough composure to knock.

The piano stopped.

‘Enter.’

Eloise opened the door, eyes immediately finding Penelope. And when Penelope saw her, Eloise knew that she knew that Eloise knew.

‘I’m sorry to barge in unannounced, Lady Featherington. But could I borrow Penelope for a minute?’

‘Sure’, Lady Featherington stammered, looking very confused and intrigued. An expression that was duplicated on the face of her two other present daughters and Hyacinth.

‘After we’re done talking, we need to go home for supper’, Eloise smiled at Hyacinth.

Her sister nodded, speechless.

Penelope remained silent as they walked to Penelope’s bedroom. The ginger girl carefully locked the door.

‘Do I need to explain why I’m here?’ Eloise asked.

Penelope turned around, staring at Eloise’s crossed arms. Lady Whistledown’s society papers were still crumpled in her right hand.

‘No, I think I know.’

‘I’m insulted. I’m humiliated. I’m hurt.’

‘Eloise I’m so sorry I can explain – ‘

‘Why didn’t you trust me!’

That perplexed Penelope.

‘What?’

‘We’ve been friends for over a decade yet you could not trust me with this?’

‘I – ‘

‘I always told you everything’, Eloise said, tears jumping into her eyes. Alright, she hadn’t told her everything. She had kept one thing secret, but that was a small one, compared to being the biggest gossip London had ever known. She couldn’t believe the writer she had looked up to, had tried to protect, had tried to protect and aspire to, had been her best friend all along.

She shuddered at the memory of telling all her Whistledown theories to Penelope, about her being a widow or a servant. Her friend must have had a mighty good laugh.

‘I always told you everything too. Everything… except that.’

‘That and Marina who you pretended was just a servant girl and your crush on Colin.’

‘My what?’ Penelope asked, face frozen with shock.

‘I’m not blind, you know. I was just polite. It seemed rude to point it out given how obviously gutted you were that he walked after Marina and then always ran away from home. I allowed you to come to me with it in your own time.’

‘I… I’m sorry. I just… I trust you and love you. But I was afraid you’d talk. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You always told your family everything.’

‘I know I did. But I’m getting better. With age I’ve come to see that some things are better kept hidden.’

Penelope swallowed, walking towards the window.

‘I’ve been doubting about telling you for a while now. But I felt I couldn’t anymore. Not after how I wrote about your sister that first season, and after how much you wanted to find out who Lady Whistledown was. I feared that if I told you… You’d be so angry you’d never talk to me again.’

‘How could I? Pen, you’re my only friend. There’s not a soul in the whole of London I could consider replacing you with. I… I wish you hadn’t made some mistakes but honestly by now’, Eloise sighed.

‘I would have been angry, I think, if I found out after that first season. I was such a hothead. And still so frustrated I had not managed to find it out. And you really made a comical opera of my family. But Whistledown changed, it became milder. Only arseholes were talked about it a cruel manner. You didn’t ruin innocent people anymore. You grew up. I just feel hurt that you shut me out.’

‘I understand’, Penelope said with a heavy voice.

‘To be honest… You should have known this was coming. Your disproportional attention to my family and the very speedy reporting relating to Bridgerton marriages and babies was what did you in.’

Penelope let out a sad laugh.

‘It was ready for the printing when I heard. I was doubting about whether I should put it in. But then you said she was over three months along and that your family had known for over a week so I thought…’

‘That others would have known already.’

Penelope shrugged.

‘What will you do now?’

‘Do?’ Eloise asked.

‘Are you going to tell them?’

‘My family?’

Penelope nodded.

‘No, I don’t think they’d understand. You’re my friend. I don’t… I don’t want them to dislike you. And right now… I don’t know if it would be wise.’

‘That’s how I feel about it’, Penelope admitted.

The two girls sat down on her bed.

‘You want me to stop?’

‘No. Are you mad? Pen, I’m proud of you. I wanted to be you. You made your work out of mocking London society. That’s a dream. Your pen holds so much power and you can wield it anonymously. You could uncover all bad guys and prevent them from hurting young girls. And you have done so, with Berbrooke and all. You’ve warned many a girl away from dangerous men.’

‘But your family…’

‘Just… Stop calling Benedict number two and Colin Mr. Uncatchable… And perhaps don’t say A, B and C can’t be told apart except for their height and eyes. That really bugs them. They feel like they have no personal identity.’

‘Really? But they’re so different’, Penelope stammered.

‘We know because we know them. But Benedict has frequently been called number two, even by some friends. He really struggled with it. But he doesn’t talk about it often. Since Anthony and Colin wouldn’t understand what’s so wrong with them that Benedict doesn’t want to be seen as being similar. He also mistrusts women, thinks they just want him because he’s a Bridgerton man, not because he’s Benedict.’

‘Oh. Alright. But you – ‘

‘Oh, we’re good’, Eloise interrupted. ‘Actually I’m kind of proud of my reputation. Eloise the Uncatchable. The only woman who actively gets pursued because of her untameable status. Only men usually have that happening, young girls thinking they can catch and tame a rogue. At the same time it keeps the creeps and prejudiced men who I wouldn’t agree with anyway at bay.’

‘Oh uhm, you’re welcome?’

‘I also have a new mystery for you.’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s got to do with a housemaid.’

‘But I already reported on that.’

‘No. A new one. Mine. But perhaps keep it out of the papers for a while.’

‘Happy to help.’

‘I love you, my secret sneaky mean little reporter. Come over for tea tomorrow so you can meet her. There’s just something about her.’

“This Author is quite certain that the male half of the population will be uninterested in the following portion of the column, so you are all given leave to skip to the next section. However, for the ladies, let This Author be the first to inform you that the Bridgerton family was recently sucked into the battle of the maids that has been raging all season between Lady Penwood and Mrs. Featherington. It seems that the maid attending to the daughters Bridgerton has defected to the Penwoods, replacing the maid who fled back to the Featherington household after Lady Penwood forced her to polish three hundred pairs of shoes. Luckily for the Bridgertons, they found a replacement no two days later. Wherever they found one during a housemaid shortage is a good question This Author cannot answer yet.

And in other Bridgerton news, Benedict Bridgerton is most definitely back in London. It seems he took ill while in the country and extended his stay. This Author apologizes to everyone who was looking for a better story, but this author can only report the truth.”

 LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 14 MAY 1817

‘I recognize her’, Penelope admitted.

‘Right? But wherefrom?’

‘I don’t know. I truly don’t know. I never forget a face but I really cannot place her.’

‘Benedict says he found her in Gloucestershire but then why does she seem so familiar? The only people we know there are…’

‘The Cranes. I know. And she’s not from there, I’m certain. Besides, Marina would have written to me if they lost a maid, she has no issue reporting the runaway nurses.’

‘A nurse ran away?’

‘Two. Apparently they’re quite demanding. Terrors, is the word Marina uses.’

‘Ph-‘ Eloise cut herself off before she could say Phillip said the same.

‘Perhaps,’ Eloise said, justifying her previous p, ‘if they gave them some more attention… And I know that’s rude to say… they would be less trouble. Marina sees them but she demands they be quiet and nice all the time and doesn’t allow them to lose their energy and Sir Crane barely dares to do a thing with them. It’s slightly better now but…’

‘Actually, it’s worse’, Penelope said.

‘Marina sees the children less now. The nurses come complain about them almost daily and she’s tired of chastising them. She feels like she’s failing at being a mother, and is disappointing George every time her children do something naughty.’

Eloise was silent for a minute, feeling like she couldn’t talk about anything else as it would cruel to brush off the topic. But she didn’t know what to do either. She’d never fully understood Marina. Or rather, she’d understood her but could not see a solution or a way out. It just seemed so endlessly… depressing really. That whole household was miserable and she couldn’t imagine what could be done about it.

‘But to come back to your point,’ Penelope said after the silence had been long enough, ‘no.  I know she’s not from there. And she isn’t from your home. Nor Mine. And she was not at my sister’s wedding last year so she has to be from London.’

‘But then how did she end up in Gloucestershire?’

‘That’s a very good question. Let’s go over what we have, shall we? She knows French. She’s educated. She talks really well. Her manners are impeccable. But she does not act like a servant. She converses way too easily with us at tea for that’, Penelope reasoned.

‘Right? I did not buy her excuse that she was educated alongside the children. That might excuse reading and writing but not horse riding lessons. Benedict said she could ride. And Hyacinth heard her speak Latin.’

‘Indeed.’

‘But she can mend clothes and help with my dress like a real servant though.’

‘Something is not adding up’, Penelope decided.

‘And she and Benedict act odd around each other.’

‘Odd in a tense tense way.’

‘It’s like there’s history there. Sophie is so out of it. She’s very distracted, always looking out of the window. Pricking herself as she’s mending socks whenever his name is mentioned.’

‘Will you try talking to Benedict?’

‘He hasn’t been around the house in almost two weeks’, Eloise sighed. ‘I miss him. He’s never been away for so long. I made him swear to not abandon me when he went to live alone and he has kept that promise until he fell ill in the countryside in April. I’m robbed and I feel shut out.’

‘Perhaps he’s ill.’

‘A third time in two months?’ Eloise questioned. ‘I doubt it.’

‘I want my brother back. He never shut me out like this before.’

‘Everything will be alright, in the end’, Penelope comforted her.

‘No it won’t. I lost Daphne too. And I have never gotten her back in the same way. Much as I was annoyed by her bloody perfect behaviour and the high bars she set I could never reach, I loved her. And I needed her.’

Penelope was quiet.

‘You’ll always be there, right?’

‘Of course’, Penelope promised. ‘I swear.’

‘Old maids forever, if no one marries us.’

‘Yes, of course. The terror of London town.’

‘Looking down and laughing at all new debutantes at age fifty, glad we never got burdened by odious husbands.’

‘Indeed’, Penelope smiled. But neither looked very happy.

Benedict did make a reappearance on the fifteenth of June, but remained evasive. Eloise jumped him as soon as she could.

‘Benedict! Where have you been? You were going to help Hyacinth with her arithmetic. She hasn’t seen hide nor hair of you in two weeks.’

‘It’s not as if she has a school to flunk out of,’ Benedict muttered.

‘Benedict, that is a terrible thing to say!’ Eloise exclaimed.

Since when did he make a mockery of a woman’s education? Especially to Eloise, who was already so angry that women could not attend school. He knew his sisters saw the possibility to “flunk out of school” as a privilege, at least Hyacinth and Eloise did. The others did not care so much.

‘I know,’ he groaned.

‘Just because we of the female gender are not allowed to study at places like Eton and Cambridge doesn’t mean our  educations are any less precious,’ Eloise ranted. He should have known.

‘Furthermore—' she carried on.

Benedict sagged against the wall.

‘—I am of the opinion that the reason we are not allowed access is that if we were, we would trounce you men in all subjects!’

He should praise himself lucky she was not angry. She was keeping herself from boasting how she bested all of them at shooting and Daphne bested them at riding.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he sighed.

‘Don’t patronize me.’

‘Believe me, Eloise, the last thing I would dream of doing is patronizing you.’

She eyed him suspiciously before crossing her arms. Something was very much up with her brother. He was never like this.

‘Well, don’t disappoint Hyacinth.’

‘I won’t’, he promised then.

‘I believe she’s in the nursery’, she said, carefully omitting that Sophie was also in the nursery.

Benedict gave her a distracted nod, turning toward the stairs. Eloise was curious to see what it would give. She winked at her mother, who poked her head of the nearby music room.

‘I can’t make head or tails from them’, Eloise sighed.

‘Give it time. It’ll sort itself out.’

‘It can’t go on like this. Benedict disappearing for weeks on end, being cross with me, neglecting Hyacinth… Even now I doubt he’ll give her any attention.’

‘Well, right now it’s understandable, given that there’s someone up there I think he’s been trying to avoid’, her mother reasoned.

Eloise sighed, hoping her sister, Sophie and Benedict would soon come downstairs, all smiling. Unfortunately, it never happened. First Hyacinth joined them. Then, ten minutes later, Benedict stormed past them without even saying goodbye, and Sophie? Why, Eloise didn’t see her at all, and eventually went down for supper without ever seeing a trace of her.

Just a few hours later, Penelope Bridgerton knocked on the Bridgerton’s door late at night.

‘Pen?’ Eloise asked in confusion.

‘I know I should be home, finishing up for the day. And you probably didn’t expect me back here after the scene this afternoon with your brothers, you don’t have to pretend you haven’t heard. But I know tomorrow something is meant to be published in a certain column. So I want to talk to you first. It’s about Lady Penwood and a servant that was apprehended before your door. Was it one of yours?’

‘What?’

‘A servant was caught in front of your door late this afternoon’, Penelope explained impatiently. ‘Lady Penwood said she, meaning the servant was female, had stolen from her. The girl, because it was a young servant, was thrown in jail. Was the servant one of yours, or just happened to be arrested in front of your house?’

Eloise, who had been in the process of getting ready for bed and had been told by her mother Sophie had left, gasped.

‘Oh God. Yes! Sophie! How does Lady Penwood know Sophie? And how can she accuse her of stealing?’

‘Well, we knew she had to be from London’, Penelope said. ‘If she lived and worked for Penwood, that would explain things. And Penwood has been racing through maids for two years now. So I’m guessing Sophie escaped the wretched woman two years ago.’

‘And Benedict brought her back and let her live in the house right next to that odious woman’, Eloise filled in. ‘I approve of her robbing such a horrible woman notorious for underpaying her staff.’

‘But what now?’

‘We must tell Benedict’, Eloise decided.

She took a step outside.

‘Eloise, Benedict does not live far but…’

Eloise was in her nightgown.

‘Right, crap’, Eloise cursed, forgoing pleasantries in front of her friend as usual.

‘I’ll change.’

‘Will your mother even let you go out at this time of night?’

‘She can try to stop me’, Eloise decided.

And perhaps, Eloise reasoned, this was her way to win back Benedict’s trust.

‘You did well, my friend’, Eloise said, throwing her arms around Penelope. ‘Now go home and report it. An arrest right in front of our house would look suspicious if not reported. But be vague, if you please, so they can’t redirect it to Sophie.’

‘You have my word’, Penelope promised.

Eloise rushed back upstairs, forgoing her stays and just rushing into an overdress and a coat, buttoning it to the top so no one could see she was not properly dressed underneath. She braided her hair, pinned it, put on her boots, and ran outside without informing her mother. It was safer that way.

The servant at Benedict’s house was surprised, and demanded he ask Benedict whether he would receive his sister first. However, he made the fatal mistake of leaving Eloise at the door unattended, so she ran after him, sprinting up the stairs faster than he could catch her.

Benedict sat in his drawing studio, a bottle beside him, opened and half-finished without a glass in sight.

‘God darn it, Eloise!’ he cried, jumping up in shock when she flung open the doors.

‘Master, I beg you pardon. I was going to ask you first’, the servant panted.

‘Benedict, I need to speak to you.’

‘Right now?’ he asked, face torn between worry and annoyance.

‘Right now.’

‘How did mother even allow you out?’ he asked with an incredulous laugh.

‘I’m very convincing. Benedict, please.’

He instantly turned serious.

‘Alright.’

‘Care for a smoke?’

‘Uhm…’

‘You’ll need a smoke. Come outside with me’, Eloise ordered, inviting herself into his garden.

She sat down on a stone bench. His garden looked very basic and small. Just a patch of grass surrounded by some blandly cut hedges. Sir Phillip would be bored out of his mind here. She pushed the thought away.

Wait, she’d been reading his letter before Penelope had arrived at her house. She cursed. If anyone came into her room they would find the letter. Darn it. She should have never left it in plain sight. Problems for later, she decided. She couldn’t race back now.

Benedict plopped down next to her, offer her a cigar before he took a swig from the bottle.

‘Thanks.’

He put the bottle down and brought his cigar to his mouth. He was in a bad mood. She was glad he’d decided to be hospitable to her. But then she could always count on Benedict to welcome her, unlike distant Anthony and unreliable Colin.

‘Together in a garden by night again’, he said.

‘Yes, it’s been a while we had a night-time heart to heart, hasn’t it?’ Eloise smiled.

‘I’m afraid that’s my doing’, he admitted.

‘You were busy.’

‘You are my sister. I should make time for you. In the end, family’s all one can trust and rely upon.’

That sounded bitter. Eloise looked up at him in worry. Questions later, she had to tell him first.

But if she was right. If there was a thing between Benedict and Sophie, she might be telling him the one he loved would be hanged. And if it could be prevented, he might marry her. Which meant she lost the sibling she was closest to.

But it was not right to be silent.

‘I think Anthony, Daphne and mother might have another opinion on that’, she carefully said, breathing out a cloud of smoke.

Benedict huffed.

‘Lucky them. I can only be happy for them that they have found someone to trust. But for men like me and Colin, we only get lied to. And you only ever get bothered by the opposite sex’, Benedict smiled.

So something had happened. Eloise wondered whether her intervention was then a good thing. But then she remembered telling Kate about Anthony and how soon they had fixed their struggle afterward. No, she must speak. Even if there was nothing between them, Sophie seemed too nice a girl to rot in jail. She needed Benedict to do something about it.

‘Someone lied to you?’

‘It’s, complicated’, he shrugged, taking another swallow from the bottle. ‘Don’t worry. I’m a big boy I can take it.’

‘There was a time when we shared our struggles.’

‘I will, perhaps. When the injury is less fresh.’

‘Benedict…’

‘Ah yes sorry. You wanted to speak to me. What is it you wanted to say? Is everything alright? Tell me it isn’t another suitor bothering you.’

‘Ben – ‘

‘ – if someone compromised your honour, please don’t tell Anthony. We can solve it between the two of us in a subtle manner. Anthony will with one hundred percent certainty get caught screaming and racing across the country challenging the man into a duel. We can kill him with more stealth without anyone risking execution.’

‘Benedict. It’s. Not. Me.’

‘What?’

‘It’s Sophie?’

‘What about Sophie?’ he asked, shoulders straightening. He looked at her with mistrust now.

‘How do you know about her?’

‘Well, I didn’t, but this pretty much confirms it’, Eloise smirked. ‘And I would laugh about how much you give yourself away with such a reaction if what I was about to say wasn’t so serious.’

‘What?’

‘Sophie was arrested this afternoon in front of our house. Lady Penwood accused her of theft.’

‘What! And you only tell me this now?’ he asked, jumping upright.

‘I tried telling you sooner!’ Eloise cried, jumping upright as well.

‘And I could have helped you sooner if you let me in! But you locked me out!’

Benedict grew quite, face awash with guilt.

‘But what – how – where?’

‘That’s all I know. I don’t know why Penwood accused her but I’m guessing she worked for her in the past?’

Benedict nodded.

‘You knew?’

‘Not before today’, he admitted.

‘It’s… Why I was so angry. She hid it. Lied about her identity.’

‘Why?’

Benedict shook his head.

‘I felt like a fool when I found out. She knew I was me all the time. But she hid her identity the entire time.’

‘What identity?’

‘That she was Penwood’s bastard.’

‘Oh God’, Eloise muttered.

‘And that she was the Lady in Silver.’

‘Oh’, Eloise bit her hand to keep from cursing again.

‘I thought she was mocking me, hiding it while she knew I knew her. Foolish Benedict, unable to recognize a girl who only wore half a mask.’

So that was why she’d been so familiar! Penelope and Eloise had met her at the ball two years ago.

‘Lady Penwood accused her of theft so severe the punishment is death.’

‘What!’ Benedict cried, now looking positively mad and desperate.

‘She can’t. She… We must stop it!’

‘But how? I came to you to… ask you I guess since I have no clue how to solve it. And it’s near midnight. We can’t go now, can we?’

‘We can’t let her spend the night in jail!’ Benedict cried.

‘No, of course we can’t. But what do you suggest we do hm? Break her out? Weren’t you the one who was critiquing Anthony for illegal activities such as duelling?’

Benedict tore at his hair before kicking a nearby bush.

‘Argh! But we must do something! She can’t win. The hag can’t win.’

‘On that we agree.’

Benedict sighed, picking up the bottle before putting it down without drinking.

‘What do we do?’ he asked, looking at her with great big desperate eyes. Trusting her and asking her for guidance. And in that moment, he was the brother she spent entire nights with underneath the starry sky, complaining about how unfair society was. And how fitting it was that even in love, society was making it difficult for him with tricky legal systems and social  status rules. She was losing her brother and buddy, but she could not bear to see him unhappy. And how frightening love looked then, driving people to madness and desperation, out of their minds with worry and passion.

Eloise thought long and hard.

‘Come’, she decided.

‘Where to?’

‘Mother.’

Yesterday was a very busy day in Bruton street to say the least! First there was the commotion around the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton’s House. Then there was the excitement culminating in a public row right on the front steps between the countess Penwood and her daughter, Miss Posy Reiling. After which the girl was seen entering the Bridgerton household without leaving. To that This Author can only say: Huzzah to Posy!

And then, it was announced Benedict Bridgerton was engaged. No, not to Miss Posy Reiling, although This Author cannot blame readers for connecting the two events. The lucky girl is Miss Sophia Beckett, a distant cousin and ward of the old Lord Penwood. It is yet a mystery as to how the two met and fell in love, but This Author can only suspect it was awfully romantic, as all Bridgerton romances are. No doubt the girl is unbelievably happy.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 17 JUNE 1817”

Chapter Text

Eloise had never dealt well with being told some things weren’t for her. It has resulted in her brothers tying her to a tree when they went to pubs, Eloise crying when she could not go to school or university, Daphne scolding her for not understanding what she was going through as a debutante, and then remaining very silent about what married life was like.

It was unfair that society decided some people would get something, and others wouldn’t. This was an injustice, but worse was the walls society enforced between siblings and friends because of it. Daphne was her sister, bound to her in blood, yet she could not speak of marriage to her sister. Benedict was her brother and best friend, yet he could not tell her about university and certain things he studied.

With such rules in place, how could Eloise feel anything but locked out? The siblings she was closest to had fled the nest and now lived lives she could neither relate to or talk about with them. And the sole remaining person who was close to her in age, sweet Francesca, was about to abandon her as well.

And it was cruel, incredibly so. Eloise could not force herself to marry just to acquire the liberties of a married woman and the ability to talk with her sisters about everything again. Nor could she force her siblings to remain single and forced into the cruel role of half child-half adult that was reserved for adults who did marry when they were in love.

In November, Francesca had grown close to earl John Stirling. Since then, John and his cousin Michael spent entire afternoons at the Bridgerton household. And although Eloise liked them, she knew the reason for their presence and could not see them come in with some minor heartache.

But what could she say? Francesca deserved happiness. And who could she say it to? Penelope had never felt threatened by her sisters marrying, she did not share the same affection with them as Eloise did, and would not mind the silence between them about certain topics. Her siblings? She could not, it would appear selfish, and they would not understand. And who did that leave? Sir Phillip? He, who had been forced into a marriage and parenthood would probably believe she was in a luxury position to bide her time and wait for someone she actually wanted to marry to come around.

It was impossible on either side. If she married, she had to leave behind her mother and remaining siblings. But if she stayed, she would soon find herself into an empty nest without confidantes and only much younger children around. With the added bonus of, though her family would never tell her so, being the disappointment of the family. Already her younger sister was fast approaching an engagement while she remained with no beau in sight.

She sighed, tapping her pen against her desk. Her frustrations itched to get out, but there was simply no outlet possible.

“To Sir Phillip,

My brother Colin has come home for the holidays. He went to the Ottoman Empire this time, and brought along some seeds, roots and bulbs for my – or so he believes – fruitless attempts at gardening. He says some are called damask roses, some are called Mulein (whatever that thing is supposed to look like I have no clue, I hope you do), some tulip bulbs(those I know, they grow around Aubrey Hall but these are a different kind, apparently tulips originally came from Asia and not the Netherlands?!) and cyclamen (apparently a very pretty pink flower). I hope you’ll be able to amuse yourself with them. In case you have no idea what they are or how to grow them I’d say you should just plop them in the ground and see what happens. Colin brought them home for me, knowing very well I cannot keep anything alive, so anything you do will doubtlessly be a better fate than the one they’d suffer at my hands.”

She sighed, dipping her pen into the ink again. She missed just talking to him. Worried for him too, since it was clear he had no one to talk to, not freely at least. But on the other hand she liked their letters as well, for the simple fact that in letters he was not so silent. Instead of long silences followed by slowly collected words, Eloise was now responding to full lines of thoughts.

If only he had more practice talking, perhaps he’d be faster to say what he thought, she wished.

“It has been a while since I last visited Romney Hall. How are the other plants faring? Did you give your dare a try? I kept my word. Tried to write my book. My second one is much slower than anticipated though. I feel as though I have many ideas, but I can’t string them together. And I’m too distracted with things in my own life to focus fully on fictional lives. I find I cannot create a narrative that’s as interesting or nuanced as real life, and I do love making things lifelike and painfully recognisable.”

That was all the reference she could put in about her own challenges, she felt.

“Oh, and it is also almost the twins’ birthday, is it not? Give them my congratulations.”

Eloise then paused. Realising that doing so would be to admit to their correspondence.

“In hindsight, just know I thought of them. That is enough. Four is quite the age. I wish you strength and courage, you’ll need it.”

Eloise’s writing was interrupted by the arrival of the Earl of Kilmartin and his cousin, so Eloise hid her letter and joined her sister in the sitting room.

The gay company had not waited for her presence to get started, all sat on the couches with tea already in hand.

‘Since I’m the current Miss Bridgerton I shall pour myself than’, Eloise decided with a smirk, pouring herself a cup.

Francesca shot her an apologetic smile.

The boys continued. While the oldest of the two was three years older than Phillip, both looked a decade younger. Having children really takes its toll, she noted with amusement.

‘Isn’t this vastly superior to sitting around in the mud all day waiting to risk your life, or getting shaken by waves on a boat around Spain somewhere?’ John joked to his cousin.

‘Well, the company and tea are certainly preferable’, Michael smiled, throwing a charming grin at Francesca and Eloise.

‘Why would you say that, is he usually off traveling?’ Eloise asked.

‘No. Although I do love a good bit of travel. No, my cousin is trying to convince me of the superiority of a life of leisure to a life of service. I think his cry of joy could be heard all the way to the indies when I was decommissioned.’

‘You were in the army?’

‘Yes. But now that Napoleon is defeated and it is clear no big European war will happen the next few years, the navy has decommissioned a lot of young men. I’m lucky I have a very friendly nephew with a nice title and slew of houses but those poor sailors from simple backgrounds are now unemployed without anything to fall back on. I hope they will be fine.’

‘Did you ever fight?’

‘I did, in Spain’, Michael admitted, surprise written on his face that a woman was so interested in fighting.

‘I know someone whose brother fought in Spain’, Eloise said. ‘But then again, I imagine a great many people fought there. You cannot possibly have known them all.’

‘No indeed’, Michael admitted. ‘But we were a tight club. Everyone knew a great many people, met them in bars and pubs, sailors were switched from boat to boat whenever someone died here or there, survivors of attacked ships were thrown together onto new ships so we all know quite the list of gentlemen. Be it personally or via hearsay. Do you know the gentleman’s name?’

Well, Eloise could not pass up on that opportunity.

‘His name was George Crane, he would have gone by Sir Crane, I believe. He was the heir to his father’s baronetcy.’

Michael froze, his brows lowering into a frown.

‘What, what is it?’ Francesca and John asked simultaneously.

‘I did know him’, Michael admitted, looking up at Eloise. ‘He died, in battle. On the ship right beside mine. It was cannoned to Davy Jones’ locker. No survivors. We managed to get away just in time, water running into our ship through over five cannon holes. Got pretty rough.’

‘Oh my God!’ Francesca cried out.

‘You never told me’, John accused.

‘Said I got into a pretty heated battle, said I got out’, Michael shrugged.

Eloise watched, hoping he would give her something more.

‘Great man, great singing voice. Pity we lost him. He was one of the few that could play an instrument. Was greatly appreciated when we had some downtime’, Michael continued, turning back to Eloise.

‘Wait, didn’t he have some fiancée? He was always talking about her. Insisted on singing love songs every day as well. Replaced the names in shanties with her name all the time as well, like in Molly Malone. What was it, Marie? Maria?’

Michael focussed, trying to catch almost five year old memories.

‘Marina.’

‘That’s it!’ he smiled. Then he remembered why he was looking for it.

‘What happened to her? If you know the brother you may have heard about her?’

‘Actually, I was a little bit wrong in saying I knew the brother. I knew the brother through her, Marina, you see. She uhm, she married him.’

‘He married his dead brother’s fiancée?’ Francesca asked, completely oblivious.

Michael’s gaze darted over to Francesca.

‘It is honourable’, John said, ‘to protect his brother’s beloved and honour his brother’s vows.’

‘Why I could never imagine one of my sisters taking on – ‘ Francesca cut herself off, cheeks flaming.

Eloise paused, alarm bells ringing in her head. Had it already happened? No no no. Oh god, she was losing her sister.

‘It is not the same though. When a man proposes, they offer a lady their protection, their surname, their home and their wealth. And if a lady and a man have been engaged for a while, others might not feel very inclined to marry her. The man’s brother clearly respected his wish to offer the young lady a home. A fiancée can be passed on from brother to brother. I know the government disapproves but personally I have always understood the practice of both the Bible and our country of marrying a brother’s wife. That way the woman can keep enjoying the protection of the family she married into and have some stability. Especially when there’s children involved it’s important she be given access to the money and home she had become accustomed to.’

‘Yet it sounds a bit creepy’, Francesca said.

‘Marriage is something both parties ought to wish. To me… it seems disrespectful to the groom. Is it not the bible that says: thou should not covet thy brother’s wife? Or something like it.’

‘He did not want her’, Eloise interjected.

‘Indeed, it’s not about wanting. It’s about honour and duty’, John said with a smile.

‘But if she wanted to marry the brother, and he did not wish to marry the bride, does that not make both miserable?’ Francesca asked.

Indeed it did, indeed it did.

‘They can learn to love. And take comfort in the fact they’re doing their duty and honouring the vows they made’, John decided.

‘Pass him along my condolences when you see him, even though it’s been a while. Great chap. Really made some boring and bad days pleasant.’

Eloise nodded.

She couldn’t help herself from going to Francesca’s room that night.

‘Am I disturbing you?’

‘Right now? No’, Francesca smiled as she let her sister in.

‘Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?’

‘Kind of. Those boys.’

‘Ah’, Francesca said, sitting down in front of her vanity. She continued brushing out her hair.

‘What do you think about them?’ Eloise carefully asked.

‘They’re very nice and pleasant.’

‘Both in equal measure?’

‘Why? What do you think of them?’

‘I think they are very kind.’

‘Do you have a favourite?’ Francesca asked.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Nothing. Only… You seemed to get along well with Michael. You always do.’

Eloise had not considered that before.

‘It’s not so much that I like him more. Rather, it’s that you and the earl talk so much and get along so well. We can choose between staring at the two of you or having our own conversation.’

Francesca said nothing, her face giving nothing away.

‘You like him, don’t you?’ Eloise asked.

Francesca turned around to face her sister, smiling in admittance.

‘Has he proposed?’

‘Not yet.’

‘But you want him to?’

‘Yes, actually I do.’

‘He lives very far away, all the way up in Scotland.’

‘It’s adventurous, to be sure.’

‘You don’t mind being that far away from us?’

‘No, that’s you. Not me. I don’t mind living far away. Having my own life, perhaps I would enjoy the privacy. There’ll be no sisters asking me very personal questions late at night. I can always come by for a visit’, Francesca said with a grin.

‘Do you love him?’

‘I’ve only known him for two months.’

‘That is no answer’, Eloise noticed.

‘It’s… strange. In books it’s like lightning. Destiny. And Kate, Edwina and Daphne always said they just felt this instantaneous attraction. Even when they did not want to admit it to themselves yet. They saw them and just got this fluttery feeling. I never… felt such an excitement. But what I did feel was just… with every word we spoke… He could just say no wrong. There was this instant connection, a feeling of understanding. I feel like a very jagged piece of a puzzle that has finally found another piece I can click together with.’

Her entire face lit up when she spoke, and by the time she finished Eloise almost had tears in her eyes.

‘God, I’m so going to use that in a book’, Eloise laughed, a stray tear escaping the corner of her eye.

‘My Eloise, careful. I’m almost starting to believe you actually do have a soft romantic side.’

‘Do not tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold’, Eloise joked.

‘You truly do not wish to marry? Let’s be serious for a moment. Sister to sister. I told you about me.’

Eloise sighed.

‘To be honest, I want to marry. A couple of years ago I didn’t. I felt too young, I wanted to do so many things, I wanted to explore opportunities, even though I was told the only thing I could ever become was a wife. But I do want love. I look at all the happy couples around me and I do want that for myself too. However, I won’t marry just anyone. It’s like you said, you want the pieces of the puzzle to fit. And I’m afraid I’m quite a unique piece myself. Any man I married would have to accept I’d never stop travelling around to visit my family. I’d never stop writing. I would want to talk about intellectual things most men only talk about with other men. And I’m controlling, I’m managing. I talk too much. There’s few men who would not only tolerate that, but accept that and appreciate me.’

‘You ever saw such a man?’ Francesca asked in earnest.

Eloise paused and thought, going through all the men she’d ever had long conversations with. Not her brothers, not her suitors, not the rogues of London, not the boring lawyers and entitled parliamentarians, not the rural gentry… wait.

Eloise swallowed when she thought of all the letters sent back and forth, of all the encouragement written, of all the silently accepted advise and management of a certain set of twins and the silent acceptance of her rants. There was such a man. But did she love him? Such a strong word. Certainly she would have known by now, she had interacted with him for over three years.

‘Does it matter? They need to be able to marry me.’

‘And they aren’t?’

‘No. But it’s fine. It can’t be there’s only one man on earth who tolerates me.’

‘You know mother would understand if their background wasn’t… the best. Daphne married a rake and Benedict…’

It was far worse than even Benedict.

Eloise laughed.

‘Enough about my miserable dramatic lovelife. If I wanted more about it, I would read Lady Whistledown. But you, dear sister, you will leav the nest soon then. Are you nervous?’

‘Not really. I’m not exactly a debutante. It’s time I marry. I just wish… there was any way I could prepare for it. I have three married siblings but I still feel like I’m ruefully unprepared.’

‘Perhaps we should bribe Annie, hear her out’, Eloise suggested. ‘We cannot be blamed for wanting to be prepared.’

‘Indeed’, Francesca smiled. ‘Eloise, that’s a wonderful idea.’

The next morning they put their pocket money together for what would be their best investment ever.

“Just the other day we had some visitors over, the Earl of Kilmartin and his cousin, Mr. Stirling. We were just talking when the latter mentioned having been to war. How small the world is, he mentioned knowing your brother. He said he found him a very accomplished musician who managed to make even the darkest night very gay indeed.

By the way, I recently read this book called Frankenstein. It’s awful. Nothing I write will ever be as good as that. Might as well break my pen.”

January was not a good month for Eloise. First, she thought she would be happy. A new Austen book was coming out, and her sister would be getting married.

But it took less than a day before Eloise started feeling alone, despite that Benedict and his wife, and Colin were in the town house the day after Francesca’s wedding. Because she knew that they would soon leave and abandon her. And when she tried to comfort herself with the book she’d bought just days before the wedding, Persuasion, she did not get past the first two pages without bursting into tears.

The author’s identity was finally unveiled. The icon and rolemodel of Eloise’s youth was called Jane Austen, and she had died aged forty-one the past year as an old maid. Eloise, who had always felt such a kinship with her, was gutted.

When she rushed outside she was too emotional to even lift a cigar.

‘Eloise?’ Benedict asked, who’d rushed after her.

‘I’ll die an old maid. I’ll die like her. I’ll die just like her. I can’t have it both ways. No one can’, she sobbed, wetting his coat.

‘Who? Who died?’

‘Jane Austen! The author. The…  Pride and Prejudice writer’, she explained.

‘You don’t need to die an old maid.’

‘But no one wants me. I don’t fit them. I don’t fit anyone. No one can love me like all of you have found spouses.’

‘Eloise, please, don’t be dramatic. It’s not becoming.’

‘I’m not becoming. I’m the most unfit-for-marriage woman in the whole of London.’

‘You were always proud of that title.’

‘I was, I am. Argh! Damn it all’, she cursed.

‘You’re difficult. To be sure’, Benedict joked, placing her down on the bench. ‘But no more so than Anthony and look how blessed he is.’

‘I am nothing like Anthony’, she huffed, tears streaming down her face.

‘Sure you are. You avoided duty so you’d have time to do what you loved. You’re proud, you’re rash, you’re managing and you’re controlling.’

‘I’m not emotionally stuck-up’, she argued, wiping away her tears.

‘No, that you’re not’, Benedict admitted with a smile.

‘But who will want me? It’ll be my fifth season and I still haven’t found anyone.’

‘Sure, you’re a bit late. But Posy is also still unmarried, as is Penelope, and even Penelope’s older sister’, he argued.

‘And we are all frowned upon.’

‘Eloise, bugger the frowns. I had thirteen seasons. As did Anthony. Sometimes it takes a little more time.’

‘If I have to wait eight more seasons Hyacinth will have children by the time I’m married’, Eloise protested.

‘I’ll have to see all of my siblings leave. Every year one of you is leaving the nest, and I remain behind with the younger children. And now even those younger than me are getting married. I don’t want you all to stay alone, but it’s a miserable affair staying behind. Even though I really really love mother.’

Benedict rubbed her head.

‘I understand your frustration. Or rather, I don’t, I pity you because I know Anthony and I were able to have our own separate lives even though we remained unmarried. And we weren’t looked at the same way single women were looked at.’

‘Thanks for the recognition.’

‘Smoke?’

‘Please.’

She rubbed the last stubborn tears away and accepted the offered poison with shaking hands.

‘Miss Bridgerton?’

Eloise looked up from the ground she’d been staring at while smoking.

‘Yes?’

‘A letter just arrived for you.’

‘You can give it to me’, she told the butler.

‘Another letter? What a faithful pen pal you have’, Benedict smiled.

Eloise shot him a smile and opened the letter.

“Dear Miss Bridgerton,

Tulips are indeed originally from Central Asia, they grow in the Hindu Mountains and were cultivated a thousand years before our time calendar started. They were first imported into Holland two centuries ago by Oghier Ghislain de Busbecq, an ambassador of Emperor Ferdinand I to Suleyman the Magnificent. De Busbecq, besides being a diplomat was also a lover of beautiful nature, and much admired the sophisticated hybrids growing in the royal court in Istanbul. He shipped some bulbs to Carolus Clusius in Prague, who eventually took over the botanical gardens in Leiden, ensuring the widespread distribution of tulips in Europe. Thank you for sending them to me. I endeavour to make them grow. As I do with all plants. I have yet to fail a seed you sent me. Perhaps you can come admire them sometime in the future when you and your friend visit my wife.

I have given your dare a try. And although not immediately successful I have managed to create some hybrid vegetables and apples. I am sure you will manage to write your second book. If you find those things in life more interesting, why not incorporate them in your book? Nothing is as lifelike as life. Not that making books and growing vegetables are anything alike, but I always start out with something that already exists. I cannot make a pea from scratch, I need a plant to start out with. I do also not understand why you would stop simply because someone else has made something good. It’s comparing apples to pears but I would never give up on cultivating tomatoes because someone else has better tomatoes. I still need nourishment and mine work just fine for that.

Ah, it brings me joy to know my brother is remembered fondly. I thank you for passing me along something good about him…

W-

My wi

Eloi

Miss B

Marina is in very poor health and very unhappy. Could you and your friend please come at the earliest opportunity? Packed for a few weeks? I do not know how I can I am sorry for being unsensible but she has made an attempt on her life and I do not know how I can help her. And there’s the twins. All I know was that during the presence of you and your friend she was doing better.

Phillip.”

Chapter Text

‘I’ve forgotten an umbrella’, Eloise muttered as their carriage hobbled across the uneven country road.

‘I just realized I should have brought more than seven pairs of stockings. We’ll be gone for more than a week’, Penelope said.

‘I think I’ve forgotten to pack pins for my hair, except the ones I’m currently using.’

It was a bit of a dichotomy, their talk about trivial matters and the bright day outside while they were on their way to what would without a doubt be their bleakest visit to Gloucestershire ever. However they felt the topic was too grave to speak of.

Even when Eloise had informed Penelope she had merely read the relevant piece of the letter, after which they had instantly started discussing their trip, and not the event leading up to it. Sometime later, after the travel plans were made, Penelope did ask Eloise why Sir Phillip knew where she lived, to which Eloise told perhaps her first lie to Penelope ever – alright, not a lie but rather an omission of the truth – by saying she had borrowed a book from him and had to send it back.

‘You need more pins than the ones you’re using?’

‘Pen, my hair is braided so I don’t have to deal with an annoying bun when I lean back against the headrest. I had my braid pinned up with five pins at most just so mother would let me out of the house. Decent ladies having their hair decently done, and all.’

‘Well I have more than enough. Anyways, perhaps you don’t even have to pin it if you don’t want to… Should we spend all the time in the house there is no reason to.’

Eloise chewed on her cheek, doing her best not to say the first impulsive thing that popped up into her head. It was getting easier with age, but it never became easy.

‘Let’s hope we’ll leave the house, get some sunshine, some pleasant activities. My maids certainly packed dresses for some outdoor action.’

‘Mine too, but then it is expected fashionable society holds soirees every night’, Penelope smiled.

Eloise was just about to ask what the fashionable society would think of Whistledown disappearing, but then she remembered that Whistledown was still in hibernation. In a way it was almost a good thing it had happened now and not in the midst of a season when her absence would have been noticed.

‘Perhaps there’s a future Whistledown pun in there. In case you ever want to critique someone’s dress you could joke that despite being part of fashionable society they are not so very fashionable’, Eloise suggested with a grin, being overly proud of her joke.

Penelope rolled with her eyes, trying to stop a small smile..

‘I can’t help but feel responsible’, she sighed.

Eloise remained quiet, allowing her friend the time to vocalize her thoughts.

‘I cannot see how Colin could have ever been happy, married to someone who didn’t love him with such a big lie between them. But I can’t help but think I should have handled it better than publish the story and make her fall from grace. She still could have chosen then. I just… I was such a stupid seventeen year old fool, a desperate foolish child with a way too powerful weapon.’

Eloise didn’t particularly disagree. But on the other hand pointing that out or staying together any longer was not exactly desirable either. So she chose the third option.

‘Do you think she would have fared better with another husband?’

‘I don’t know’, Penelope sighed.

‘On the one hand the children are cared for by his family, and they are getting exactly the type of raising and luxury that was their birth right. And in a way it must be a comfort that her children still carry his name. But on the other hand she is confronted by how everything that should have been his is now his brother’s. And how everything they should have shared, she is now sharing with someone else. The children are loved by both, which would not have at all been certain had they been raised by someone who knew they weren’t his. Just look at how awfully Sophie was treated by someone who actually was her father. Oliver will inherit all that belonged to his father, which is a big gift for a child. He would have forever been separated from what he deserved had Marina married another.’

Eloise nodded. That was true.

‘But for Marina? They really don’t fit, do they? I want a love match but I’m more than familiar with marriages of convenience, and believe those can indeed still be solid and – if not affectionate – at least cordial. But there’s nothing there. They are not able to support or understand each other. They might as well not be married and just be two very distant cousins raising children together. I can’t help… I can’t help but think of a conversation we had the night before she wanted to marry Colin and she said… Gosh… When I asked her how she could marry knowing George had not forsaken her and she was entrapping Colin she said she would be comfortable and at peace knowing Colin was a good and kind man who would care for the children. And now she has a husband who is that but… well. Apparently that is not enough to feel good and happy. Perhaps a man who was more like her, more like George, could have helped her feel better. But on the other hand, maybe she never would have gotten over it, how George died and she had spent the last three months believing the worst of him. Knowing they could have been together had faith been kinder. If you meet your person… Is that not what they say? That there’s one person out there for everyone? But what if they die? How can you live knowing you’ll never meet someone like that again?’

Eloise let out a soft sigh of relief. She was glad she was not alone in having such thoughts, rude and pessimistic as they were.

‘I do think there must be a way of living. I think my mother still mourns my father, but she is not unhappy. And personally I cannot understand how one person can make or break your life while we are all so connected to so many people. I don’t have a person yet I have so much to live for. I have my siblings, my career, my nieces and nephews, you,… many people. Even if one of them was to fall away, there would still be so much. Just now actually, a letter was delivered to me right before we stepped into our carriage’, Eloise explained.

She lifted Francesca’s letter that had been laying beside her on the bench.

‘I love him madly. Madly! Truly, I would die without him.’, Eloise said, reading the relevant phrase.

‘She hasn’t even been married a week. A week! I do not have a husband nor do I pretend to fully understand romantic feelings but it seems particularly odd to me that someone believes a setback like that would destroy them forever. My mother, who I believe loved like no other remained standing. Surely the rest of us are made of the same cloth. We’re not some dainty gothic horror heroines wasting away from grief, sadness or for moral corruption’, Eloise said, half humorous and half honest.

‘But you are always saddened when another one of your siblings marry’, Penelope pointed out.

‘There you have a point, but still I don’t think my life becomes less meaningful. I only find it… lonelier.’

‘Sometimes I feel lonely too, even with two thirds of my sisters still being at home. Not that I ever had much of a bond with the older two but still… I’m afraid of remaining behind alone. It’s not odd. Perhaps that’s why losing someone you love is so awful. Because with a sibling, you know you’re not staying together forever. When you fall in love, you’re planning on spending every day with them. They are meant to cure the loneliness. And when they’re gone, you’re left with a hole that’s perhaps… impossible to fill up. And when you’ve been together with that person, you know exactly how big that hole is that they left. Since you’ve had the chance to live with that hole filled.’

‘We should stop talking like this, it sounds awfully deterministic. People can only love once. Once lost is lost forever. We’re not Mr. Darcy talking about his good opinion or Captain Wentworth about love. Second attachments exist, just look at Colonel Brandon. New chances arise, look at Anne and Wentworth. And women whose husbands died can still be mightily happy or content, as many Austen widows attest.’

And then a marvellous thing happened. After months without inspiration, their conversation sparked a flame inside her head. How fitting that just a small week after Sir Phillip told her to use her own life for inspiration she found some right in the carriage ride to his home.

An image of two sisters sitting in front of each other appeared. One with a husband who died and did not believe in second attachments. And one who was just navigating love for the first time, and would be looking for that one romantic love of her sister but find it again in another.

Eloise did not notice the silence, her imagination too active, but Penelope did, and it sounded heavy to her ears.

‘We’re never going to get any books by her again’, Penelope said, voice heavy.

‘I can’t finish the book’, Eloise admitted.

‘I just can’t. Knowing it’s… knowing it’s the last one. I’m savouring it. Every page. I’ve even started rereading it. I’ve read every chapter thrice now. But those last sixty pages… I can’t. Then it’s over.’

‘You should bring tribute to her in your next one’, Penelope suggested. ‘Many by now have said you are to be Austen-esque but uhm… Gosh… What was the saying again?’

‘I was a hammer, blunt hard and unsubtle where she was a knife, sharp and subtle in regards to societal critique’, Eloise recognized with a smile.

She had thought about it, honouring Austen. But she’d felt afraid of it, as it was already so clear from her prose she admired Austen. Perhaps she could give her credit by incorporating one of her favoured themes… Not marriage, that was something she already dealt with, and not societal critique, that was something every good book addressed. She considered the countryside, considered new money versus old money, considered the downfall of Bath in the public opinion. But nothing stuck. She needed a theme that would inspire the plot that up till now seemed to be about love and loss and family until…

The wars. Nothing lead to death, separated lovers and destroyed families like the wars with France.

‘I know that look’, Penelope said.

Eloise looked up, confused.

‘What?’

‘That look, that look on your face.’

‘What look, what of it?’

‘It’s your Eureka face. You’re thinking of something.’

‘Oh. A book.’

‘Naturally, I imagine talking about books must get your head started.’

‘I believe I’m finally getting some inspiration.’

‘Right now?’ Penelope asked in surprise.

‘You’re a disaster tourist, you know? You’re no better than those horrible people travelling to Waterloo to visit the war site and buy teeth and bullets of fallen soldiers.’

‘Excuse me, I’m not going to use any of this… these problems… for my book. I thought about love and using Austen as inspiration, as you said.’

‘Love?’

‘What we just discussed? About whether happiness was still possible after losing someone.’

‘That sounds like a thing I would read’, Penelope admitted.

‘I sure hope so, as my friend, it is your duty. And I expect a raving column about it in Whistledown.’

‘Are you pressuring and blackmailing Lady Whistledown?’

‘I’m the only one who can’, Eloise smirked.

They arrived at Romney Hall an hour after dark. A tired butler opened the door. He greeted them both and informed them dinner would be served early at six. Their usual bedrooms were already prepared. A heaviness fell over them. The reason for their journey could no longer be avoided.

‘Can our things be taken to our rooms? We would like to see Marina.’

‘I will ask whether Lady Crane can receive guests right now’, he said.

Two footmen took their suitcases and took them away while the butler made his enquiries.

‘The Lady Crane is sleeping. It has been decided it is better to let her sleep when she does fall asleep. Might I instead offer some refreshments in the dining room while I alert Lord Crane?’

‘Thank you’, Penelope said at the same moment Eloise said: ‘Where are the children?’

‘The children? They are having supper upstairs in the nursery I imagine.’

Eloise’s heart froze. They had eaten with their parents the last times they had been here.

They accepted the offer of refreshments.

The house was almost tomblike in silence, with the children for away and the owners hidden away in some upstairs rooms.

They had almost finished their glass of wine when the doors swung open. Sir Phillip looked wan and skeletal when he bowed for them. Just a week ago they had spoken so lightly of flowers, she was almost dizzy as they curtsied back in absolute silence. He motioned for them to sit back down again and quietly accepted a glass of cherry himself.

‘I hope the travel went well?’ he asked then, face confused.

My, he almost doesn’t know how to have polite conversation anymore. How long has it been since I last saw him? It had almost been a year.

‘Yes, quite speedy. The weather was pleasant and the roads were good; Which isn’t evident this time of year’, Penelope smiled.

‘I see… uhm… It was good of you to come so fast. I apologise if it was inconvenient.’

‘We’re happy to be here… Well, not happy. But we wanted to come over when we heard the news. Had you not asked, we would have asked you whether we could’, Penelope said.

Eloise could only nod.

‘Yes. Very kind’, he nodded, taking another sip.

Eloise wished to help them navigate the conversation. But it would be awfully inappropriate to brush off a topic so heavy as him almost losing his wife.

‘Dinner will be served soon’, a servant said when silence could no longer be endured.

Soup came, followed by fish. Eloise threw in the towel and asked about the children and the estate and anything else he could occupy himself with that wasn’t Marina, just to keep silence at bay and gather information.

Since a few weeks before the incident Marina had become more fatigued, and had retreated more and more into her room, getting headaches after short times with the children. And after the incident, the children had been kept almost exclusively to their rooms, being only told their mother was unwell. They visited her for less than half an hour each day, bringing her carelessly plucked flowers and drawings. Because Phillip’s rhythm had been out of loop since the incident, he often sat with his wife or worked without paying attention to the clock. His eating times ranged between six and midnight, meaning the children ate alone at fixed hours with the nurses to keep their rhythm.

At the end of their meal, they were informed Marina had awoken, and all decided to venture up, Phillip going in first to warn her.

Marina was sitting up in her bed in a nightgown and robe, looking wan.

‘Pen’, she muttered, her voice low and soft. Penelope immediately flocked over.

‘It is not as bad as it looks. Really. There was no need to come.’

‘It’s alright. It doesn’t matter’, Penelope immediately said. ‘I wanted to come. I’m ever so sorry I couldn’t make it last year in the summer.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘No, we should have stayed in touch more.’

A doctor was still fuzzing around the bed, coughing to get attention.

‘I have consulted with your husband, Lady Crane’, the old man said. ‘I have come to the conclusion that to lift your spirits and reinvigorate your body, a change of scenery would serve you well. I would strongly advise you to take a restorative trip to Bath. Your husband would agree to such a treatment.’

Marina’s eyes, though tired, shrunk as she looked between her husband and the doctor.

‘You want me to leave?’

‘No, no. Not at all’, Phillip protested. ‘I merely. The doctor believes it could do you well, as it has served many others and you too seemed to be in lighter spirits when you went away last time.’

‘But…’ Marina closed her eyes, seemingly struggling to string together her thoughts. ‘You want me to leave my children?’

The doctor opened his mouth. Eloise was confident he was about to confirm it, but Phillip quickly interjected.

‘No.’

Marina visibly relaxed.

‘You can take them with you’, he said.

Eloise observed him, to see what he thought of what he suggested. The children were not his, but he had raised them as if they were, every day of their lives. To her contentment he did not look particularly happy about it. In sending them along with her, he would be without them.

‘To Bath.’

‘If you want.’

‘I insist a doctor and the children’s nurses accompany you. My lady, you need to rest. You need to focus on feeling well. Not on the children.’

‘Do you think I can not handle my own children?’ Marina demanded to know.

‘No, no I see it now. You think me mad. You think … because of my accident, I cannot assure my children’s safety.’

Eloise tried to look at the floor instead of Marina. Accident? Was that how she called it? She did not think her capable of hurting her children. But now she was curious to hear what Marina pretended it was. And for a second, she wondered if Marina knew that Eloise and Penelope knew the truth. She’d have to ask Phillip, so she could at least pretend to believe the lie.

‘Madam, I do not doubt you are a devoted mother. Rather, it is because it is in a mother’s selfless nature to put her children above her, that I believe you are better without them. You are suffering from a nervous complaint. You are melancholic. You told me you were not religious, so ruling that out, I must conclude, based on what my fellow practitioners have also observed and theorized the past few centuries, it must be because you need diversion. It is most prevalent in women who live a more quiet life. This is why I suggest a trip would do well to restore your spirits. And to focus on becoming well again it is imperative you get ample rest and ample time for yourself. Children of that age… it is not as if they are already so sensible a company that their absence is truly missed.’

Eloise was pretty sure that whenever her mother felt sad, taking her children from her would have been everything but the solution, but she could agree that a change of scenery could help Marina. She bit her lip.

‘I will not leave them’, Marina decided.

‘As you wish, madam’, the doctor nodded. ‘I have some tinctures. And a tea recipe I can recommend. I will leave them behind on my way out.’

The doctor greeted them and left.

Eloise walked over to the window. She couldn’t believe how she had been pitying her own life before, these people had so much more to complain about.

Marina deflated, all her bravado flowing out of her.

‘I’m sorry you had to witness that. Oh, and what about you? You just got here. And now I’ll be sent away’, Marina sighed.

‘Actually, I was planning on booking a house for you. And the ladies. Should they wish.’

‘Oh but we cannot accept’, Eloise protested.

‘No. No do come. I know no one there’, Marina exclaimed, taking Penelope’s hand in hers.

‘It’ll be perfect. Then it’ll be like a trip for leisure, not out of necessity.’

‘Well… I’ve never been to Bath’, Penelope smiled. ‘It’s not London but to be honest, I’ve seen London a thousand times over. I’m very curious to see it. I heard the buildings are beautiful, and I’ve never been to a thermal bath.’

Marina smiled at Penelope.

‘Since it is settled, I will leave you to talk’, Sir Phillip decided.

‘We have a lot of catching up’, Penelope smiled, doing her best to make the most of it.

Eloise paced to the other side of the room.

‘Perhaps, I should let you two catch up first, then?’ she suggested. ‘It’s been a long day and I don’t wish to make it anymore hectic.’

For a second she feared her phrasing would upset Marina, insinuating she was too fragile for a conversation with two persons. Surprisingly though, she nodded.

‘You don’t have to leave’, she tried.

‘It’s nothing’, Eloise said, coming over and patting Marina’s free hand. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to talk the next few weeks. My mother probably expects a letter informing her I have yet again survived a carriage ride without highwaymen robbing me or dying.’

‘A true feat’, Marina nodded.

Eloise left the room, practically storming through the hall. Sir Phillip was on his way down a flight of stairs.

‘How long did you plan for us to stay?’ Eloise asked, jumping down the stairs two steps a time. Sir Phillip turned around in surprise.

‘I apologize. I should have asked beforehand. You did not come prepared. How could you, you did not know. But I thought it better to prepare, and then accommodate, than to wait weeks awaiting your answer.’

‘Pen and I packed for a few weeks. And laundry can be done’, Eloise shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. I do not think we need anything extra. Our maids always give us clothes for every occasion.’

‘Ah. Good.’

‘But do you want to pay that, for us?’

‘I can afford it.’

‘I am not saying you cannot. I am merely surprised, it is not a cheap gift.’

‘The doctor believes this might work. What choice do I have? I knew she would not go alone.’

‘And you’d agree to be without the children for weeks?’

‘The other choice is making her unhappy. Which is the exact thing I am trying to stop’, he said, chest puffing up.

He raked a hand through his hair.

‘The doctor said it is melancholy. I cannot disagree, it is the adjective I would have given her behaviour, so why would she not have the illness itself? And the science says it is brought about by a monotonous, solitary lifestyle. That’s exactly what we have.’

‘There’s not so much you could have changed.’

‘I knew she wanted society. I knew she would have enjoyed town better. But I stayed at Romney because it was easier to look out for the lands and the tenants.’

‘Not every woman would have been unhappy to live here. She was not even opposed to living here, as she planned on marrying George. And neither of you really wanted…’

Phillip understood but all too well where her sentence was going. And did not accept the offered comfort. His eyes shone with exhaustion, frustration and resignation.

‘No. But does it matter? We are married. And now I have to do what will keep our children’s mother alive’, he decided.

‘So stay, for as long as you’re able. I know I am asking much. You are a writer. And you are both young women looking for husbands. I ask to put your lives on hold – ‘ he begged.

‘ – London’s full of bloody cads and rotters. I’d much rather be here. Wasn’t going to find myself anyone. I loathe all men in London and they detest me. Don’t think anyone will find me much of a prize anymore after four years of being out’, Eloise shrugged.

‘Can’t be’, he decided.

‘Oh no, it’s true’, Eloise smirked mirthlessly. ‘But hey, perhaps I find some inspiration in Bath. If it’s good enough for Austen, it’s more than good enough for me.’

‘Austen?’

‘The writer I loved. The one who wrote Pride and Prejudice. She died, apparently.’

‘Oh. A lot of famous people appear to be dying’, Sir Phillip nodded.

‘What is Marina’s account of the story?’ Eloise asked, whose mind went from dying to almost dying quite quickly. ‘She said she had an accident to the doctor.’

‘Her accident was consuming a very toxic blend of herbs. She claims she was just making tea and mixed bad things by accident, says as it was dark in the kitchen when she went downstairs to make it, she could not see the herbs she was using very well.’

‘Oh God.’

‘Indeed. It would be believable. But she never goes downstairs to make her own tea, and now she suddenly did.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

Sir Phillip flapped his arms helplessly.

‘I did not give her the tea, but I gave her this life.’

‘But – ‘

‘No. I failed. My brother would not forgive me if I did nothing and let the mother of his children die. I cannot give her what she needs. I can only hope someone else can.’

‘You did not know this would happen. You have no glass ball.’

‘It does not matter’, he decided.

She jumped a step back.

‘It kind of does. You did not want her to be unhappy. In fact, you always struck me as trying to be nice to her.’

‘Does it matter if my daughter breaks a glass that she did not plan to break it? The glass is still broken. Marina is my responsibility. If it was just about me I might… But Amanda and Oliver? How can I explain to them that… I feared, for one night… I was already going through imaginary speeches of how I would have to break it to them their mother was gone, just like that. You don’t know that burden. Of them. Of her. Of this title I neither asked nor wanted. But the fact that I did not ask for any of this does not give me an excuse to deal with it poorly And whilst I know others… others might look for something to make it all bearable… I cannot afford that, I do not earn that if I cannot take care of the bare minimum.’

Eloise reached out a hand, but he recoiled, shaking his head.

He struggled for words, five feet removed from her.

‘I apologize. That was neither your business nor your concern. I overstepped. Forgive me?’

Eloise could only nod.

‘Good. I apologize for the inconvenience. Let’s pretend it did not happen. Good evening.’

Eloise was left reeling when he stalked away, to his greenhouse no doubt. Shivers ran down her spine as she walked to her bedroom and got ready for bed.

It was not his outburst that had shocked her. It was the tragic unfairness of everything that struck her most. They were both miserable in positions neither wanted. But Phillip was right, by law Marina was his burden, and one he planned to carry honourably. She admired that. But while he tried to make the twins and Marina happy, who was looking after him? He was just as miserable.

With a heavy heart she started on her letting, trying to sound cheerful to her mother when reporting she would be staying away for an unknown period of time, and might be taking a trip to Bath. Words did not come easily. She was still only on her tenth line when a knock sounded on her door.

‘Come in.’

It was Penelope, with a small smile.

‘Hi.’

‘Hello.’

Penelope sank down on Eloise’s bed, and the tears that glimmered in her eyes started falling immediately. Eloise rushed over.

‘What a mess.’

‘We’re all alive. We can be fine again. Everyone has bad periods.’

‘Not that bad.’

‘Not most times, but still, people can become happy again.’

‘It’s not the first time El, one time she will succeed.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Back in eighteen-thirteen, when Marina was living with us and was pregnant with the twins she… we went away to a dinner party and she remained behind. And when we came home I knocked on her door. And I found her. And she was… She was unconscious. And I really thought I lost her. And that she was dead. She survived. The doctor called it a miracle. She later told me she had hoped to end the pregnancy with it. She risked her life because she feared she had no future. And now she just confessed… she couldn’t imagine continuing like this forever.’

And while Eloise had sometimes felt a bit blue, she had never felt like that. So she just sat down, and stroked Penelope’s back.

Chapter Text

“Bath really is a marvellous place, mother. I need only walk out of the house and stand still for a minute and behold, I am showered fully and can return inside. To be frank it has been years since I have witnessed such a wet February. Does it rain as much in London? I have not had a single dry day yet.

Not that it matters a lot, we stay busy. We’ve been to musical performances, theatres and operettas in the evenings. And in the day we managed to visit pleasant little shops tucked away at the bottom of elegant buildings. The whole city looks like it was built in a single day, everything looks so similar, compared to London where you can look at a street and see buildings clearly belonging to five different centuries. We have also visited the thermal baths, the pump rooms and the walking rooms which were very pleasant.

I found myself looking for a Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot as I walked there. I cannot hope to inspire tourism the way Austen created for Lyme Regis and locations and shops she described in Bath, but I do feel tempted to write about real locations in my next book and name drop them. I have written forty pages so far and must say I am quite satisfied. Already some characters have decided to be quite different from what I imagined them, and many pages have been thrown into the fireplace and provided warmth for us these cold February nights. But that’s just the way writing goes. I hope everyone is well at home?”

‘Is he there yet?’ Amanda whispered.

‘No. But I would advise you not to speak. A talking table is a dead giveaway of a hiding sibling’, Eloise told her.

She put down her quill and focussed on her hearing. She couldn’t really hear footsteps anywhere.

‘But currently the coast is clear’, Eloise informed the girl who was hiding under Eloise’s writing desk in the white drawing room.

‘It takes him sooo long’, Amanda complained.

‘That means you are very good.’

‘Or that he is not trying.’

‘Potentially.’

‘What is potentially?’

‘Maybe’, Eloise informed her.

‘Oh, okay.’

Eloise finished up her letter and took her writing back.

In the three weeks they had been here, Eloise had little time to write. Usually autumns and winters were her most productive period as there weren’t as many invitations and balls as there were during the season. But they had gone somewhere almost every afternoon and evening. And when they were at home, Penelope felt disinclined to leave Marina alone for even half an hour, even when Marina was so exhausted she did nothing but lay down and sleep on the couch. That meant Eloise usually only had the mornings and the darkest hours of night to write.

She dipped her pen into the ink again. All characters were almost in the right place to start the plot. In the end the story had become about five siblings during the wars with Napoleon. The youngest brother had been on his grand tour when the war broke out and he was killed. In Eloise’s story the family was just about to receive the letter announcing it.

And then everything would start happening. The oldest sister’s husband, a general, would go to war and die, leaving her behind with her young daughter. The younger sister, Anna, would fall in love with a sailor who was in England to rest for a few months. But her mother would disapprove, as she knew how the eldest was hurt by her husband’s death. But no sooner would disaster be averted than the oldest brother, Duke Edward, enlisted in the war to avenge his youngest brother. Just like Anthony when he was young, he would be rash and impulsive, and pay for it by getting imprisoned in France. Leading his wife to miscarry and the second brother, Daniel to struggle with the pressure of being an interim duke.

Amidst all misery Anna would become the beating heart of the family, supporting her sister and her child, and supporting her brother in the management of the dukedom. All while her heartache lingered and her young years ticked by. And so what if Anna was a combination of Eloise, Violet Bridgerton, Anne Elliot and Elinor Dashwood?

So what if basically every plot point was stolen from people she knew or other books? Was it not as was said: life was the best inspiration for writing.

The book would deal with the devastation the war had on England. It would show the disadvantages of the inheritance system, the pressure on heirs and wives and the ups and downs of marrying versus staying alone. And this book could not be called a silly romance novel. It was a real book full of politics, intrigues and plot.

Eloise was shaken out of her focus when a pair of boots raced down the stairs into the living room.

‘I fell asleep on the floor looking under the closet. Where is Amanda? Have you seen her?’

‘I… I have not’, Eloise said.

Against her legs, she could feel Amanda shaking with joy.

‘Oh no’, he sighed, trudging out of the room.

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

Eloise looked up at the clock beside the door. It was almost one. High time for lunch. It was actually surprising she had not seen Penelope yet. Marina was not surprising, she only came down around two every day and never had breakfast.

She was nearing the end of the chapter showing the initial devastation the news caused, giving hints of how each family member was going to take it. She chewed on her cheek. Was it too much misery?

Life was misery, it was fine. She brushed back her hair, cracked her fingers, and started again.

‘Good God, have you written all of that today?’ Penelope asked when she entered the drawing room.

‘No, I’ve written… Uhmm…’

Eloise leafed through the pages. ‘Eight of these yesterday.’

‘Heavens, Eloise’, Penelope stammered.

‘Let’s get some soup and bread for lunch.’

‘Aren’t we going to wait for Marina?’

‘It’s past two already. I don’t think she’ll come down in time for lunch’, Penelope admitted.

‘You think it’s a bad day?’ Eloise asked, glad the nurse had finally come to pick up the children at half past one.

‘I don’t know. But it was quite late yesterday, perhaps she was just very tired.’

Eloise shrugged. ‘Let’s hope it’s just her being tired. Should we send a maid in?’

‘Already did before I came downstairs. Let’s hope she brings some news over lunch’, Penelope said as they walked out of the drawing room.

‘How is the writing going?’

‘Good. Good. Killed the first guy’, Eloise grinned.

‘The first? How many will die?’

‘Oh, at least him and the one husband. I haven’t decided whether to kill the oldest brother as well.’

‘You’re horrible’, Penelope laughed.

‘They won’t be calling me a female writer talking about female worries anymore. That is certain.’

‘But how will you solve it?’

‘Solve what?’

‘The story. Certainly you won’t let misfortune after misfortune befall them without anything happening or changing or them taking charge of their own destiny, and then just end the story. Doesn’t sound like you. You’re more positive. And you would never let life run over a person. People happen to life. At least in your books.’

Eloise sat down at the table. It was already dressed with bread, cheeses and cold meat. She took a carrot from a plate.

‘I don’t know, actually. I was so glad I finally had characters, and then the plot came so naturally… But I have no clue about the ending at all.’

Life was just misery. And she had not seen a single one of the problems the book tackled being solved in a happy manner.

‘I might just leave it dreary.’

‘Oh, please don’t. Life is already so awful. We need some hope in books, it’s our escape from reality’, Penelope said.

‘That is true’, Eloise admitted. Did she want her life to remain like this? Did she want to end up alone like Jane Austen? Was someone who was forced in an unhappy situation necessarily doomed?

‘Perhaps it’s hard to see sunshine, with all the rain’, Penelope suggested.

‘It’s much easier to be happy in spring.’

‘Yes, perhaps new happy ideas will come to me then. I’ve got a crew for my boat and a course. But who knows where the waves take us, or where we finally end up? I’ll just leave it up to fate, see it when I get there’, Eloise decided.

Marina did take her first stay-in day that day. And half out of fear, Penelope and Eloise did stay inside as well, just in case. But it was not the last. The next day Marina came downstairs, but was too tired for more than a carriage ride around town. It got better after that, but days of staying in did become routine. And although being in Bath and being out clearly had positive effects on her, they were not as great as they had been at the wedding of Penelope’s sister.

Eloise did not know for how long Phillip had planned to let them stay. Were they waiting on an improvement, a shift in her mood, that would mean she was well enough to come home again?

March was just a few days away. The new season was fast approaching. They had less than a month left. Penelope could not be out of London from April onward. And she’d have to spend at least a week catching up on gossip to start her Whistledown papers. That meant she had to be back preferably by the last week of June. Eloise was considering this when looking out of a window and appraising the growing green leaves on a tree. Just as she turned around and decided she had better rejoin society, she bumped into someone who had been on their way to a window.

‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss’, the man stammered.

‘It’s nothing. I should have watched where I was going.’

‘The fault is mine. I am in desperate need of some air, clearly, my head was so clouded I did not notice you.’

‘As was mine and I was at the window’, Eloise laughed. The man leaned against the window sill, breathing in the air streaming in through the opening.

He was dressed in all black. A widower. Or a brother in the first stage of mourning.

‘Perhaps a prolonged stay at the window would not be a bad decision, then?’

‘So it appears. But I did not wish to appear rude in the eyes of the companions I am here with’, she said, waving in the direction of Marina and Penelope who were talking to the pianist who had delivered a fine concerto not half an hour earlier.

‘Ah, I see; Friends or sisters?’

Eloise lifted an eyebrow. They would be the most mismatched sisters on the planet.

‘Friends’, he decided. ‘You could have been a bunch of sisters-in-law.’

‘That could have been’, Eloise agreed.

‘Mr. Plyath’, he introduced himself.

‘Miss Bridgerton.’

‘Bridgerton? As in… not the author?’

‘The very one.’

‘The one who wrote men considered women human vases?’

Eloise coughed an awkward laugh.

‘Yes, that one.’

She had felt so clever writing Penelope’s joke. But now she feared it could get some backlash, seeing as she had grouped all men together.

‘I might disagree with you on that one.’

‘I think many people disagree with me on a great many things.’

‘But do you actually believe that? Or was that just a bit of critique at some men? Or merely the perspective of one of your characters?’

‘Uhm… Well, I have a lot of brothers, and I had a father… So I cannot pretend no decent men exist. I do think they treated their wives properly.’

The man smiled.

‘Yes, I cannot pretend there are not some men who consider wives a requirement to have, not people to interact with. I tend to disagree. I have a sister, you know. Or I had. I apologize, I am still getting used to it. But it does make a man treat a woman differently when they know them well.’

‘Oh, my condolences.’

‘Childbirth, nothing to do about it’, the man said, with a sad smile.

‘It’s one of my first times being out. After all the enforced silence it’s a bit overwhelming to be around so many people again.’

‘I see. So you did have a seclusion?’

‘Yes. I know I needn’t, but I really needed some time.’

‘I respect that a lot’, Eloise admitted.

And just like that. It clicked.

The man merged with another in her head. And the event translated itself into a scene.

She would have the two sisters go to Bath together with the oldest brother, who needed to recover from his long imprisonment. There the youngest one would bump into a man dressed in black. His brother had died during the war as well. The young man would be a scholar who had not expected to inherit. They would talk and get along very well. During a conversation he would bring up how his brother was a sailor, and it would become clear the sailor she had rejected years ago was his brother. Anna would feel guilty about the engagement, and sad for what had not been. She would spend time together with this man, and grieve together for their dead brothers and the heavy burdens of war. In their suffering, they would comfort each other. Both would have lost their dreams and future because of the war, but they would find new ones in the ashes.

‘Miss Bridgerton?’

She blinked.

‘I’m sorry. Lost in thought. Happens more than I would like. I hope you won’t take offence.’

‘No, not at all. I sometimes lose myself too.’

‘Thank you, for understanding.’

‘Eloise?’ Penelope called.

‘I’m afraid I must go. Good day, I wish you the best.’

‘And I you, Miss Bridgerton. I will be looking forward to reading something of you in the future.’

‘You’re very kind. Thank you’, Eloise smiled.

‘Were you alright over there? We noticed that man talking to you’, Penelope said.

‘Believe it or not, but I believe that might actually be the first time a man approached me in public and was actually friendly and pleasant without making nasty jokes or clearly pursuing me.’

‘Well he couldn’t have, he’s in mourning’, Penelope laughed.

‘Perhaps I’ve been missing out on the best part of London’s men by avoiding widowers and mourners. If I’d known they were all decent people I would have run to them.’

‘Oh Eloise, you’re horrible.’

‘Opportunism is not horrible, it’s pragmatic’, Marina considered. Her gaze flickered to Penelope and she quickly changed her mind. ‘I mean, kindness should always come first but a bit of opportunism can be understood’, she rushed to say.

‘A bit doesn’t hurt. I’d say just this one conversation has been very fruitful’, Eloise decided.

‘I think I found a way out of all unhappiness and broken hearts in my book.’

‘How could you have possibly fixed a plot after one five minute conversation when you have not been able to make up an ending for your book in a month?’

‘I don’t know. It’s like God opened the heavens and showed me the way.’

‘You didn’t die of your first exaggeration, did you?’ Marina asked.

‘And I won’t even die of my millionth’, Eloise grinned.

Chapter Text

“The winter of 1819 was a long one. Most of the fashionable ton were out of London until last week, this author certainly was. But gone are the days of being in the comfort of the home in intimate circles. The birds started chirping, bees started buzzing and flowers bloomed. Like clockwork some of London’s Mama’s saw their darling daughters bloom into adulthood, ready to be unleashed upon the marriage market.

Amongst these freshly budded flowers that are unleashed is Felicity Featherington, the final Featherington girl. She still has two much older sisters out, and one cannot help but wonder whether she will just take over the vacuum the marriage of the second Featherington girl left. Finally the lemon and the lime have a new sister to suffer fashion in horrifying shades of citrus with them. This Author is considering… Orange.

One person who is not new at all is the untameable bachelorette Eloise Bridgerton who has devoted the past five years of her life to traveling the country, dancing and writing. She received at least one offer of marriage each year, but spurned every single one. One now can’t help but wonder if this is the season the fifth Bridgerton will finally hear the ticking clock located within her body. By now no one will doubt her independence. Or perhaps the embarrassing prospect of having all of her younger sisters married before her will do the trick? This Author does not know what Miss Bridgerton has in mind for herself, maybe she loves the sight of crying suitors too much.

No matter, both marriage news and courtship drama are interesting. And I will inform you of it all!

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 3 APRIL 1819”

‘Mother, mother, look! Felicity is finally in the papers!’ Hyacinth cried.

‘That she may enjoy the excitement as long as it lasts. It quickly wears off when she has nothing to report society enjoys hearing.’

‘I think they love hearing of you, Eloise. You’re sensational news. All the girls my age are talking about you at tea parties’, Hyacinth laughed.

‘In a good way?’

‘I think in a good way. They liked your book and admire mother for not forcing you to marry. They’re all horribly afraid of not finding someone or marrying frogs. Their mothers pity Mother though. They admit you are clever but also think you are pushing it now, being too picky, demanding and controlling. ’

‘They tell that to you? My sister?’

‘They do not always know I hear them’, Hyacinth grinned.

‘You would make a final assistant to Whistledown.’

‘Oh I’d give a limb to become her assistant’, Hyacinth cried.

‘Did you ever find out who she was? You were obsessed with her. I don’t get why you’re so… indifferent to her now.’

Eloise rubbed her forehead.

‘I’m not indifferent it’s only that I used to revel in  the way I was portrayed. I could laugh at the writings about my failed offers of marriage. But I think I’m nearing the age where it’s less amusing to fail at love’, Eloise carefully avoided.

‘Careful, that sounds almost like you’re considering marriage.’

Eloise laughed, leaning back in the couch and tapping her fingers against the armrest.

‘I think that, not counting that first year, I was never much against marriage. I was just against the idea of marrying intolerable men. But I wasn’t pressured to find someone. I had time. I had things I wanted to accomplish. I felt no need to really look’, Eloise shrugged.

‘Awh, and here I was thinking you were so polite to wait for my to come out so I’d have a friend and sister to share my experiences with’, Hyacinth sighed. She dropped dramatically onto the couch. Her head fell down on Eloise’s lap.

‘Watch it, you baby.’

‘Well I think Whistledown is wrong.’

‘Wrong?’ Eloise questioned, laughing. ‘Pray tell when did you become a Whistledown expert?’

‘I’ve been reading her as long as you have’, Hyacinth pointed out.

‘I think you will neither marry nor cause suitor drama this year.’

‘I don’t know whether to be happy or disappointed by that.’

‘I have substantial reason for my belief. You are finishing up the draft of a book. Meaning you’ll finish it this month and publish it anywhere between May and June. You’ll have no time for suitors. You’ll be doing a lot of book discussions I think.’

Eloise and Violet Bridgerton nodded.

‘Well, it does sound realistic. I’ve got to give it to her’, Eloise shrugged.

‘I bet you five pounds I am right.’

‘I will not bet against you. I like my money just where it is, in my pockets. That way I will still have it even if you are right. If I don’t have a husband I can at least have money.’

Violet Bridgerton almost choked on her tea.  

April passed and Eloise was indeed quite busy editing her book. It was a whopping two hundred pages thicker than her previous one. Her publisher was quite uncomfortable at the thought of having to publish a book so long, afraid it would scare away readers while it had a high price to print.

The two men took the manuscripts home halfway through April, and demanded Eloise see them by the end of the month. Afraid they had decided their testing audiences disliked it, she had already resigned to her great masterpiece not getting published. But they loved it, their family loved it and their friends loved it. Everyone had favourite characters and loved different pieces. Some admired the way the characters who went to war were, others admired the women, some adored the new chances at love, others were heartbroken at the death of the captain. Some hated certain characters, others understood them fully.

‘It’s fascinating. It created endless conversations. It resonated with everyone. Everyone’s family has been touched by the war in some way so we adored seeing all the ways it was present in your book.’

‘I really thought you were about to make it terribly dreary, but you really pulled through in the end. If it had remained so down, I would have probably asked you to rewrite the ending. Female writers can’t sell unhappy endings.’

After half an hour of Anthony fighting tooth and nail with the publishers about the amount of copies, the investments, the pricing and the copyright, an agreement was made. Eloise would maintain the copyright, and Anthony would put in a lot of money for the first eight hundred copies.

When they left, Eloise could do nothing but thank her brother.

‘It’s so much money! I made the book too thick didn’t I? You’re an absolute doll for thinking me worth the investment. I’ll name someone in my next book after you and I promise they won’t be an asshole.’

‘They believe it is good. Everyone they showed it to loved it as well. So there’s only one reason why they would then suddenly try and convince you that selling the copyright would be better as it would protect you from financial harm if it flopped. And that’s because in reality the book will do very well. And you would earn more money from maintaining your copyright, even though we will have to spend a shameful amount of money for the printing first… than they can ever give you as a one time sum should you sell your copyright to them’, Anthony decided.

‘I think so too. They were pointing out the dangers of keeping the copyright, pretending they were taking on the financial risk to protect me… knowing there was no risk at all.’

Anthony nodded.

‘I think I’ve done a good investment.’

‘I certainly hope so.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘That depends’, Anthony said, scowling. ‘Was the oldest brother who rushed off to war and got himself caught, leading to his wife’s miscarriage inspired by me?’

Eloise blinked, mouth opening in surprise. Shoot.

‘I think I know enough. At least you had the mercy of not killing me and giving it a happy end.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I suppose my flaws make for a good story.’

‘As does my indecisiveness and pickiness to marry, apparently’, Eloise laughed.

She hooked her arm through Anthony’s on the way home.

‘It’s almost that time of the year again’, Eloise mused. ‘And this time Kate isn’t heavily pregnant.’

‘What, do you think I’ll lose at Pall Mall if I have no advantage? You wound me’, Anthony scoffed.

‘I have half a mind to make a “Left Out Bridgerton” Pall Mall game for all those of us that are left out each year.’

‘Feel free to do so, by all means’, Anthony said. ‘But we’ll delay the Pall Mall game until Colin is back from Denmark.’

‘Ah, understandable. Everything better than replacing one of the original players, hmm?’ Eloise asked.

‘If he’s not back by June, we’ll invite you. As that is about your time of the year.’

‘I have a time of the year?’ Eloise asked, raising her eyebrows.

‘Sure you do. It is whenever someone proposes to you and you decide to flee society. Usually a month before the end of the season.’

‘You are horrible, I do not flee. I merely seek more enjoyable society.’

‘If we fled when we got bad experiences, none of us oldies would have gotten married. You might miss some chances.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Sure. Daphne had major disagreements with Hastings. Kate and I did nothing but fight and bicker and said the other was unworthy of marriage… Come to think of it Francesca is the only one who did not first argue with her spouse.’

‘Benedict and Sophie seem quite lovely.’

Anthony choked on a chuckle.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Men talk. No proper topic for ladies.’

‘I wrote gory conversations about death and I’m twenty-three, humour me.’

‘Do not tell mother.’

‘I swear.’

‘Him and Sophie had a major disagreement when he proposed to take her as his mistress before they married.’

‘He did that? What? Oh my… it’s a miracle she married him. She should’ve hit his arse all the way to the colonies’, Eloise protested.

Anthony nodded.

‘The only one who fled after a bad encounter were you and Colin… And coincidentally neither one of you is married.’

‘It’s not coincidental. It’s one hundred percent deliberate. There is not one suitor I rejected I valued in the slightest. I would reject them all over again if I had to. London simply has no worthwhile bachelors.’

‘Perhaps we should ask Mr. Bagwell if he knows anyone. Him and Edwina are coming over to show Kate the newest of their brood.’

‘They’re coming to London? Neat.’

‘Do not consider giving Edwina your book. She is far too delicate and she has given birth only a month ago. So much death in a book would make her upset.’

‘Anthony, she read all the ancient Greeks and Roman writers. I believe she’s read about double the amount of deaths that you have had drinks in your life.’

‘That could be a compliment and speak well of both of us’, Anthony defended.

‘Except we both know how much you’ve drunk.’

Anthony took a deep breath and rolled his eyes.

‘Ever charming, you. One wonders, with your nose for social cues and polite and affectionate behaviour how a girl such as you could still be unwed.’

‘I ask myself that same question’, Eloise smiled sweetly, ignoring the sarcastic jibe.

The season went on, and if it wasn’t for the whole of London inviting her to their reception rooms, tea afternoons and gaming nights to talk about her newest book, the season would be awfully dreary. She felt impatient, her skin itching for something to happen.

On a rare morning she was free and did not have to make social calls, she stayed in and wrote to Colin.

“Oh, I have never been so bored in all of my life. Colin, you must come home. It is interminably boring without you, and I don’t think I can bear such boredom another moment. Please do return, for I have clearly begun to repeat myself, and nothing could be more of a bore. The only saving graces in my existence are Kate, Edwina and Penelope. But two of them are married and the other one is still not you. I miss mischief in the evenings, calling each other names in the morning, and hearing of everyone’s antics. We’re much too mature and growing way too far apart now. I cannot bear it.”

She wondered what it was that made her so agitated and restless. She was never at ease anymore at home. After finishing a book she usually felt satisfied and even lazy, her head blissfully empty now that characters no longer bothered her. This was different. She was pacing entiring mornings, driving her mother mad with her tapping foot and tapping nails. Every time the butler appeared she shot upright. And every night she came home from a ball, she had difficulty sleeping. It felt as if something was missing. And for a while she believed it was Francesca’s absence. She would usually talk to her, coming home after balls. In the mornings they would usually provide their family with witty observations made at balls and soirees. But no. It just felt… different. And the unrest, instead of feeling like the usual loneliness in her soul she got right after another sibling left, was instead located within her heart. It was more an unease than a loneliness. It was an itch, an annoyance, a frustration… and a keen sense of boredom. She could only hope Colin would return and fill it up.

It was only when she came home from a ball one night, with five lines of dialogue that had spruced into existence at the ball, and she was rummaging through her drawer to find a piece of paper, that she found the reason for her inexplainable feelings. Her hand connected with a stack of letters.

Sir Phillip’s letters.

She paused, the lines of dialogue dissipating into thin air.

He had not written since his last letter in January. She swallowed, her heart beating in her ears. Since starting their correspondence she had not gone longer than three weeks without receiving a letter from him. Now it had been almost five months. He had written the last letter. Technically it was her turn to start again. Had he been waiting for her all this time? A brick fell onto her stomach.

Something about their last private conversation had just felt strange. They had crossed a line she could not name, implicating things she was barely sure of actually existed. He had steered clear of her after until they left, as if she’d done something wrong.

And so it had felt wrong to write to him, especially when she was together with his wife who had, of all people, the biggest right to write to him and could just as well send him updates. And after coming home… she had not even considered. It had been months since their last letter. Addressing it seemed moot as they had met, but what was there to speak of? And should and could there be spoken after their last conversation? In some ways, it had felt final.

But what if he, sad, miserable, alone, afraid and guilty, had been waiting for her to write?

Her hands shook. She did not want to claim to be the most important person in existence, but she had a feeling Phillip had few others he talked to as much as he did to her. And he already did not want to talk about a great many things with her. The only time he had actually opened his mouth and talked about his worries and emotions he had patronized her by telling she could not understand, followed by asking her to forget.

The stone was stacked with another, and another. Until an entire brick wall lay upon her stomach.

But what could she do?

She shook her head, putting the letters back in.

In the mornings, she usually read his letters. In the evenings she usually wrote letters to him, filling them with funny remarks she had heard, silly events she had seen, and reflections she had during her post ball blues. Every moment she had felt agitated, every moment she had jumped up at the appearance of the butler and every restless night were the result of vacuums he had left and she had been unable to fill up. And more than making her lonely, it had made her feel frustrated and bored. He had filled up her life by amusing her with dry remarks, stupid bits of useless information and…

Just thinking about him, even as annoyed and uncertain and uneasy as she was right now, made her feel soothed. The hole inside her filling up. No matter his tone that one night, no matter his question she forget the conversation, she doubted he wanted their friendship to end. Or at least she certainly hoped not. Eloise had never lost a friend before. She hadn’t even had an argument with him. Not really, at least. She would start thinking about it, and once she had enough to put in a letter, she would write it. Awkward as it would be to start up a letter conversation without anything to tie her letter back to.

The next day she had no time to even consider starting a letter, so full was it with engagements.

‘Do you think yours will be hailed a classic for the ages, like Scott’s work? It has that historical edge, or will have it, once the war is no longer recent history’, Catherine Dubarton asked.

Eloise sat in a ghastly pink receiving room surrounded by thirty women, most of whom were married. And on some laps sat babies whose cries and wails sounded like nails on chalkboard to Eloise.

‘It would be quite arrogant to answer that question. I’ve already got enough flaws, I won’t add pride to that.’

‘Oh, Miss Bridgerton, you are ever so witty’, baroness Clarice Woodland said. On her lap sat a pug, who was all by all the most agreeable companion any of the ladies had brought with them. The lady herself was dressed in a particularly bright shade of green, but it suited her blonde hair rather well.

‘One can just hear your book when one listens to your voice.’

‘Uhm… Thank you.’

‘Now, I do want to ask a bit of a naughty question that I do not know has been asked to you yet. Or if it has, the answer is not public knowledge.’

‘Oh dear, do I need to be frightened?’ Eloise laughed, taking a sip of tea.

‘All your women always end up with men who suit them. Silly pompous men get vain airheaded wives. Sweet women get sweet husbands. I do admire you match them, and show that what people look for in spouses is often either a reflection of who they themselves are, or of what they need. So I do wonder… who of all the men you’ve written would you consider fitting for yourself, based on their personalities?’

‘Before answering I must ask: are you trying to find out to match me to gentlemen you know that possess those traits?’

‘Oh heavens no, I’m much too selfish and self-centred. I’m focused on finding someone for me. Not others. To each their own. I detest busybodies intervening in the lives of others.’

Eloise laughed. ‘God, hard one. Not a single man from Hestia. And… not a single brother from this book. Not the sailor… I’d have to say Richard.’

‘The scholar? How interesting. I found him rather boring. I thought you anything but’, commented Clarice Woodland.

‘I thought he suited Anna rather well. She’s been through a lot, most of that caused by her bon vivant little brother and her rash decisive older brother. She’s looking for something more mild. And she’s looking for someone who won’t get killed by their profession. Someone who understands her grief and is there for her, and matches her in intellect. Which he does. I always find it important that my characters are an intellectual match, rather than two attractive likeable people thrown together.’

‘Is he inspired by someone?’

‘Inspired?’

‘Well, Whistledown pointed out how perhaps the older brother had something away from yours, and the middle child had something away from you… So I wondered, are they based on real people?’

Eloise paused.

‘Life is the best source of inspiration, I find. Struggles people have in real life resonate best with readers. They feel authentic. As do characters inspired by real people. The older brother is not just a replica of Viscount Bridgerton. Most characters are a blend of real life people I know, combined with backstories and traits I added myself in the creative process. I can admit that some side characters have been a combination of one of my brother-in-law’s wit with the the jokes and looks of one of my brothers, for example.’

‘So who is scholar Richard inspired by then?’

And in that instant, Eloise realized that despite her talk, that there were some characters that were no composite of multiple people. There was the one mean suitor who fell to his death, drunk, in her book. And then there was herself… and…

Richard. Who was from start to finish as alike to Sir Phillip as a character without children and wife could be.

Entirely uncoincidentally Whistledown’s review of Eloise’s book highlighted all the doubts she had been feeling.

“Is it not coincidental that the almost-middle child of the Bridgertons wrote about a middle child who both wants and dreads marriage? Had Anna married her first beau, she could have been a widow. Or been as miserable as her sister-in-law with a husband far away. Had she been married she would not have been able to provide support for the middle brother. On the other hand was she not emotionally destroyed for years at having to be alone, and did she not long for marriage? This Author thinks Eloise Bridgerton delicately considered the paths of spinsterhood and matrimony, weighing all the pros and cons, and found matrimony, surprisingly, superior. But to the bachelors of London I would ask: do not overconfidently swagger her way, This Author believes Miss Bridgerton is looking for a love match like her siblings. Four marriages miraculously based on love and affection, a true rarity in these circles of society.”

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 2 JUNE 1819

Eloise could not enjoy her crisis in peace.

When she came home, ready to fling herself on her bed and have a full-blown crisis, she did not get past the living room.

‘Eloise?!’

‘Colin!’

Her brother ran out of the living room.

‘There you are, been a while.’

‘Oh, you listened to my letter!’

‘Your letter?’

‘I begged you to come. I sent it to you late last month?’

‘I was already on the way back. I’m sorry. It must have arrived after my departure.’

‘No matter, I’m so glad to see you again!’

She flung herself around his neck.

‘Are you alright?’ Colin asked, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length.

‘You’re not usually this… huggy.’

‘Well, you’re not usually away this long.’

‘Fair point’, Colin admitted.

Eloise rested her cheek against his chest.

‘Anthony will demand the annual Pall Mall game takes place within the next two weeks’, Eloise sighed.

‘Right. Pall Mall. Completely forgotten about that’, Colin admitted.

‘Isn’t it long past the usual date?’

‘He was going to allow me to replace you if you didn’t come back by June.’

‘Lucky me’, Colin laughed. ‘Timed it just right.’

‘Don’t you always?’

‘Is that jealousy I detect?’

‘Maybe a little.’

‘Perhaps you can come with us?’

‘Perhaps I should. Just to avoid Anthony’s accusation.’

‘Accusation?’

Eloise let go, following him back into the living room.

The entire low table was decked out with food as if he hadn’t eaten the entire boat trip and had to catch up on the calories.

‘He claims I always run away by the end of the season after I refuse someone. If I leave before someone asks, I debunk his theory.’

‘Very clever. Anthony will indeed not wait long to propose it’, Colin said as he sat down, taking another biscuit.

‘That means you only have to last a week. Think you’ll manage?’

‘The season has been exceedingly boring. Had some dance partners that came to ask dances every ball and so on, but no one that was constant with their morning visits.’

‘A good sign.’

‘Some needn’t even court me before asking. I’ve had that happen’, Eloise growled.

‘Poor Eloise, too popular for her own liking.’

She poked his side, leading to him yelping and the biscuit flying away.

‘That’s a waste of food!’ he complained.

‘And you’re a waste of air.’

‘Brat!’

Eloise only had four days to go before the party left for Kent. She felt all by all quite confident everything would go well, as she only had one musicale, one dinner party at home and one ball left before the party would leave. Unfortunately though, one ball was enough. It was as if they smelled her intentions.

Mr. Wilson was not a young man, nor was he old, at age thirty, he was however, well foreseen of flesh and his eyes did look a bit bulgy. And so, for a few years, he had come to be known to the household as Mr. Ribbit. And whenever he was invited to a dinner party they too attended, Hyacinth could not help but blow up her cheeks and turn her eyes to the side in the mimic of a frog. His history was about as sad as Eloise’s, with a failed proposal each year. However; he was the unfortunate one doing the offering and had for some reason decided Eloise was old enough to consider him as he was neither handsome and charming, nor ugly and mean.

But when he announced themselves the morning after the ball, Hyacinth could not stop herself from laughing, making frog sounds and even doing a hop. Not even a deaf person could have pretended not to hear the make-belief frog noises that came from inside the drawing room. And so when he was shown in, Eloise blushing and Hyacinth with a red face from trying to contain her laughter, he already knew how that morning was going to end. Out of pity, Eloise asked him outside for a private conversation. And more out of preparedness than willingness or hope, he asked the question, to which she gave the expected answer. She then thanked him, and mentally patted herself for taking this a lot better than the previous proposals. But then the previous proposals were made by arseholes.

‘Please, don’t tell me you’ve accepted Mr. Ribbit’, Hyacinth begged.

Eloise, both furious and desperate and sad that everyone except people she admired proposed, stomped off to her room.

Damned Hyacinth. Damned London’s bottomless pool of unattractive bachelors, and damn bloody Anthony for being correct once again.

She threw a quill, an ink jar, a letter writing set and two notebooks in her valise. Perhaps it was a good thing that for once, both the suitcase and the plans were already made. She only had to wait one day more.

‘Oh Eloise, not again’, her mother sighed, appearing at her door.

‘Not. A. Word. Please.’

Chapter Text

On June twenty-fifth, the annual Pall Mall game took place. The event was attended by the participators Colin Bridgerton, Kate Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Edwina Bagwel, Daphne Basset and Simon Basset. It was witnessed by guests who were constantly threatened with death for talking by Anthony, namely Eloise Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Sophie Bridgerton, Timothy Bagwell and Posy Reiling.

Violet Bridgerton, full time matriarch and half-time Lady Bridgerton was watching over Anthony’s, Daphne’s and Benedict’s brood in the comfort of Aubrey Hall. Despite the season not officially ending for another two weeks a heat wave had descended upon the country. Many nobles had been chased away from the sweltering heat sticking between the many buildings of London, instead breathing in the more moderate climate of the countryside during the daytime and spending the evenings in the eternally chilly ancient halls of their families.

‘Ouch, that looks painful’, Eloise muttered when Colin’s ball hit Anthony’s and rolled it further from the wicket.

‘It is not because you have stopped shouting that I can no longer hear you, Eloise’, Anthony growled.

Eloise stifled a chuckle.

‘You know, Miss Bridgerton, I went to the south of France for an excavation and brought hompe quite some flowers and even five full trees. If your acquaintance is still searching for new flowers, and is in need of a Mirabelle tree, do let me know.’

‘Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you, Mr. Bagwell. Thank you. I will enquire, but I think I already know he’ll be excited. Thank you.’

‘Damn it all!’

‘Bugger Kate, c’mon. Was there no other victim?’ Colin cried.

Eloise swung her head back to the game, following the gaze of her two brothers. Two balls were not even in sight anymore and Kate was cackling.

‘Sorry doll, you were just in the way of Anthony’s exit.’

‘What happened?’

‘She was close to Anthony so she tacked his ball and it knocked into Colin’s. Both balls are down the slope now. This game is never won without someone being cheated out of winning’, Edwina sighed, stifling a yawn.

‘You’ll make a lovely first or second dear. I’m sure.’

‘As am I. They’re always too busy sabotaging the others to stop me’, Edwina smiled sweetly.

Eloise had to smile at the rare appearance of Edwina’s perverse sense of humour. Kate did not have Edwina’s subtlety, but both shared a very good brain and wicked humour.

‘I’m considering a swim, once the risk of getting sunk by a cannonball from the mainland is over’, Benedict noted.

‘It is very hot’, Sophie admitted. ‘I could lie on that cold stone floor in the hall all day.’

‘Or just stay in the water, like at my cottage.’

‘Oh yes. I do believe our lake is better for swimming, it has got a soft sand bottom, this one is not as even and it has pebbles. And it’s not as discreet. It’s very much visible.’

‘One would think a patch of woods would keep unwanted onlookers away from a private swim’, Benedict grinned.

Eloise shot the couple a curious look.

Sophie blushed.

‘Do you want a lake, dearest?’ Mr. Bagwell asked his wife.

‘What would I do with a lake?’ Edwina laughed to the relief of her husband.

‘Though I suppose if we continue getting hot summers like this a small pond would not be horrible. To keep our feet cool.’

‘Kate will not mind not having a lake to cool down in?’

‘Kate could fold herself triple to fit inside a tub when we were warm in the summer as children. She’ll adjust’, Edwina decided.

‘Kate is coming to you?’

‘Yes, their cousin is about to give birth so she wants to be around.’

‘Oh, how lovely.’

‘It is, isn’t it.’

‘Say… I’m guessing that tree cannot survive being sent by post twice, once to me and a second time to the real recipient. So perhaps wouldn’t it be better if it was taken… well, directly to the person who would be receiving it?’

‘Uhm… I guess it would, yes. But… I have no idea who that is or where that person lives.’

‘They actually do not live that far away from you, I imagine. They’re also from Gloucestershire.’

‘Ah. Yes, also from the south-east?’

‘Yes, actually they are.’

‘But I do not know these people.’

‘No, you don’t. So it would be a bit odd and against decorum to send it. But then so would inviting myself to your home to do it myself’, Eloise carefully said, looking anywhere but him.

‘It would be practical though.’

‘It would, wouldn’t it?’ Eloise smiled.

‘So… You’d come to Gloucestershire?’

‘If I’m welcome. And otherwise I pick it up and camp out at Benedict’s. He can’t refuse me. Charles adores me.’

‘You are welcome, we do have a bedroom you can use.’

‘I’m grateful for the offer, thank you. Oh, and why exactly one tree?’

‘Well, I didn’t know if they’d all survive the trip. And I only needed four. I have rows of four for every fruit tree in my yard.’

‘How yum.’

------------------------------------------

The cousin birthed a baby boy named Arthur and although the mother had lost a lot of blood and would be on bedrest for at least two weeks, both her and the baby were fine.

Eloise and Kate had just visited her in the morning. While Edwina was keeping her company in the afternoon, Eloise and Kate decided to spend an afternoon in town.

‘Final tickets, final tickets for today’s boxing show! Three pairs of fistfighter, three winners, three losers. Place your bets and go home with more money than you arrived with!’ a man cried.

‘So they have that here too? It’s all the rage in London but I did not believe some backwater around here would have that’, Eloise said.

‘Seems like rough country folk enjoy watching rough games. I, for one, am not surprised’, Kate laughed.

‘Want to watch some shirtless sweaty men grunting it out?’ she teased.

Eloise looked up, observing the thickening grey clouds.

‘I think it might be the only way to spend our afternoon without being soaked. I’ve never seen it before but sure, why not? Maybe it’ll give me inspiration.’

‘Ah yes, we can watch under the excuse of research’, Kate laughed.

The girls entered the back of the pub that was usually used for these locations, and sat down at a medium level bench. The room smelled of ale and hay that lay in a ring in the middle of the room.

‘Why is that there?’

‘There’s arguments for it and against it. It’s not a good surface to stand on but it’s easier for the staff to clean afterwards.’

‘Clean?’

‘If they bleed.’

‘It’s boxing. Not fencing, why would they bleed?’

‘Oh Eloise, you really are a novice’, Kate laughed. ‘If they get punched in the face, or on a wound.’

‘They punch in the face?’

‘Well, in London they wouldn’t. It’s not proper. But around here it’s a bit rougher.’

‘Holy…’

The first two fighters appeared, a scrawny farmhand against a burly smith.

‘Oeh, Edwina talked about them. Apparently they’re fighting over the same girl. Seems they’ve decided that if they are to fight over a girl they’ll do it where everyone can see it.’

‘He must either love her very much and wants to show her his devotion, or be very stupid to want to be defeated in such a public manner. There’s no way he’ll win’, Eloise said. Poor bloke.

To his credit he lasted a lot longer than she would have given him credit for. But in the end after nasty punches in the ribs and on the back, and with a tooth less, immediately showing Eloise why they used straw, the scrawny man lost.

The next couple of fighters climbed into the square.

Kate started whispering something in her ear but it just sounded like a rushing.

Her vision tunneled when she saw the second person climb in.

Her heart dropped and her throat constricted.

‘Eloise?’ Kate asked with an anxiety in her voice that told Eloise it wasn’t the first time she said her name.

‘Eloise?’ she was shaking her arm now, but Eloise couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even remember how to shape words with her tongue.

Because there stood Phillip.

Tall, so incredibly tall, and lean, and his shoulders. Her stomach twisted.

‘Right, ladies and gents our next match of the afternoon we have our second best town boxer Bill against out of town newbie Phill. A round of applause if you please! Now as one is new and his name cannot commend him y’all are still allowed to place bets after the first round. We’ll have a pause of a minute and a half to allow for it. If he makes it to the end that is. If he don’t, well then, only the bold guessers will win something this match.’

‘Does the bloke even know what he doing?’

‘Yeah! Can ‘e throw a punch?’

The public demanded information.

Phillip told something to the ringmaster while the other contestant, who looked exactly as one would imagine a rough country boxer to look, took off his shirt.

‘The lad says he boxed in his youth for four years but he’s been out of it.’

‘Easy bet’, Kate laughed.

‘Shut up’, Eloise hissed.

‘What, you think that man… can beat the second best boxer of the village?’

‘I don’t know… But after the way the other guy was all banged up I don’t…’

‘Eloise, is something the matter? I would’ve thought you’d enjoy these kinds of things.’

‘The sport’s fine’, Eloise said. ‘It’s just.. You know. Getting used to it. I can’t imagine anyone would want to risk losing their teeth for a silly sport.’

‘Some of these men are just desperate for the cash a win can grant them’, Kate shrugged. ‘To be honest I don’t know why someone from another village would come here against boxers he isn’t familiar with. Maybe it’s shame at having to fight for cash. And what are the organizers thinking? Putting a rookie against a veteran like that? Absolutely tasteless. That’s not how you make a show. You put two equals against each other so it’s deliciously long and tense. This is just… serving dead meat.’

‘They’re quite equal in posture though. The other fellow is even taller and broader of shoulder.’

‘Yeah but… He’s skinny and number two is all lean muscle’, Kate argued.

Eloise watched Phillip walk back to the corner and take off his shirt.

Why was her mouth so parched all of a sudden?

But she had to admit Kate was right. Phillip was skinny. And while she had never seen him without many layers of clothes she was pretty sure he had lost weight.

What had driven him here?

Why was he doing this?

Why had he lost weight?

What was going on?

But all her thoughts came to end when the bell was rung and Phillip turned way from the crowd, as it was his corner.

His back was covered in scars. Eloise had thought her heart stopped before, but apparently it hadn’t, as she felt a sharp pain in it that second. Those scars were too many to come from an accident.

Whatever had happened to him? The pain those must have caused had to be incredible. She doubted anyone could have given them to him in university or after. Which meant it had to have happened in his youth. She had heard of children getting beaten by nannies or in school but like that? They would have been fired for leaving such marks on the son of a baronet.

The boxers jumped to life, circling each other in the ring, bending through their knees as they took in their opponent.

And then the blows started.

The crowd was cheering for their local Bill, and then jeering when Phillip dealt a blow back in return.

Advise was being shouted, agitated support was screamed and cries reverberated so hard it was almost as if the public had been hit instead of the boxers.

And then to the floor went Bill.

Goosebumps rose on her skin.

Betters flocked to the square, to transfer their bets or place new ones.

‘Damn, stronger than he looks’, Kate said.

‘Mhm.’

‘Is that… Alright. Wow’, Kate stammered.

She stood up, turning her head left and right to get a better look.

‘Their purses look almost identical in fullness now. What do you think?’

‘I think half of the people seriously wasted their hard earned money.’

‘Which half?’ she asked as she sat down again.

‘Time will tell’, Eloise said.

‘It’s innocent. Most bet something really low.’

‘Still wasted.’

‘Judging, aren’t we? Is our money not wasted just the same when we buy new ribbons that we will use six times before the colours are called outdated?’

‘I don’t buy many ribbons. And I’ve worn the same colours for years. I just reuse the ribbons on new dresses with more fashionable silhouettes.’

‘I must say I am liking these new puffier sleeves and wider skirts that are coming into fashion. It looks very cute.’

‘I still think we look like dolls. The current styles still swallow our entire figure.’

‘I wouldn’t want to be stuck in tight trousers and slim waistcoats all days. I would need them tailored every two years if I gained some pounds. Our dresses are much more forgiving than men’s fashion.’

‘They’re starting again’, Eloise said, waving her sister-in-law away. But perhaps she should have remained standing, because the reaction her body had to seeing Phillip hit the floor was nowhere near healthy. But he got up and they went into another thirty second break.

‘How many rounds are there?’

‘As many as it takes. But the maximum is somewhere around fifty’, Kate shrugged.

‘Why, are you bored? We can always – ‘

‘Hush!’

‘Oh, I knew you’d like this. You’re too much like your brothers’, Kate grinned.

Phillip went down again after a hit to the kidney  followed by a punch to the shoulder which made him lose his balance.

The screaming and shouting faded into the background.

Why do you let yourself be beat like this?

Could I have changed anything by continuing to write like you?

Or have you done this in the past as well and just never mentioned it to me?

Get up.

He came back with vengeance, apparently having understood the modus operandi of his opponent, and now kept himself closer to the ground, aiming his punches to his lower body followed by aims towards his throat.

Bill went down with a grunt five times before he rose with a murderous look on his face.

And down went Phillip, again and again. After a while it became eleven-eleven.

Already bruises were starting to well up on both fighters. They retreated to their corners, resting their knees and biting oranges to freshen up.

A shiver racked through Eloise when the bell rang again. She was starting to hate that bell.

‘Eloise, are you fine? You seem awfully invested.’

‘Oh I am. Are you not? I thought you liked tense battles? To me this is quite tense’, Eloise smiled.

Kate did not look fully convinced but a shout made them turn away to the square. Bill had given Phillip such a punch he’d staggered and fallen against one of the wooden poles. Both cringed.

‘It’s a tough watch’, Kate said. ‘I’d understand if you didn’t – ‘

‘I’m fine. Really. I need to see this to the end. I’ll go mad if I don’t.’

It wasn’t a lie. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. It felt rude and inappropriate to look away, it was almost as if she’d withdraw her support while he so clearly needed it.

It was irrational, she knew, he didn’t even know she was here. But she simply had to watch.

She felt as if she was something intimate and forbidden.

And all the time she watched, a part of her brain tried to reconcile it with the Phillip she knew.

He had said he could hurt his children, but a part of her had never really believed that. Phillip had been anything but intimidating. Silent, withdrawn, awkward, fond of plants and quiet. It was hard to see in that man a boxer able to fight a trained boxer for over half an hour after six years of doing nothing sportive.

It was scary, estranging but also… exciting? She couldn’t make head or tails from her feelings.

To think she had unconsciously modelled the main male character of her book after him, and paired him off with the character who resonated most with him.

She couldn’t imagine that character doing this. How could she? If she hadn’t been able to imagine Phillip doing it. But he did. And yet he was still the silent herbologist she knew. He was both. And she hadn’t had a clue. She should have when he broke Lord Wescott’s nose, but she hadn’t. She’d always felt safe around him. Safe in every way, including safe from judgement, something not a single other man had offered her.

Crack.

‘Oeffff’, Eloise hissed when Bill’s fist connected with Phillip’s nose.

It was not fair the only decent man she had ever met was miserable in every way a person could be miserable. It wasn’t fair that he was trapped in every way a free man could be trapped. And it was not fair that despite a wife, children, and at least one friend, he still was so alone and unsupported. And now he was getting beat up on top of that?

Damn it all, she wanted to pick him up from that stage and tuck him away somewhere in a little cottage near the coast and surround him with a thousand flowers and books, encouraging him to talk and feel every day. But she couldn’t do that. How fair was it that you could see a person being absolutely miserable and neither you nor the person could do a thing about it?

Blood gushed out his nose, drenching his hands as he tried to wipe it away. But Bill kept coming, and Phillip darted away. If he hadn’t, he would have had more than a broken nose.

Blood trickled down his neck and mixed with the shimmering sweat on his chest, a vivid red so bright it could almost be orange.

‘Eloise?’ Kate asked.

Eloise turned towards Kate.

‘What?’

‘We can leave.’

‘No, no. It’s fine. I want to watch I do it’s just… I didn’t expect to be so caught up in it.’

‘You’re crying.’

With utter confusion her hand connected with a tear on her cheek.

She huffed a laugh.

And another. Although it sounded like a hiccup that was confused between being a laugh and a sob.

She was crying for a man.

She was crying for a man!

Oh God, I’m in love. I’m in love with a married man. A man I haven’t talked to for half a year. How did this even happen?

‘Must be that time of the month’, she quickly said, wiping her hand on her skirts. ‘You know I’m not a crier.’

Kate turned back towards the game.

Bill had tried holding Phillip in a hold, but his body was so slippery with sweat and blood he managed to break free and tackle Bill to the ground.

And keep him there.

And keep him there.

Thousands of thoughts flew through Eloise’s head, but then the bell rung and both were dragged up, swaying on their legs and panting for breath.

Eloise had the sense to laugh and cheer and joke with Kate over the number two of town getting defeated by ‘that skinny out-of-shape man’. But when the next match started and she was sure she had convinced Kate she was alright, she excused herself and rushed into the direction she had seen Phillip take off.

In a backroom of the pub a big washing ton stood, with right next to it Phillip holding a spunge. A decent woman would have stepped back and allowed him privacy, and heavens, she should have. However, she was afraid to lose him if she let him alone.

‘Sir Phillip?’

The man froze. Blood had pooled into lines of scars, and was smeared in brutal strokes across his back.

‘Of course. Someone had to witness that’, he muttered to himself.

She saw that as enough of an invitation, and closed the door behind her before walking closer.

‘Phillip Crane. What has the world done to you?’ she asked.

‘Nothing I didn't deserve.’

Her heart shattered a bit more.

‘You don’t mean that’, Eloise said, procuring a pitiable excuse of a smile.

Sir Phillip only let out a sigh.

She dipped her handkerchief into the water and offered it to him.

‘I thought you didn’t box anymore?’

 ‘I don’t.’

 Then what –‘

 ‘An exception’, he said, interrupting her. He looked at her handkerchief. ‘I doubt that’ll do it.’

Just like that, they had started their conversation. As if six months of absolute silence had not separated this and their last conversation.

‘Why?’ she demanded to know.

 He muttered something under his breath.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You said something.’

‘It was not meant to be said aloud. Ignore it’, he groaned as he held her formerly white handkerchief to his nose. It came back red and brown yet his face still had some smudges.

‘Then you shouldn’t have said it at all. What did you say?’

‘Something about women and being insufferable.’

‘Ah. Nice. Lovely. Good to know.’

So far being the only man who did not judge her like the others and did not think of her as annoying. Might as well get rid of that notion as well. Always good to know she’d lost her heart not to the one exception but to one of the many pricks she’d met.

‘Know what?’ he asked, confused.

‘How you think about women. Your wife, you daughter, me. Our whole sex. Yet I cannot generalize men according to you.’

Sir Phillip groaned, dropping his head against the stone side of the door.
‘I changed my mind. I’ve decided I don’t have difficulties with women in general, after all. It’s you I find insufferable. Keeping on asking questions and never taking simple answers.’

She drew back, clearly affronted.

‘Has no one called you insufferable before?’ He found that difficult to believe.

‘No one who wasn’t related to me,’ she grumbled.

He dipped the sponge into the water. His skin glistened as the blood cracked and brightened again once it came into contact with the water.

‘You must live in a very polite society.’ He winced. Something must hurt. Or a great many things, judging by his bruises.

‘Either that,’ he muttered, ‘or you’ve simply terrified everyone. What was it that was said? You put everyone into your books?’

She flushed, and he couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed by his spot-on assessment of her personality or just because she was angry beyond words.

Probably both.

‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered.

He turned to her in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’ He couldn’t have heard correctly.

‘I said I’m sorry,’ she repeated, her eyes daring him to ask her to repeat it a third time.

He was quiet for a while.

‘No, I’m sorry. You were only asking out of politeness. I was being rude.’ And he was being habitually distant, she added in her mind. He never responded and never gave more information than strictly required.

‘Out of worry’, she corrected.

‘Worry?’

‘I was asking out of worry. We’re friends, aren’t we? Isn’t that what friends do? Care about each other’s wellbeing?’

Judging by his surprise, it wasn’t. He deflated, sitting onto the floor and tugging his shirt back on. It clung to his still wet skin.

Eloise observed a drop of water gliding down his neck into the dip between his clavicles. A bit of chest hair was still visible.

‘I almost beat them’, he admitted, voice barely loud enough for her to understand.

‘The children?’ she asked. He nodded, miserably. All remaining strength left him after that confession. He buried his face in his hands.

‘They glued their governess’s hair to the sheets. I… I was already in the stables when I realized… I couldn’t do it. I had to get away.’

They glued her hair to the sheets? Eloise was amazed. She’d interacted with those kids for years and although they were energetic menaces, she could not imagine them ever doing such a thing to her or Penelope. What had gotten into them? Even she and her siblings had not been so wicked as children.

‘To protect the children?’ she asked, trying to keep the shock away from her voice. Clearly he was more than shaken by the events that had transpired. He did a fine job of judging himself, so there was no need to pile on some more judgement of her own.

He frowned, staring ahead as if he had to think about the answer.

‘I thought it better. I never wanted to strike them. I don’t want to be like that. But I was so angry.’

The silence bore on.

‘It is what my father did when I – ‘

In that moment with that little half-finished sentence, Eloise’s blood froze.

His father had beaten him and his brother. That was why Marina and Phillip talked about him in such an odd way. That was the cause of the scars!

She bit her lip to keep from letting something out. He had no need for her pity or fury.

Suddenly it became all the more tragic that Marina’s fear for the health of the children had resulted in her continuously telling Phillip to be careful. It made sense now why he was so careful and hesitant around the children. He was a big and powerful man afraid of his own strength. Her fear of him being rough must have reminded him of the violence of his own father. No wonder those remarks had cut him, no wonder his actions had shaken him, he must be terribly afraid of repeating his father’s behaviour.

He withdrew his hands.

There was something so heart-breaking about his expression — the uncertainty, the vulnerability. Eloise felt her heart lurch. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand. But of course she couldn’t. They never could. She only had words.

‘You didn’t do anything.’

‘I could have. My control over my temper has never been perfect… Lord knows it’s why I… Do you know what it’s like to be afraid of your anger?’

He looked down on his hands, blood had dried into the crevices and underneath his nails. Eloise supressed a shudder. She’d seen him looking at his hands before but she’d never understood why. They had always looked like normal hands, rather on the large side, but normal. Now she saw what he must have always seen when he was around the children. Lethally strong weapons.

‘You have never hurt them. It’s been almost six years and you’ve always acted on your better judgement.’

‘I could seriously hurt them. I’m not a small man.’

‘Well, I could hurt people too.’

He raised a critical eyebrow.

‘Not a man like you, but definitely a child.’

‘You would never’, he said with such conviction that her heart made a little jump.

‘Well, neither would you. I’ve seen you around them. You love them, clear as day. You wouldn’t. You don’t need to punish yourself for what you didn’t do. And you especially don’t need to let yourself get beat up for something you didn’t do. Although perhaps… well. Many men in my family are also fond of boxing, perhaps you should take it up again if you feel it’s an outlet for frustrations you’re afraid will otherwise go to others.’

‘I have duties.’

‘Don’t we all? We can make time.’

‘I have a lot of them’, he clarified.

‘Surely you must have some free time.’

‘I do, I spend that in the greenhouse.’

‘Is it your hall that takes up a lot of work, your tenants, or something else?’ she asked. She hoped that if she found the root of the problem, she could suggest a solution and provide him some more free time.

‘I’ve always been able to manage all of that before. No. It’s the household.’

‘The household? But that’s, isn’t that the job of…’

Sir Phillip sighed, rubbing one of his eyes with his free hand.

‘Marina is not always able to do her duties. I’ve been taking on more and more of them.’

She stared at the wet sponge floating in the wooden tub. It was now a horrible red.

‘Damn.’ The curse fell from her lips before she remembered she was in non-familiar company. Sir Phillip, luckily, ignored it.

She looked up at his face, observing him now that the tension had somewhat dissipated.

‘That looks broken’, Eloise said.

‘It feels broken’, he replied gruffly. ‘Bad?’

‘Ehm. Well, it’s quite noticeable.’

‘In need of being put straight again?’ he asked.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Will we need to put it straight? If so, we better get it over with right now.’

He wasn’t suggesting they pull on his broken nose?

‘Eh’, she shrugged.

‘This is one of the times your eloquence would be highly appreciated.’

Unfortunately, Eloise didn’t know a lot about broken noses.

‘Here’, she said, fishing her pocket mirror from her purse. ‘Judge for yourself.’

He took the mirror and inspected his face from the front and side. He handed it back with a sigh.

‘It’s fine. My profile wasn’t the best to begin with either way.’

‘It doesn’t look that different.’

‘Thank you’, he said dryly.

‘It was not bad to look at before, at least in my opinion’, she pointed out.

‘One would hope’, he answered dryly.

He rose, offering her his hand to pull her back up. She accepted.

He picked up his waistcoat, and cringed when he tried to put it over his shoulder.

‘Bruises?’

‘Yes.’

‘Let me help.’

She moved to stand behind him, gently guiding his hands through the holes of his waistcoat and surcoat. His skin was hot, even through his shirt.

‘Thank you.’

He lifted his hands, cravat retrieved from his pocket. But lifting his arms high enough was a struggle as well.

‘I’ve never tried a cravat. But I’m pretty sure I’ll manage better than you right now.’

‘I cannot argue against that’, he admitted.

She went to stand before him, startled at how close she had to be to tie it. Had she even been this close to a man before who wasn’t family? Put her hands on him for this long?

Her stomach felt uneasy as she fumbled with one knot, and another, and then tried to twist it into a decent form. Crooked. Second attempt. Were it stomach aches or butterflies?

‘A natural’, he remarked.

‘I do know how to use it as a gag, I warn you. I’ve made many gags in my youth.’

‘That I easily believe’, he smiled.

She raised her eyebrows at him. They were only a few inches removed. Her hands froze. There was a tension in the air, a shift in their dynamic. His eyes, so terribly blue, fell to her lips before he looked up at her again.

She lost control over her body in a way she never had before. Her muscles felt lazy and tense at the same moment. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even break away from his gaze.

Phillip coughed, her throat trembling against her hands.

And the spell was broken. She let out a sigh and quickly looked away. With three quick knots it was over.

‘There, it’s the best I can do’, she said, tucking it into his waistcoat.

They walked out of the room into the town square. It was clear it had rained, but the sky was now a clear blue.

‘You never did say what you were doing here in a tiny village in Gloucestershire.’

‘You never asked’, she pointed out cheekily.

‘I was visiting my sister-in-law Kate and her sister Edwina at the edge of town. Me and Kate came to town while Edwina was visiting their cousin who had just given birth.’

‘I see.’

‘And so Kate and I were just walking around with no goal and thought it would be funny to see a boxing match.’

‘Ah.’

‘Actually… Edwina’s husband is the one, the archaeologist, who once took those plants for you?’

‘Oh. Yes. Much obliged. They’re doing well.’

‘Yes well, actually. He had a tree and some flowers he thought you might like. He took them from his last trip. I was just about to write to you, to ask if you were interested in them. But perhaps you could… come and have a look?’

‘I… uhm. A tree? As in an actual tree?’

‘Mhm’, she said with a smile.

‘A whole tree. A Mirabelle tree.’

‘Ah. Oh but I shouldn’t.’

‘Nonsense. Once Kate is ready watching grown men beat each other to a pulp we could all go over together? Wouldn’t you? Or I’ll have to carry a whole tree to you next time I – ‘

‘No no. I can’t. Can’t ask that.’

‘Good. So it’s a deal.’

And she was in danger of a great heartache.

Chapter Text

‘We’re back!’ Kate cried when she walked into the hallway after a servant opened the door for them. ‘And we brought a friend.’

‘A friend?’ Edwina asked. ‘We left you alone for four hours.’

Edwina came out of the drawing room. She appraised Sir Phillip, her eyes growing wide.

‘Oh. Oh. Bessy, prepare the sitting room, please’, she ordered her servant.

‘What? Who is it?’ her husband asked.

‘Someone I don’t know.’

‘Edwina, this is Sir Phillip Crane of Romney Hall. Sir Crane, this is Mrs. Edwina Bagwell, my sister.’

As one curtsied and the other bowed, Mr. Bagwell came peering out of the small drawing room.

‘Well I’ll be – ‘

Sir Phillip came up, eyes widening when he took in Mr. Bagwell.

Edwina watched them exchange gazes.

‘You… know each other?’

‘One could say’, her husband said.

‘We went to Cambridge at the same time’, Sir Phillip explained.

‘Oh, are you an archaeologist as well?’ Edwina asked.

‘No, I am a botanist. We saw each other around town.’

‘He was one of the most feared boxers of our year’, Mr. Bagwell said. ‘I took good care to never participate in it.’

Eloise well understood that. Mr. Bagwell was a full head shorter than Sir Phillip and as light as a twig.

Sir Phillip cringed at the mention of boxing.

‘Yes, well…’

‘But you did disappear, while we started out in the same year. Did you ever get to finish?’

‘Family issues. I finished it the next year.’

‘Ah. I hope they’re all still doing well though. You had a brother, didn’t you?’

‘Had. Ah. He passed.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear – wait, wasn’t he the eldest?’

‘Yes. He was the future baronet.’

Edwina and her husband’s eyes grew large.

‘Oh dear. Was that the… family issue?’

‘For a part. You also only had one more term to do, didn’t you?’ Sir Phillip asked, steering clear of the topic.

‘Yes. I finished and thought about staying as a researcher but… I found myself a wife the next year’, Mr. Bagwell explained, smiling at Edwina with utter adoration.

Sir Phillip nodded, not divulging his own marital status. Increasingly odd.

‘Congratulations.’

‘Thank you, I’m very happy. Are you married yet?’

‘I have a wife, yes’, he said with a neutral face.

‘My congratulations in turn, then’, Mr. Bagwell smiled.

‘It’s been quite a while now. Six years’, Sir Phillip said.

‘Five for me, still. Love doesn’t fade, does it?’

Eloise was pretty sure the house turned into ice at that moment. Their marriage hadn’t been about love at all, but in this household that wouldn’t be understood at all. And the moment would without a doubt have become disastrous if the servant had not returned at that instant with the announcement that the sitting room was ready.

‘Wonderful, let’s sit down’, Edwina smiled.

Eloise could kiss her for not even giving Sir Phillip time to answer.

They sat down, and Sir Phillip managed the necessary single compliment on the room that was expected of a man, contrary to a woman who was supposed to notice much more about the room and express delight at it with colourful words.

‘You’ll be surprised, no doubt, to hear that the friend on whose behalf I asked for those plants in the past is, in fact, this gentleman’, Eloise informed Mr. Bagwell.

‘Indeed!’ Mr. Bagwell exclaimed who clearly found that comical. ‘Of course a botanist would ask for Mediterranean plants.’

‘Of course an archaeologist would travel the Mediterranean’, Sir Phillip said. ‘All this time and I never considered.’

‘Well there’s quite a lot of us travelling to the Aegaen sea and all that’, Mr. Bagwell laughed.

‘I would not like to be impertinent –‘ Eloise started, but cut herself off when Kate and Edwina coughed at the exact same moment.

‘As I said, I would not like to be impertinent but you could have easily known’, Eloise told Sir Phillip, shooting warning glances at Kate and Edwina who just shook their head at her.

‘How, pray tell.’

‘Oh, just that you knew the name of the archaeologist I knew years ago.’

‘No, I did not’, he protested.

‘Years ago, I think it was in the year fourteen when I was visiting with Penelope, Edwina had just written to me announcing her engagement to Mr. Bagwell. I told this to Marina while we were all in the drawing room with Amanda and Oliver.’

‘You’ve got children?’ Edwina interrupted Eloise. She turned to Sir Phillip with eager eyes.

‘Twins’, he explained without divulging how he had come to be their father.

‘I was telling Marina of what he did and where he worked when… if I remember correctly… you interrupted me when you heard the word Greece. Then you asked whether he would visit again soon and you said something I can’t recall about certain kinds of vegetation. Which lead to my first enquiry whether he could take something home for you. It is not my fault you only start listening once plants and countries are mentioned. I just never mentioned his name afterwards, because I reasoned normal people would remember names.’

‘I didn’t hear it’, Sir Phillip protested.

‘Actually, now that I recall it. You even said you didn’t “wish to presume” because you “don’t know the fellow”. So there’s that. Bit awkward, really’, Eloise grinned.

Sir Phillip took a deep breath, looking up to the ceiling as if to ask for divine guidance.

‘Fellow?’ Mr. Bagwell laughed. ‘You wound me. Hadn’t been two years since you last heard of me by then.’

‘I. Didn’t. Register. It’, Sir Phillip growled through gritted teeth.

‘Don’t take it as an insult. I believe his ears sometimes only activate once vegetation is mentioned’, Eloise stage-whispered.

‘That is just not true. I always listen to what you say if you speak directly to me. But when I’m not being directly spoken to, I cannot be blamed for not listening. Some would call listening in on conversations that are not directed at them prying’, Sir Phillip shot back.

Eloise’s heart paused when she met his gaze, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. He always listened to her? Unfortunately for them both, she had been on the receiving end of so many scolding gazes throughout her youth she had not only become insensitive to them, they had started having a reverse effect. She burst out in laughing.

Kate joined in.

‘You cannot tease Eloise with an accusation such as prying. It’s absolutely useless. She’s immune to critique.’

‘I feel you, fellow, ha, fellow. Funny… These women chatter so much when they are amongst themselves. It is hard to follow sometimes’, Mr. Bagwell smiled.

‘We know you only listen half of the time when you’re in a good mood, and not even half of it when you’re in a bad mood’, Kate laughed. ‘That is why we women so often repeat everything. But Eloise is unmarried. One cannot blame her for expecting men to still put it in the effort to listening to everything she says. Even though even she has to admit that’s a high demand to have of anyone.’

‘You wound me. I don’t talk any less than you!’

‘Girls, that doesn’t speak anything in either of your favour. You’re awful chatterboxes’, Edwina smiled.

‘Hey!’ Kate and Eloise cried.

‘Right, let us leave the warzone, shall we?’ Mr. Bagwell asked Sir Phillip. ‘Everything is in the back garden. I can show you.’

‘Yes, excellent’, Sir Phillip decided.

Both men strode out the room as fast as they could without it looking like an escape.

Eloise swallowed, watching how Kate and Edwina were straining their ears to hear how far the men were. Down the corridor, past the creaky plank. The groan of the back door opening. The thud of the back door closing, the clack of the metal clicking back.

‘Eloise Bridgerton!’ Kate cried.

‘What was all that about?’ Edwina demanded to know.

‘Yes, I’d like to know that too’, Kate nodded.

‘No. Kate. First. I need more backstory because all of you just fell through my door and I am completely clueless.’

Kate raised her eyebrows in question at Eloise, who just sighed and shrugged. Whatever. No point.

‘Eloise and I thought it was going to rain but we wanted to do something so we went to see some boxing matches.’

‘But without betting!’ Eloise defended before Edwina could judge them.

‘Then, during the second game, Mr. Bulky Botanist came in, completely disrobed like any other churl and started beating the number two boxer of town into a pulp. Meanwhile this so-called lady was looking increasingly distraught and ran off for a “breather” that lasted the entire last boxing match. I was worried but thought that after years of fighting off bachelors she could take care of herself. Imagine my surprise when I came out after the match was finished and found her thick as thieves with said boxer who was apparently a bloody baronet!’

‘Oh’, Edwina said.

‘Pen is friends with his wife so we talk every year, that’s it. Not much more about it’, Eloise shrugged. Because technically, much as it hurt, much as it felt wrong to say, that was all they were. Just acquaintances who met one time a year or less. Even though he was the person who knew her best, besides Penelope. She couldn’t understand how she’d made such a mess of things.

Those damn letters.

But without them… Without him… She never would have started learning about literature in earnest. She never would have started writing. She never would have gotten through her writing blocks. Everything she was, everything she had realized, she owed to him. She couldn’t unwish their acquaintance without unwishing her entire life and the things she loved best about it.

‘Clearly, it could never be the opposite way.’

‘What? What do you mean by that?’

‘Man answers in so few words one would think they were made of gold, meanwhile you tease and talk to death everyone you speak to. That man stands no chance’, Kate laughed.

Eloise bit her tongue to keep herself from arguing why they could be the best of friends.

‘I take it… Timothy was not an inspiration in your new book?’ Edwina asked.

Kate turned to her sister in confusion while Eloise turned to stone. She hoped Edwina did not look too deeply into the book.

‘I always thought, well, with that scholarly figure… that you finally decided to style someone after my Timothy. But this man even fits the physical description. Tall striking figure, dark hair, bright eyes. A dead older brother.’

‘Actually, the person who inspired me to include a scholar was a man in Bath who I bumped into. He lead me to include a meeting between Anna and a scholar in Bath. But indeed, his personality was mostly fashioned after Sir Crane’, Eloise admitted.

‘Which one, again?’ Kate asked.

‘Richard’, Edwina reminded her sister. ‘The one the Anne character marries.’

‘Oh yes, I remember. The one whose brother she was engaged to died.’

Kate turned to Eloise. ‘You devote a protagonist to an acquaintance?’

‘Hey, I don’t choose whose life inspires me. Let us be glad Mr. Bagwell’s life wasn’t so tragical it inspired me to include it in a book’, Eloise said.

‘True, I’m happy for that’, Edwina admitted.

‘But let us be frank for a minute, why is he so quiet and tense? He looks like the drop of a needle could make him jump. We can’t possibly be intimidating to a man who can beat us all into a bloody pulp in seconds.’

‘Those are two very different situations. He is always quiet and reserved. Particularly among people he doesn’t know. He’s not used to crowds this size either, he’s a homebody. And to him… having so many people talk is intimidating.’

‘This? A crowd?’ Kate asked, perplexed.

‘We are not that many’, Edwina said.

‘The maximum amount of people he interacts with on a daily basis for longer than ten minutes is three. And one of them is just as quiet as him.’

‘And the other two?’

‘Are his children, so that’s different’, Eloise shrugged.

‘That sounds unbearably boring’, Kate shuddered.

‘We should keep him and socialize him’, Kate laughed.

‘Like a dog?’ Edwina laughed.

‘More like a cat. He’s more like a cat, isn’t he, in attitude?’ Kate asked her sister.

‘Really?’ Eloise asked, rolling her eyes.

‘You don’t think so?’ Kate asked.

Eloise paused and decided to give the question an honest thought. She thought about happy dogs with wagging tails, and panting pugs, and energetic pups.

‘No, definitely a cat’, she decided.

The women heard the door open again, and shut up.

‘They’re silent’, Mr. Bagwell said at the far end of the hallway.

‘This is the moment you need to fear.’

‘Why?’

‘Either they have just been talking about us… Or they are up to something.’

‘We take insult to that!’ Kate called.

‘They were listening in on us’, Mr. Bagwell decided. ‘How did you call it again?’

‘Prying.’

‘Yes!’ Mr. Bagwell said, appearing in the doorway now.

‘You lot are meddlesome snoopers and you are all looking entirely too happy and innocuous. What were you talking about?’

‘Nothing’, Kate said.

After a quizzical eyebrow of Mr. Bagwell Eloise decided to present the veiled truth.

‘We were discussing my book. Edwina just had some remarks and questions about it. Have you read it yet?’ Eloise asked Mr. Bagwell.

He immediately changed countenance, almost blushing.

‘I, well, no. I was going to make time for it, but it is so big! Not that there is anything wrong with large books. Obviously, I’m a scholar at heart, but, I was occupied.’

Eloise nodded, feigning minor disappointment. ‘It is alright, I get that not everyone can make time for it. Men have a lot obligations and affairs.’

‘Back to stabbing our privileges, Miss Bridgerton?’ Sir Phillip asked. A servant slipped by him carrying the exact things Mr. Bagwell had offered. No doubt it was being brought to his horse as they were speaking.

‘I would not stab you or Mr. Bagwell. I know you two genuinely have a lot of obligations. I commend you two on how seriously you take your duties. There’s many men I sarcastically accuse of having more important affairs but they are not located in this county.’

Mr. Bagwell smiled to Sir Phillip.

‘She is really not fond of London men, and has only become a stauncher critic over the years.’

Eloise swallowed. While that was a commonly known truth, and she had even told Sir Phillip so, it made her feel awkward when someone else told him. It felt too disarming, telling too much about where her preferences lay.

‘I cannot fault her for that. They are silly’, Sir Phillip said.

Edwina almost choked on her tea.

‘I feel the need to point out that not all citymen can be bad, my sister’s husband is very much a city man’, Edwina said.

‘It’s fine. He is not wrong. London men are silly, including the Bridgertons. But they have their many merits as well’, Kate winked at her sister.

Sir Phillip only just about managed to not choke on his tea, Eloise saw.

The conversation continued without him, and she observed he was, as always, perfectly fine with being silent. She would pay good money to know his thoughts on her family. For some reason, alright, for a specific reason, she wanted him to like them. She loved them all with her whole heart and wouldn’t be able to bear it if he didn’t. That said she knew the two Sheffields were the light version of her family. An appetizer for the chaos and loudness her blood family presented. She hoped he liked the playful and affectionate climate. His house was so tomb-like. As if someone had died. Well, two people had in fact died, but that was no reason for the house to still feel like it was in its early days of mourning six years later.

‘Shh, don’t say that! She’ll put it in her book!’ Kate told her sister.

Eloise looked up to see Edwina biting her lip. She had not been paying attention to the conversation and wondered what could have resulted in that remark. She was sorry to have missed it.

‘She always does that. Eloise. Once upon a time I marvelled at her writing abilities but once I really started paying attention I noticed just how much of her books was just her life experience. Have you read her books, Sir Crane?’ Kate asked.

‘I have read the first one’, he admitted slowly.

Eloise’s eyes grew large. He had read her work? Why had he never said so?

‘Of course, you do not see her a lot, but did you notice how some parts seemed very familiar to you? Her second book is even more realistic than her first one though.’

‘I must say the most recognisable thing in Hestia was Miss Bridgerton’s humour. The sentences read like things she could say. And the bad characters were exactly the sort of characters she would disagree with in real life’, he observed.

‘Indeed. And she is not above punishing and ridiculing in her books those that have slighted her in real life. One must always beware of potentially having their likeness and actions immortalized in her books’, Kate warned.

‘I said before I hoped to never cross her. That desire has only increased with the years’, he smiled.

From anyone else, that would have sounded affectionate. But when Sir Phillip said it, it sounded like a critique. Eloise found that quite unfair, he, of all people, had the least reason to fear her. She’d treated him nicer than she’d treated anyone before.

A kitchen maid presented herself in the sitting room.

‘Excuse me, ma’am, but will the guest be staying for supper?’

‘Oh no, I’m leaving. I still have quite the road ahead’, Sir Phillip said.

He immediately rose, putting down his cup and saucer on the table.

‘You need not hasten on our behalf. We can delay supper with ease’, Edwina said. ‘Even without delaying it, it will not be in another half hour.’

Sir Phillip looked out of the window.

‘No, it is time to go. I had not planned on staying this late in any case.’

‘Oh, well, if you so wish we will not keep you’, Edwina agreed.

‘It was nice seeing you, old pal. If you live so close, perhaps we could see each other more often, for old times’ sake.’

‘That would be nice, thank you. Mrs. Bagwell, I thank you for the tea and the hospitality, unannounced as I was.’

‘Oh it’s nothing. I love people dropping in’, Edwina smiled.

Everyone rose to bid Sir Phillip farewell.

‘Eloise, will you see your friend off?’ Kate asked.

‘Alright’, Eloise quickly accepted.

She heard Sir Phillip follow her into the hallway.

‘You never told me you read my novels’, she said as soon as they were far enough from the sitting room.

‘You never asked’, he said.

She threw a stern look at him when the butler opened the door for them. How dare he look so innocent and even uncomfortable with his uncharacteristically neat cravat and proper clothes? She stared at him as he walked towards his horse. Even in proper clothes he was still such a stupid stoic rude farmer. She wanted to mess up his hair and clothes so he would look as rude and raw as his social skills.

‘I cannot ask your opinion on something I do not know you can speak about. You should volunteer that information’, she hissed.

Sir Phillip merely smiled when he turned back at her. A small tree stuck a full foot out of his saddlebag.

‘Well?’ Eloise demanded to know. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘Prying again, so impatient. I only read it the past summer. I couldn’t tell you, I didn’t see you, so I could not tell you with spoken words. And past February we had other priorities.’

Smart-ass, Eloise cursed.

‘You could have written about it. We were still writing the past summer!’

Eloise fell silent then, realizing she had just for the first time acknowledged their conversation had dried up in the past few months. She shot him an apologetic smile, full of guilt at not having continued it after February.

‘It didn’t fit in our conversations’, he shrugged.

‘I constantly throw in random thoughts and events that had nothing to do with our correspondence!’

Sir Phillip’s smile only grew.

‘Well, what have you to say?’ Eloise demanded again. Her frustration had outgrown her politeness now. He was the person who had made her write in the first place and now he had read it! She had to know his opinion. She just had to.

‘I’m leaving.’

‘But –‘

‘If you want, you can ask for it by letter, but now is not the time to start a conversation, now is the time to end it.’

Eloise’s mouth fell open. So this was him telling her to pick up the pen again in the most clever way possible, by tempting her curiosity. The sly old fox. So he had been missing their conversation as well!

‘Fine. I will. I will be expecting a detailed review.’

‘Do they not say that brevity is the soul of wit?’ he asked.

‘Last time I checked even my most vocal critics recognized my wit, while not a single person could ever describe me as brief. So whoever they are, they’re wrong.’

Sir Phillip mounted his horse.

‘They, are Shakespeare’, he said, looking down on her with a victorious smirk.

‘Using medieval men to silence women? How ground-breaking’, Eloise huffed.

‘It’s not meant to silence you.’

‘No? What is it meant for then?’

‘An excuse for my lack of words.’

‘You’re perfectly capable of eloquence with a quill in your hands.’

‘I… thank you.’

‘I’ll hear from you!’ Eloise said, stepping back from his horse.

He smiled down at her, with his newly crooked nose and his already loosened cravat. She cursed her heart for stumbling but she managed to keep her smile fixed and strong.

‘And I you, then’, he said before putting his heel against his horse’s flank to spur it into action.

Chapter Text

“The first Season of the new decade will start a lot sooner than previous years, as Parliament starts weeks sooner than usual. In preparation of the new season This Author has prepared a short description of the new load of debutantes. Amongst them is the final Bridgerton: Hyacinth Bridgerton. Last but not least she is certainly a force to be reckoned with. As intelligent and nosy as she is beautiful, she will for sure be a challenge for London’s finest bachelors.

The girl is lucky, as she can count on the expert guidance of her two older sisters, Miss Eloise Bridgerton and the dowager Countess of Kilmartin Francesca Stirling. Although one would beg Miss Bridgerton to pack her belongings and spend a season in a university town. It is clear no one except a highly intelligent professor could spar with her. It is hard to make a love match if no one in London can match you.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 MARCH 1820”

‘Mama, look, Lady Whistledown has finally written about me!’

‘Already? The season has not even started’, Lady Bridgerton brought out in surprise.

‘She calls me a challenge for London’s finest bachelors.’

She cocked her head with maidenly pride.

Eloise rolled her eyes, looking up from the letter she was reading.

‘Remember when I was still called a challenge? Now I’m just called difficult and impossible to match’, Eloise asked her mother.

‘Do not let gossip get to you Eloise, you will find someone who fits you. In due time.’

Eloise looked down at the letter.

“I admit I have only picked up your last novel a week ago. I am no expert but I can admit to enjoying your writing style more. It’s more fluent than the last one. Not that I found that one bad.”

Her heart fluttered with nerves. This was a dangerous book to read. Once he reached the halfway point, Richard would appear, and the parallels between him and the character were too numerous to ignore.

Yeah, she’d find someone in due time. A second person, hopefully. Her mother had always told her she’d find someone who fit her. But no one warned her that said person could be unavailable. Was the world big enough for a second person to exist who understood her and did not only tolerate her, but actually enjoy her?

‘Maybe he isn’t born yet. Or still in the school rooms. I mean, Anthony and Benedict were like eleven when their wives were born’, Colin joked.

‘Delightful. I’ll have to give children to a child’, Eloise sighed, rolling her eyes.

‘Come now. You’re already picky about their intellect and interests. You can’t discriminate on age as well’, Colin laughed.

‘I can be as picky as I want’, Eloise decided. ‘Besides, love is not about picking.’

‘Oh no?’

‘No. Has anyone of us ever consciously chosen whom they fell in love with?’ Eloise demanded to know.

Colin swallowed, looking down.

‘You’re right dear’, Violet Bridgerton said. ‘It happens when it happens.’

Colin gave a slight nod, recognizing the truth of those words. He had not forgotten his first love. It had been instantaneous. A look, and he was lost. And it had taken him the better part of the past six years to get it back.

‘Yes exactly! Who knows? It can be just like the fairytales when the hero walks into the princess’ castle and frees her from her tower and then… Boom! Magic!’

Eloise was about to object when they were interrupted by the appearance of a footman.

‘My apologies, my lady. But a certain Lord Lacye has asked for an audience.’

‘Lord Lacye?’ Violet Bridgerton asked.

They had seen him only last week at a dinner party, and were about to see him at a piano performance tomorrow. He was one of the younger lords, with a title and lands but not a lot of money. The inheritance had been split up by his grandfather, giving lands to each son. But now the old Lord Lacye had five daughters and one son. It had been very clear that all money would be divided amongst the daughter while the current Lord Lacye would only receive the lands.

Eloise had no problem with him, although she had no interest in him either. He was a very quiet young men always surrounded by very talkative sisters.

‘Is he…’

‘For you?’ Hyacinth asked Eloise.

‘He’s not here for you?’ Eloise asked back.

‘Not that I know of.’

‘Well, I don’t think I’ver ever said more than five words to him either’, Eloise said.

The two young women looked at the footman.

‘He is here for Miss Bridgerton.’

‘Oh’, Violet Bridgerton brought out.

‘Right, back in fifteen minutes’, Colin said before striding out of the room.

‘You were asking for it. Prince just swooping into the castle nonsense and all’, Eloise blamed Hyacinth.

‘Make sure to kiss the prince awake. He’s so quiet I wonder whether he isn’t just sleeping through half of the events we see him at.’

‘You plague! Begone!’

Eloise folded her letter, carefully tucking it away behind the pillow of her favourite comfortable chair.

A tall skinny gentleman with straight black hair and nervous eyes walked in.

‘Lord Lacye.’

‘Miss Bridgerton’, he greeted her, bowing at a proper distance.

‘Would you like some tea?’

‘How are you?’ he asked.

He turned white as a sheet.

‘I – I’m sorry. Yes. Yes, tea would be nice. I’m sorry. You’re the hostess. Of course it’s your right to talk first’, he rattled.

Eloise hid her wince by walking out and calling for tea.

‘Do sit down, Lord Lacye.’

‘Thank you’, he said, following her to the table and sitting down.

Then, he jumped upright. He rushed over to her side to pull out her chair.

‘Erm, thank you.’

He nodded, returning to his seat.

The maid came in with a tea set and placed it down on the table.

‘Milk?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Sugar?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Ah, a purist’, Eloise smirked.

‘Yes… Well. Only in tea. I like my coffee with some cream, it’s too bitter otherwise, you see?’

‘I do.’

He managed a nervous laugh.

Eloise handed him his tea.

‘Thank you. It’s… a lovely set. Yes, quite. The paintings on it are very elegant. Did you paint the birds on it?’

‘Me? No. Haven’t the patience for it. It’s my sister Francesca’s handiwork.’

‘Indeed? Well, she’s got a nice hand. She’s… older than you?’

‘Yes.’

‘The one whose husbands died, was it not? Oh heavens, do not answer that. That was awfully inappropriate of me. Forgive me. What a question! Who asks such a question?’ he asked himself, shaking his head.

‘It is alright, it is that sister.’

‘My condelences. She must be heartbroken.’

‘I hope everyone who loses a spouse is.’

‘Only if they marry for love… Which your family obviously does. At least according to Whistledown. Not that I let my opinion be guided by gossip! But… it seems to be a generally known truth’, he rushed to say.

‘Yes, I suppose it does make sense that one is not as upset if the marriage is loveless.’

‘Really? You believe so too?’

‘Yes. It is only logical, is it not? If spouses only interact with each other about finances and children and do not enjoy each other’s company, they do not lose as much as those who lose their lover, confidante and friend.’

‘Yes of course! Hah. It’s just. Well, one would expect writers to be all pathos and tragedy  and dramatic emotions.’

‘I’m not a romantic idealist. I see the grey in the world.’

‘Of course. It’s what you’re renowned for. Should have known that’, he muttered, again more to himself than to her.

Eloise took a sip of her tea.

She didn’t even have to say or do a thing to turn this proposal into a mess. He was entirely capable of making it awfully embarrassing and awkward himself.

He rose again.

‘Miss Bridgerton, actually, I’m not here to discuss books and death with you. I came… I came… I came because I… I… I have an offer for you. I want you to be my wife. No, I mean, yes but… Miss Bridgerton…’

He sank onto a knee, taking her hand.

‘I do admire you. You’re clever and pretty and impressive. I could take care of you, if you’d let me… I read in Whistledown you were considering moving away to find a husband elsewhere and I thought… Well…  I don’t have a ring because obviously I did not plan this… I know I have not been the most visible suitor…’

Indeed he hadn’t. She maybe talked one or two words with him at a ball here or there, or sat across of him at a dinner party, and danced a few dances with him throughout the years, but he had never shown much interest.

‘But I believe this is some kind of rare courage I got at the thought of you going away and finally marrying. And I… I wanted to ask you. I… I know I am no great speaker or writer. But I have a good position in the house of lords. I’m not stupid. And… You love your family and I have many sisters you could befriend. It… It would not be a bad match.’

He was not wrong but… Eloise could not even begin to imagine being with him. He was a virtual stranger. When she looked at him, her heart did not speed up. His conversation did not stimulate her. But he was not awful, and she would turn twenty-four. Perhaps if they were not such strangers for each other, he would speak a bit more. After all, had she not met another men who was slow to talk and did she not appreciate that man now? Perhaps it was time she started looking properly at men, giving them more chances. Even though she was pretty sure this one would always be a bit of a doormat while she admired some backbone.

‘I am not moving away. It was a suggestion Lady Whistledown made but not one I considered.’

Actually, it was a joke Eloise had made to Penelope that she had turned into a Lady Whistledown comment.

‘Lord Lacye, I do not know you. And I won’t marry a stranger.’

Lord Lacye deflated, hanging down his head.

‘But… Perhaps… We could get to know each other? Not in the shape of an engagement because that is almost as binding as a marriage, but we could… court.’

Just saying the words felt dirty. She could almost feel the presence of Sir Phillip’s letter behind the pillow on her chair.

‘We could?’ he asked, looking up with wide eyes.

‘Did I not say so?’

‘Yes. Of course, you did. Yes. Ha ha, courtship. Yes.’

He blinked.

‘You want to talk?’

‘Perhaps not today, I’m a bit busy.’

She felt a sinking feeling in her chest. She knew it was the right thing to do, and perhaps she would discover he was actually very nice, but right now a thousand doubts were starting to float through her head. It felt very scary, even though it was way past time, to seriously consider a courtship. But it felt just as scary to remain behind in the nest forever, all alone and forever pitied.

‘Of course. Yes. You had not planned for my visit’, he agreed.

‘Miss Bridgerton, I thank you so much for allowing me to visit you’, he said. ‘I… I’ll see you Friday then?’

‘Yes, at the piano performance’, she agreed.

‘Good. Very good. I… I bid you goodbye!’

It took Eloise minutes after he left before she could trust her legs enough to stand on them. She struggled towards her chair, falling down horizontally, draped across both armrests, and retrieved the letter with shaking hands. She hoped it would distract her from what she had just done.

Hyacinth was the first to hop in.

‘And? Did he cry?’

‘No, I was polite. A term you are not yet familiar with.’

‘But you refused him?’

‘I refused his hand’, she specified, but decided she rather not elaborate.

‘Hmph. I was so looking forward to another fun story.’

‘Those stories are not fun for me. You better be kind, or karma will come and get you, make you stay single until you’re old and wrinkly.’

Hyacinth scrunched her nose and sat down again.

‘I doubt it’, she decided.

Eloise sighed and continued to read.

And then turned around the page to read on. But the letter did not continue as expected. With three exclamation marks and a “read first” note above it. She winced. She had not even looked at the back before she started reading.

“Eloise, Marina caught a very serious fever yesterday and has been bedridden since. As I hold her bedside I cannot look over the children who are currently without governess and we are down to one nurse. The other one quit last week. If it is possible, do come to support the children, if you would be so kind. I would not dare ask for speed, but the doctor tells me that perhaps days are all that’s left.

Yours, Phillip.”

Eloise swallowed. It was the first time he’d signed off in such a personal way with no thought for propriety. He was probably too distracted to twist his words into nice sentences.

He thinks of me as Eloise.

How can you think of that, his wife is bedridden! His wife!

No, not bedridden, dying. His wife is dying and you were just asking for some miracle to be with the person you liked; You despicable being, you practically wished her death!

Eloise read the letter again. God, it really said days. Her heart stopped entirely. Marina could be dying. Oh God no.

How could she get a fever, she never leaves the house? One does not contract a deathly fever from sitting inside and sleeping.

‘I’m going out.’

‘Out? Out where? It’s raining’, Hyacinth pointed out.

‘Then I’ll take the carriage. I’m going to Penelope.’

‘But – ‘

‘Bye!’

Maids packed Penelope’s suitcase while Eloise held her as she cried.

‘I’m done with Whistledown. I’m done. I’m done’, she sobbed.

‘What does that have to do with it?’

‘Everything! Everything. If I… Who knows if I hadn’t ruined her who she would have been married to? She could have been happy. She could have been in different circumstances. She could have never gotten ill. This is my fault. She spent the entirety of her life unhappy once she met me and now she’s dying.’

‘She might not die. It’s a fever. People have recovered from strong fevers before.’

‘This is not some silly Austen novel, Eloise! People can die from fevers. Oh god. Oh god she can die. We were about to visit her. She must know that. She knew that. I just wrote to her some days ago’, Penelope sobbed.

‘Miss, your suitcase is ready.’

‘Right, let’s go to the carriage. We have no time to lose’, Eloise instructed Penelope. The ginger girl nodded, wiping away her tears and running after Eloise.

‘Penelope, where are you going!’ her mother called.

‘Gloucestershire!’

‘What? Why? Now? You can’t mean to go today? It’s near evening.’

‘Can’t explain I have to go. Sorry!’ Penelope cried as she ran through the door.

It was a tense carriage ride towards Gloucestershire. Eloise could not listen to her best friend who sobbed against her shoulder. Her mind was too restless. Guilt and confusion tearing her apart from the inside.

The letter repeated itself again and again in her head.

And then a stanza, morbid and deplorable, floated through her screaming thoughts.

A poem she could still recall Penelope reciting in exaggerated tone not a year earlier in Bath. Keats, why, he too had died, just last month. It seemed awfully prophetic now, that Penelope had presented that poem from Marina’s beloved book of Keats just last year.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

              I have been half in love with easeful Death,

                                       Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

                                                                         To take into the air my quiet breath

                                                                                                      Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

                                                                                                                                     To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

                                                                                                                     While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

                                                                                                         In such an ecstasy!

                                                                  Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
                                         To thy high requiem become a sod.

Chapter Text

Eloise and Penelope had to knock on the door quite a few times before they were received by Gunning, the butler.

‘Miss Bridgerton, Miss Featherington… Were we expecting you?’

‘We were asked to come at earliest convenience.’

‘Right, of course. Naturally. Excuse me, I will ask the lord if he can receive you right now. Please, come in.’

Eloise and Penelope waited in the hall as Gunning went down a corridor.

‘Now? I thought it was evident we would not be receiving guests right now’, they heard Sir Phillip’s voice echo through the hall.

‘But sir – ‘

‘No. Tell them off. Who even calls on this hour? No one ever calls on us and now they do at such an ungodly hour?’

‘But sir, I do not think it is possible for them to go home.’

‘Whyever not?’

‘Well, you see, our home is quite far away!’ Eloise cried out.

An awkward silence followed, after which Sir Phillip appeared. He looked as haggard as she’d ever seen him, wearing clothes that looked like he’d slept in them for three days straight.

‘I had forgotten about the letter’, he apologized.

‘Sir Phillip, how is Marina? We came as fast as we could. We left London within hours of receiving your letter’, Penelope asked.

Eloise and Sir Phillip cringed.

She had received his letter early that morning and had carelessly been reading it at her own leisure. She’d held it for hours before she turned the page around. They could have been here so much sooner.

But Sir Phillip cringed for an entirely other reason.

‘I wrote that letter over two days ago’, he muttered.

A stone fell on her stomach. She knew enough from the way he said it.

Oh no.

‘Can we see her?’ Penelope asked.

‘Uhm… I guess but…’

‘Is she alright? Has the doctor seen to her already? Whatever happened to her?’

Eloise saw Sir Phillip withdraw into himself. He wasn’t processing her words. Eloise understood the questions, hell, she had a lot of them herself. But she knew Sir Phillip did not communicate like that. And most questions were redundant if her sneaking suspicion was correct. Which meant all these questions were probably daggers to his mind and heart.

‘Miss – ‘

‘Is she doing better now? How did she get to come with fever? Oh I was so worried.’

‘Miss – ‘

‘How are the children coping? They must be so worried for her. And you! How you must have suffered.’

‘Madam’, Sir Phillip said, raising his voice.

Penelope’s eyes grew wide as she shut her mouth.

‘If you expect me to answer your questions, might I suggest you give me time to answer them?’

‘Ahem, if I may, sir?’ Gunning asked. ‘Although we were not prepared for the arrival of the ladies there is still hot soup in the kitchen, which they could have while we prepare supper for them. You were about to have dinner, perhaps it would be better to move the conversation to the dining room? Your food will cool.’

Eloise found the remark more than a bit impertinent, but then if the servant had been around the house for longer than the master, they did occasionally dare put them in place. Eloise could still cringe at the memory of her accusing a servant of being Lady Whistledown. That had not gone down well.

‘Perhaps, yes.’

‘I don’t have much of a stomach for it. I’d much rather see Marina’, Penelope said.

Eloise wondered how her usually so perceptive friend did not notice the looks on Sir Phillip’s and Gunning’s faces, nor had she asked Eloise why Sir Phillip had written to her instead of Penelope. Panic and fear, she reasoned, had put blinders on her vision.

‘I’m afraid I’m not so delicate and sensitive. The trip has left me famished’, Eloise muttered.

‘Nothing will change while we have supper’, Sir Phillip told Penelope.

‘Where are the children?’ Eloise asked as they entered the dining room.

‘They dined with their nurse in the nursery.’

‘Oh, I thought they ate with you.’

Sir Phillip looked at the ground as he shuffled to his seat.

‘Usually, they do. But I sat with Marina all day the past three days, and was very busy today. The hours I ate were highly irregular. By the time I came down for dinner the first day, the nurse had already fed them. They needed stability.’

Eloise noticed the difference in description between the past few days and today, and pitied him deeply. He must have really been through hell the past few days. And if he didn’t sit with Marina today but instead was busy… There could only be two reasons why he wouldn’t be with her today: either she had healed perfectly, or she had died.

‘I understand.’

‘So they didn’t see Marina at all?’ Penelope asked.

‘They did, half an hour each day.’

‘I wouldn’t expose them too much to someone who is ill, especially since they have difficulty sitting still’, Eloise mused. Sir Phillip nodded in agreement.

Images haunted her of every hour following her father’s bee sting, of sitting quiet for hours on end, unable to look away, unable to look, as her mother cried and Anthony paced through the room. She’d never sat still for as long as she did then before, or after. The images had haunted her for a long time, and she knew she was not alone. Kate had entrusted her with the information that Anthony still had fears and worries due to their father’s death.

Once they sat down the servants offered them all soup.

‘Sir Crane’, Penelope tried again when they were seated. ‘Might you answer our questions now?’

‘Yes.’

‘What happened to Marina?’

‘She fell into the lake. I noticed and got her out. She was still talking, but the damage must have been done. I fetched a doctor, but she developed a fever.’

How could she fall into the lake? Eloise had been to the lake, had walked around it with Marina and Penelope on multiple occasions. The lake was mostly only ankle deep around the edges, and Marina could swim.

Eloise’s heart froze. Marina couldn’t drown in the lake on accident. It had been deliberate. Oh no, poor Penelope. Marina dying was one thing, but her dying because of herself? That was quite another. Eloise wanted to be shocked, because for sure such a death was shocking indeed, but she could only feel a strange hollowness where shock should have been. She had tried it before. She had been unhappy for so long. Eloise had read enough romantic fiction to know how it ended for tragic figures who felt like they were stuck in an unhappy situation. Either a miracle happened, or a horrible death ensued.

But few of those figures had left behind a husband and children.

‘Is she getting better now? You wrote it could be days’, Penelope said.

‘It was a matter of days. Three days, to be exact’, Sir Phillip said.

‘Three? No. No. Please, don’t… don’t tell me’, Penelope begged as she started to catch on.

‘I’m sorry. I did everything I could.’

‘Oh the poor children’, Penelope continued, her eyes watering.

She looked at her soup with disgust, and shoved it back.

Sir Phillip nodded.

‘I don’t personally know how it feels to lose a mother. But I know how crucial they are to a child’s upbringing’, Sir Phillip admitted.

‘Poor children, oh the dears, oh Marina. To lose their mother so young’, Penelope murmured again, the first tears sliding down.

‘Just like fathers’, Eloise said. ‘Whether I would have lost my mother or my father wouldn’t have made a difference. They were the exact same in their parenting. For Anthony, it was absolutely not a good case it was father instead of mother. He became viscount at such a young age, head of the entire household including his siblings at age eighteen. We’ve never gotten our brother back. Not truly.’

Penelope nodded. ‘I love my mother. But father falling away was also a financial disaster’, she said. Her voice shook and Eloise reached out her hand to her.

Sir Phillip seemed honestly surprised. As if he had not considered how devastating it would be if all the baronet responsibilities fell on the shoulders of his six year old Oliver.

‘Could – Could I still see her?’ Penelope asked.

‘I suppose. If you wish. She is laid out in her bedroom.’

Penelope nodded. Eloise could see how her friend struggled to compose herself, and could not help but feel guilty for not feeling much at all. She was sorry for Pen, for Oliver and Amanda and for Sir Phillip. But beside a deep regret Marina’s life had to end on such a horribly sad note after years of unhappiness she could feel no genuine deep earth-shattering mourning. She comforted herself by telling herself that she had just never built that deep connection with her.

‘I’d like that’, Penelope nodded.

Eloise had rarely been to a graveyard. Such a trip was reserved solely for All Soul’s Day and funerals. But every time she had felt that peculiar discomfort and awkwardness she suffered from now, standing in front of Marina’s bedroom door.

The entrance to the tomb was opened, and all entered.

Marina lay on three layers of clean sheets, pulled tout over the bed to protect it. It was a shame, Eloise thought, pity trickling in. She looked so beautiful and peaceful in death, yet she could only remember Marina with a worried expression, or a tense smile. There had only been the wedding and a few glimmers on which she’d seemed genuinely happy.

Penelope sank down in a chair on one side of the bed, quiet tears streaming down her face.

Sir Phillip moved to the other side, picking up an oddly familiar book. He was reading her latest novel. An image sprang up in her head of Sir Phillip, exhausted beyond tired, reading by Marina’s bedside in the middle of the night as her fever continued. Ready to run and summon a doctor when needed.

But to what point had he read it? Fear built up inside her. What if he had read the final third? Would he lay the connection between himself and the scholar character? Kate and Edwina had in less than thirty minutes.

‘If you excuse me’, Sir Phillip said as he opened the door to the tomb. ‘I still have a lot to arrange for the funeral.’

‘It’s fine, thank you’, Penelope replied.

The door closed.

‘This is my fault. I never intended for any of this’, she finally cracked.

Eloise bit on her cheek as she watched Penelope cry, her face buried in her arms which rested on Marina’s blankets.

‘It’s not. You weren’t even here.’

‘But I caused it. I caused it. I… I cursed her. I cursed her and condemned her to a life with any man who still wanted a ruined woman instead of a man of her choosing. I ruined her. She hasn’t been happy since.’

‘Pen, that’s not true.’

‘But it is. She wasn’t happy. Neither of them were happy. I’ve trapped them together. What was I even thinking? I was such a jealous infant. So stupid with a way too powerful pen. I caused this.’

‘No. No. Pen. You’ve got to listen to me now’, Eloise said, rushing over and pulling on her arms until she was holding Penelope’s hands.

‘I want you to think about the facts. First, you said Marina had made herself very ill once before. Before you even wrote that Whistledown article. It could have been fatal then too. Her harming herself did not only start happening after your article. She came to you already pregnant. You didn’t make her pregnant, she did. It is not your fault she had to find a husband. You objected to my brother being dragged into a marriage without knowledge of the situation. That’s commendable, although your way of doing it was in poor taste. But you would have never written that article if she hadn’t been pregnant and had not tried marrying Colin while keeping her pregnancy secret on top of it.’

Eloise rubbed Penelope’s hands. But her friend just kept crying and shaking her head.

‘Sir Phillip would have married her with or without scandal. He offered before the scandal happened. He married her out of duty, and would have done so with or without baby. Had Colin not been around, it would have been Sir Phillip anyway. You didn’t force him into the marriage, he forced himself into it. And Marina had two choices; marrying or not marrying. She chose to marry. Not marrying would have been a scandal but that was her choice. And then in their marriage… They just didn’t fit, but that wasn’t your choice or fault. Since you had neither control over whether he proposed and whether she accepted. Nor could you control how they dealt with their marriage.’

‘But… It all wouldn’t have happened had George not died.’

Penelope’s gaze slid away. Eloise followed, and saw George’s eye hung from Marina’s neck still, after all these seven years.

‘That is very true. See, that’s the whole cause of this. Before you or Sir Phillip appeared, they had already happened. She already came to you as a woman pregnant and in love, and he was already off to war. Her unhappiness following his death is nothing you had a hand in. It was her personality. It was her history. You couldn’t save a man so far away. You couldn’t bring a man back to life. You couldn’t help her being pregnant. Everything after you met her, happened due to what she and George did before. It sounds… awful. But, everything was already in motion. You’re like… a soldier blaming himself for not being able to stop the war that was already happening when he arrived on the battlefield. And while yes, that soldier can make certain decisions, he can’t time travel or control all variables.’

‘Still. Part of the problem was how I ruined her reputation. I know I couldn’t have helped everything, although I do feel guilty for it all but. She needed people. She needed parties and music and laughter, people to lift her up. And I made that impossible for her. She could never return to London thanks to me. We could never invite her over for some fun. We always had to come here. I can’t help but think, it would have changed some things. And now… She got ill and died as unhappy as the day she was when she found out George died loving her.’

Eloise could not deny that possibility.

‘Love’s a mess. It almost always ends in tragedy’, Penelope said.

Having seen her mother weep over her father’s lifeless body, she could not deny it. Nor deny how lonely and terrifying she sometimes found her mother’s fate. To be widowed so young, having to face all decades of her life alone. And she’d gotten her own fair bit of heartache, albeit limited, being in love with a married man… or formerly married man. No, she couldn’t think about that.

‘You want me to leave you for a bit?’

‘Please. I… I need to be alone with her, I think.’

And that was mourning too, Eloise accepted as she stood. She had not seen the purpose in visiting her father after it was over. While some of her siblings had visited him each day until he was buried. To her, her pendant with a lock of his hair was far more valuable than giving him a final greeting.

‘El… Eloise?’ a small girl voice asked her as she shut the bedroom door.

Eloise turned around, seeing a girl who was now over half her height. How tall she’d grown, and so devastatingly beautiful like her mother.

‘Oh, Amanda. Hello. Are you not going to bed yet?’

‘We were put to bed. But I can’t sleep.’

Eloise nodded, bending through her knees so she was at her height.

‘We saw a carriage arriving an hour ago. So it was you?’

‘Me and Penelope. We heard your mother could use support, as did you. Down a nurse again?’

Amanda cracked a small smile.

‘It happens. She was not very fond of our wire trap.’

‘Oh, heavens. I hope I never deserve a wire trap.’

Amanda bit her lip.

‘No, you’re nice to us. You write us letters and play with us.’

Eloise nodded. How devastating, those poor children.

‘Did you just come out of mommy’s room?’

‘Yes… Penelope is still in. She wanted to be alone with her.’

‘But… She’d dead. Oliver said she was. That she isn’t just gone.’

‘Well, it’s kind of the same thing. I know it sounds weird. But sometimes… People find… comfort in talking to the dead. Then they can say what they wanted to say in life but couldn’t.’

‘But the dead don’t hear, do they?’

‘Not directly. They are in heaven. But some believe the dead still look over us living, and can hear what we say.’

Amanda nodded.

‘Penelope loved your mother a lot. She is very sad she died and wanted to say some last things. Because that helps her, regardless of whether your mother hears.’

Amanda nodded sagely, which was a funny look on a child if it wouldn’t be so sad.

‘I’m very sorry your mother died, Amanda.’

‘I’m not.’

Eloise blinked, taken aback.

Of all the answers in the universe, she could not have picked a more surprising one.

‘What?’

‘I’m not. Daddy said… Well… He didn’t lie, did he?’

‘What did he say?’

‘He said that mother was in heaven now. And that she could watch over us all the time. So she must be happy. Because good people go to heaven and are happy there.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘Because mommy was always sad with us. And cried often. But now she is happy, and that is better, is it not?’

Amanda did not look as composed now. In fact, she looked positively unhappy. She could perfectly see why Sir Phillip had told his children that. It was to ease their minds. But they remembered their mother, and remembered her moods. And now it must seem to them as if she had been unhappy with them, and was glad to go.

Eloise could hear a crack, and was pretty sure it was her heart.

She fell back on her behind and took Amanda in her arms.

‘Oh no, dear heart. Your mother loved you a lot. And she was never sad because of you.’

‘She was though, she was often so cross with us. And we hurt her by being too loud or playing too roughly.’

‘It was only because she cared more for you than anything on earth that she was cross with you. She wanted you both to be perfectly happy and unharmed every minute of every day. She only wanted to hear you laugh. She loved nothing more than you, and the only reason why she is happy now is because she can look out over you all the time. She didn’t choose to abandon you.’

‘Really?’

Eloise knew for a fact that Marina’s sadness derived almost solely from her being isolated and having George torn from her. It was a fact she loved her children above all, and much of her panic and anxiety derived straight from them and her worry for them. Eloise could not believe Marina abandoned them because she would be happier without them. She would not abandon them without a care. It had to be that she saw no other way forward. Although her children stressed her so much they did not spend more than a few hours together each day, she would not voluntarily abandon them.

‘Really.’

Amanda’s little hands curled into Eloise’s dress.

‘You’re mommy’s friend’, she said after some time.

‘I am.’

‘But mommy is gone.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then… Will you still come? Because you came for her.’

‘I’m here for you too.’

‘You are?’

‘I am.’

‘But then soon you’ll go again. You always do.’

‘I have to go. I can’t stay.’

‘Why?’

Amanda pulled back, sitting on her knees in front of Eloise.

‘Because…’

How to explain society to a six year old?

‘I live with my mother in London. She’ll miss me.’

‘Mother didn’t live with grandfather and grandmother.’

‘No. But that is because your mother married your father. People who are married can live together. If you are not married, you cannot live anywhere else than at home.’

Unless you were a man, a widow, an orphan, or part of the church, and some other cases, but that was information she did not need. Actually, now that Marina had died, her and Penelope could never visit again unless Sir Phillip ordered a chaperone. As there was no other woman of their station to see to propriety.

The realisation was a kick in the stomach. No more Sir Phillip, no more innocent letters addressed to a married couple since he was now only a bachelor.

‘But you can visit us?’

‘Actually, that may be a bit difficult.’

‘Why?’

‘Because your mother has died we cannot visit as easily anymore. Your father is no longer married, and Penelope and me are not married. People of the opposite sex who are not married can never be alone together. Unless they are family.’

‘But you’re not alone. We are here. As are the servants.’

‘I know. But it’s a bit difficult.’

‘Why? It’s not fair.’

She was starting to get the hang of society, that little one. Tears were rimming her eyes now.

‘Please Eloise, don’t leave.’

‘I don’t want to. But it is improper for two unmarried people to be alone together. Because …’ No, she could not tell the real reasons. Amanda was way too young for that. ‘Because people being alone together can only be allowed if they are married or planning on getting married. It is a rule.’

Amanda nodded.

‘But I want you here. And Oliver does as well.’

‘And Penelope, do you want her here too?’

‘We like her too, but she was more with mommy. And she doesn’t write to us. You’re… fun.’

‘Well thank you. I think you are fun too. I’m sorry I cannot stay a lot. I don’t know what to do about it. It will take a lot of planning to come visit again. My family will make it difficult.’

She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to explain to them why she so desperately wanted to visit a widower and his two children. She imagined Anthony or her mother and Hyacinth chaperoning her here, watching her and Penelope interact with Sir Phillip. A more awful brand of torture was not known to mankind.

Amanda frowned.

‘But… Mother and daddy could be alone.’

‘Yes. Because they were married.’

Then… Can you not marry daddy?’

Eloise could die. No, she was pretty certain she had died.

‘Eloise?’

‘Hm.’

‘Can you marry daddy?’

‘Technically, I can.’

‘Then you can see us every day.’

‘Yes.’

Oh bless the child, she was way too clever, and way too clueless at once.

‘But you see, people must agree to marry.’

‘Agree?’

‘Yes, they have to want it. They must want to be together.’

‘Mother and father were almost never together unless they were with us.’

Yes, because their marriage was a proper disaster. How the hell am I supposed to talk myself out of this one? Well see Amanda, your mother wanted to be together with your father’s brother, your actual father. Unfortunately your real father died and your current father had a gunshot wedding with your mother to save his brother’s children from disgrace but usually people marry because they get along in one way or another, beside it being practical.

‘Darling, your father cannot marry now. He is in mourning. You are in mourning too. Do you know what that is?’

Amanda shook her head.

Aha, an excellent topic to escape the current one.

‘Come, I’ll walk you to bed. I’ll explain. You know, I was just your age when I lost my father. I still had to turn seven that year’, Eloise began as she guided Amanda to the nursery.

Eloise trudged out of the nursery an hour and a half later. She had not expected this day to be fun, but explaining to children whose mother died not a day earlier what “being in mourning” entailed was about as far from her description of a nice day as she could get.

It could actually be her second worst day ever. She was both physically and mentally tired beyond anything she’d ever been before. Her very soul felt heavy to carry. Yet, her mind refused to end her torture. It was so awake she was certain that if she went to bed, she would not be able to sleep.  

Perhaps a book and a cup of camomile tea would serve her well.

Eloise was no expert in the kitchen, but after staying up past midnight writing more nights than she didn’t, she’d taught herself to boil water and milk for hot milk and tea at night. She hadn’t wanted to rouse servants for it. So that’s what she did today.

Would it be good to check up on Penelope? She wondered as she sat on the table, waiting for the water to boil. It wasn’t, she decided. Much as she’d love to talk these nonsense ideas out of her friend she knew Penelope was temperamental. It would be far from the first time Penelope was mean and snappish when she was emotional. She cursed and pushed everyone around her away. She needed time. Eloise had no energy to be a punching bag tonight.

Once the water boiled she took a teapot, filled it with camomile flowers, whisked a cup from the cupboard and left. Perhaps it was a bit wrong of her to roam through another one’s house as if she owned it. But she felt worse at the thought of waking up someone else’s servants to prepare her tea. Now all she needed was a book.

Sir Phillip was working somewhere, or perhaps he was done. But anyways, if this house was anything like hers, men worked in the study or rooms adjacent to their bedrooms. Not in libraries. She could go there without anyone noticing her.

She pushed open the door with her elbow and… Sir Phillip looked up from his desk. Which was in the library. Damn her and her fancy city ideas of how a house was used. She couldn’t even come up with something to say, only stare. And while she was staring she noticed he was holding a glass of liquor, with a virtually empty pitcher beside him, half obscured by a stack of papers.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m not interrupting, am I?’

Sir Phillip did not immediately respond, but stared at her with an odd intense look before giving a small shake.

‘I only intended to look for a book to relax. It’s been quite the day.’

She put down the teapot on the nearest table, it was far too heavy to keep a hold of.

‘So did I. I just… finished preparing everything.’

‘I’m so sorry for your loss. Have I said that before? Because I am. My mind was all over the place today. I think I didn’t even offer my condolences to Amanda when – ‘

‘You talked to Amanda?’ he interrupted.

‘Yes I bumped into her in the hallway upstairs. She couldn’t sleep. So I took her back to the nursery and talked with her and Oliver for a while. Sang them a bedtime song like I did for Hyacinth sometimes. Shouldn’t I have?’ she suddenly grew conscious of managing his children.

‘Of course they couldn’t sleep. Should have thought of that’, he muttered, burying his head in his hands.

There was something off about him. Somehow he seemed even more like an uncaged bear than usual. It made her uneasy, yet she was enticed to come ever closer. He looked up at her.

‘You’re better with my children than I am.’

‘Oh no. You’re good with them too.’

‘That you say such a thing after our previous encounter is a mystery to me.’

‘Our previous… Oh, that one.’

The boxing game.

‘It’s one thing to be born with one dreadful parent, but to have two? I would never have wished that on my children, and yet . . . here we are. How can I love them so much and be so oblivious to their needs?’

Eloise was perhaps a tad too tired for a delicate reply.

‘By keeping them in their nursery and not seeing them, that’s how. Being busy arranging a funeral also doesn’t help. You asked for support. I’m here. I can help out. It’s no effort for me… I want to help. You were busy. I have some experience in losing a parent at age six. I’d like to think I can use my suffering and lessons learned to their benefit.’

‘Yes. You didn’t look very shocked seeing her body.’ It was always her, never Marina with Phillip. As if he couldn’t bear using something as personal as her name.

‘No, I uhm, saw my father die. I didn’t even cry back then. At least not at first. It just confused me.’

‘Understandably, it confused the hell out of me and I was twenty-one.’

Eloise couldn’t believe how someone so big could seem so fragile as he did.

‘They don’t think of you as a bad father.’

‘Not bad, but not good enough. I… I barely know how to be a father. And now I have to be a mother to them as well. I can’t… I’m not enough.’

Eloise swallowed. Where was he going with this? What did he want?

A small voice inside of her whispered she should go away and leave him to his worries, but the bigger part of her brain encouraged her to comfort him. She took some steps closer.

‘That’s not true. You are enough.’

He looked up, all warmth gone from his eyes as he laughed.

‘I’ve never been enough. That’s the whole thing. I’ve never been enough for anyone.’

Eloise watched as he drank the last gulp from his glass. And froze when she noticed the book beside it. Hers. He was onto the last third. He noticed her look.

‘You write about heroes. Good men’, he started.

‘But flawed too. I make sure everyone has a flaw’, she quickly defended.

‘Flawed men perhaps, but not failures. I started failing from the second I entered the nursery. It isn’t there anymore now, but there was a switch that hung upon a big hook by the window. I was slower than George. They tried beating that slowness out of me, as well as the softness. Couldn’t cry out, or I’d get more of them.’

So the beating hadn’t been limited to the time his father had beaten both him and George he’d told her about? She almost felt ill.

‘I killed my mother getting out of the womb and that set the tone. I even killed him. What child can say they killed both their parents?’ he laughed, cynically, turning the pitcher in his hands with a loving gaze. Eloise prayed he didn’t pour himself another glass. He never talked this much unless she pried and poked a lot. How deep in his cups was he that his tongue got this loose?

‘You can’t imagine his disappointment when his war hero son died and he got me as an heir instead. He died screaming in my face how he rather died than let the baronetcy go to the failure I was. Well’, he sighed, shrugging.

Eloise swallowed, she ached to hold him. And beat the crap out of his father’s corpse.

‘Still, I tried doing the right thing. Trying so hard to fill the hole George had left. And then… I became another sorry replacement for George no two months later.’

Marina. Oh god. Eloise could not have even written a story so poignant.

‘I vowed I was going to be as good as I could, fill in my brother’s shoes. So I married his bride to offer his future children the safety he would have wanted them and his bride to have. I took the vows. And I tried so so hard to fulfil my vows. To protect her, to support her in sickness. But all the time I knew I was not enough for her because I was not George.’

He shook his head, and when she feared he would retreat back into himself, she offered him tea instead. Surprisingly, he accepted. She poured it in his cognac glass, and poured some for herself in her cup, moving to lean against his desk.  

‘You don’t know what it’s like to feel trapped, stuck, hopeless. Never being enough. I tried changing, going less to my greenhouse, avoiding topics she disliked, just like I tried impressing my father. I said she could break her vows, anything to make her happy. I owed it to George, he was always there for me, protected me as much as he could. And now I could not protect his fiancée. She just… kept digging herself deeper and deeper into unhappiness. So say again I am not a failure’, he invited her, lifting his glass and knocking it back.

Eloise’s eyes widened. She could only watch in horror as scorching hot tea slid towards his mouth. Sir Phillip’s face scrunched.

‘That was tea.’

‘It was.’

‘Sobering, really’, he muttered. He moved his tongue, testing how prickly it had become from the hot tea.

‘Perhaps now that I have your sober attention you can hear the next words’, Eloise said.

He looked up at her, his face full of defeat.

‘You’re not a failure. You’re just not your brother. But one isn’t better than the other. It’s frankly insulting a father would have a favourite child. Nor can you blame yourself for Marina not liking you. She fell for someone with other qualities. You can’t be another person. You did all you could. You kept your vows. You did the honourable thing. And you had no control over what Marina felt or… did.’

‘You never met him. This here’, he slapped her book before looking up at her. ‘Everyone in real life wanted the dead brother to return. No one who knew the older brother would be anything but disappointed upon meeting the younger one. This is just a dream, or perhaps it is real, that a scholar would only be deemed a worthy suitor if the better brother had died first. Since marrying a corpse is quite tricky.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘I assure you English law does not look positively upon necrophilia.’

‘Not a single woman wants the same thing. It’s impossible one man could be all any woman desires, and the other could have nothing about him worthy of attention.’

Phillip shook his head, his gaze distant.

‘Didn’t even ask for a lot. Just the occasional laugh, a little pat on the hand, a smile, a warm motherly heart for the children. I had realistic expectations about it. But she couldn’t. Instead, she took my enjoyment out of sunny days. You know I was almost happy when she went out that day. I thought to myself: oh she’s going for a walk, she must be in a better mood. We’d had a bloody month of overcast skies, and then finally the sun came out, and…’

‘She deliberately walked deep into the lake’, Eloise filled in.

‘That’s how unbearable I’ve made her life.’

Eloise didn’t know whether she should weep or shout at him and Penelope to get together and fight out which one of them was the killer of Marina, since there couldn’t be two of them. Why could neither of them see that if something had killed her, it was the loss of George, not their actions.

‘And now, I’m not even mourning her properly. Miss Featherington she could… It took her less than a minute to start crying when she heard. I’m her husband and haven’t even cried yet.’

‘Everyone processes that differently.’

When had the bags underneath his eyes become so large? Her stomach flipped. He was younger than Anthony, Benedict and Colin yet he looked older than any of them.

‘Perhaps it takes some time to process that she is gone.’

Phillip broke eye contact, looking down at the table.

She followed his gaze and noticed with surprise her hand was covering his cold one. It had been so instinctive, so natural, to touch him. Her fingers had always itched to do it. To comfort him. She was tactile with everyone. Her family. Penelope. His children. Perhaps, it had only been a matter of time before she danced straight over the rules polite society had in regards to touching non-family members.

‘No. That’s not it. I was… hell; the devil will come and get me. I was relieved. I was relieved. All this time, I felt like the two of us were stuck in this cursed marriage where we could not be happy together, but we could not be apart. And I was just, relieved I did not have to spend every day and night in fear anymore that a servant would come and inform me she had hurt herself. That I would not have to worry anymore.’

He hid his face behind his free hand.

Eloise was in shock. She had felt the exact guilt at not mourning Marina. And while at an cognitive level she knew there had not been a single happy thing about their marriage, she was still surprised to hear him confirm it.

‘And then I was angry. That she left me behind with the children. Left her children. Who does that? What kind of horrible human is angry and relieved when their wife suffers so much she cannot bear to be alive anymore?’

Eloise was silent for a long while.

‘Your relationship… I cannot even compare it to anything. People mourn their family because they love them. It could be complicated. You could fight and argue all the time, not speak for years, but there would still be good memories between those bad points. Binding ties. But, for you… There was only…’

‘What is there to miss? Except the mother of my children, and what she means to them?’ he asked, nodding in agreement that it was hard to miss what you had never wanted or liked.

‘I asked myself that same question. “What good things can I remember?” “What can I mourn?” And it sounds worse every time it crosses my mind. Particularly because, it starts being followed by other thoughts.’

Eloise was pretty sure she did not want to pry into those thoughts. And so she answered the only way she knew how, by rubbing circles over his palm. He looked at their hands, confusion written all over his face. Eloise reasoned he was just lost to thoughts again.

He flexed his hand before the muscles loosened again. His other hand moved from his face to their joined ones. Another giant hand curled around her small one.

His mother had died at his birth.

His father had only beat him.

Marina and him had never had any sort of physical relationship she knew of…

It started creeping into her thoughts that aside from his brother and his children, he hadn’t touched a soul on earth.

Eloise would go mad if she went without a hug for a week.

‘You’re not a bad person.’

‘Very kind of you to say so.’

‘I’m not just saying it. I mean it.’

She put her second small hand on top of his big one. Their hands felt heavy, stacked upon each other. But at the same time there was something about their touch that sparked something light within her chest. As if her heart had turned into a glass of champagne, full of bubbles floating to the top.

‘Why else do you think I write to you?’

‘Because...’

He swallowed, and she followed the movement of the Adam’s apple. He hadn’t even shaved that day. Her gaze trailed further down, along a piece of smooth skin before her eyes got stuck on the small curly hairs that pooled into the little hollow between his clavicles.

‘Politeness, in part. I wrote, you wrote out of thanks. I replied, you replied. It was a circle.’

‘Politeness doesn’t keep the conversation going for six years. I enjoyed our conversation. It’s a pity. I’m afraid propriety will force us to end it’, she forced herself to say it to compensate for her words that could be interpreted as more than flirty. She had to remind herself of it. He was a widower and she could no longer see him. Her heartbreak was impending.

He ripped his hands from between hers, standing up so fast his chair wobbled before it landed back on its four legs.

‘I always just sent it to your address without a specific name’, she needlessly explained.

‘You’re right. Of course. A bachelor and a lady should not write to one another. Shouldn’t be in a room unchaperoned.’

Eloise rose from her own chair.

‘I know. But perhaps, we could close an eye to it for now. The children begged me to stay and you still don’t have another nurse or a governess.’

He turned to look at her.

‘They did?’

‘Yes.’

She’d miss those children. Those poor little horrible dears who bullied everyone who got into this house since they turned three. But she had gotten into their hearts before they had learned to walk.

Phillip came closer, and closer.

Eloise stepped back, colliding with a wooden bookcase. He reached out, a fingertip brushing across her cheek and coming back wet.

‘I’ll miss not being able to visit them.’

And you.

Why was he so close to her? Did he not know it made her heart do the strangest things?

She was desperately trying to claw her way out of the bottomless pits of his eyes, but failed, hopelessly failed.

The hand with the tear-stained finger moved again, to the side, then forward, until it was cupped around her face.

Her breath hitched at the touch. His hand was warm now. Her eyes fluttered shut by some instinct.

No second passed, before she felt his lips against her. Kissing her in a way that felt searching yet insistent.

She didn’t know what was happening inside of her chest. Didn’t know why her palms suddenly felt sweaty while cold shivers ran down her spine. She wanted to cry, and talk, and kiss, all at once. More than anything, she wanted to keep him this close.

Could this be happening?

How could this be happening?

Why was this happening?

They shouldn’t, the quiet voice said, his wife just died. But the louder wiser voice told her it was precisely because his wife had died that this happened. Because perhaps, he felt exactly like her. He’d been equally, and probably even more, tortured by the knowledge he was married. And now he wasn’t anymore, and they would soon lose every opportunity to communicate freely. For perhaps the first and the last time, they were free.

A slow swirling warmth unfolded from her chest, drifting to all her limbs before the epicentre in her belly started building up the heat.

To keep herself steady she flung her arms around him, pressing herself against him.

They both inhaled at the sudden contact. She decided she quite liked the feel of his open mouth against hers. And replicated it. And again. And then, he showed her he knew just what to do when two opened mouths met each other, and traced her bottom lip with his tongue.

Something about this horribly wrong act just felt right.

She pulled her arms tauter. She had less room to breathe. Yet it felt as if she’d never been able to breathe so freely before.

His free hand came to rest on her lower back. But the lightness of his touch did not help. It burned right through her dress.

How had they gone from not being able to say ten fluent sentences to each other to communicating in body language only?

‘Eloise’, he groaned, pressing himself against her.

His arm tensed around her, his hand slipping from her cheek to her neck.

He said her name.

Now she understood why the raunchiest poets described a lover’s embrace as an awakening. She felt more alive and present than she had ever done before.

His lips slipped from her mouth, trailing kisses down her cheek and down her neck. She gasped for breath. Was this how it always felt? No wonder people married. What had been up with her? How had she ever considered not having this?

Minutes passed.

And then the clock went off.

Midnight. It was midnight. And they were embracing each other, having ended the kissing.

‘I didn’t imagine it would be this peaceful.’

‘Hm’, he only replied, his fingers still rubbing circles into her back.

She didn’t want to be the one to break away.

She didn’t want to be the one who said this was improper.

Because damn it, she didn’t want it to end. Surely sinning wasn’t meant to feel like the most amazing thing she’d ever done.

She had tried breaking the topic of their correspondence being inappropriate, if the topic was to be mentioned again it had to be by him. She wasn’t going to deny herself this.

Silence continued to follow. She realized he wasn’t going to talk. Fine. Then she’d enjoy this. This one moment of closeness. She opened her eyes, and found that her head was quite close to his neck. She licked her lips, wondering what his beard felt like, and how it compared to the feeling of his soft neck. She lifted her head, pressing her lips against his skin. His moan rumbled against her lips.

Had Marina refused this? She had to be mad.

She pushed herself closer to his chest so she could reach higher, right where smooth skin met stubble. He tasty salty, and the texture tickled her lips, but it was interesting as well. She brushed her head against his.

In response he bent his head again, searching and finding her lips.

A tapping on the window alerted them the rain had started again. Breaking the good weather spell of the past few days.

‘It’s late.’

‘Yes.’

Eloise swallowed. The small part of her brain did win out this time, it was right to fear whatever could follow after such an intense kiss.

‘I take it I kind of made my point that you’re not a disappointment?’

‘I’m gathering’, he admitted.  

‘Good’, Eloise said.

God, she didn’t want to break away, but she could hardly stay now, could she?

‘I’m tired’, she tried again.

‘Yes, I – I see. It’s been a long day.’

‘A very long one.’

‘I’m sure the servants must have your room ready by now.’

Eloise couldn’t help laughing wholeheartedly, her head falling into his chest.

‘God, I  certainly hope so. I think I’m so tired I could even sleep in your greenhouse right now.’

‘Please, not on the plants. I’m sure your room will be ready.’

‘As am I. Aren’t you tired?’

Wait, did that sound as an invitation? She did not mean it as an invitation.

‘Perhaps I should still do some wo– ‘

‘Go to bed, rest. How much have you slept the past three nights?’

His wince told her enough.

‘Please rest. Fathers need energy to endure their children.’

Chapter Text

Eloise had always had dreams for herself. As a young girl, she had dreamt of becoming a knight or an adventurer. She’d ached to see Rome and the ruins in Greece for herself. She wanted to lounge around in a castle and befriend the dragon, instead of having Saint George slay him.

No, Eloise Bridgerton had never lacked in imagination. Yet she had never imagined herself to be in this kind of story. No love or adventure story started with death and the kissing of a man who had been a widower for less than a day.

Eloise watched as the elmwood casket wrapped in black velvet was carried into the Crane family crypt, to be placed right beside Sir George, although no one outside the family would know that. The funeral would have pleased many a dramatic writer, showing honest mourning without the grandeur the wife of a baronet would have gotten in a city, as there were no funeral furnishers in the small town. In fact, it seemed as if the trends of the past three decades had barely entered the town. There had been no week long watch with vigil, just the day and a half necessary to arrange the right casket and dress up the church in black drapery. It rained the whole way to church and to the graveyard, which was undertaken by the Crane family’s horses and carriages. The carriages and horses were horrible normal shades, although the horses wore black blankets. Some of the attending people wore dark red and dark blue, whatever they had in their closet. The widower was in black and clutched two silent glassy-eyed children to his chest, and there was an abundance of chrysanthemums. There were also tears, provided by Penelope. Unfortunately, due to Marina’s father’s death, there was no use in sending invitations. Leading to the funeral being terribly small. So all by all the wedding was tolerable for a rural town but barely passing for a baronetess. It would have been the perfect ending to a tragic story, not the beginning of her love story.

Eloise almost cried.

I kissed the widower no fifteen hours before the funeral. In any story, I’d be the villain.

But she got no time to wallow in guilt or hide in shame. No one knew, so there was nothing to do but act like nothing happened. The whole party had left the Crane household in silence and came back in silence. They were all brought into the dining room for the bleakest luncheon, during which Amanda decided to sit near Eloise and ask her if funerals were always like this.

Eloise thanked the girl for breaking the silence and asking something of her. Thus Eloise set out to recount all – blessedly few – funerals she had attended. Amanda listened with big eyes as she shovelled grapes on top of boiled eggs on bread in her mouth, followed by a cheese sandwich which she ate after the cheese had fallen out without noticing. Eloise felt flattered, and worried.

Then the widower at the head of the table stood, who had not spoken to anyone but his children, except to ask the time and to answer questions in two words.

‘I’ll be retreating now, if you excuse me.’

And well, they couldn’t very well tell a mourning widower that he was not allowed to seclude himself on the day of his wife’s funeral. And so Eloise and Penelope remained behind, with two children who did not know what to do with themselves. They’d been silent and still all morning. And though their mother had died, they were also children.

Eloise well remembered how annoying Gregory had been. It was impossible to force a child to feel sad all day. Penelope proposed to make a puzzle, and when the puzzle was made Eloise proposed a game of hide-and-seek, and when that was done Penelope told them to play with their blocks as their mother had so loved them enjoying that. It was probably not the right way to spend the day of a funeral. They were supposed to do things like being solemn, reading the bible and talking about the dearly departed. But no one wanted to touch the sensitive subject, pushing their grief and guilt all the way to the backs of their minds. Eloise decided it was preferable, it kept her mind occupied, so she had no time to think about a certain botanist and a certain event last night.

Until it was time for supper and Sir Phillip had yet to reappear.

They postponed it for half an hour, and then another half an hour, until the children grew fussy. Still no show. Eloise knew it was probably just a mourning thing, but she felt it was very much an avoidance thing as well. And damn it. Alright. She shouldn’t have kissed him. And yes, it was inappropriate. It would be very normal for him to feel guilty about it. She felt already incredibly guilty about it, she couldn’t begin to imagine his guilt. He was supposed to be in mourning for a year and he had given in to temptation in a day. After all the crushing guilt he already felt, that couldn’t have done him much good.

I should have walked away, but I was too weak. But he had kissed back. It was him too. But what if I was making use of his loneliness and desperation? He needed support and I just kept coming closer. He’s an adult, he is the mourning one, he makes the calls on what he can’t or can’t do. Damn it, Bridgerton, it’s one thing to love a man but another to throw yourself in his arms when his wife isn’t even cold yet. He never cared for his wife, he said he didn’t even mourn her truly, how big of a crime is it if two single people who care for each other kiss?

Eloise’s head was a mess of contradicting arguments. The amount of thoughts that still snuck in between activities was maddening.

‘That’s it, I’m getting him’, Eloise decided.

Maybe Penelope should do it. Do I really need to see him alone, again? No, I need to go. Then I can clear up this mess.

‘But you didn’t know where he went.’

‘I have an inkling’, Eloise smiled before leaving the room.

There were only two realistic options: the library and the greenhouse. She decided to check the greenhouse first, and was immediately proven right.

A matte black coat hung over a lone chair beside a rickety table with a herbology book on top of it. Whatever kind of club her brothers visited throughout the day and at night, this was his variant, his escape room.

‘Sir Phillip?’

‘Yes?’ a voice called from quite far away.

Eloise moved between plants now twice her height. She recognized some flowers and some bushes, but some looked absolutely foreign. The greenery grew so thick she could barely see ahead, and branches brushed her arms as she moved forward. And then she tripped over a very very big object at her feet.

‘Umph.’

‘Owh!’

Eloise fell over the warm body of Sir Phillip, who had been crouching in front of a snap pea plant.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked, helping her upright again.

‘Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.’

‘Apology accepted.’

Really the oddest man of her acquaintance.

‘It’s dinnertime.’

‘Oh. I will just – ‘

‘Come inside with me so you can eat together with your children?’ Eloise suggested.

Sir Phillip bit his cheek, eyes focussed on the plant.

‘I was busy.’

‘Can’t it wait?’

‘Well everything can always wait, it only requires one does nothing.’

Eloise, who was tired and somewhat injured he wouldn’t just listen to her, pushed on.

‘Why wouldn’t you eat with your children now that you don’t have anything urgent to arrange?’

‘I… Well. They have you… you two… don’t they? They’re not alone.’

‘You’re their father. That’s different.’

‘I’ll put them to bed.’

And that was the signal. It wasn’t about avoiding the children, it was avoiding her. Or it had to be, at least in her mind.

‘Listen, it’s not because you’re avoiding me that you have to avoid them. They miss you. They’ve barely seen you in days. It’s not because you… you regret what happened last night… and I admit it makes things awkward and that it wasn’t the best idea, that you should stay out here. Have dinner with them.’

Sir Phillip swallowed, still staring at the peas.

‘Not the best idea… I see.’

Eloise gaped at him, but he turned away from her and towards the direction of the exit.

‘You’re right. Of course. About both things. Not to worry. I’ll see to them and leave you be.’

What?

Did that mean… he hadn’t thought that? But then why was he out here? Leave her be? What… she said his absence was because he could regret it. She didn’t regret it! Well, she regretted the timing, but she didn’t regret him.

‘But…’ she protested.

Sir Phillip started walking away.

Wait, had he just interpreted that as her refusing him? That wasn’t the case. She cursed herself. But then why had he kept to himself inside his greenhouse? Why not greet her in a kinder way that betrayed some kind of affection instead of “oh” and “Are you alright?” What had she been supposed to think!

She stomped after him.

Only a fool would misinterpret her words. She’d clearly said “you”, not “I”. She cursed him and his damned unsociable mind that couldn’t interpret the most basic messages.

He felt no need to talk to her on their way to the dining room, and just greeted his children and Penelope when he entered.

His children filled the silence by telling him what they had done with Penelope and Eloise, and Sir Phillip nodded and gave a few remarks while eating the first course. Eloise decided she’d take on the challenge of engaging him during the second course. But feeling wounded and annoyed, she decided to be explicit and business-like. She was in no mood to be gentle to him now.

‘I noticed today Oliver wore a dark blue jacket and Amanda’s dress was too short. Do they not have a lot of black clothes?’

Penelope shot her big incredulous eyes from across the table.

She’d also noticed most of the servants didn’t wear black, while that was the custom in households of their status. But that was a step too low.

‘No. Why should they? No one ever died before’, Sir Phillip said. ‘The servants managed to quickly dye Oliver’s dark blue coat and one of Amanda’s dresses.’

‘They’ll have to be in mourning for six months though. They’ll need a lot of black.’

‘But they are almost always around here, not out in society. And they’re children.’

Penelope cringed, and this Sir Phillip noticed.

‘Sir Crane, even just when you go to church on Sundays… You need black clothes, even for children.’

‘Then I’ll have them dye their Sunday clothes’, Sir Phillip shrugged.

‘Should we tell him about the fabrics?’ Eloise asked Penelope.

Penelope failed to suppress a smile.

‘Eloise told me one is expected to wear bombazine first, then silk that does not shine and velvet. Oh, and we can wear those scary looking black veils and hats and gloves’, Amanda explained, smiling widely at her papa, expecting him to be impressed by her knowledge. Sir Phillip did indeed look at Amanda in surprise. In fact, he could not look more shocked.

‘Really? How do you know?’

‘Eloise told me about being in mourning and se-clu-sion. Am I saying it right?’

Eloise nodded at the small girl.

‘I… was just told one should wear the black one had in their closet’, Sir Phillip stammered.

‘Men have it easier with dress codes, as always. Few care about the fabrics when it concerns men, and no one expects them to wear full black for as long. And they give that advice to men because black is already the colour of fashion, so it isn’t hard for them to go over into mourning fashion.’

‘I see… Marina was supposed to take her for some new dresses anyway. Larkin’s Fine Tailor and Dressmaker in Tetbury, is where they usually go. You can give her what she… they both… need. I have no idea about such affairs. Put it on my account.’

Sir Phillip rose, putting down his napkin.

‘If that will be all. Thank you for pointing it out.’

Only then Eloise remembered that he had no idea about managing a mourning household. His mother died when he was born, he could impossibly remember that mourning. And the last time his brother and his father died he had been a bachelor, and only needed to dress himself in easy black. Now she felt guilty. She’d meant to stab him where it hurt with her question, knowing he probably hadn’t thought of it.

But on the other hand, now she had Amanda pulling on her arm, smiling warmly and blabbering about finally going shopping. And she could not interrupt her for a second to apologize to Sir Phillip who slid out of the room. Apparently Marina had meant to take Amanda months ago, but hadn’t had the energy or will to go to town in the freezing cold. That explained why all Amanda’s dresses were also too short. At least a good thing had come out of the argument. Now the children would be nicely dressed with pantaloons and skirts long enough to protect their legs from the last frost of winter.

Eloise and Penelope went to the cosy drawing room, which was already looking a bit faded from the years of sunshine. There Eloise and Penelope made up a story, each saying a couple of sentences, and the other one adding a few sentences of her own, bouncing off of the other’s ideas. The children were greatly entertained by it and went upstairs with smiles. Eloise remained downstairs, and allowed Penelope to pour her heart out about Marina.

Years of pent-up guilt streamed out of her. Eloise had known she carried that guilt with her, but there was so much of it. Even acknowledging Marina’s temper, her bad luck, the causality of everything that went back before Penelope even entered the scene, nothing could dissuade her from taking up part of the blame.

‘And no matter how responsible I am, if such a thing can even be measured, whether it is ten percent or eighty, I could have spared her in some measure. But I didn’t. She ruined herself but I ruined her for society by using a tool no seventeen year old should have access to. And it just… It made me think, El. I can never fully predict the harm my papers can cause someone. Even if I’m careful and just tease I cannot predict what it will do to the person I’m writing about. And everyone will read what I write. I don’t… I don’t want that power. I don’t think that power should exist. It’s too… I can’t even put my pen down without thinking of Marina. I just freeze up. I can’t. I don’t even want to risk hurting someone just by writing their name. No amount of giggles is worth making someone feel bad and making poor people who did not ask to become famous, household names by writing about them.’

And thus, Penelope decided, Lady Whistledown was to come to an end after a successful and turbulent six years. And although it hurt Eloise to see her friend give up the project she’d entertained so many with, and had been so passionate about, she could not object too much. She knew the Marina issue had been eating at her conscience for years. It was clear Penelope could not let go of her guilty conscience until she retired her penname. Eloise only hoped that once enough time had passed, she could convince her friend to pick up the pen again for a wholly different project, because she was a gifted writer.

But for now, she went to bed with a heart that was broken and hurting for two broken people.

Chapter Text

Eloise, Penelope, the last remaining nurse called Eliza and the children were drawing and sketching in a drawing room downstairs the next morning. This was not anything special. But what was special, was that Eloise heard the loud rinkle of the doorbell no fewer than three times.

That was three times too many in a household without any visitors. Eloise’s curiosity couldn’t bear it. No five minutes passed since the bell was pulled a last time before she excused herself. She tried not to look nosy, but could not help but be surprised when she leaned over the balustrade and saw Gunning leading a young woman with quite a large bag towards the library. Eloise sank through her knees, hoping the railing would obscure her from view.

The butler entered the library and exited again, telling something to the young woman before he left her alone in front of the library door. Who was she? What was she doing here?

The door opened and an older woman stepped out. She looked kind of serious, stern even.

‘It’s happening again’, Oliver whispered.

Eloise slammed her hand against her mouth to keep from shrieking. How the child had crawled to her side without a noise was anyone’s guess. Or perhaps she’d been too distracted to hear him.

‘What is?’

‘He must be hiring new nurses and tutors. That’s the only reason the doorbell rings multiple times a day’, he explained.

‘Will you let them stay?’ Eloise asked teasingly.

Oliver bit his lip, looking down.

‘I would really rather make that one go away. She looks scary.’

‘I quite agree’, Eloise smiled. ‘But you should let her try. Perhaps it’s just the way she looks, and she can’t help that.’

‘She looks like she does not even know how to smile.’

‘Miss Edwards?’ Gunning asked. The grumpy looking woman looked up at the butler who walked towards her. ‘Could I interest you in some tea? There’s another potential maid there who will do a trial run.’

‘Yes, thank you.’

The two walked away.

Eloise and Oliver stood again. She knew Sir Phillip needed to fill in the vacancies, yet it felt inappropriate to do it now. Receiving new staff was not forbidden for people in deep mourning, and men had always been allowed to conduct their business as per usual, yet it felt… cold. Their mother had died and instead of spending time with them himself, he was finding them nurses.

‘Let’s go back, shall we?’ Eloise asked Oliver. The boy nodded and returned to the small pink drawing room upstairs that had fallen into disuse some years ago but looked quite pretty.

Eloise tried drawing, but it was more so others wouldn’t interrupt her. Her mind was too occupied. Sir Phillip had been her second best friend for years. Years! How could it be that after six years of knowing him she could not understand him. How could he twist her words in a way that it meant she did not want him? He had been reading her book, how could he not guess it? Alright, she hadn’t realized it at first either when she was writing it. But please! She had the acute sensation her feelings had been rejected.

And why, if he loved his children, would he rather avoid them while interviewing nurses instead of seeing to them himself? She knew he doubted his parenting skills, feared the power in his very hands even, but certainly after so many years and strides in the right direction, he would be relatively fine with himself as a parent? He was used to spending time with them. Used to eating with them. Even used to holding them. Then why was he taking steps back in the development of his parenting? She knew he lacked confidence in some regards and thought no adult who was close to him had liked him, but these were his children, and they were so obvious in their affection.

It gave Eloise a headache.

‘Eloise, when will we go to the dressmaker and the seamstress?’ Amanda asked with an eager tone.

‘I don’t know. We can go anytime, I guess. In fact, we’ll have to go multiple times until they are finished.’

‘Then could we go… today?’

‘Miss Crane, that is quite impatient of you’, the nurse remarked.

‘Oh please, can we?’

‘The weather is supposed to be fine today’, Penelope supplied.

It’s not like she had much else to do. She’d written to her family no two days ago, and she wasn’t working on a book at present.

‘Sure. Why not?’

Sir Phillip did show his face at supper that night, asking his children about their day while systematically avoiding Eloise’s eyes.

Coward. Dirty coward, Eloise thought rancorously. Her rage surprised even her. She’d never let a sibling pull a prank or her or insult her without exacting revenge, but never had she felt a grudge against someone outside her family. She could not even understand it at first. Even him breathing and just sitting their with his stupid messy hair and oblivious blue eyes that avoided hers irritated her. And when Penelope asked him something and he replied, looking up at her, her rage turned into overwhelming sadness that got her almost to the verge of crying.

Why did he look at Penelope and not at her? She was his friend! She was the one he had kissed. And damn it all, she was jealous, she was hurt, and she was so so frustrated. It was not fair that Anthony, Benedict, Daphne and Francesca had gotten these beautiful love stories, unfortunate as Frannie’s one was. Why did she, one of the most known romance writers of England, get the short end of the stick? Curse that sadness was good for the art, she didn’t want to suffer for her art. It was unfair.

She could write everyone’s happy ending, except her own. Two nights ago she had gone to bed fearing that building up a courtship during his mourning period would be inconvenient and in poor taste. She’d been obsessing over trivialities like whether their official courtship should be postponed for a year and who to tell about what happened. She’d thought they had been close to something. Now the only thing she was close to was close to never seeing him or his children again. It had all changed so quickly.

‘Three new nurses have presented themselves today. I know you have found changes challenging in the past. That is why they have a trial week now so that we may find nurses that fit. Please, for the love of God and all that is holy, be nice to them. I advertised in the papers of another county because no local nurse or governess would come to us anymore.’

‘It’s not our fault if they don’t like us’, Amanda said.

‘And it is not our fault if we do not like them’, Oliver said.

‘Just try not scaring them away, alright?’ Sir Phillip begged.

The children didn’t reply. Big mistake, Eloise knew. Without an official promise on their side, the nurses were now birds to the cat. Oh well, he’d find out.

‘Please excuse me, I’ll be retiring for the night’, Eloise said, throwing in the towel.

Sir Phillip rose when she did. Finally, he looked at her.

‘Are you well?’ he asked.

‘I’m tired.’ And honestly, she was tired. She felt it deep in her bones. But she also didn’t want to see him anymore.

‘Miss Bridgerton?’ a servant asked when Eloise arrived at breakfast the next morning. Everyone sat at the table, except for Phillip, who was gone, only a plate with crumbles remaining in his spot.

‘Yes?’

‘A letter arrived for you this morning.’

‘Thank you.’

Eloise accepted the letter as tea was poured for her. She had given it to the servants in the evening of the day she had arrived. This was the third day since. Eloise and Penelope would have never managed to make it in time to catch Marina alive, she realized. The letter was from her mother, but turning it around she saw the handwriting of Hyacinth on it as well. How sweet.

“It is so good and kind of you that you stay with a family in need of help. I’m very proud that the daughter I have raised has grown up to be such a selfless helpful person. However, your sudden departure did lead to some questions and disappointment in London. You cannot imagine my surprise when Lord Lacye approached me on Friday’s musicale expressing his disappointment at your absence since you assured him you would be there. He mentioned he did love seeing me and Hyacinth and was looking forward to seeing a lot more of us. I found the wording quite odd, and by the end of the performance Hyacinth came to me saying Lord Lacye had been overheard saying he was looking forward to seeing you quite often and had a most fruitful conversation with you. He never said anything specific but my dear, even without Lady Whistledown writing anything on it rumours started circulating quite quickly –“

‘That pig! By argh, the one time I decide to be nice to a – urghh. Insufferable man!’

Eloise tongue burned to let out a stream of curses but she swallowed them while talking to not influence the children with her unladylike vocabulary.

‘What is it?’ Penelope asked.

Eloise passed the letter to her.

‘I hate Lord Lacye. To think I had pity on him! Well. I must have been mad and desperate when I talked to him. I was actually considering him, not anything official, just to see whether we clicked. Well, if that stutterer suddenly turned into a gossip I know more than enough’, Eloise decided.

‘Oh, oh dear’, Penelope brought out as she read it. She bit on her index finger with a nervous expression.

Eloise heard a knock somewhere but ignored it.

‘I could have helped make the rumour disappear’, she muttered, looking up at Eloise with questioning eyes. Eloise knew that if she really wanted, she could beg Eloise to let Whistledown return to then gradually announce that she would stop at the end of the season or any other date. But she knew that would put her friend through weeks of pain. Eloise shook her head.

‘What to do? I’m still here and won’t return very soon. Now the whole of London is hearing of an engagement and I can’t even be there to talk about it.’

‘Uhm, am I interrupting?’ Sir Phillip asked.

Eloise turned around, severely shaken. She should have paid attention to the knock on the door.

‘No, no, we’re done talking’, Eloise quickly said.

‘I see. Amanda, Oliver, it’s time to go to the nursery’, Sir Phillip announced.

‘But papa, my tea isn’t finished’, Amanda protested.

Oliver quickly grabbed another bun and sliced it. ‘And I’m still hungry!’

Sir Phillip pinched his nose and moved to sit down in his spot.

‘Another coffee, please’, he asked a servant.

‘I will watch you myself. Don’t think I don’t know your tricks by now’, he warned his children.

Eloise had to admit that was a clever move.

‘You know what I said last night, no chasing away innocent women who are just trying to help', Sir Phillip repeated.

Eloise, who sat right beside Amanda, saw a movement beneath the table. Amanda was crossing her fingers as she nodded. Eloise smiled, she was curious to see the children in action.

The morning was quiet. Penelope and Eloise spent it reading in the drawing room, but heard a nurse going to the kitchen to retrieve lunch complain to another that it was odd the children did not recognize a single letter on paper.

Eloise laughed, she could well imagine their surprise. The children were magnificent liars if they could successfully pretend not to know how to read or write.

In the afternoon the first mistake was made. The children were not seen for two hours when the youngest maid had proposed a game of hide and seek. Then the children reappeared, complaining the maids had not sought them well enough and had grown stiff and bored from hiding. Minutes later, three rats and five spiders appeared in the nursery. Something told Eloise the children had spent those two hours going hunting. The first maid, the youngest one, ran, complaining she could not work in a house so filthy.

One down, two to go.

The next day Eloise and Penelope took the children to town again to fit the models of their clothes. Additional pins were put in place, and then they went to get some sweets. They ate them and rode back to Romney Hall on horseback, and the children on ponies.

‘I’m so glad it’s a sunny day’, Penelope sighed, turning her face up towards the sun.

Marina ruined sunny days for Sir Phillip, Eloise remembered, feeling a pinprick of sadness in her heart. But she soon turned annoyed at how he’d slipped into her thoughts again. He had barely spoken to her since their talk in the greenhouse.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Eloise agreed.

‘Will it be spring soon?’ Amanda asked. ‘There’s already some pretty white and yellow flowers growing.’

‘In a month’, Penelope explained. ‘Do you know the names of those flowers?’

‘No. Do you?’

Penelope told Amanda the names of the flowers, sprinkled in some mythology, and told Amanda how to recognize the flowers. Amanda took that as her cue to start pointing at all trees and bushes that interested her, demanding to know their names.

‘Will you pretend not to know those either when your lessons start?’ Eloise asked Amanda.

Amanda looked up at Eloise in confusion.

‘Apparently the two of you pretended to not know how to read or write.’

The two children grinned.

‘We just like testing their intelligence and patience’, Oliver explained.

‘And once we have three permanent nannies you two will go away’, Amanda explained.

‘Oh dears, you needn’t bully those poor women just to keep us around. That’s mean’, Penelope explained.

‘We didn’t bully them. Nurse Lowe left because she was afraid of rats and spiders. It’s not our fault she’s easily scared. Our current nurse moved to pick up one of the rats’, Oliver explained.

‘You two are horrible’, Penelope chastised.

But just how horrible they were wouldn’t be clear for another couple of days. That evening the children came into Eloise’s bedroom after bedtime, complaining they couldn’t sleep. Eloise noticed they were more silent and nervous than usual, so she told them a bedtime story to put them at ease.

The next day, the same happened, and they took their time to complain about the nurses, particularly Nurse Edwards, who was never scared and always cross. During those days, no nurses got hurt or chased away. A tutor even arrived to teach them the beginnings of arithmetic, French and piano. It was a kind governess in her thirties from Essex.

But on the fourth day the nurses were in the house, the children planned their next attack. Sir Phillip had decided that with only one day left, the current two nurses were very close to being hired, and had a maid show them around all parts of the house. Eloise had been in her room, writing a letter, when she heard children giggle. Knowing nothing good could come of that, she immediately opened her door to see Amanda and Oliver looking at the the maid and the two nurses on their way towards the staircase.

At first, Eloise saw nothing wrong, but then, following the looks of the children, she noticed a chord had been spun between the two top newels. What on earth possessed them! Sure, Eloise’s brothers had played that prank as well, but never near a staircase. That was too dangerous, even they knew that could result in horrible injuries that went beyond a simple prank.

‘Stop!’ Eloise cried.

The maid halted, looking at Eloise in bewilderment.

‘Don’t move’, she said, rushing over.

‘What on earth is the matter?’ Nurse Edwards demanded to know.

‘You see, it’s not safe to go down’, Eloise explained. It was tough. She shot the children an apologetic look. If she snitched them, they’d be punished, but being silent would result in harm. It had to be done.

Eloise went to stand in front of the group to protect them.

‘There’s a rope, if you step you fall’, Eloise explained, taking a step back so she could easier turn around.

‘See – ‘

‘Eloise no!’ Amanda cried.

Eloise’s skirts and ankle got caught in the cord as she turned. She hadn’t thought the stairs were that close.

She waved with her arms, throwing her body back in an attempt to fall backwards towards the landing instead of forwards. But it was too little, too late. Gravity dragged her body downwards.

Her hip collided with the sharp corner of a step, the her elbow. She tried to grab onto something to limit her falling, but she kept sliding, hips bum and arms sliding over painfully sharp edges. Then her legs started turning, her body turning horizontal instead of vertical. Her feet caught between small pillars. She rolled and bumped, rolled and bumped, until she collided with the wall on the quarter space landing. Blessedly they had one, otherwise her suffering would have lasted minutes instead of a very painful thirty seconds.

The collision knocked the breath out of her.

The maid and nurses cried out in panick, agitating themselves but doing nothing. The children cried and shouted, pulling the chord and rushing down themselves.

Alarmed by the noise, Sir Phillip rushed out of his library that was close to the staircase. Seeing three women screaming in horror on top of the landing, he instantly knew something had gone very wrong.

Eloise heard shrill child voices above her, but everything hurt too much to open her eyes. Her head was bursting, and she could still feel phantom edges of stairs pressing into her shoulders and back.

‘Kill me’, she moaned.

‘Gods, Eloise’, a heavier voice said underneath his breath. Next thing she knew, two strong arms slid underneath her legs and back.

‘Au au au au auwww. Please, just let me lay’, she begged. It increased the pain tenfold.

‘Don’t just stand there, fetch a physician!’ Phillip demanded of the ladies with a booming voice. Eloise winced. Why was he so loud?

Relief finally came when she was lain down on her bed.

‘Oh, better’, she sighed. All the phantom pains and real pains eased exponentially. Never had she appreciated the softness of a bed so much. It only lasted for a minute though. After the first relief ebbed away, she could feel the pain returning in some spots, gentler but persistent.

‘Eloise? Eloise are you alright? Eloise, tell me you are alright’, Sir Phillip begged. ‘Please, you need to be alright.’

She blinked, opening her eyes. She had never seen him so panicked before, his eyes wide and franctic as his hands floated above her body. It seemed he almost wanted to touch her to relieve her pain and help, but didn’t dare or know how to. Penelope had rushed into the room, and hovered behind Sir Phillip, eyes filled with shock and worry.

‘I’m fine… Just… hurting’, she managed to say.

‘How? How did this happen?’ he demanded to know.

Eloise shook her head.

‘How?’ he demanded. ‘Eloise, tell me please.’

He’s using my first name, she idly thought.

‘Why does it matter?’

‘Why! You could have snapped your neck! You could have died. You could have… You could have died’, he stammered, falling to his knees at her bedside.

Eloise barely knew what to say. He hadn’t even been this close to crying when he’d confessed his guilt at not mourning Marina.

‘You care that much?’

‘Of course I care!’ he cried. ‘You… you… are you in a lot of pain?’

She remained silent. He was already frantic enough, no need to make him suffer more.

Phillip looked up from Eloise, spotting his children at the door, looking insecure and teary eyed, half hidden from view.

‘Was it them?’ he demanded to know, eyes snapping towards Eloise.

‘Phillip – ‘

‘Was it?!’

‘They didn’t mean to’, she squeaked.

‘That’s it. You’ve gone too far now! She could have died! You could have killed her! Is that what you’re going for now? Upgraded from scaring people to killing them?’ Phillip said, rising to a stand.

‘No!’ Eloise cried, grasping his hand. Damn, that hurt her shoulder. ‘Please, have mercy on them. They didn’t mean to. They didn’t know.’

‘They didn’t know falling off the stairs could lead to serious injury? One needn’t read a book to know that.’

‘Please, have mercy’, Eloise begged. ‘I’m alive. I’m fine.’

Phillip’s eyes softened.

‘I’m sorry this happened to you’, he apologized.

Then, he gently put her hand back on the bed and marched towards his children.

‘You two, follow me.’

The door closed behind them.

‘What in heaven’s name Eloise!’ Penelope cried.

Eloise winced.

‘Please, could you talk a bit lower?’

‘Oh, sorry. But what the deuce happened to you? Suddenly all I heard was screams. I thought someone was murdered.’

‘The children had spun a wire at the top of the stairs, probably intending to scare the nurses. I tried stopping them, but fell myself.’

‘God, he was right! You could have died. Oh heavens, oh heavens.’

‘I’m alive, please stop it. I swear I will not be the next Bridgerton to die in a freak accident, that’s not my style.’

Penelope remained silent.

Alright, perhaps it is a bit my style, Eloise admitted to herself.

‘But what – what was that with Sir Phillip? I thought he… the way he looked at you… at his children. Like he was going to murder them.’

Eloise shook her head.

‘I don’t know.’

‘He wasn’t even like this when Marina died.’

Of course she’d notice, Penelope had been slow in emotional situations for herself, but her friend was still a great observer.

‘I know.’

‘He was like an angry beast.’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t think he cared much for me.’ Eloise wasn’t lying. She couldn’t understand him at all. First all that distance, but now he acted as if the biggest crime in human history had been committed.

Penelope frowned.

‘It doesn’t make sense.’

‘I do think it makes a little bit sense, when your children could have greatly injured a guest, that you are quite livid.’

Penelope nodded.

‘Yes. It kind of does’, she admitted.

‘Has someone already gone out to fetch a surgeon?’

‘He asked one of the maids or the nurses to fetch a physician.’

‘Okay, okay. I hope they live nearby. Where are you hurting?’

Eloise sighed, and started explaining. The physician came, and informed Eloise she had bruises, and would get some more bruises, but had no sprains or broken bones. Whether she had a concussion he did not know, but if she started vomiting or feeling sensitive to light, she had one. Nevertheless he advised her to stay in a dark room for three days and not move too much. To say Eloise lost her patience after that evening was a compliment. In fact, she was done with being in bed an hour after the physician left. Which was about the moment Sir Phillip and the children knocked on her door.

The children were wringing their hands, looking guilt-ridden, but luckily enough not scared. So she had succeeded in convincing him to act on his better impulses.

‘Eloise, we’re very sorry.’

‘Yes. We come to apologize’, Oliver agreed.

‘We did not mean to hurt you, you must know that!’ Amanda cried, coming closer to the bed.

‘Of course I do. Because you did not expect me to go there. You had other victims in mind.’

They looked quite self-aware.

‘We only meant to scare them,’ Oliver explained, ‘we hadn’t thought of what would happen once they fell.’

Amanda nodded so quickly and fervently Eloise feared she’d strain her neck.

‘We won’t do it again. We are very sorry.’

‘I forgive you. We’ve all done silly things we shouldn’t have in our childhood. What is important is that we learn from it and don’t make those mistakes again.’

‘Really? Like what?’ Oliver asked, coming close to Eloise’s bed.

‘Me? Oh heavens, I can barely count the amount of silly things I did. I suppose tying my sister’s shoelaces together instead of with nice bows wasn’t nice of me, cutting up one of Daphne’s dresses, giving mother a fright by painting red dots on my body to get out of an obligatory visit, throwing peas at my brother, putting black paint in the bucket with water to rinse the chalkboard of the governess…’ Eloise started recounting.

The children grinned, their smiles growing whenever she mentioned something they had done as well, which was most of what she said.

‘And you papa, what did you do?’

Sir Phillip looked at them, taken aback by the question. He remained by the door.

‘I don’t really remember something. I guess I fell off my horse?’

‘But that’s not naughty, that’s clumsy’, Amanda pointed out.

‘Oh yes, how silly of me’, he said.

‘To be honest, when George, your dada and I were young, we didn’t dare of trying what you two did. Even breathing in the wrong way got us a beating’, Sir Phillip explained. ‘Five bad sums in a row? That was getting our fingers beating with a ruler.’

Amanda and Oliver looked at him with wide eyes. They had not heard many stories about their dada and papa as children, particularly never a bad one, and it clearly impressed them. But Eloise could understand the story, if she had been punished so severely, she would still have been naughty but not to the extent she had been. It also served to tell his children how different their upbringings were, and how different things could have been.

‘Did the governess? Or your papa?’ Oliver asked.

‘Both, it depended’, Sir Phillip shrugged. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t allow my children being beaten in this house. It’s a rule your mother and I immediately agreed upon.’

Amanda and Oliver looked at each other. Eloise thought that was queer, but it might just be because they rarely saw their parents agreeing on things.

‘Even when we are very naughty and deserve to be punished?’ Amanda asked with a small voice.

Who told them they deserved to be punished? Eloise thought back on their conversation the previous day. The children had complained about Nurse Edwards being severe. Had she told them they deserved corporal punishment?

‘If you didn’t get a beating today, Amanda, I think that goes to show that nothing will earn you a beating from me. But do not think because I did not beat you, that I was not very angry with you.’

Eloise found it a very mature talk of Phillip.

And this man believes he is a horrible parent. Few parents would explain their reasoning and their behaviour so calmly.

‘I’m really sorry’, Amanda said, turning back to Eloise. ‘We won’t put up chords and ropes again’, she promised.

‘Nowhere’, Oliver agreed.

‘That is a very good thing’, Eloise agreed.

She shifted to turn towards them, wincing when extra weight was put on her sore hip.

‘Are you in a lot of pain?’ Amanda asked.

‘Well, it’s not little’, she admitted through clenched teeth.

‘Is there anything we can do?’

‘Not putting up any pranks that could injure anyone, including me, would be helpful’, Eloise said.

‘Fine’, Oliver said.

Amanda threw him a look. But her father also raised his eyebrows at her.

‘Yes, we promise’, she sighed.

‘No matter what anyone does, we won’t put up anything that harms people.’

‘That is very mature of you’, Eloise complimented her.

Amanda glowed at the compliment.

‘We just… didn’t want you to go.’

‘I know, dear’, Eloise said.

‘What does that have to do with it?’ Sir Phillip demanded to know.

Eloise and the children bit their lips at the same time.

‘Well, Eloise said she had to go once you found a replacement for the nannies. So we thought… if we could scare away the nannies, we could keep Eloise and Penelope.’

Sir Phillip puffed up, embarrassment, anger and amazement all over his face.

‘You deliberately – you did that on purpose? I asked you to – ‘

‘And we never promised!’ Oliver said, not even needing his father to finish.

‘You – you… You said “I know” to them’ Philip pointed out, looking at Eloise.

‘Well… I… suspected.’

Phillip pinched his nose.

‘Children, Miss Bridgerton is not a toy you can keep around. She has a life elsewhere, and people who care a lot about her. We cannot force her to stay with us. In fact we are already ruining plans she had in London.’

‘I had plans in London?’

‘Was there no talk of an engagement?’ Sir Phillip asked in confusion.

‘Engagement? But Eloise you said it was daddy being in mourning that was responsible for you not being able to marry him!’ Amanda cried. ‘Are you marrying?’

Eloise crawled back into the pillows. Oh no. Everything was exploding in her face now.

‘What!’ Sir Phillip shouted, eyes flying to Eloise. Eloise looked away.

‘Did we chase those nannies away for nothing?’ Oliver asked.

‘You talked about – ‘ Sir Phillip broke off his sentence.

Amanda was pulling Eloise’s arm, Oliver was crawling on her bed and Eloise just… wanted to faint.

‘Alright, now to bed with you two’, Sir Phillip said, pushing them towards the door.

‘But daddy!’

‘Out! To bed!’

‘But we have to have supper first!’ Oliver protested.

‘And Eloise hasn’t told us a story yet!’ Amanda cried.

Sir Phillip’s eyebrows rose two feet above his hairline. 

‘You tell them bedtime stories?’

Eloise shrugged, pulling the covers higher.

‘Never mind those stories, go away to eat then’, he said, slamming the door shut and locking it.

The metal click filled Eloise’s stomach with dread.

Oh dear.

Oh dear, oh dear.

Oh damn.

‘Do you mind explaining that?’ Sir Phillip asked, gesturing in the general direction of the door.

Eloise swallowed, following him with her eyes as he paced through the room, his fingers impatiently tapping against his pantaloons.

I rather bite off my tongue and serve it with Madeira sauce.

‘Not really, no.’

‘It wasn’t exactly a question.’

‘The children don’t like nannies, but they like Pen and me. I even told you that very night that the children wanted me to stay, I didn’t hide that. Since we promised we would stay as long as necessary they took it upon themselves to chase away the nannies.’

Sir Phillip nodded, pacing to the window again.

But she knew he was just waiting for her explanation of the second claim. But she wasn’t going to give it. Her evasive answer had served her well, Amanda had not thought Eloise to be in love just because she only pointed out the practical problem of Sir Phillip being a widow. But if an adult listened to it, and put that way, it sounded terribly suspicious.

Sir Phillip halted in front of the window, leaning his arms against the frame as he looked outside.

‘And what about what Amanda said?’

‘What about it?’

She saw him inhale and breathe out. Funny, Anthony did that a lot too when she was beating around the bush and annoying him.

‘Why was she even talking about a marriage between us two?’

‘I can explain it, it is most logical’, Eloise said, desperately trying to play it down. Even though playing it down did not work in her favour. But at this moment, she wasn’t exactly being practical. She’d just been hurt by him, she wasn’t about to show him the extent to which she liked him.

‘I’m all ears.’

Eloise feared he was.

‘Amanda asked me whether Penelope and I could stay, because we always leave and visit twice a year at most. I explained to her why single ladies usually stay with their families and only visit friends for shorter instances. Then I explained we probably could not come by anymore, as rules forbid single ladies to visit single men as it threatens their virtue. Of course then came questions about why you and Marina lived together, I explained that it was because you were married. And so somewhere down that line she asked whether I could not marry you, because to her that would fix the problem.’

Sir Phillip said nothing, but his gaze was deep and disturbing.

‘And somewhere down that line, I was the issue?’

‘Well, I tried explaining the delicacies of people having to want to be together to marry, and enjoy each other’s company a lot, and love each other, but you see how that lead to even more questions and confusion on her part.’

Sir Phillip hung his head, huffing a heart-breaking little laugh.

‘You’re having that conversation with a six year old.’

‘Well, she asked a lot of questions. I could only answer them. It was difficult to explain it to a six year old in words she would understand.’

‘But somehow despite all those other things, me being a widower became the issue?’

Eloise fought the urge to crawl back underneath her sheets.

‘Well, it is a rule that widowers and widows are in mourning for a year and can’t remarry. Take my sister Francesca, her husband died three months ago, horribly young, not even halfway through his twenties, for a totally incomprehensible reason and –‘

‘But men and women don’t have the same rules. It’s one thing for a woman to stay single for almost a year to be certain she is not with child, and they are not allowed in the public sphere, but men are. We can marry within a week. It’s even understood, especially when there are children. We can keep going outside. The same rules don’t apply. You know that.’

‘Still, a husband aught to mourn his wife, preferably even his fiancée. Austen herself showed how she thought about people who quit their mourning soon. Going through mourning shows that the…’

Emotions and bond were genuine and deep.

Eloise did not finish that sentence. It seemed too cruel. And too evident that it was not the case for him.

And wait, was he explaining that his widowerhood was not keeping him from marrying? Was he saying he did not mind marrying even a week after losing his wife.

Oh god.

‘A dead wife is more of a reason than a living fiancé?’

‘You snoop! You listened in on that conversation.’

‘Well, you kept talking when I entered the room, I couldn’t help but overhear.’

‘Well, then you should overhear a bit better. You’re a worthless snoop. Then you would have heard I am not engaged and am in fact enraged that the man would lead people to believe we were’, Eloise protested.

Were they now both declaring how they could marry? Why were they fighting over this?

‘So you see, I could not be expected to know you regarded social conventions differently so yes I explained to Amanda that the issue was widowers not being able to marry according to convention. But no, I did not tell her engaged people could not marry because one, it is evident and two, I am single. And have been single for as long as I’ve been alive. And will be single as long as no agreeable man declares he wants me!’

She couldn’t be clearer. She just couldn’t.

‘I… you… So when you said we shouldn’t…’

Oh, they were having this conversation. Eloise wished she could have a drink. Perhaps she should start with wishing for actual clothes. She’d been divested of her day dress and was wearing only a chamber robe over her chemise, stays and underdress. She sat up straighter.

She wasn’t going to help him. Christ, how he could be this slow after reading her book made her wonder how he had ever gotten a college degree.

He hesitated, taking steps backwards, putting more distance between them as he re-evaluated what had happened between them.

‘You just thought we were doing something we shouldn’t. It wasn’t because you thought we did something we shouldn’t.’

‘And after you avoided us for half a day I thought you regretted what we did because of those rules. I clearly stated: “It’s not because you regret it” yet you flipped that sentence and concluded I regretted it.’

Sir Phillip looked at the floor. ‘It only made sense’, he muttered.

‘You… started the conversation by mentioning we shouldn’t write anymore. And then in the greenhouse you said we shouldn’t have. And then you didn’t talk. You always talk but then you didn’t. I reasoned you regretted it. Couldn’t fault you. You could probably do better than a widower with two menacing children. And then when I heard of a fiancé…’

He had thought all of that without giving a single sign of it? He had genuinely thought they were fine? Then why had he gone to his greenhouse until she fetched him?  Why hadn’t he asked her? He had honestly believed her to be so fickle she would change her mind in a day? Or to cheat on a fiancé?

Nobody who was close to him ever honestly liked him. They had even had that conversation that fateful night. He hadn’t believed she really liked him despite their years long friendship.

‘But you know I don’t like London men’, she explained, giving him a small smile. She was so done with being in bed. She batted the blankets away and carefully sat on the edge of the bed. There, now she at least felt a bit more normal while having a conversation.

‘I even wrote a book about what kind of man I did like.’

‘What?’

‘The book? The book you’re reading?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You didn’t notice? You were the one who told me to use real life as an inspiration force?’

‘And you put in my brother and Marina.’

‘What? No. Well, a little, yes. But only your brother in the sense that he was a sailor and died, and had a younger brother. But there’s no Marina in it. These people connect deeply before marrying. And they love each other.’

‘They do?’

Oh god, he’d reached the final third but must have still been before the scenes they grew towards each other instead of mourning together. One would think she was better at guessing what was on which page in her book than she was. She should have paid better attention to where he’d put his page marker.

‘Uhm, spoiler, sorry. Not sorry. They do.’

‘But her mother tries to make her another advantageous match.’

‘She chooses him’, Eloise shrugged.

Phillip blinked. 

‘She… You wrote a book about the kind of man you liked…’

She almost wanted to smirk, but succeeded in keeping her face neutral. Now, he was getting there.

She pushed herself up.

‘Please stay in bed’, he begged, coming over.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re supposed to stay in bed’, he explained, taking hold of her upper arms.

‘In case I have a concussion. But I’m not puking or wobbly legged, am I?’ Eloise asked.

‘He didn’t specify that. He said three days.’

‘I can’t stay here for three days. I’ll die of boredom.’

Sir Phillip opened his mouth but clenched it shut again.

‘What?’ she demanded to know. Her skin burned where he touched her. Did they really need to talk about this? Didn’t they have much more pressing things to address?

‘The doctor said I shouldn’t let you strain yourself.’

‘I’m an adult. I can decide what strains me and what doesn’t.’

‘You will stay put.’

‘Why do I need to stay in bed when I’m fine enough? Am I not the authority on how much pain I can handle?’

‘I need you to heal and be alright.’

So much needing her to be alright. So many musts.

Oh god.

He hadn’t been able to protect Marina. Which had also been his job. He constantly feared he couldn’t live up to his job of raising his children. And now he cared for her. This was just another thing he needed to succeed at. Alright, enough torturing him.

‘Well, they say a kiss makes the pain go away.’

He frowned before he processed her words. To his credit, he needn’t be asked twice. He immediately stopped nagging and placed his lips on top of hers.

‘Oh’, she sighed, hooking her fingers in the fabric of his waistcoat.

He kept her close to him, keeping her warm and protected as he ravished her mouth.

‘A little bit wobbly legged’, he said before taking her lower lip between his.

She shuddered, her knees almost giving in.

She had to remember where her mouth was, testing the movement of her lips to see if she could answer. After a final nibble, het let her bottom lip go.

‘What?’

‘You said you weren’t wobbly legged.’

‘Well excuse me, but I’m being swooped off my feet’, she protested, clinging more to Phillip.

He let out a laugh, and for once, it didn’t sound mocking.

‘Oh, Eloise’, he sighed, lips ghosting over the skin of her neck.

‘Sweet strong Eloise.’

‘You forgot insufferable’, she joked.

His lips left wet kisses down her neck, making her shiver.

‘I believe I shall suffer you just fine.’

She gasped when his mouth travelled even lower, taking down her underdress and chemise with it until he reached the hard edge of her stays.

One of the hands on her back moved to the front, gently tugging on her skin until –

‘Damn the devil’, she gasped when his lips wrapped themselves around her newly released nipple. That was an option? She could feel the hairs rising on every inch of her body. She hadn’t even known something could feel this good.

‘In fact, I doubt there’ll be much suffering at all.’

Eloise quite agreed.

And then he applied pressure.

Finally, Eloise’s knees buckled, and their unbalanced position resulted in her colliding with the bed and him landing right on top of her. Generously endowed parts of their bodies left strong impressions on the other’s body, and for a second, neither of them could do anything but look at each other in amazement.

Once upon a time, Eloise had compared falling in love to leaping off a cliff and shattering on the ground. It was just like that. Every time they were driven apart she felt like a china cup plummeting towards a stone floor. But now, when he fell on top of her and held her in his arms, she felt like her body had exploded into stardust, twinkling, energetic and alight.

A knock on the door quickly turned her into a shooting star that plummeted into ice cold water. Phillip pushed himself off of her and she fumbled to put her clothes back in order.

‘Miss Bridgerton, I have brought your supper’, a maid called from the other side of the door.

There the moment was already, someone was about to walk in on them when they were alone together.

Chapter Text

Eloise believed it was a shame women were not expected to give a speech on their weddings, especially not one discussing inappropriate things. But the way Phillip dove underneath her bed had her in such awe she could only laugh later on, hours after the moment had passed. The maid had come in with her supper, Eloise had finished it, and while she ate Phillip came crawling from underneath, looking quite dusty.

‘Joining me for supper?’

‘It appears so.’

‘Did you all eat already?’

‘We did.’

‘With the children?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’

‘Thank you, by the way.’

‘What for?’

‘Marina and I did not know a thing about raising children. We only knew what we did not want. You and Miss Featherington always managed to sneak in some advice.’

‘You flatter me, I don’t know a thing about raising children. I can only talk about the experience of being a child myself with siblings around me.’

‘You never allowed me to let my fears or I myself get in the way of being a parent.’

‘Ah no, I am good in calling people out. But not everyone believes I am right. Most just think I’m being meddlesome.’

‘Whether something is perceived as meddling depends entirely on whether or not the person receiving the advice wants the advice.’

‘Then… Will what I say next be perceived as meddling?’

‘It depends’, Phillip replied honestly.

‘The children really dislike Nurse Edwards. And I don’t know, she gives off an odd vibe. What do you know about her?’

‘She comes from Wales, she’s in her forties. Has been doing this work for over twenty years…’

‘Any letters of recommendations? Or a reason why she left the previous employer?’

‘She didn’t say… and I didn’t ask. I was grateful to have some willing to help out so soon.’

Nannies and nurses usually stuck with the same families, becoming the nurses of one generation and then the next, usually moving in once the children became adults with children themselves. To have a nurse in her forties move from Wales to England was strange.

‘Do you have her list of employers?’

‘She didn’t give one. Should she have?’

‘Yes. If someone solicits to become household staff we always look at where they have worked in the past. If they’re young and just starting out, it’s fine if they don’t have a thing, we give them a shot. But if we see someone’s in their thirties or forties and has never been employed for longer than two years, we know something is wrong.’

‘I rarely had to hire anyone. Just my private secretary… And all the nurses. Marina did the first few, by the time I took over I was just happy with anyone coming in’, Phillip explained. Yes, his staff was quite old, all had probably been in employment with the Cranes since his father was baronet. How did they run this house until now, it was a wonder. They hadn’t had a true managing hand in so long. That would change when she married him.

‘I’m not saying anything is wrong with Nurse Edwards, the children might just be used to getting their way… But could you look into it?’

‘I suppose.’

Not much long after, he took his leave of her. Sir Phillip had timed his exit well, because twenty minutes later, Penelope came in to keep her company. She answered her questions: it hurt a bit less, the bruises had indeed turned ugly shades of purple, the children had apologized and Sir Phillip had not murdered them.

‘Sir Phillip asked me if I wanted anything from Marina’s personal belongings’, Penelope announced.

‘Oh, well?’

‘I don’t know. It’s strange. She never had anything from me so why should I have anything from her? To remember her by, I guess, but that feels so permanent. I scarcely dare look at her bedroom door. Isn’t that strange? Never pegged myself for a coward.’

Eloise sat up a bit straighter, otherwise her guilt was going to launch her food onto the blankets. It did not sit easy with her she had kissed Phillip no hour ago and her best friend was still clearly mourning his wife.

‘You’re mourning. Doesn’t make you a coward, it just makes you sad.’

Perhaps it was wise nothing was arranged yet. She could just take her time him, helping him with the kids together with Penelope. And then they could pretend to have started writing to keep her updated on the children, and announce the news then, after a month or six. It was still early, but not entirely inappropriate.

Penelope sighed.

‘What is it.’

‘Nothing.’

‘No, you looked like you were thinking’, Eloise pointed out.

‘Drop it.’

‘I drop it like a ball and it bounces back up. What is it?’

‘I was just thinking… Colin would know how to lighten the mood’, she admitted, averting her eyes.

They rarely spoke of him, the topic was sensitive after all. So Eloise respected her friend’s awkwardness and tried not to be blow the comment up.

‘You want the mood to be lightened? You could have just told me so. I didn’t want to be inappropriate. I can be very funny.’

‘Oh Eloise.’

‘What travels at the speed of light on a Thursday night?’ Eloise asked.

‘What travels when?’ Penelope asked, baffled.

‘My jokes racing into this room.’

‘Stop’, Penelope laughed. ‘You’re horrible.’

‘You offend me. Here I thought, thinking I was your friend, yet now it turns out I am your fiend.’

Penelope shook her head with laughter.

And so Eloise continued, with her worthless jokes, until they decided to retire to bed.

Eloise had been put on bedrest for three days, which evidently meant that after breakfast, she crawled downstairs, back aching, arms hurting when she stretched them and her arse feeling sore when she stretched her back.

‘Eloise!’ Penelope cried out, jumping upright when she appeared in the drawing room.

‘I didn’t expect you downstairs yet. How are you feeling?’

‘Like a seventy year old pony carrying an entire family’, Eloise groaned as she sat down in a sofa. Perhaps she had been overly ambitious, this position definitely hurt too much.

‘You know, maybe I want to lie down’, she said, putting a lot of pillows against the armrest before she laid down.

‘Better?’ Penelope asked.

‘Yes, much. Ah. I couldn’t be expected to stay up there all alone, now could I?’

‘I doubt you can keep silence company for that long’, Penelope smiled.

‘Indeed, awful conversational partner. I much prefer you.’

‘I am flattered.’

‘The children up already?’

‘Up in the nursery yes’, Penelope said.

Eloise nodded. Good, then she could lay down and relax without interruption. Looking around the room, she observed a book lying on Penelope’s lap.

‘Did I interrupt your reading?’

‘I was reading but I don’t mind putting it aside for some actual conversation. Mother always complains that if I didn’t read so much and had concentrated more on social graces I would’ve long been married’, Penelope said, rolling with her eyes.

‘Guess that must be it. As we’re the two most well read women in the whole of London and I am single as well.’

‘Single forever, I fear. We’re really turning into spinsters now.’

Oh, how I’ll hate to leave you alone in this, Pen.

‘Well, it’s not because we’re not good enough to be wives. Most men just have horrible tastes and are too cowardly to take us on. If I were a man with a brain, I would marry you, definitely’, Eloise smiled.

‘Kind of you to say so, but you needn’t flatter me.’

‘I’m not flattering you. I’m being earnest. Wouldn’t you marry me?’

‘My mother always dreamed of one of us marrying a Bridgerton.’

‘Well, one could never accuse her of having a bad taste in anything but fashion.’

‘Oh Eloise, you’re positively horrible’, Penelope laughed.

‘I would like a marriage, to be honest’, Eloise admitted then, gently introducing the topic.

‘To whom, that Lord Lacye?’

‘Gods no’, Eloise said, face scrunching up in disgust.

‘I think perhaps, a clever person. Couldn’t stand a dumb one.’

‘You’d destroy them within the hour. You haven’t the patience for such people.’

‘I barely have the patience for myself and I am rather clever.’

‘But not modest.’

‘Ah, no. None of us Bridgertons really are.’

‘I know’, Penelope smiled.

‘So you are also seeking for someone who can tolerate your conviction of your own right.’

‘Preferably, someone who agrees that I am always right.’

‘Oh dear. I guess I will never have to fear at staying a spinster alone’, Penelope teased.

Eloise stuck out her tongue.

‘I’m joking. I would also like a man who recognises my intellect and trusts my opinion. Why do I have the creeping feeling we will be the Lady Danburry’s of our generation?’

‘Perhaps because we are so much on our way towards becoming like her, and she likes us more and more each year so I’m afraid that’s an indicator we are indeed not that different from her’, Eloise pointed out.

‘That’s very true’, Penelope nodded.

‘Would you like me to help you look?’ Eloise then asked.

Penelope laughed. ‘Haven’t we always supported each other through our attempts at finding husbands already?’

Eloise thought better than to point out that Lady Featherington’s attempts to dress her daughter like a lemon curd had done the opposite of helping her draw positive attention. Nor did she believe Penelope’s love for her brother had ever waned to a point she had seriously considered other men.

‘Perhaps we fare better away from London where everyone knows us and our mothers tell us how to look and act’, Eloise said instead.

‘Do we not do marvellously well on book tours? You even had a mister engaging you in a certain conversation until you blushed last time, I do recall.’

‘Oh but I couldn’t… He was very friendly, but I couldn’t marry someone my mother doesn’t know and Jack hasn’t approved of.’

‘They could get to know someone you met’, Eloise pushed. Because it would be the exact same as her situation.

‘I’m… I…’ Penelope looked desperately unhappy. ‘I should, shouldn’t I? What chance do I stand in London between all those stunning eight-and-ten year olds? And perhaps… I better broaden my horizons, lower my standards, and give some men from the countryside a chance’, she admitted with a sigh.

‘You shouldn’t lower your standards. Why should ugly sixty year old men get young women and you would not even be allowed to find a handsome, witty and clever man? It’s ridiculous.’

‘Most times, those sixty year old men getting pretty women are rich. I’m not that wealthy’, Penelope pointed out.

‘Still, there must be someone who sees your beauty and character, and one who you can admire in turn. Your whole family found men wanting to marry them, why wouldn’t you have that?’ Eloise asked.

Penelope smiled, understanding just what kind of jab that was towards her sisters and mother. ‘Perhaps because I want love.’

‘I’ll make you the next character in my book. And then I’ll reveal you were my big muse, and by that point at least a fifth of the male reading population must have half fallen in love with you already. Imagine the fan mail you’ll get.’

‘Oh stop it, you’re ridiculous.’

‘Actually, I’m serious. You’d make a wonderful protagonist of a book. I’m thinking undercover spy, undercover author… anything undercover for you. It would not only be true, it would also be a wonderful twist on how usually men are the ones with fascinating lives and secret identities. And I’ll give you a perfectly silly but gorgeous husband who won’t be able to figure out your identity.’

Penelope laughed.

‘Isn’t that dangerous? They’ll know.’

‘Nobody’s going to know. Nobody’s going to know.’

‘They’ll know.’

‘How would they know? They literally couldn’t imagine it the past seven years, how would they now suddenly connect the dots?’

‘You would really make me the heroine?’

‘Absolutely. I should’ve done so a long time ago already’, Eloise exclaimed.

Gunning interrupted their conversation.

‘My ladies, you have letters.’

‘Thank you.’

Penelope accepted hers, and Eloise took hers. She had two, one from Anthony, and one from her mother.

She froze, holding the letters in her hands. Receiving a letter from Anthony was never a good sign. Better open her mother’s one first.

“… I am glad to be able to reply to your question with the report that we are all still very healthy. We kept busy, as you can guess Hyacinth, who had always been so excited to finally join her big sisters in being out, managed to drag me somewhere each day of the week. Thank you for clearing up the situation about Lord Lacye dear, I already expected as much but I had to check. Hyacinth, Anthony, Colin, Francesca, Hyacinth and I did our best to set the record straight with as many people as possible, unfortunately sensationalism sells better than the honest truth. But it is nothing to return for, you are where you deem you need to be. We will try fixing things…”

Eloise cringed. Lord Lacye really continued to bother her. Why was it always the quiet ones? But the joke was on him. She was already engaged, and in a couple of months he would look like a big fool.  She opened her brother’s letter, and it was clear that his was written after her mother’s and its tone was decidedly different.

“Eloise, I made it a point to allow my sisters to choose their own suitors and not meddle too much. But perhaps I have become too lenient. We have tried cleaning up the mess you created for over a week and a half and the rumour is not about to die anytime soon. I outright confronted Lord Lacye in private yesterday and he did not say much, except that he insisted he was right in saying you had proposed a deepening of your relationship with him and he was under the pretence of getting your exclusive attention. When I told him there was no official engagement he said we could not refute it as no one had been present during your conversation. I thought by now you knew you should never be alone with a suitor because of this exact kind of situation. Today, apparently, Lord Lacye started defending his believe by saying we did not know what we were talking about as you two had been alone. I need not tell you the implications of this. People are gossiping due to you having been unsupervised, and we are now seen as some Capulets opposing the Montagues. Even if you return, by now it is too late. It will be seen as us forcing you to deny an engagement took place because we objected to it. I fear I need to challenge him in public unless he bends very soon. I demand you appeal to him right now to drop his claims, I’ll permit this one time private letter to an unmarried man given the circumstances. I do not know how to fix this scandal anymore. Except with a duel. Which I remind you is illegal and not a solution. My children are in need of their father.”

No, no that couldn’t happen. She was engaged. She was finally going to marry someone she liked. How had it all gone so horribly wrong?

‘God buggering deucedly cursed rat! That that… fake stuttering prick! He can’t string three words together unless it is to ruin me!’ Eloise cried out.

‘What? What is it?’ Penelope asked.

‘Lacye, the rumour hasn’t died down. Quite the opposite. Now the brat has been telling people that my family can’t deny an engagement as we were alone together. He thinks they oppose the match and are thus breaking it on my behalf.’

‘Oh god.’

‘And by now the whole of bloody London knows and everyone has formed an opinion on it and it’s selling like hotcakes. Everyone thinks we’re engaged in what is to be the most scandalous Bridgerton engagement yet!’ Eloise shouted, jumping upright and pushing the letter under Penelope’s nose.

Her whole body whined at her movement, but she couldn’t sit still. She only registered it as a nuisance, her anger took up her entire head so there was no place for pain.

‘I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him! How can he do that? Has he no shame? I’ll kill him in a novel. Oh, I’ll make it so blatantly clear. I have half a mind to name him directly.’

‘I’m sure he can then sue you for defamation.’

‘I don’t even care! The the … there aren’t even words!’

Penelope read the letter as Eloise raged, foamed and climbed up the walls like an angry goblin.

‘This is bad’, Penelope decided.

‘No need to tell me!’

‘Eloise, this is more important than my conscience.’

‘And what will you do? Whistledown has been gone for almost three weeks. Suddenly return for one statement and then leave again? Then they’ll know for sure who you are’, Eloise bit.

‘I’m stuck. He’s got me stuck. Seven years of fighting for choosing my own destiny and now this! I will not let some lowly lordling take my choice I fought so hard for away from me!’

‘But people think you’re… potentially compromised.’

She knew. And she knew all the issues.

No man would look at her now, except the very few who couldn’t bother being picky. And even years later the scandal would follow her. In Penelope’s eyes, Eloise was now incapable of finding a husband. To an unengaged lady this would have been a death sentence.

‘I wish I could show everyone just how wrong he is. That way he would look like a fool and all of society would look down on him for lying so.’

‘But how could you do that? He is quite right in pointing out that without witnesses you cannot prove it… And sensation will always be preferred above truth. Everyone would love for notorious spinster Eloise Bridgerton to scandalously commit a passionate act.’

Eloise groaned, balling her hands into fists.

‘Unless I couldn’t even accept him if he asked’, she said.

‘What?’

‘Say if I were already engaged, or planning to get engaged. Unless I were the most scandalous type of woman I could not accept him then if I were already engaged, or got engaged very soon after that conversation. That would show I could have never promised him’, Eloise reasoned.

‘Unless he ruined you and you quickly tried to cover it up.’

Eloise deflated before she perked up.

‘We were only alone for five minutes. Nothing can happen that fast. Can it?’

‘I think that would be pushing it.’

‘Exactly. And he can’t claim that. I hope he has at least that honour.’

‘Perhaps it would help… But Eloise… You don’t have a fiancé.’

‘Hm.’

She had planned on a very long engagement. Months of hiding it from Penelope. If she followed through with her idea, she would be risking her entire relationship with her best friend in an attempt to salvage her family name. Potentially, it wasn’t even certain whether it would work.

‘Eloise?’

‘Yes?’

‘You aren’t engaged… are you?’

‘Not… exactly.’

‘What is that supposed to mean? Since when? With who? You never… You never said a thing. Who would you even get engaged with? You would have had to hide it from me so well. I’m present almost every time you meet someone and I didn’t see a thing happening’, Penelope said, biting down in the mystery.

‘Since… Well, there isn’t exactly a since. No one has ever actively pursued me. We were just friends. We never thought our feelings would change. Until they did. And even then, we never knew of each other’s feelings. We never planned on being together. But then some days ago we found out our feelings were mutual. We haven’t decided what to do with that, officially.’

‘What? But… That doesn’t even make… So you’ve known him for a long time, just as friends. And then you started falling for each other without knowing the other fell for you?’

Eloise nodded.

‘Alright. I suppose. People fall in love with friends and acquaintances after long stretches of time quite often. But… if you admitted it to one another, why not make anything official?’

‘We didn’t think it was appropriate.’

‘Your brother married a bastard born girl, Eloise, surely your family would understand it?’

She had no clue, did she? Eloise wrung her hands together. She really was about to ruin her friendship.

‘I think, you would find it very hard to understand. And my family as well.’

‘Eloise, can you speak plainly for heaven’s sake. You’re about a week removed from being forced to marry someone or remain a spinster forever due to gossip. If this is your only chance of saving yourself, it’s time you’re honest about it.’

‘Pen…’

‘What? Eloise, oh no. Don’t tell me you remained silent because you pitied me. Eloise, I can bear it. I can be happy for you. Although I will forever hate you a bit for keeping it silent.’

‘There wasn’t even anything to tell! I conceal nothing from you. I always tell you what I think of people. Do you tell me within a year every time you realize certain feelings for someone? There was no relationship, no romantic feelings, nothing, until a little over a year ago. And I didn’t know there would ever be anything between us until yesterday!  So there really was nothing to tell.’

Penelope remained silent, cheeks turning pink when Eloise referenced Colin. It had been years before Eloise had been the first to address the elephant in the room in a subtle way. Penelope had never admitted to it. She wasn’t in a place to judge Eloise now. But then her eyebrows raised themselves to halfway on her forehead.

‘Wait a minute, yesterday? You didn’t receive any post yesterday.’

Eloise froze.

Penelope’s eyes narrowed.

‘Oh heavens, Eloise, is it a servant? Oh, I didn’t know. Is it the secretary? Oh, you really needn’t fear my judgement. It isn’t that scandalous. It’s a bit of a class difference to be sure but – ‘

‘It’s not a servant.’

‘It’s not a…’

Then, Penelope’s penny dropped.

‘No… No. No that can’t be.’

‘Pen…’

‘No!’

‘I didn’t – ‘

‘He was married!’

‘I know.’

‘Marina died only three weeks ago!’

‘I know.’

‘He’s in mourning!’

‘I know’, Eloise admitted, eyes turning glassy.

‘How can you – she was your friend!’

‘I know.’

Penelope shook her head, hands covering her face before she wrung them together and covered her face again.

‘Sir Philip?’

‘I’m sorry, I never meant to’, Eloise shouted.

‘He shouldn’t marry for at least a year!’

‘I know. Although technically, men can immediately remarry. Because the law reasons children need a mother.’

‘What!’

‘It’s just what he said. I protested. I wanted to wait… like… at least nine months. Before even becoming engaged.’

‘What about their children? You want to replace their mother within the month? She’s barely in the… she’s barely gone. How…. Was he… were you two?’

‘Listen, Pen. I know how it looks. I know it’s a bad look. I swear, I never planned for any of this to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. You think I wanted to fall in love with a married man? I didn’t! I searched the whole of England for a husband since I turned twenty and then my stupid heart suddenly decided to develop affection for a married man with a very young wife. I fell in love knowing the man I loved would probably be married until the day he died as his wife was healthy and young. I fell in love knowing I would never get to be with the person I wanted. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Marina. In fact, I wanted both of them to be happy and raise a happy little family. Because I wanted all of them to be happy. I felt like a monster for feeling the way I did. But I swear, even though I felt what I felt I never showed it. I didn’t do a thing. I promise. I never touched him.’

Tears rolled over her face by the time she finished, over a year of pent up secrets and suppressed emotions flowing out.

Penelope looked torn between her loyalty to her dear dead friend who never had happiness, and her friend who was so clearly struggling with her emotions. Eloise knew how conflicted Penelope must feel, she herself had barely been able to accept her own feelings.

‘But that must have meant that, at least to some degree, Sir Phillip loved you when he was married’, Penelope muttered.

‘I know it doesn’t take away that it’s morally wrong,’ Eloise started, ‘but Marina entered and left that marriage loving only his brother. You knew they appreciated or loved nothing about each other except their mutual affection for the children.’

Penelope grimaced. Sir Philip was indeed no more guilty of emotionally cheating as his wife, even less so, because he had kept trying to do his best for the marriage while Marina had never even tried.

‘I know. But it feels so wrong’, Penelope admitted. ‘I can’t help it. It just seems… wrong that you two should… get together, and become parents to her children and meanwhile she is dead of unhappiness.’

‘If it helps, we both feel the exact same way about it. I’m not saying we’re in our right, it’s inappropriate and reprehensible. I feel horrible about it. However, I cannot bring her back to life. I’ve tried being there for her with you as often as we could. Sir Phillip tried being there for her. She couldn’t take it anymore but that’s not for our lack of trying. However sad it is, we did what we could, and now we remain behind. And it seems even more awful that all of us should be miserable and never seek happiness out of solidarity. Who gains anything out of that?’

Penelope bit her lip as she took some steps closer to Eloise.

‘I don’t think you would ever deliberately steal someone’s man. I trust you. I’m just… shocked. Everything about Marina’s absence and death hurts and thinking you would replace her so soon… Just feels wrong. But on the other hand I know that’s not your intention. And indeed I know Marina and Sir Philip never had a relationship, and so he isn’t exactly mourning his great love and his heart was not occupied but… well. I suppose on a technical level I can understand it, but on an emotional level it’s just so… weird.’

‘I know. It is.’ Eloise let out a sarcastic laugh. ‘I never make things easy, do I? I even manage to make love suck.’

Penelope put her arms around Eloise.

‘Perhaps, if only I could understand how and why… you said you weren’t in love with him first. And I don’t see… He’s not the kind I expected for you Eloise. He’s quiet and weird and awkward and I expected… I don’t know, someone with just as big a personality as you, boisterous, opinionated, well-read.’

‘He is well-read’, Eloise pointed out. ‘Actually, he’s the one who gave me all the books and study material of one of his friends from university. That’s how I learned everything about literature. It was at the end of our first stay here that I talked about university. Remember, I always used to talk about university back then.’

 ‘You did’, Penelope admitted.

‘He sent me more by post. And that’s how we started writing to each other, just about the children and studies about literature and botany. Nothing… intimate.’

‘You two wrote? Well, I suppose that explains why you were always the one being alerted to Marina’s condition’, Penelope reasoned. ‘That makes a lot more sense now.’

‘I think he was quite lonely’, Eloise said.

‘They weren’t good for each other’, Penelope agreed.

‘And then I don’t know. We could always converse quite easily. He listened without mocking me, unlike my family.’

‘I didn’t either’, Penelope said.

‘True, and that’s why you two were my friends.’

‘Then… remember there was this book discussion group we attended, and they asked which one of the men I’d written I’d rather marry?’

Penelope nodded.

‘And then someone asked on who I’d based all my characters. And then I kind of realized that…’

Eloise did not even need to finish. Penelope connected the dots.

‘Sir Philip was Richard. Oh gods. It’s so obvious now. A scholar. A dead brother. Taking over the family estate. Being quiet. I never… How did I never see that?’

‘You weren’t looking for it. And… I focussed more on his personality than the dry facts.’

‘Personality? What did they share aside from being quiet and scholarly?’

‘Their entire personality, almost. Feelings of inferiority, mourning, insecurity, humour. So many things.’

‘Sir Philip is all that?’

Eloise nodded.

‘You really know him better than I do’, Penelope muttered.

‘Well, oftentimes you and Marina spent some hours apart. And I usually spent those with the children.’

‘And him’, Penelope said.

‘And him’, Eloise admitted.

‘I need to think’, Penelope confessed. ‘It’s just going to need time.’

‘I understand.’

It was better than expected, but she could have predicted this would not be over in a single conversation.

‘Miss Bridgerton, why are you standing? The doctor told you to rest in bed’, Sir Philip’s voice boomed as he passed the drawing room, entering the place.

‘I’ve got more important things to worry about.’

‘What can be more important than your health? Without health there won’t be a thing you will be able to worry about’, he chastised.

‘Can you not? I’m kind of occupied with real problems that hurt me and my family way worse than some stupid bruises. Because by now, it’s pretty clear I don’t have a concussion’, Eloise shot back.

Sir Philip blinked, finally taking in Penelope and realizing he should have acted differently.

He straightened his shoulders.

‘Is your family not well?’

‘Some arsehole has the whole of London believing I am engaged. To him. And possibly compromised. It’s gotten to such a level that my going there and denying it won’t fix it.’

‘One of the two people involved saying it is not so, is not enough to undo a rumour?’

‘No, wish it were that simple.’

‘May I ask just what constitutes as a valid solution if the person who has to say yes, says no instead is not seen as enough?’ he demanded to know, understanding nothing of gossip.

‘The young lady being unable to be engaged’, Penelope said. ‘That’s the only thing. Otherwise she has to live with the scandal and will lose her good standing in society.’

Eloise turned to Penelope in surprise. She hadn’t expected her friend to take her side this quickly.

Penelope turned towards Eloise.

‘I’m still conflicted about this. And I really dislike the timing. But more than anything I would hate for my friend to be unjustly trialled and found guilty by society due to unfounded gossip’, she explained.

Both of them looked at Sir Philip simultaneously, who took a step back, mistrust in his eyes.

‘What?’

Penelope shot Eloise a look, and Eloise could hear her voice in her head, clear as day. ‘You said he was matched to you in intelligence?’

‘Sir Philip, the only thing that would save me from either having to marry him or be ostracized by society is if I could prove he lied by showing I am already engaged.’

‘Oh.’

‘Right’, Penelope said. ‘I’ll uhm… see if lunch is ready’, she excused herself.

Eloise raised her eyebrows at him once the door closed.

‘Well?’

‘What?’

‘Anything to say?’ Eloise pushed.

‘I’m sorry this happened to you?’

Eloise inhaled deeply. She had ended up with an idiot after all.

‘I need to be engaged.’

‘Yes. Which is the case.’

Eloise frowned.

‘But,’ she protested, ‘you never asked.’

‘I thought our intentions were clear.’

Eloise’s scowl deepened. She’d really been fanciful when she’d written romantic gestures for his character.  

‘I kind of expected a proper proposal to follow.’

Sir Philip, wiped his muddy hands on his trousers, looking about the room in quite a self-conscious manner.

‘I never actually had to propose the proper way.’

‘Most men worth having propose only once’, Eloise smiled. The wretched blights that had annoyed her in the past would have probably proposed to five women each by this point.

Sir Philip came closer, checking if there was mud on his knees before kneeling down on the rug.

‘Miss Eloise Bridgerton. Although I wish I would have obtained your brother’s approval first, I want to ask you if you would please consider doing me the honour of becoming my wife?’ he asked, taking her hand in his own.

Eloise smiled. There it was, a proper proposal. And finally, after six awful ones, she could finally answer to it in a positive manner. There was no guilt or stress eating at her conscience right now.

‘Like that?’ Sir Philip asked. ‘Given you heard quite a few by now.’

Eloise ignored the stab.

‘Exactly like that. Yes!’ she smiled, tugging on his hand.

He rose again.

‘And now what?’

‘Well, I’m not well versed in accepting proposals, but I suppose a kiss can be allowed’, she smiled before removing the distance between them.

He kissed her back, hands sliding to her back.

‘Auch.’

‘Sorry.’

‘And that’s why you should be on some soft pillows.’

‘You’re not my husband just yet. No bossing me around.’

Chapter Text

That night, the children were informed of the news during dinner. Both of them perked up, quite happy, and asked if that meant they were to marry.

‘Eventually, yes’, Eloise admitted.

‘So you can stay?’ Oliver asked.

‘Well, right now it would probably be better if we go home the moment you two stop chasing away nannies’, Penelope answered prudently.

‘Can you stay too, once Eloise marries daddy?’ Amanda asked.

‘Well, as they’ll be married, and I’m her friend… yes’, Penelope said. And to that the children cheered quite loudly. The nurses couldn’t get them to bed that night, it was up to Eloise and Penelope to drag them upstairs with promises of a new story about “Breaker and Demolisha”, a brother and sister duo Penelope and Eloise had come up with the week before to get the twins to quiet down and listen to them. They were a prince and a princess, children of a poor busy king, who were always up to something.

Once they were done and they left the room, Eloise’s back aching with every step, Penelope shot her a torn smile.

‘I would have missed them so much, had we been forced to never return unless we found chaperones’, Penelope admitted.

‘Yeah, me too’, Eloise admitted as they paused near her bedroom door.

‘Listen, Pen. Again. I’m very sorry. I didn’t want for any of this to happen. Not the love part, not the Marina dying part, not the timing of everything’, she said, taking Penelope’s arm.

‘Hey, I know. You’re Eloise Bridgerton. You’re a dreamer. I know that you didn’t almost wait a decade to marry to have your fairy-tale ending turn into a mess.’

‘But what a perfectly typical way for me to end up engaged. I always knew I was no Daphne. I’m a menace, I’m chaotic, impatient… of course I would end up falling from one oops into a big whoops into a huge pile of rushed decisions.’

Penelope had to laugh at that.

‘I wish my woopsies would result in a marriage with a man I liked’, Penelope smiled. ‘You’re lucky.’

‘I lucked out indeed. I never…’ and there those damned tears were again. ‘I never thought it would be possible for me. Not that this is perfect… but…’

‘Hey, it’ll all end up fine. Disaster is avoided, the scandal will blow over. There’s no reason to stress anymore, you’re safe. Now, all that needs to happen is for the news to reach London and then in a week or so we’ll go back, you’ll be engaged, and you can take your time to get used to everything. In the meantime, we’ll think of a convincing lie and imaginary timeline that won’t make it look like…’

‘Like I’m a vulture that was just flying around waiting for Marina to die so I could steal her husband?’ Eloise suggested as she fell onto the bed, wincing as the mattrass bounced her a bit.

‘That’s one way to put it’, Penelope muttered.

‘But you’ll see. It’ll all turn out fine. Your family can rest easy in the knowledge that your reputation and honour aren’t threatened and that you have, in fact, found a love match like every other Bridgerton.’

Three days later Penelope sat at a desk while Eloise lay on a couch, being gentle to her aching body which now bore ugly green bruises, the two girls bickering about how Penelope’s character would be written and what kind of book she should have.

‘They’ll know. You can’t have me writing a gossip column.’

‘So whatever, you’re legendary.’

‘I’ve also been awful. Some will hate me. And I wouldn’t much enjoy the amount of attention that would get me.’

‘A spy then, in our majesty’s services.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Pen, you’re really giving the average reader too much credit. I didn’t even know I was references my own bloody love life in my novel. How would readers know?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Perhaps we should just write a book about Breaker and Demolisha together, then we have stories ready to tell them at night, instead of having to suck it out of our thumbs’, Eloise muttered.

‘That actually sounds great’, Penelope commented.

‘It does?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘From the author who brings you the love lives of Greek gods and British sailors: bedtime stories for babies. Very on brand.’

‘With your name on it, it’ll sell like hot cakes.’

‘Why don’t we sell it together? It’s only right.’

‘Oh –‘

‘Out! Out! I said get out! I give you ten minutes to pack your belongings!’ they heard Phillip’s voice yelling from upstairs.

Eloise shot upright, before a wave of pain made her halt.

‘What’s going on?’ Penelope asked, immediately rushing over to the door.

‘No idea. Sounds bad. Haven’t heard him so angry since…’

Since he’d been angry with himself for wanting to strike his children.

Penelope pushed the door open a little bit, peering down the hallway.

‘And?’

Eloise asked, getting up slowly to spare her body.

‘I don’t see anything’, she whispered, opening the door a bit more.

‘Then look better.’

‘But sir!’

‘You heard me!’

‘It’s Nurse Edwards’, Penelope muttered.

Eloise moved behind Penelope, trying to look over the shorter girl, moving her head from side to side in an attempt to catch a glimpse from anyone.

The stairs creaked.

‘He’s coming down’, Penelope informed her.

Eloise was about to get frustrated that she couldn’t see and had no idea what the argument was about, when a candle was lit in her head. She was his fiancée. She could ask.

‘I’m just going to ask him’, Eloise decided.

‘What? No. It’s impolite to pry and listen in. We shouldn’t have heard what we did’, Penelope said.

‘Why not? He’ll tell me. I’m sure.’

Eloise moved by Penelope, pushing the door open.

‘What was that about?’ she asked.

Sir Phillip, whose hand was on the door to the library and had been about to enter, looked at her in surprise. Agitation was still written on his face.

‘You’re supposed to be lying down.’

‘Well, how can I when two people are shouting? You’re asking too much of my patience if you expected me to not be curious.’

‘Go lie down. I’m taking care of it. I’ll come to you later.’

‘Taking care of what?’ Eloise pushed.

‘If that woman doesn’t leave in ten minutes, it’ll be about murder’, he said before closing the door to the library.

Eloise frowned, but behind her Penelope couldn’t help a chuckle.

‘You two might talk a great deal more than he and Marina ever did, but he’s still determined to be as mysterious as a sphinx.’

‘He just doesn’t for the life of him know how to have a conversation’, Eloise growled.

‘I hope for you he has other talents then, although it is unfortunate for one as talkative as you to have a man who is so slow with words… Hmm… in hindsight, it might be a good thing he’s not so fond of talking. I can imagine it’s best a relationship exists of one talker and one listener.’

‘Hey, I’m friends with you. Clearly I don’t mind listening from time to time.’

‘Sometimes what you call listening I call: waiting-to-talk-again.’

‘You’re a mean woman, Featherington.’

‘You picked me as your best friend, what does that tell you?’

‘Clearly I enjoy getting stabbed because you two both love it dearly’, Eloise huffed.

Penelope held her tongue when she heard footsteps in the corridor upstairs before Nurse Edwards appeared, looking very grouchy.

‘I have never been treated like that in my life. Rude ungrateful man. No wonder those monsters are spoiled brats!’ she growled to all who cared to listen.

‘Hey! Care to say that again?’ Eloise demanded, stepping towards the stairs.

Nurse Edwards drew back her lips.

‘That’s what they are, goblins. And then when I try to shape them into decent human beings by teaching them discipline…’

‘If I hear you say one more bad thing about either Sir Crane or his children I’ll tackle you down those stairs myself. Some extra bruises won’t be much difference for me’, Eloise threatened.

The children appeared at the balustrade, clinging to it with their little hands and watching the scene through the stone bars.

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘How do you even teach them discipline if you can’t even treat your employer with respect?’

‘Respect? Ha! He doesn’t deserve respect. I’m fired. I can say what I want. And that man, well, it’s no wonder he created those monsters! Never in my life have I been treated with such –‘  she cursed as she walked down.

So he had fired her. Eloise wondered what had happened to make him do it. But it was clear his children hadn’t just been complaining for no reason.

The door of Phillip’s library was thrown open again. He held a piece of paper in his hand.

‘Madam, the contract’, he said, before tearing it in half. And in half again. And in half again.

‘Here, for the days served. Although that’s a great exaggeration’, he said, throwing a little bag of coins at her.

It collided with her hand and fell to the floor. The woman picked it up and marched out.

‘Adieu sir, glad to be gone!’

The hall was deafeningly silent in the wake of her slamming the door.

Sir Phillip looked up at his children, and the two remaining nannies pretending not to listen in by hiding away behind the wall upstairs.

‘What a hag’, Penelope said, breaking the tension as she crossed her arms.

The children’s eyes grew wide at the expletive.

‘Miss Featherington, I quite agree’, Phillip said.

‘Can I ask what happened?’ Eloise asked.

Phillip looked upwards, at where the nannies were hiding. Their faces turned pink as they dipped into a curtsy.

‘No more classes today, you may retire’, he decided. ‘Children, downstairs.’

As the nurses disappeared from view, Phillip turned towards the girls.

‘During the absences of the other nurses, when she’s was teaching them, Nurse Edwards decided on her own that corporal punishment was appropriate.’

Eloise swallowed, knowing just how sore such a point was for him and he absolutely gutting it must have been to discover that after years of fighting to control his temper, a stranger had hit his children.

‘It appears’, he sighed, ‘that you were right and something was indeed going on with the children. I should have checked their complaints sooner.’

Eloise laid her hand on his shoulder.

‘You didn’t know. It’s normal you didn’t expect a nurse to punish children in a way she didn’t ask permission for first.’

‘Still. You guessed the situation better than I did.’

‘I didn’t guess a thing. I only passed along something I heard. It’s alright now.’

‘Tea and biscuits in the drawing room, then?’ Penelope asked.

‘If you please’, Sir Phillip answered as the children reached the bottom of the stairs.

‘Come children’, Penelope said, reaching out her hands so they each took one.

‘Let’s do some nice drawing.’

And so they sat in the drawing room, the children stuffed their faces with biscuits while botching the drawing they made of the nature outside of the window. Penelope almost pulled her hair out, Eloise laughed, laying down on the pillows while she saw how unicorns were inserted into Amanda’s landscape while Oliver turned the lake wine red. Like all children she knew, they had the attention spans of birds and the motoric skills of Kate’s beloved Newton.

But dear Sir Phillip, was not so at peace.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he ended up asking out of nowhere an hour after they had first sat down.

All turned to look at him. Phillip swallowed. ‘You could have told me she hurt you.’

‘She told us to be silent or that we’d get another lashing if we complained’, Oliver said.

‘She said we were already saying too much and being annoying, and that we shouldn’t bother you as you were busy’, Amanda added.

Eloise bit her tongue to keep herself from launching into an angry tirade. The guts of that woman. She was glad she was gone, elsewise she’d be clawing her eyes out.

‘I’m never too busy for you. You’re my first priority’, Phillip stammered.

‘What’s a priority?’ Oliver asked.

‘It means you’re the most important things for him’, Penelope explained. ‘Which means that whatever he is doing, he will stop for you.’

Phillip nodded.

‘Even if you’re busy?’ Amanda asked.

‘Even then.’

‘Even when you’re outside?’ Oliver tested.

Eloise looked at him, curious as to how he would respond to having his only escape compromised.

He pushed his hair back.

‘Even then. If you need me, I’ll be there. Of course, there’s a house full of people ready to help you as well though. You have your nurses, your tutors, the servants …’

He looked away from his children then, towards Penelope and Eloise with a questioning look.

‘And us’, Penelope said. The children turned to face Penelope. ‘You have me and Eloise as well when you’re sad or hurt or anything.’

Although the children seemed to recover from the whole ordeal rather quickly, them being so young, their suffering so short and their assurance of support so overwhelming, Phillip did not seem so capable of shaking it off.

So after dinner and the after dinner get-together, when Penelope retired for sleep, Eloise tried to draw it out of him.

‘Everything alright?’ she asked, sitting down beside him on the couch with a glass of wine. The position rather hurt her back, but she tried to keep it in.

He threw her an incredulous look from underneath his eyebrows.

‘I’m sorry it happened.’

‘If I can’t be blamed, then you really couldn’t have done a thing about it.’

‘I could have asked the children what they meant when they said they disliked her.’

‘Perhaps I should ask them their opinions on all nurses, just to be safe’, Phillip reasoned.

‘It’s never unwise to ask their opinion’, Eloise agreed.

‘I should have been mindful to ask references. Surely, this can’t have been the first time she did such a thing. You already said it was odd a woman of her age was still seeking employment so far from her own county without being able to produce recommendations from former employers.’

‘Well, nobody ever told you to pay attention to that. I doubt it’s a mistake you’ll make twice.’

‘Indeed.’

He shook his head.

‘In a month it’ll be seven years since I inherited the title… And every day I’m still discovering new things I feel I ought to have known.’

‘You would have known, had you been taught. And if it is any comfort, Anthony was raised as heir his entire life and he still made plenty of mistakes in his first few years whenever my mother didn’t keep an eye on him and offered him a guiding hand. It requires a lot of knowledge and experience.’

‘It’s a real job, even though it doesn’t seem like one. I’m sure many have clerks and secretaries to arrange it all but I’m doing it all and feel rather spread thin. And then I naively think because I’m doing a lot that I’m doing everything I have to.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why not take a secretary to take some of the burden off of you? Then you’ll have more time to learn, more time to do what you believe is important, and they’re trained in these things.’

‘Never considered it really’, he admitted. ‘I thought I should be able to handle everything, except the legal stuff.’

Eloise laughed. ‘That was probably a wise decision.’

He threw her a stern look.

‘Are you insinuating I wouldn’t be able to do that?’

‘I’m just saying you’ve got to play into your strengths. You don’t look like you have a head for legal matters.’

‘No, just all the documents concerning the inheritance already made my brain feel like moss.’

‘Of course you would compare it to that’, Eloise laughed.

‘Well, what would you compare it to?’

‘Cotton, like all sane people, you silly botanist.’

Phillip gave her a dark look, before his expression neutralised again. ‘Yes, I suppose I have been rather silly from time to time.’

‘Hey, don’t take my jokes as honest critiques. I was trying to cheer you up, not make you feel down.’

He had nothing to say about that.

‘I feel I should have noticed.’

‘Phillip…’

‘You heard how she called them? She said it was my doing.’

‘She was a nasty old hag cursing everyone responsible for firing her, that was it. Don’t look for much behind it.’

She took his hand.

‘Truly.’

‘I heard them’, he muttered, looking away as he took her hand. ‘I heard them whimpering as I walked past… decided to inspect. She didn’t even hear as I opened the door. The switch was still gone but she used a ruler to beat them. Hard enough to hurt them, too light to leave marks I could see.’

‘I could kill her for that.’

‘As long as I’d get the first and the last punch’, he said.

Eloise laughed, shaking his hand. ‘It’s a deal.’

He smiled, shaking his head at her.

‘You know how to throw a punch?’

‘How to throw a punch, how to shoot, how to tie a person to a chair, I can do it all.’

‘Shoot?’

‘Yep, best shot of the family, to the dislike of all my brothers. They never invite me when they go. Say I’m spoiling it. The last few times they didn’t even try to shoot well so they wouldn’t feel the loss so much.’

‘Sounds like a bunch of sore losers’, he said.

‘Really?’

‘Of course. Whoever is hurt by another doing well must be very insecure and childish. Especially when it comes to hobbies instead of jobs. It’s not like one person shooting well means the other won’t be able to shoot something. There’ll always be enough targets or preys, so to throw a fit over it…’ he shrugged.

‘Would you let me shoot?’

‘Shoot what?’ he asked carefully.

She scowled at him.

‘You. No, a target of course. Would you still be so graceful if you lost from me?’

He shrugged.

‘I’m a fair shot. But what do I care that I’m not the best at something I do maybe once a year?’

Eloise beamed at him. ‘We should go shooting.’

‘What? Now? Can’t we wait until the hunting season?’

‘We can wait, of course’, Eloise agreed.

Phillip nodded.

And after some silence, he softly tugged on her hand.

‘How are you today? You’ve been up more than a bit.’

‘I’m not great but…’

However, as she shrugged, her muscled screamed in pain, and her wince told him enough.

‘Come, lay down’, he said, slipping off the sofa while still holding her hand.

‘Oh you mother hen’, Eloise sighed, laying down on the pillow.

She tugged on his hand, putting them on her chest.

‘Better?’

‘A little’, she admitted.

‘Wouldn’t want to appear as anything less than tough’, he said.

‘Because I’m rough’, she laughed as he bent forward.

‘Certainly. Threatening to tackle that ghastly woman down the stairs like a feral cat’, he smiled before he kissed her.

His free hand moved to the side of her head, cupping her cheek so he could kiss her deeper, her name tumbling from his lips as he took a breath before pressing a new kiss on her lips. He became more adamant, a tingling feeling spreading across her body. She reached out to lay her arm around him.

And at that moment, they heard a stumbling down the hallway. Eloise froze.

Sir Phillip paused, hovering above her.

‘What was that?’

Argumentative voices grew louder by the second, accompanied by a heavy footfall.

A forceful stream of invective was followed by a yelp of terror that could only have come from the butler.

And then Eloise knew.

‘Oh, dear God.’

‘What is it?’ he asked.

Phillip had no idea what meddlesome, diabolical invaders he was going to have to meet, but Eloise had distinguished the three voices she least wanted to hear at this moment, and in this situation.

Her name was shouted. The blood drain from her body. It was too late to get up, too late to prepare Phillip for what was about to happen. She only managed to pull back her hands, muttering, ‘My brothers’, before the door flew open.

Chapter Text

‘What the hell!’ one shouted as they all barged in. Another flew towards them in a cloud of rushing riding coats, ripping Phillip away from him and pinning him to the floor, a hand on his throat.

Eloise should have been able to predict this really. It was more than negligent that she hadn’t considered her brothers would be angry instead of relieved when they heard Lord Lacye was a liar and could inform society of her real engagement.

‘Anthony!’ Eloise cried, but her big brother kept his vicelike grip on Phillip, who had the good sense to abstain from fighting back. She pushed herself up with discomfort.

‘I swear it isn’t what it looks like.’

‘It sure as hell better doesn’t!’ he growled.

‘I’m trying to save you from one bloody engagement due to your stupid virtue-risking antics only to find you’re courting a second!’ he cried.

There was no reasoning with Anthony when he was like this, she looked up at her two other brothers, both being useless at the door as Anthony had already taken down the enemy.

‘Benedict, stop him!’

Her brother, her best friend, her best shot, bit his lip as he watched Phillip’s face redden.

God, she was going to have to meddle herself then.

She winced as she got up a bit more. She’d have to tackle Anthony off of Phillip.

‘You’re hurt?’ Benedict then asked.

‘Yes, stairs’, Eloise groaned.

And then her second brother flew down to Sir Phillip.

‘You let my sister get hurt as your guest?’ he hissed.

Eloise slapped her forehead. Wasn’t there a sensible man present?

‘Stop it!’ she screamed, keeping her voice just low enough to keep the children and Penelope from rising.

She let herself fall down on her two brothers, elbowing both of them in the sides until they fell to the sides of Phillip, although Anthony’s hands were still around his throat. She bent forward, biting his hands.

‘Fucking fuck!’ Anthony cried, finally letting go.

‘Well you could have listened the first time!’ Eloise cried, staring him down. Anthony stared her down unblinkingly before shaking his head to get his hair from in front of his eyes.

‘You’re the most frustrating sister I ever had the displeasure of having to defend’, he growled.

‘Well you needn’t bother!’ she hissed. ‘Why even defend me from an engagement I planned in the first place?’

Anthony raised his eyebrows, sitting back so he sat on his knees, arms crossed, before he let his gaze slide down.

The room became quiet. And in that moment, Eloise looked down herself. Phillip looked up awkwardly, straddled between her legs. Right. That was something that would require some honour-defending behaviour.

‘Wel, ahum. Gentlemen, brothers, let’s talk about this in a civil manner, please?’

‘Civil? After you bit and scratched like a feral cat?’ Colin laughed.

Eloise looked at Anthony, and saw her teeth indented in his wrist. Whoops.

‘That’s rich. We come all the way down here because we were, as you so kindly asked us to do, correcting the rumours as fast as we could by announcing you were engaged to another, and could thus not have entertained an engagement with Lord Lacye. And when we went to mother for dinner, telling her the news, little Hyacinth said she’d had a conversation with her appointed Featherington best friend, saying she was confused what Sir Crane you were marrying as Penelope had just written to her sister about the very recent death of a Lady Crane. Who also happened to have this address.’

‘And then mother said that you always came here because the man was married and all was safe due to his wife’, Benedict added.

‘Is that a two week old widower underneath your legs, which are not in an improper position at all, according to you?’ Anthony asked, venom lacing his every word.

And then Eloise’s anger reached a boiling point. Yes, it was a bad look. Yes, this was all a mess. And yes, if anyone knew of this she would be ruined. But no one knew except her family. And no one had to know. Even so, they just barged in here knowing nothing of the situation, jumping straight to conclusions and accusations, meddling in a way she loathed.

‘So what if he was? What are you going to do? Challenge my fiancé? I’m going to marry him, I won’t let you challenge him.’

‘Any idea what could happen not only to you but to your unwed sisters if the rumour surfaced you were doing…. This… with a recent widower? You might be ruining all your sisters’ chances of getting married.’ Anthony asked.

‘First of all, I wouldn’t be sitting on top of him if you hadn’t tried to strangle him. Excuse me for trying to help him. Second, we’ve only ever kissed. But even if we did more, what were you going to do about it? And what right have you to judge?’

Eloise let out a laugh. ‘It’s rich really, because based on the way your wife blushed and managed to educate Francesca, I’d say you must’ve bed every prostitute in London to gather the information you held when you entered the marriage bed.’

Anthony paled.

‘And you come in here, daring to shame me for kissing the man I’m going to marry in a private drawing room? Let he who is without fault throw the first stone.’

‘You – ‘

‘Alright’, Benedict said, crawling upright and moving to Eloise. ‘Just for my sanity, get off the man and let’s have a civil conversation… with a drink.’

‘And something to eat perhaps,’ Colin said, ‘we’ve been riding for a rather long time.’

Benedict hooked his hands underneath her armpits and hoisted her upwards.

‘Careful’, Phillip warned, speaking his first words as he crawled up to support her. ‘She fell down a flight of stairs. She’s still in pain.’

Him and Benedict helped Eloise into a stance.

‘Okay?’ he asked her.

‘Okay.’

By the time he turned back towards the room, the atmosphere appeared to have changed, Colin and Anthony were now looking at Phillip with curiosity instead of hostility.

‘You fell?’

‘Why would he lie?’ Eloise asked, nodding at Phillip.

‘How did that happen? You’re a lot of things but not clumsy.’

Eloise shot Phillip a questioning look. Phillip sighed, probably accepting that the truth was necessary but not a good look.

‘You can tell them the truth.’

‘His children spun a wire to chase away a nanny, but I fell for it instead.’

Colin couldn’t supress a chuckle, probably remembering the trap wire he’d set for Eloise in 1804.

‘He’s got children?’ Anthony’s eyes softened as he took in a fellow father with similar duties.

‘Two. Twins’, Phillip explained.

‘Four kids?’ Colin gasped.

‘No, you idiot. There was a pause between the two. Two dot, further explanation: the two are twins’, Benedict sighed.

‘My felicitations,’ Anthony murmured.

‘Thank you,’ Phillip answered, feeling rather old and weary in that moment. ‘Sympathies are probably more to the point.’

Anthony looked at him curiously, almost—but not quite—smiling before he straightened his back again.

‘Let’s start at the beginning’, Anthony then decided.

Wine and quick foods were ordered as they all sat down, Eloise wisely sitting down beside Benedict and allowing Phillip the one single chair in the room.

‘Eloise, let’s start with you. As all recent issues did’, Anthony smiled. Eloise swallowed, when he was being polite and sharp at the same time, she knew she had to watch her step.

‘Listen. I’m sorry it became a bit messy. It wasn’t my plan, but I had to improvise as men decided to make my life difficult once again.’

‘We were in London. Hyacinth and I were just enjoying our day, Lord Lacye came, I feared he’d propose. I thought we’d be done in five minutes and nothing could happen during the refusal of a proposal. I didn’t have the heart to tell him; “No, I hate you”. So I said; why not try getting to know each other by talking a bit every now and then? You know. We could be friends, we could be whatever. But it seemed kind, especially as he already struggles to speak enough as it is. Turns out despite being so shy he’s got quite a creative loose tongue’, Eloise huffed.

‘Anyways, so I got a letter of Sir Phillip saying his wife was ill, the wife Penelope was good friends with, and we immediately left to see if we could support Marina and the children who were at that point down to one nanny.’

Colin perked up at the name. ‘Marina? Marina Thompson?’

‘That was her name, yes’, Sir Phillip said, turning at Colin with a confused expression. Colin turned pale.

‘But she was – ‘ Colin spluttered, remembering those dark days and the drama that surrounded them.

The room quieted down. ‘You know she – ‘

‘It was of my brother.’

Colin’s eyes grew wide.

‘Wait wait, just so I’m following… This… wife… was the girl you got engaged with and planned to run away with. And you married her because she’d been with your brother?’ Anthony asked, looking from Colin to Sir Phillip.

Sir Phillip drew back in his chair.

‘You planned on running away with her?’ he asked Colin.

‘I stopped that plan the morning it was meant to happen’, he admitted.

‘So the children…’ Anthony muttered.

‘They’re my children in every way that matters’, Philip answered coldly.

Anthony slotted his fingers together.

Eloise was curious to know what he thought. Anthony always appreciated a fellow father, but more than anything he appreciated someone who did right by their family and duty. And Benedict too grew soft, a tenderness in his eyes when he heard how embraced and accepted what should have been bastard children, thinking, without a doubt, of his wife. And Colin, Colin was as white as a sheet.

‘Soooo… We came here and she was already dead’, Eloise said.

‘She died?’ Colin asked.

‘She almost drowned. I saved her but she didn’t recover.’

‘But who swims in this month?’ Benedict asked. ‘Not even I’m crazy enough for that.’

Everyone remained silent. Eloise really didn’t want them to pick up on that topic.

‘Pen and I came here only to take care of the children and offer our support. We knew that with Marina gone we technically needed a chaperone but figured that as there were two of us ladies, and a bunch of servants, we could cover for each other until the children had the necessary amount of nurses, and then go home. But so here’s where some backstory needs to be cleared up. Phillip and Marina married, as you might have guessed by now, so his brother’s children could get his name and his beloved would be taken care of. They were properly married, and I was just a friend accompanying Penelope here every time she visited Marina. And as she spent quality time with her, we kind of struck up a friendship. I was the stupid cow who developed feelings like a year ago but he was married so I kept it shut…’

‘I developed feelings but I was married and wouldn’t betray my wife so I kept it shut as well’, Phillip admitted.

‘So we were both keeping it shut, not showing anything not even to each other, but some days after Marina died we just… You know.’ They really didn’t need to know it was the same day Eloise arrived and before Marina was even buried.

Her brothers winced. Anthony gulped down his entire goblet of wine.

‘Not like that, you perverts’, she accused.

‘But we weren’t planning on getting engaged anytime soon. Mourning, you know? But so that’s when news of Lord Lacye hit us. Penelope reasoned that if saying the engagement

didn’t happen didn’t work, perhaps a reason why I couldn’t even have said yes to Lord Lacye could be the solution. We didn’t have to give people an explicit timeline, after all. Just: Eloise can’t have said yes, she was already planning on marrying someone else.’

‘It did work’, Benedict shrugged. ‘Most were embarrassed when they heard they’d been spreading untrue gossip.’

Eloise nodded.

‘So we agreed we’d get engaged much sooner, as gentlemen can get married immediately after their wives die, for the children and all that. Not that we wanted to rush anything but… Well. Can’t always choose how life plays out.’

‘So I couldn’t have told any of you about this since a, he was married until a couple of weeks ago and b, we never really courted, we’d planned on courting in the future but we just skipped straight to the engagement part. So I reasoned we could have a long engagement’, Eloise concluded.

‘She also reasoned that if anyone asked why I would marry so fast, we could give them the practical reason that I and my children were already acquainted with her and that I was looking to find a mother for them. My children, as you will come to realize should you remain long enough to meet them, can be rather, er, rambunctious. I’d been hoping she would be a calming influence on them and that they would get along, as they already did prior to my wife’s death.’

‘Eloise?’ Benedict snorted. ‘I can think of so many adjectives for her. Lively, challenging, opinionated, annoying, but calming? Now that would be at the bottom of the list.’

‘Your sister,’ Phillip said, his voice coming off sharper than Eloise had ever heard him unless it was aimed at Nurse Edwards, ‘has been a marvellous influence upon my children. You would do well not to disparage her in my presence.’

‘Oh I’m not disparaging her. She’s great with my son, and all her cousins, but calming isn’t the term’, Benedict rushed to say.

Anthony was intently looking at Phillip, analysing him, observing every micro-expression.

Eloise crossed her arms, looking at Anthony. ‘Now judge me for what I did.’

Anthony looked back at her. ‘We need to talk.’

He rose, coming over and offering her his arm.

‘Everyone else, stay put’, he ordered as he walked her out.

‘Alright, where to? Because we’re not having its conversation in the hall.’

‘The library, I guess’, Eloise decided, leading him in.

The two sat down on a couple of chairs, a desk safely wedged between them.

‘You know, we could have all discussed together how to get out of this scandal. I admit that as telling people it was a falsehood didn’t work, and cornering Lacye didn’t work, we’d have an issue with your reputation as damaged goods. But we could have worked it out together. We could have found a suitable man for you, you didn’t have to jump on the first man available for our sake’, Anthony spoke calmly. ‘And now we cannot get you out of this one, I’m afraid, as we had to spread the news and now that we found out you’ve been living with him without a chaperone… that’s too damning.’

‘And settle for a man of your choosing instead of one I chose myself? One who would expect me to be this perfect little wife who was pretty and polite and focussed only on motherhood and playing cards? Anthony, I could never do that. I’ve been searching for men in London for years. I had ambitions. I want to be able to publish my books, work on my projects, travel. Sir Phillip he… he knows me. He accepts me like that. So yes, I chose him before we could talk something out. And sure, there was no chaperone. So go on, chastise me, but know you're putting the blame entirely on the wrong person. I would have never gotten caught up in this situation. Indeed, you never would have even known I was here without a chaperone if Lord Lacye hadn’t spread that rumour! He’s the only one to blame!’

Anthony remained silent despite Eloise’s outburst, only watching the way she was leaning over the desk, teeth bared, until she calmed down enough to sit back into her chair. In that moment she did feel like a naughty daughter sent to her father’s office. Despite his initial anger, he appeared to have settled into a calmer temper now.

He isn’t in brother mode now, he’s in patriarch mode, Eloise realized.

‘So you chose him yourself not only because you didn’t have another choice and happened to know him?’

‘I thought that was clear when I told you we kissed. I wanted to be together with him. That was before we got engaged. Actually, I planned to I don’t know… court one another from the moment it was a bit more acceptable, get into an engagement after. Didn’t plan on getting engaged before the year of mourning was almost over’, Eloise shrugged.

Explaining it made her realize how much she hadn’t planned this through. Even during her miscommunication with Phillip she didn’t know exactly what kind of relationship she’d wanted to have with him before any official courtship. She had thought it had been a solution, but it would have required a year of visits with chaperones for her and Penelope. And they only could start writing to each other again once they were engaged, which meant no writing for a year. She wouldn’t have survived that. And before they were even courting, before they were engaged even, no kissing or being alone together was technically allowed. She had been crossing boundaries.

‘Mhm. You do see that if you had gambled incorrectly, and stepped into this relationship only to find out that between being friends and being spouses there was a world of difference… and the demands he set for a wife were very different to the ones he set for a friend what would you have done? Eloise, had you been in trouble, we wouldn’t have gotten you out of this engagement after you had kissed him and spent weeks under his roof without a chaperone.’

She knew he had a point, but she also felt injured that Anthony barged in on her peaceful evening believing the worst about her judgement and her future happiness. She was to be twenty-four. She wasn’t a stupid little girl.

‘Anthony, I’ve known him for seven years. Allow me to believe I know what type of person and what type of husband he is. He would let his wife cheat on him if that made her happy, for heaven’s sake! Such a man wouldn’t force his will upon me.’

Anthony’s eyes grew wide.

‘Not that she did! Or he did, for that matter’, Eloise quickly said.

‘Alright’, Anthony then decided. ‘Since you are certain of him – not that we would have been able to undo the engagement even if you were – here are your choices. You can marry him in one week, or you can marry him in two.’

‘Excuse me, what?’

‘Did you expect me to suggest an alternative?’ he asked mildly. ‘I suppose we might stretch it to three, given a sufficiently compelling reason.’

She hated when he spoke like that, as if he were reasonable and wise, and she were nothing more than a recalcitrant child. It was far better when he ranted and raved. Then, at least, she could pretend he was mad in the head and she was a poor, beleaguered innocent.

‘I don’t see why you would object. After all you claim to know him exceedingly well, to trust him to be a good husband, and to be completely smitten with him.’

‘Yes but… no! Anthony, his wife just died. And if we marry in a week, or two, or even three… People will think something scandalous happened and it will be a shotgun wedding!’

‘Well’, Anthony said patiently, folding his hands. ‘Does kissing each other at indecent hours of the night, and sleeping under his roof unchaperoned not qualify as scandalous? Do your current living arrangements give no possibility for a scandalous baby to occur? Even if you came here with a chaperone, sister, people in London were already willing to force you down the aisle on the rumour of having said yes to an engagement. That was without the rumours of opportunities to kiss or do more than that. Your reputation was already questioned mildly.’

She reckoned it did. But she still objected.

‘Does anyone know I was gone?’ she quickly asked. ‘Outside the family, that is.’

‘Not yet,’ he admitted, ‘but someone will find out. Someone always finds out.’

‘Anthony,’ Eloise said, and his name came out like a plea, even though she had no idea what it was she was pleading for.

He turned to her, his dark eyes blazing, the force of his stare so violent that it was only then that she realized she ought to have been grateful he’d been pretending to be calm.

But when he spoke, his voice was even and controlled. ‘I laud your quick problem solving. I must admit you were correct in guessing an engagement would quiet down the rumours. However, given that as people know you are out of town, and know you got engaged very recently, it will not take a great sleuth to discover that you could only be proposed to when you met up with this person. And since your little sister, and Miss Featherington’s little sister, are openly talking about the two of you being here, news will soon get out that you were proposed to while under his roof. Everyone will know your reputation was compromised.’

‘But to rush an engagement would be to admit to it.’

‘Do you think, Eloise, this is my first turn around the block? Your sister got herself in quite the mess, kissing Hastings in the maze while someone oversaw. So she had to marry, and was within less than two weeks. Benedict managed to go without scandal, but it wasn’t because he hadn’t compromised Sophie.’

Eloise swallowed.

‘And I had to marry within the week because my wife and I were caught in a compromising position by the biggest bloody gossip in England. Because of. A. Bloody. Bee. I didn’t even love her back then, or if I did, I didn’t know. We’d had less than fifteen conversations all together. All of us, except Francesca, had rushed engagements and all of us were still able to save our face in the eyes of society by making it appear as if it were planned out of eagerness instead of scandal.’

Well, at least Eloise would fall nicely in line with her family, if that was any comfort.

‘So unless you have any reason to wait, knowing it might give an opportunity for gossip to rise, I suggest you name it. I will not force you if you have a valid reason. But please, if all reasons you have are mourning and the idea your hasty engagement will be looked at with a side eye, do let that slide.’

When Eloise did not smile, Anthony lifted a corner of his mouth. ‘Don’t forget, you’re Eloise Bridgerton. When was the last time you let society dictate what you could do?’

That at least, managed to draw a smile from her.

‘There’s no reason’, she admitted.

‘I thought not’, Anthony said.

Her heart beat wildly within her chest. She didn’t feel ready to be married within the week. She had just been on the wildest ride of her life, going from believing she was going to be a spinster forever, to believing she had a shot at love, to reconciling herself to being engaged. She was just wrapping her head around being a fiancée. The idea of being kicked out of the nest in less than a week, and put into Romney Hall so far removed from her mother forever, was nausea inducing.

‘I’d always planned on leaving the nest,’ she muttered, ‘but I always thought I’d have time for flying lessons and mental preparation first.’

‘Haven’t you gotten used to the idea? You’ve been out for six years.’

‘Yes but… I’d resigned myself to being alone forever, as… the one time I thought myself in love was with a married man. I haven’t reconciled to being a married woman yet. I think I wanted marriage, at least for a year or four now. That kind of companionship seemed… lovely. But now it’s all so rushed and so messy. I just..'

She looked up at Anthony, aware that Anthony had to see her tears rolling down her cheeks, but not wanting him to see her tears, nonetheless. ‘It’s just that I—I’d wanted—'

Then Anthony rose up, and pulled her out of her chair into an embrace.

‘What did you want, Eloise?’

‘I wanted a nice marriage. I’ve written about marriages for years. I waited and waited for years to find the right one. I felt like I deserved to take my time enjoying being single. That I deserved to be picky. And, in the end, that I deserved to be very happy and have a beautiful marriage. And now I feel that though I’ll have all I wanted… It’s still being forced on me, and being made rushed and unpleasant by society. I wanted to be the one calling the shots. This is my marriage, I wanted to have control over it.’

‘Eloise. Life never happens to you. Trust me on this. I’ve watched you grow up, had to be your father at times when I wanted only to be your brother. You happen to life, Eloise. You’ve always made your own decisions, always been in control. It might not always feel that way, but it’s true. Just look at the facts. You started writing even though that wasn’t a thing anyone expected of a woman, not even you. You appeared to become an expert on literature overnight. You refused six offers of marriage because you refused to settle. You even refused Lord Lacye. And when he tried to outplay you, when society tried to pressure you… you turned around and chose the only person you ever wanted as a husband. You’re going to marry the person you want. The only thing you have no control over is the time, but believe me, nobody ever feels ready when they walk down the aisle.’

She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head as she said, ‘I just tried to work my way out of a stupid scandal with a little plan.’

‘And maybe,’ Anthony said quietly, ‘you’ll find that it was indeed a good plan. Sir Phillip seems an honourable sort.’

‘You were able to deduce this while you had your hands wrapped around his throat?’

He shot her a superior look. ‘You’d be surprised what men can deduce about one another while fighting.’

‘You call that fighting? It was four against one!’

He shrugged. ‘I never said it was fair fighting.’

‘You wouldn’t have won in a fair fight. He’s a boxer. He wasn’t fighting back.’

Anthony raised an eyebrow. ‘He boxes?’

Eloise nodded, smirking. ‘Seen him break the nose of Wescott when he tried to force himself on me, and saw him take down another man.’

Anthony paled. ‘And just… What does he do on the regular?’

‘Oh, he’s a botanist.’

Anthony’s eyebrows rose up to his hair.

‘Very well,’ Anthony said, his brisk tone signalling a change of topic. ‘Here is what we are going to do.’

‘You will pack your bags immediately and we will all travel to My Cottage and remain there for a week.’

Eloise nodded. My Cottage was not too far from Romney Hall in Wiltshire. It wasn’t a particularly large home, but it was comfortable, and there was certainly enough room for a few extra Bridgertons. But…

‘If, at the end of the week, I determine that he is good enough to marry my sister, you will do so. Immediately.’

‘You’re certain you can judge the measure of a man’s character in one week?’

'It rarely takes longer,' Anthony stated. 'And if I’m unsure, we’ll merely wait another sennight. Do we understand each other?’

‘I would like two weeks to get used to the idea.’

Anthony let out an annoyed sigh.

‘And your plan has a flaw.’

‘Does it?’

‘Yes! What about Penelope?’

‘Penelope?’

‘Yes, the best friend I’m here with? Who’s sleeping upstairs? My Cottage currently has two guest bedrooms free, as one extra has already been transformed into a new baby room and Posy and Hugh and their children are currently occupying two others there since Sophie is about to go into labour any day now. I figure you and Colin might share a room but…’

Anthony’s face scrunched up at the thought of sharing a bedroom with Colin.

‘And then you would also be putting a single woman who isn’t family in a house with a bachelor man.’

Not that it wouldn’t be a clever move to put Penelope and Colin in one house and spread a rumour, in fact it sounded quite genius and perhaps her stupid brother would then finally see the merits of her best friend, but she knew Anthony would not let that happen.

He shook his head.

‘No indeed. I take that leaves only one other possibility.’

‘Being?’

‘I’m going to have to spend the week here.’

Oh dear. That wasn’t good. She was in for one hell of an awkward week.

‘Shall we return to the dining room?’ Anthony queried. ’Before Colin eats our host out of house and home.'

Eloise nodded. ‘Either that, or they’ve all killed him by now.’

Anthony paused to consider that. ‘It would save me the expense of a wedding.’

‘Anthony!’

Anthony just smiled and winked. ‘Come along, now. Let’s make sure your Sir Phillip still resides among the ranks of the living.’

‘And then,’ Benedict was saying as Anthony and Eloise re-entered the dining room, ‘the tavern wench arrived and she had the biggest—'

‘Benedict!’ Eloise exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. Really, of all her siblings, she’d expected this the least from him.

Benedict looked over at his sister with a supremely guilty expression, yanked back his hands, which were demonstrating the size of what was clearly an impossibly endowed female, and muttered, ‘Sorry.’

‘You’re married,’ Eloise scolded.

‘But not blind,’ Colin said with a grin.

‘I’ll pity whatever unfortunate creature you’ll ever marry’, Eloise sighed.

‘Surely, married women would understand. I’m sure Daphne and Kate still have eyes and are able to tell which men have handsome assets.’

‘Ass-ets?’ Benedict asked with a grin.

‘Not where non-family members are present, Benedict’, Anthony warned.

Benedict looked in alarm to Phillip. ‘He’ll be family soon enough.’

Well, if that was the state of affairs, all would be well. And all clearly was well, as none of them were supporting fresh bruises. They mustn’t have fought after all.

She then turned to Anthony.

‘You’ll comment on remarks on men’s bodies but not on their superficial comments about women?’ she demanded to know

‘But it’s true’, admitted Anthony. ‘I saw it myself.’

Eloise gasped as she looked from brother to brother, looking for some sane spot in this cesspool of madness. Her eyes fell on Phillip, who, by the looks of him, not to mention his slightly inebriated state, had formed a lifelong bond with her brothers during the short time she’d been closeted away with Anthony.

‘Sir Phillip?’ she asked, waiting for him to say something acceptable.

But he just offered her a loopy grin. ‘I know who they’re talking about. Been to that inn any number of times. Lucy’s quite famous in these parts.’

‘Even I’ve heard of her,’ Benedict said, with a knowing nod. ‘I’m only an hour away on horseback. Less, if you push hard. But it’s too far for a casual visit, even before I was married. But you… you live quite close-by. Did you ever?’ he asked, looking at Phillip.

But Phillip just shook his head. ‘She’s married,’ he said. ‘As was I.’ As if that was all there was to it. But to be honest, that kind of was all there was to it for him. If not even love or the permission of his wife could seduce him into breaking his vows.

Anthony turned to Eloise and whispered in her ear, ‘He’ll do.’

‘I’m glad you have such high standards for your beloved sister,’ she muttered.

‘I told you, I’ve seen Lucy. This is a man with restraint.’

She planted her hands on her hips and looked her older brother squarely in the eye. ‘Were you tempted?’

‘Of course not! Kate would slit my throat.’

‘I’m not talking about what Kate would do to you if you strayed, although I’m of the opinion that she would not start at your throat—'

Anthony winced. He knew it was true.

‘—I want to know if you were tempted.’

‘No. But don’t tell anyone. I used to be considered something of a rake, after all. Wouldn’t want people to think I was completely tamed.’

‘You’re appalling.’

He grinned. ‘Yes. Though I will have you know that unlike what you believe I did not bed every whore in London. Not even a fourth. I was selective. And besides, my wife still loves me to distraction, which is all that really matters, isn’t it? So I’m fine with you thinking I’m appaling.’

Eloise supposed he was right. She sighed. ‘What are we going to do about them?’ She motioned to the three men sitting around the dining room table, which was littered with empty dishes. Colin was still chewing on a chicken thigh.

‘I think I’ve deserved to join them and have a bite’, he decided. ‘Then I’ll kick them out.’

The conversation had thankfully moved on from Lucy and her tremendous bosoms, and now they were talking about boxing. Or at least that’s what she assumed they were talking about. Phillip was demonstrating some sort of hand manoeuvre to Benedict. It appeared her other brothers had also learned he boxed in his college days.

Then he punched him in the face. Anthony did not look alarmed at this, and just continued eating.

‘So sorry,’ Phillip said, patting Benedict on the back. But Eloise noticed that the right corner of his mouth was curving ever so slightly into a smile. ‘Won’t hurt for long, I’m sure. My chin’s feeling better already.’

They had been beating each other after all?

‘Sir Phillip?’ Eloise said loudly. ‘Might I have a word?’

‘Of course,’ he said, standing up immediately. Phillip walked to her side.

‘Is something amiss?’

‘I was worried they were going to kill you,’ she hissed. He smiled at her, slowly, as if he had to figure out how to do that again.

‘I thought so as well. I supposed it would have been fair. But they didn’t.’

His breath smelled of wine.

‘Clearly, so what happened?’

He looked back over at the table. Anthony was eating the meagre scraps that Colin had left behind, Benedict had taken a seat again and was now tipping back in his chair, trying to balance it on two legs. Colin was licking chicken juice from his fingers.

Phillip turned back to her and shrugged.

‘Nothing happened? Now I don’t believe that. You were talking about your chin hurting.’

‘Oh yes. Well, it’s just difficult to explain really. Funny thing. I asked them to break my legs. It seemed to break the ice.’

‘Aha’, Eloise muttered, then she wondered how long she’d been using Phillip’s ah’s, uhm’s, clearly’s, I-see’s and I-gather’s as replies to comments. They were that far down their relationship she was taking over his horrible manners.

‘Marina was buried with her ring’, he then said, blowing her out of the field.

‘What?’ Eloise demanded to know.

‘We’ll have to marry,’ he slowly said as if he were speaking to someone dumb.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘They really will break my legs if I don’t.’

‘That’s not all they would do,’ she grumbled,

‘So, I cannot give you an engagement ring or a wedding ring at present. I’ll have to look for one.’

‘Might persuade Anthony to give us a two week engagement’, Eloise thought.

‘What?’ Phillip now asked in confusion.

‘He wants us to marry within a week. I think he’s seeing things a bit simplistic. Just procuring a special license requires one to ride a full day to London and a full day back. And then there’s the practical things still to arrange like my stuff being brought over and rings and…’

‘I see’, he said slowly, in that way men do when they are trying to cover up the fact that they’re not sure what to say.

‘A week you said?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘How much wine have you drunk?’

‘Only three.’ He stopped, considered that. ‘Maybe four.’

‘Glasses or bottles?’

He didn’t seem to know the answer to that.

Eloise looked over at the table. There were four bottles of wine littered among the remains of supper. Three were empty.

‘I was gone for less than half an hour.’

He shrugged. ‘It was either drink with them or let them break my legs. It seemed a fairly straightforward decision.’

She couldn’t argue with that.

‘Anthony will be staying as a chaperone.’

‘Unconventional.’

‘It was either that or steal Penelope from her bed and throw her in one with me, while we camp out at My Cottage.’

‘You have a cottage as well? You didn’t inform me.’

Eloise slapped her head. She’d had enough of stupid men. Of the entire day really. Yelling at evil nurses and arguing with Anthony tended to drain one mentally.

‘Benedict’s house is called My Cottage. Get your brain out of the bottle.’

‘I should have written to your brother first’, Phillip only said, not replying to her.

‘It wouldn’t have changed a thing. He isn’t too angry. Well, not angry enough that either of us will get much more of a verbal or physical lashing than we already got.’

Phillip nodded.

‘Marina will be five days shy of being death a month if we marry next Saturday’, Phillip then said, coming back to what Eloise had said eight sentences ago.

‘I’ll try to bargain for another week tomorrow. Right now, I’m too tired.’

Phillip nodded. ‘You’re still healing. Your body needs rest.’

Eloise didn’t hold in her eyeroll. For all he complimented her for being strong and stubborn he was terribly afraid of the slightest threat to her health. But given Marina had always been frail of health and not dead a month, she allowed him to fuzz.

‘I’m going to bed I think.’

‘Need support for the stairs?’ he asked.

‘I think I’ll find you dangling from the gatehouse if Anthony hears you’ll be following me upstairs.’

‘But do you need support?’ he asked, either genuinely not caring that Anthony might harm him or believing he’d be able to best Anthony.

Eloise rolled back her shoulders, cringing at the dull ache that throbbed against her shoulder blades. She didn’t want to admit she was in pain, it would make him feel more guilty. And then he’d be adamant he accompany her and she didn’t want Anthony to throw another fit.

Wait, why am I even caring? Wouldn’t it be marvellous to make Anthony go grey? He admitted to sleeping with more than two dozen whores. He admitted to almost all her siblings breaking the rules of propriety. Why should I  be the well-behaved exception? I should let Phillip escort me. What does it even matter, we’ll be married soon enough.

But then she looked at Sir Phillip’s worried but unsharp eyes. Perhaps another day, when he was sober and she had the energy to stand against Anthony. ‘

I’ll manage. I’ll just be slow and hold onto the railing.’

‘Alright guys, I’ll be off to bed now. See you soon enough, I guess!’ Eloise waved.

Chapter Text

The following morning was… awkward.

Eloise, who had a very exhausting night, overslept, so it was impossible for her to warn Penelope that Anthony Bridgerton would be at the breakfast table. Or so she thought.

When she rushed out of her room the following morning, she found Anthony was just one step down the stairs, and Sir Phillip was closing the door to his bedroom. Funny how that had worked out.

‘Well, I guess won’t be that late to breakfast’, Eloise said as a ways of greeting.

‘Didn’t hear you two come up last night.’

‘I can be quiet. I’m used to sneaking in’, Anthony said as if that did not sound horrible in and of itself.

‘To try and steal the Mallet of Death before Kate can?’

‘Yes’, Anthony said. ‘Amongst other reasons.

Sir Phillip stared at them in confusion.

‘It’s a very serious game we play at Aubrey Hall each year. You’ll get to know it soon enough’, she informed him.

‘It’s Pall Mall’, Anthony said in a more useful manner.

‘I see’, Sir Phillip said.

‘Shall we get to breakfast then?’ Anthony asked.

‘I can’t see why not’, Phillip said.

‘When did you go to bed?’ Eloise asked, descending the stairs together with him while her brother skipped down faster… because he hadn’t been assaulted by the children. Yet.

‘Uhm. I didn’t really look at the clock.’

Eloise raised her eyebrows. She’d heard that excuse a million times before.

‘Can you say how much later it was in bottle-time?’

Sir Phillip had the decency to look embarrassed. ‘I think three or so later but I had no part in those anymore.’

‘So you’re fine now?’ Eloise asked. She was surprised. He appeared quite hazy yesterday.

‘I’ve got a nasty headache’, he admitted.

‘Ah.’

Phillip appeared to continue to think as he helped her down the final part of the stairs.

‘It was not much later than two, because they still had to ride a while to get to that cottage.’

Anthony scraped his throat, waiting for them. ‘If you’ve got time. I don’t know the way.’

Phillip slipped past Anthony.

‘Right here.’

Phillip went in first. Eloise exchanged a look with Anthony, and picked up her skirts to run past him so she’d be in before.

‘Right. Uhm children, Miss Featherington. We have a guest who will be joining us this morning’, Phillip said.

Penelope looked up with great round eyes, a piece of egg falling off her fork.

Perhaps, over the years, they had grown too comfortable around the house, as Penelope sat at the breakfast table with a nightcap on her head through which her curlers could be seen. Eloise herself had only casually braided her hair. They always finished their toilette after breakfast, as one would at their own home.

Anthony decided enough had been said for him to appear, and stepped into the door opening.

Penelope shrieked, first almost crawling under the table before realizing that would do nothing. So she jumped up and curtsied.

‘Lord Bridgerton. What a… surprise.’

She shot Eloise an annoyed, pitying and worrying look. How she managed to unite three such emotions in one look, Eloise couldn’t tell.

‘I am just as surprised Miss Featherington, I didn’t plan on coming here after all’, Anthony spoke.

‘Children, this is Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton’s brother.’

The children looked at their father as if he’d sprouted an additional head.

‘Lord Bridgerton, these are Amanda and Oliver. My children.’

Anthony procured a very sweet and genuine smile. Eloise wondered where he hid that one, as it was rarely aimed at her or her siblings while they were growing up.

‘How do you do? Such handsome children you are, and tall.’

‘I’m taller than Oliver!’ Amanda said, quickly falling for the flattery.

Ai. She’d have to watch out for that one if the time came for her début. She’d be an easy prey for a rake.

‘Indeed’, Anthony smiled, but something in his eyes was off when he looked at the child. Eloise knew just what he saw. She was a paler version of Marina, practically identical.

‘That’s because she was born five minutes earlier’, Oliver protested, not knowing that while yes, being the elder was a valid reason to be taller, five minutes wouldn’t do the trick.

Eloise sat down in her trusty seat, as did Phillip. And for some reason, Anthony sat down in…

‘That was mommy’s chair’, Oliver said.

Anthony jumped as if shot, shooting Eloise a questioning eyebrow.

Eloise cringed. If anything it drove home the message that it was too soon to marry Phillip.

‘You can sit next to me’, Amanda offered.

‘Thank you’, he answered stiffly.

‘I was thinking about visiting Benedict today’, Anthony explained as the servants but down a plate and cutlery for him.

‘So that we may all get to know each other.’

‘I beg your pardon, Lord Bridgerton, but when did you arrive? I didn’t know we were to expect your company this morning?’ Penelope said, hopelessly trying to put some stray strands of her behind her ears.

‘I arrived yesterday evening. I erh, wanted to congratulate my sweet little sister on her engagement.’

Penelope cringed as much as Eloise.

‘I’m going to be a flowergirl’, Amanda smiled.

Anthony looked at the little girl.

‘Naturally’, he smiled. His gentleness with the children only highlighted the sarcasm that the adults in the room were subjected to when he spoke.

‘And I shall be your uncle then.’

‘Really? I never had an uncle. Well, technically I did. But it’s confusing’, the girl sighed.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, see. Daddy is my uncle. But my uncle is Father, but not in name and we cannot tell it.’

Phillip smacked his hand against his face on the other end of the table.

‘Oh, I see. It’s a secret then?’ Anthony asked, eyes glittering with amusement as he looked at Phillip.

Eloise reached out underneath the table and tapped her foot to Phillip’s in quiet support.

‘Yes. So I have two fathers. Or two uncles, I guess. It depends how you look at it’, Amanda said.

‘Per-spec-tive’, Oliver said, testing the syllables.

‘Yes, very good Oliver’, Penelope complimented him. The boy glowed. After running behind on his sister speech-wise for years, he was making great strides to make up for it.

‘And you’ll get four uncles extra now. Me, Benedict… Uhm… Colin, and Gregory. And three aunts.’

Colin… Eloise hadn’t given that overly much thought before. Becoming uncle to the children that had almost been his. He had looked quite… shaken, yesterday. She’d try and talk to him today. Oh, perhaps Penelope needed to know that Colin was involved.

‘That’s a lot’, Oliver said.

‘Indeed it is. A lot of very loud uncles and aunts with many screaming children. You’ll find yourself wishing for some quiet soon enough.’

‘I don’t think so’, Amanda said. ‘It’s always quiet here. It’s boring.’

Eloise forced herself to look at Phillip, and saw him closing his eyes in resignation and self-loathing. Home was where he felt most comfortable. And with Marina’s fatigues and fits, and the scandal, they could never go to many places. She knew how guilty he felt over the children being lonely. This only cemented his belief that he hadn’t offered them enough.

‘When do you plan to go, Lord Bridgerton?’ Penelope asked.

‘Oh. Perhaps after breakfast? Or after lunch?’ he asked.

‘After lunch, perhaps’, Phillip said. ‘The children already missed quite a bit of schooling the past few weeks.’

As if on cue, the maids appeared to take the children upstairs. When the doors closed, Anthony turned towards Phillip.

‘Do you want to take them?’

‘Did you wish I take them?’ he asked in return.

‘Perhaps,’ Anthony said, ‘it would be wise to leave them here for today at least. We will need to prepare Colin I think. Although hopefully seven years is enough to rid him of the fancy and emotional nonsense.’

Penelope stared at her plate, but Eloise was certain she’d heard her mutter an ‘I hope so too.’ But then a thought appeared to cross her mind, and her head snapped up.

‘Colin is here?’

‘He’s with Benedict. Who we’ll visit today. Yes’, Anthony said, pretending as if he didn’t notice Penelope’s interest.

‘Oh, I see. Wait. Did you all come here last night?’

‘With the way they barged in it’s a wonder they didn’t wake the entire household’, Eloise said.

‘Yet, it was not loud enough for you to hear in time to get yourself in a proper position’, Anthony snapped.

Eloise opened her mouth to protest when a servant girl asked if anyone else wanted tea. She quickly accepted and advised everyone to get another cup.

An hour later they were sitting in the drawing room. They sat down on the sofas covered in striped blue satin. The room was neat and clean, but the cleanliness couldn’t hide the faded colours of the drapes and sofas, the stains that couldn’t get out of the carpet anymore, the greasy fingerprints on the downside of the wallpapers. When she’d first entered this room eight years ago it had seemed fresh and modern, but now it had a neglectful quality to it. Most of the house had, actually, as if the inhabitants hadn’t cared about their environment at all. Eloise looked at Anthony and saw that he was analysing every part of the room to figure out its owner.

Kate and Daphne went to London to select new drapes and fresh wallpapers every couple of years, and when they didn’t make huge alterations, they still came home with new pillows, paintings, rugs and other kinds of decorations to freshen it up. And in the brief time Francesca had been married, she’d mastered the technique to make an antique room look classic instead of dated. She supposed it was her turn to become an interior architect now. Gods, some job she’d been stepping into. Marina and Phillip hadn’t bothered at all. Most rooms still looked the way Phillip’s horrid father had styled it… Or perhaps he hadn’t bothered either. In which case it still looked the way Phillip’s mother had styled everything. Eloise had to catch the house up with thirty years’ worth of style changes. She didn’t know where to start.

Although this was perhaps a good place to start. It was one of the most public spaces in the house. Visitors needed to be impressed more than the inhabitants. Perhaps a couch that hadn’t been sat through would be nice. Perhaps some delicate blue and lavender drapes? Lavender wasn’t the most stylish colour but she adored purple. Or a blue and yellow colour scheme? Definitely not a rug with so much white in it as the one they had now though, that got filthy in less than a day and always showed spots.

‘Eloise?’

Eloise blinked, floating down to earth again. The way Anthony looked at her told her that it hadn’t been the first time he’d said her name.

‘Yes?’

‘I asked about what we should write to mother?’

‘About?’

‘About you.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes, that’, Anthony sighed.

‘Two weeks, I suppose’, Eloise sighed.

Penelope didn’t look confused anymore, so Eloise assumed that during her overthinking, Anthony had updated Penelope on the newly imposed brevity of their engagement.

‘That was almost certain. The question is: who do you want to be there? Then mother can start on the invitations in your absence.’

‘My absence?’

‘Yes, you aren’t there now, are you? We need to hurry. They have to be sent before your wedding, and that will be very soon.’

‘Right’, Eloise sighed.

What followed was a long thirty minutes of her not being able to think of a name, then saying a name, and then Anthony asking questions about every family member of that person.

‘I’m grateful that Whistledown woman has stopped. She would have blown this out of all proportions’, Anthony said. ‘Without a doubt, she’d make it seem as if you walked to the aisle six weeks pregnant.’

‘I haven’t even been here for six weeks yet’, Eloise replied. ‘Whistledown rarely gets her facts wrong.’

Anthony’s face scrunched up in disgust. ‘Anyhow. Despite the smallness of the wedding, we’ll need to make it look good. So you’ll be coming to London with me in a day.’

‘A day?!’

‘Yes. Making a dress takes time. Gathering our family takes time. Sending invites takes time. So we have today. And then tomorrow morning we’ll arrange the wedding day breakfast. And then we’ll go back to London to make it look as if you aren’t sleeping in the same house.’

‘B-but the maids and – ‘ Eloise protested.

‘It’s fine, I’ve managed before’, Phillip replied.

She shot an exasperated look at her. That was the wrong answer. Now Anthony felt justified in stealing her away.

‘No worries, it is only for two weeks and then you’ll be back here’, Anthony replied with a sickeningly sweet smile.

He didn’t need to add the “forever” to the end of his sentence for Eloise to feel the full weight of the implication hanging over her.

Forever away from her mother.

Forever here in the dull backwater instead of London, because like hell she was going to get Phillip to the city.

Forever away from Penelope. Penelope, whom she’d spent every single bloody day with since she was sixteen. She’d just be taking Marina’s place, all isolated away from London, to be visited only once a year by her best friend. Who would she talk to? Who would she tell every single thought and every stupid joke she came up with. Was she to pick her drapes alone?

Her stomach turned.

Jezus, Mary, Joseph, Christ! She loved Sir Phillip but… leaving everything? How could she leave behind everything and everyone she’d spent the past twenty-four years with? How did anyone? Had they no love for their friends and family?

‘Eloise?’

That couldn’t be the only way, could it? And this was what all women were supposed to aspire to? How had Jane Austen portrayed such a thing in a perfect light?

Wait, she hadn’t.

There’d been married women who begged their friends and unmarried family members to come over all the time, like that one lady who took Louisa Bennet to Brighton. There were married couples who travelled the country and took along their family members and friends like the Gardiners. And Elinor, Marianne, Jane, Elizabeth and Emma all stayed close to home, within visiting distance. Well, Jane and Elizabeth did until they wanted to be further away from their parents and sisters. The only ones far away from their family were those who didn’t want to be close. But she didn’t get to choose that, did she?

‘Excuse me.’

Eloise got up.

‘I uhm… Need to prepare for this afternoon’, she managed to give as an excuse before fleeing the room.

‘So do I!’ Penelope said, going after her best friend.

‘Eloise, are you alright?’

‘Am I – whatever makes you think I am alright? I… Pen… I was just hanging out here with you, struggling to wrap my head around being in love and being loved in return when I got that bloody letter forcing me to get engaged. And not a week after Anthony comes in and forces me to marry in two weeks? He wants me to leave everything behind. Everything I’ve known my whole life! He has it easy. He has it all. Living in London, a stone’s throw away from mother. Able to travel to the country but only should he wish. Close to his friends. And I’d… I’d be here. So far away from all of you. And now I’m expected to be this… this wife and mother and baroness while not a month ago I thought I’d stay a spinster forever? How can I be fine! I’m not prepared for any of those things’, Eloise cried, waving her arms before sinking down on the staircase.

Penelope sat down beside her.

‘But you are ready for it. You were taught everything you had to know to be able to teach children, you know how to hold accounts, you know how to entertain guests. You might not be the best musician or painter, and you might not enjoy empty conversations but the information is all within you. You’ll do well.’

This did not satisfy Eloise, who felt her constant courage disappear for the first time in her life. ‘But I’m not a mother or a wife. I’m nothing like Mama, Daphne, Kate, Sophie or Edwina. I’m not soft and gentle and calm. I’m not patient. I don’t enjoy dressing up. I’m impatient and rash. I’m loud and I like being right and getting my way. I can’t put everything I love to the side to be a wife and mother. That’s just not… me.’

‘Nobody’s asking you to be like them.’

‘But it’s expected.’

‘Since when did you care for expectations.’

‘Never but…’

Eloise bit her lip. ‘I suppose… I expect mothers and wives to be like that.’

‘Kate spends months plotting to steal the mallet of death and visits her sister and mother often. Daphne is always in London for everyone’s birthdays and delights in annoying her husband. Your mother does get drunk playing cards or going to the opera every now and then. They still do the things they did before they married. They’re still them. My mother isn’t patient. Cressida’s mother is the managing type. Your mother likes being right as well’, Penelope summed up.

She knew these things were true, yet she still felt like there was a world of difference between the other married women she knew, and were great wives and mothers according to her, and who she believed herself to be.

‘Eloise, we’ve spent months at this place. You have a perfect idea of what it will be like. While the children follow class, you have all the time to do what you both want to do and need to do. After they go to bed: the same. Nobody asks you to stop writing. No one asks you to change personality. The children love you already. Why change?’

‘Loving me as a visitor isn’t the same as loving me as a mother.’

‘But you’ll never be Marina for them. Just be you. They’re attached to you. They don’t mind the way you’ve tried guiding them whenever Marina wasn’t able. They didn’t mind you doing the things mothers do with them, like taking them to the tailor. They already come to you when they have problems.’

Eloise supposed that was true.

‘And do you really know two married couples who have the exact same kind of relationship?’

‘No.’

Eloise sighed. Her arguments were growing slim.

‘I suppose… I’m just… I never wanted to be bound to a certain way of living. How I hated that my options were to marry or never leave the nest. But I… I found this place in life… at which I am really happy. And I have a hard time accepting that will change. And that I will move. And it all just sounds so… big you know? And then there’s… well, you.’

‘You think you won’t be happy here?’ Penelope asked.

‘I don’t know. I love the children. I love Phillip. But I also love London and you and my family and… it’s just horrid.’

‘Eloise, I’m going to keep on coming.’

‘Once a year like we did back when Marina lived?’

‘Of course not. I couldn’t just leave London because mama insisted on me being present the whole season. And you were there. But after this season Mama will definitely give up on me. And you are here now. I… It’s evil to say but you’re a lot more important to me than Marina was. Even so, marrying doesn’t equal getting a cannon ball tied to your ankle so you aren’t able to move. You’ll still be able to travel as well. You’ll still see your family. You’ll still have me. You’ll still be able to write. And we might not… see each other every day, and I’m not happy with that either if I’m allowed to say that without sounding mean and envious and guilt-inducing, but you’ll also get your own home, and Sir Phillip, and the children. It’s a… bargain. And in my opinion, you’re getting the long end of the stick. You’re keeping what you wanted and adding more. But to have those extra things, you’ve got to make a bit of space in your life.’

Eloise hugged Penelope. Her friend was right, of course, her friend was the smartest person she knew beside herself. It’s why they were such good friends. But it still stung.

When she lifted her head, she noticed she’d left wet spots on Penelope’s sleeve.

‘Now, shall we not make the best of the last two weeks? I assume I’ll be going home with you as well.’

Eloise nodded, swallowing away the crop in her throat.

They made their way back to the drawing room. Eloise put her ear against the door to check whether she wouldn’t be interrupting a conversation when she entered.

‘So you see, it did weigh on my conscience. It felt unfaithful, it felt unfair that she shouldn’t have that one bright spot in her life, it felt dishonourable to write in the first place. It’s selfish but…’ Phillip explained. Oh dear, she would be interrupting.

‘You did try very hard with her though, trying to do your duty and more.’

‘Even so, does it matter?’

‘Well, you didn’t break your vows’, Anthony said. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done.’

‘Gone to church and beg for forgiveness and support. It’s what I did for years. Though I could never bring myself to spitting out why I needed it’, Phillip said in that desperate laughing tone she’d come to know too well. 

‘I guess’, Anthony chuckled. ‘Not much of a confessing type. Nor much of the type to admit I’m wrong in the first place, not even to the persons I should say it to, let alone a priest who has no business knowing my affairs. But that’s a family trait. I have no qualms blaming my parents for that.’

‘Ah, yes. It’s interesting, the ways we are alike and not alike to our parents, even when we don’t try to be or not be them’, Phillip said.

‘Can’t wait until someone does some proper research on that’, Anthony said.

‘You have an interest in the psyche?’ Phillip asked.

Anthony drew breath through his teeth.

‘I’d love to understand things. But I wonder if I’m going to like the answers.’

Phillip laughed.

‘Yes, that’s always a good question whenever research is done concerning humans or our reasons for existence.’

‘Let’s not busy ourselves with such questions when there’s no answers to be had’, Anthony decided.

Ah, a good opportunity to knock, then, Eloise reasoned.

She swung open the door.

‘We’re back!’

‘You look the exact same’, Anthony remarked with a frown. Oh right, whoops. They were supposed to get ready.

‘Do I? Well. I said I was getting ready. Only needed to splash my face with some water. What, don’t I look good enough?’ she demanded.

Anthony just rolled his eyes.

‘Fine fine. Shall we leave then?’

Chapter Text

The quartet came out of the carriage after an hour’s ride. Their welcoming committee wat quite extensive. Sophie, Benedict, Colin, little Charles, Posy, Hugh and their children were all present.

Eloise had the feeling Judgement Day was upon her. What would they all think? What would they say? Would they judge her?

Eloise hopped out first, unable to sit around and wait, and marched over to the group.

‘Happy midday, how is everyone doing?’

‘How are we – Eloise, how are you doing!’ Sophie asked in return.

‘Oh, good as always’, Eloise shrugged before bending down to scoop up the children with a cry of enthusiasm. They flung to her, and in the moment they started yelling greetings in her ear, she could hear Sophie gasp and Posy whisper.

‘Oh my, he’s… tall’, Posy said, clearly changing the course of her sentence midway. Eloise looked up at her, and saw her nervously blushing, looking from Eloise to a point behind Eloise’s back where Phillip probably was.

Eloise reluctantly let go of the children. Perhaps it was unfair to leave Sir Phillip to fend for himself after years of barely speaking to anyone that wasn’t a servant.

‘So, everyone, I would like to introduce you to my future husband. Sir Phillip Crane. Who I am to marry in either one or two weeks. Anthony has been ruefully inconsistent in the dates and plans he’s been making. After yesterday telling me we would be staying here for a week he told me we would go to London tomorrow to arrange things for the wedding’, Eloise smiled, hooking her arm through Phillip’s and shooting Anthony a poisonous grin.

‘What? Anthony’, Sophie said, while Posy shook her head in disappointment.

‘I am also just figuring it out as I go along. It’s not like you gave me a lot of time to think this through. I swear all of you are so damned rash and impulsive and I’m just fixing things as you all go blundering along’, Anthony growled with an eyeroll.

‘Sir Crane, you’ve met the men. This is Sophie, Benedict’s wife. And this is Posy, Sophie’s half-sister and

Phillip was carefully silent, and Penelope bent down to embrace the children. It was only when Colin asked: ‘So, you already had lunch?’ that the awkward silence was broken.

‘We have’, Anthony said, walking past the welcoming committee to the house. ‘Now wha–‘

Anthony fell over one of the steps, flinging his arms to keep from falling.

‘Shoot!’ he cursed.

‘Shoot? Well, I was just about to propose that’, Benedict laughed. ‘Been a while, hasn’t it? And it’s a fine day.’

‘Do you shoot, Sir Crane?’ Colin asked.

‘Fairly decent.’

The boys grinned.

‘Excellent. Shooting it is.’

‘Can I join?’ Eloise asked.

The boys frowned.

‘Sure you can, if you like, Posy, Penelope and I can enjoy ourselves with the children, far away from the guns, won’t we? Unless you too would like to shoot?’ Sophie asked Penelope.

‘Oh no, please. I’m perfectly happy at the other side of the house. They can kill each other with spoons, I don’t want to be in their range when guns are involved.’

‘That’s a bold accusation’, Colin laughed. ‘I’ve only ever maimed a person with a spoon. Some minor bruises.’

‘Oh I think you capable of everything’, Penelope shot back.

Colin paused, blinking.

‘You’re sharp.’

‘As sharp as her pen, and as quick as a bullet’, Eloise smirked.

‘You write?’ Colin asked.

‘Don’t we all?’ Penelope just asked back with an innocent smile.

‘Eloise has books, everyone writes letters, you write your journals.’

‘You read my journals?’

‘I sometimes read particularly entertaining paragraphs to her’, Eloise explained.

‘I – oh… Well. They were just little private things, so I’d remember’, Colin said as his cheeks grew increasingly pink.

The group slowly started moving into the house, Benedict muttering something about drinks first and Sophie about getting the children’s toys.

As Eloise followed them into the house, she could hear Penelope’s and Colin’s conversation behind her back.

‘I think you should publish your journals,’ she said.

  ‘I couldn't.’

 ‘Why not?’

‘Nobody would read them.’

‘I would. As would Eloise, Felicity, your mother, Lady Whistledown, I'm sure,’ she added. ‘She does write about you rather a lot.’

Eloise bit her lip, what an excellent joke.

‘Lots of people will want to read about your travels. Maybe at first it will only be because you're a well-known figure in London, but it won't take long before everyone realizes what a good writer you are. And then they'll be clamouring for more.’

‘I don't want to be a success because of the Bridgerton name.’

‘But I just said it was because you were well-known’, Penelope sighed.

Eloise decided perhaps that was a good moment to check in with them.

‘Everything alright back there?’ she smiled.

‘Nothing,’ they both muttered at the same time. Eloise snorted. Alright. Perhaps, miracles did exist. If Eloise could find herself marrying a man who she shouldn’t have been able to marry unless the gods specifically had her back, perhaps Colin could finally see the worth in her best friend.

‘Don't insult me. It's not nothing. Penelope looked as if she might start breathing fire at any moment.’

 ‘Your brother is just being obtuse.’

  ‘Well, that is nothing new,’ Eloise smirked.

‘What is it Colin, why are you being so obtuse to Penelope? You should know she’s always right.’

‘It's a private matter,’ Colin ground out. ‘We were having a private conversation.

Eloise didn’t bother to point out that their conversation had started very publicly.

‘My brother and Penelope, keeping secrets from me. I can't believe it.’

His lips quirked into the barest of smiles. ‘Believe it.’

Oh, the happy fool. Men, they really believed themselves to be masters of secrecy and subtlety. The only reason they could think so was because women were too graceful to point out their obviousness all the time. It would get exhausting to point out all the times they weren’t subtle.

‘Did you think I told you everything?’

 ‘Of course not. Penelope, please continue your conversation with Colin. I’m sure you were about to make a smashing argument.’

Penelope looked at Eloise, smiling and shaking her head. But then she looked at Colin and her gaze mellowed.

‘If Colin doesn’t want to continue this conversation in public, we won’t’, she decided. Colin looked at her with such appreciation for her discretion that Eloise almost tripped. Penelope had chosen her words well. Eloise had half a mind to vex Colin more often, just so Penelope could take his side and he’d fall more in love with her because of her support.

Eloise decided to continue her charade, just so Penelope’s siding with Colin would stand out more.

‘I think the planet has shifted on its axis. Or perhaps England has crashed into France. All I know is this is not the same world I inhabited just this morning. My best friend, deserting me.’

  Penelope couldn't help it. She giggled. Oh, Eloise was having way too much fun with this.

  ‘And you're laughing at me!" Eloise added theatrically.

  ‘No, I'm not,’ Penelope laughed, ‘I’m really not.’

  ‘Do you know what you need, you busybody?’ Colin asked.

  ‘Me?’ Eloise queried, still grinning.

  He nodded. ‘A husband. Go annoy him. I don’t have to be the victim of your nosiness anymore, you can meddle in someone else’s affairs. Lord knows you needed a hobby and someone else to boss around.’

Now that was uncalled for.

‘You’re as bad as mother and Anthony.’

‘I could be a lot worse if I really put my mind to it.’

‘You know what, maybe I shall go to my future husband because he actually likes and appreciates my presence. You will miss my meddling when I’m gone’, Eloise said, picking up her walking pace.

‘I doubt it!’ Colin called after her.

‘Hi’, Eloise said to Phillip as they exited the house on the other side. The patio already had a table decked with a tea pot, wine and all kinds of finger food.

‘Hello.’

‘So, what do you think?’

‘Of the place?’

‘The people.’

‘They’re… That lady, Sophie, and her sister appear kind. The children I have no fixed ideas of.’

Eloise nodded.

‘You’re frustrated with your brother.’

‘And here I was, thinking I was subtle’, Eloise smiled. ‘Yes. It’s just… never mind.’

‘No, I do mind. It’s about the wedding.’

She looked up at his face, concerning clouding his brow.

‘It’s just that… This is our wedding and Anthony is arranging everything. He’s making decisions left and right as if I’m an incapable child instead of a twenty-four year old adult. Now I have to leave after tonight because it would be “scandalous” to do otherwise. It’s not fair that just the possibility to do something ruins me, and means I have to quit this place, without any of the benefits of actually doing it, while he actually did those things for years. The hypocrisy is so blatant and yet he’s clueless to it.’

‘You believe there’s benefits to being ruined?’ Phillip asked in confusion.

‘Of course. I’m awkward at things I’m new at. Women barely know a thing and that’s just unfair because men get years to practice and learn. But at least Kate, Sophie and Daphne have the advantage of a very experienced husband. But we… I don’t know a thing and you… if you ever did a thing it is almost a decade ago. So you’re rusty and I’m clueless and it will just be an awkward mess’, she stammered, blushing through her sentences. It was another thing that had been gnawing at her. She always hated not knowing. It was why she’d tried to pry as much information as possible from servants and her sisters. And she had remembered how all of her sisters had said that the men had guided them through it the first few times. Had Sir Phillip ever even… her cheeks burned whenever she considered it.

‘Ex-excuse me?’ Sir Phillip demanded. Eloise looked down. Was the sun truly shining so violently today or was it her mortification?

‘Rusty?’ he said, testing out the word and finding it tasted fowl.

‘Forget I said anything’, she said. Breaking decorum was something she did as often as eating, but this was particularly rude and lewd.

‘It’s just mainly Anthony being horrible. Not… that.’

‘So it’s not the wedding? It’s just that you have to go?’

‘Well, I also dislike that it has to be so rushed and I can’t pick a date.’

‘But you still want to go through with it, right?’ he pressed.

‘Of course, I don’t suddenly want to marry another guy because of it. But I don’t like the circumstances. Why?’

‘Sir Phillip!’ Benedict cried, lifting up a gun for him. Sir Phillip nodded at him and turned back to Eloise.

‘For me, the circumstances of this marriage are vastly superior to those of my previous one, so I cannot say I understand you truly. But I could not go through with it with a clean conscience if I had reason to think the circumstances made the marriage unappealing to you. I’ve had one reluctant wife, I don’t want to make another miserable.’

‘It’s not you. No part of my unhappiness is you’, Eloise said, taking his hand.

‘Come, I’m only counting five guns. So we’ll have to share.’

‘I knew they would try cutting me out of it, they don’t like me shooting’, Eloise grumbled.

‘So you said.’

‘We only have five guns around, Eloise’, Colin said as the couple approached.

‘I’ll give her mine’, Sir Phillip announced.

Colin groaned.

‘Come dears, let us leave the boys to their violent toys’, Penelope told the children, taking their hands and leading them around the edge of the house.

Colin watched her walk away, Eloise noticed. He looked at his gun again. ‘They’re more than toys. We can even use it to put food on the table.’

‘Shot through with bullet fragments, delightfully crunchy to get between your teeth’, Eloise laughed.

Eloise only had to fire a few shots before the boys deliberately started misfiring. Colin was the first to drop out, claiming the sun made him thirsty and his thirst made him unsteady.

Anthony and Mr. Woodson were last to drop out, one out of pride, the other because he genuinely didn’t care that he was losing big time. But in the end Anthony called it quits, saying it was too warm for him, regardless that it was only early March.

‘What do you do, Mr. Woodson?’ Phillip asked as they walked back to where the women and children were sitting.

‘I’m part of the church. What is it you do?’

‘I uhm, I mostly tend to my lands, I’m a baronet’, Phillip said.

‘But most often he can be found in his greenhouse’, Eloise chipped in.

‘You’re a gardener?’ Mr. Woodson asked with a surprised smile.

‘A botanist’, Phillip corrected. ‘But yes, I like to garden.’

‘Oh, well I have a kitchen garden I’m very enthusiastic about’, Mr. Woodson grinned.

‘Do you?’

Latin plant names flew over Eloise’s head, Mr. Woodson eagerly using Phillip’s knowledge to find out why some plants died and others didn’t grow well in his garden.

Eloise was happy to let them be. And noticed when they neared the tables that Penelope was sitting on the ground, little Charles climbing on top of her, until Colin jumped up and pulled the child off of her.

What on earth is happening there?

They sat down, and Sophie started asking questions about the house and grounds, and other polite things to get an image of the man Eloise was about to marry. And then Eloise began that Phillip and Mr. Bagwell had been friends in university. And so it became clear that somehow, Sir Phillip was already well on his way to integrating into the family. Penelope and Colin sat a bit further away from her. Penelope with Posy’s child on her lap. Eloise tried to strain her ears to hear what they were saying.

‘Of course I know. He has a painting in the National Gallery, since January. Eloise told me.’

‘I wasn’t home yet then, but I can’t believe no one told me’, Colin said.  

‘But see, that’s what I am talking about. They have a purpose to their lives. I have nothing. I’m just part of ABC, the charming empty-headed brother. The only things distinguishing me being that I travel and I’m unmarried and thus a wild stag in need of being shot down by London’s finest. Whistledown makes it clear enough.’

‘She writes kindly about you.’

‘She writes about me as if I’m some entertaining thing on display. Behold, a charmer with a nice name tag and wallet.’

Oof. Eloise didn’t think Penelope would take well to apparently having hurt the one person she admired most with her column.

‘I’ve been in London for seven years now. I've heard more than my fair share of gossip and lies and foolish opinions, and I have never—not once—heard someone refer to you as stupid.’

‘If she thought there was anything to me other than my so-called legendary charm, don't you think she would have said so by now?’

‘I thought you didn’t care about what she said.’

‘I don’t, well… I don’t want to. But so many people share her opinion. That woman has power. And I hate that so many see me through that lense. I don't know why I thought you'd understand. As Whistledown also portrays you as some poorly dressed wallflower. I thought you’d understand my image fatigue.’

‘It's a little difficult for me to sit here and listen to you complain that your life is nothing.’

 ‘I didn’t say that. I said I have nothing,’ he corrected, trying not to wince as he realized how stupid that sounded.

‘Look at me and Eloise. Look at so many young women. We can’t travel freely, we can’t study. We can’t play sports. We are only rarely allowed a profession, and when we do we still get criticized for being poor, vulgar or bad wives. You heard how people responded to Eloise writing, which is such a genteel thing. Meanwhile you… The world is your oyster, Colin. You're young, wealthy, and you're a man. You can do anything you want.’

‘It's not that simple,’ he said.

‘It is. Next time you want to complain about the trials and tribulations of universal adoration, try being an on-the-shelf spinster for a day. See how that feels and then let me know what you want to complain about.’

As Colin gaped at her she let the child slither off her lap and raced after it, deciding to engage in a game of tag with the three children.

Colin looked at the table, seemingly in shock. When he met Eloise’s gaze, his cheeks grew pink. She raised her eyebrows at him, showing how thoroughly unimpressed she was with him and how much she sided with Penelope.

He looked down in what appeared to be proper embarrassment, and although he tried to engage in the conversation of the rest of the table, eventually his focus slipped away. Instead, his eyes followed Penelope as she darted behind a tree, picked up Charles, and swung him around. A guilty smile appeared on his lips before he stood, and went straight to her.

Such an obvious movement was picked upon by a few people at the table, but everyone pretended not to notice it and continued their conversation.

That evening Eloise stepped into the carriage with a heavy heart. No matter how entertaining the day had been, it was the final time she would be returning to Romney Hall before her wedding. And it would be the last night she could spend under Phillip’s roof in either a week or two weeks, whatever Anthony put his mind to. The questions she’d had during the day also still ghosted through her head as Penelope and her put the children to bed with another Breaker and Demolisha story.

She knew Anthony was already in his chamber, and after a talk with Penelope she had gone to hers, but Eloise felt she would not be able to sleep easily that night. Slipping out of her shoes, she snuck downstairs to steal a book from the library.

‘And this time I’ll read a few pages first to make sure it isn’t boring’, she muttered to herself once she was downstairs.

Phillip, despite almost never being in the house, had lately always been in the house whenever Eloise didn’t expect him to. And so naturally, he was already sitting in the library when Eloise came in.

‘Am I disturbing?’

‘Only with a gun in your hands’, Phillip said in a dry tone.

‘I came to find a book to read.’

‘You indeed came to the right place.’

‘I would really want to know why not more people think you’re comical’, Eloise replied calmly as she moved to a shelf. She picked out a pretty spine for no reason other than it being pretty, and opened it to the first page.

History. No, not ideal for bedtime. Unless she wanted to sleep. Which she did, but not like that.

Next book. Law. That was quickly shoved back.

She moved to another shelf. Versions of the bible. Another, geography. Another. Ah, poetry. Maybe.

‘Eloise?’

‘Mhm.’

‘About this afternoon.’

Oh no. She already knew what it was going to be about.

‘It’s nothing.’

‘It’s not.’

Eloise tried to read the first page of the book she was holding, pretending to be done with the conversation. But Phillip wasn’t about to let it slide. With a sinking heart she heard the chair groan as it was pushed back.

‘See, I think there’s a way to solve both your issues.’

He leant against the wall in front of her. He’d dumped his coat and his waist-coat hung open, his cravat long since discarded. Eloise was pretty sure that as soon as Anthony had officially retired, he’d quickly slipped out of his fashionable ensemble. He always looked to stiff and uneasy in them, even though Eloise thought he cut a rather dashing figure when he was all dressed up.

‘Oh’, she only managed to say.

She had to admit though, that there was something both thrilling and comforting about his state of undress. He looked familiar and at home in them, and Eloise had always liked that he felt easy enough around her to dress in such a way. At the same time… Her eyes clung to his neck, and the hollow between his clavicles… Well, there was a lot to stare and blush at.

‘Let’s see if I’m rusty.’

‘Ah wha – ‘

She was too slow. Phillip had already moved towards her, taken her chin between his fingers, and pressed his lips against her.

The protest died on her lips. She’d had so little time to just enjoy finally being with him, and tomorrow she’d be torn away from him again.

Her hands curled around his shoulders. They deserved this little moment.

With his free hand Phillip pushed her against the bookcase, knocking the breath out of her.

As Eloise let out a breath, he deepened the kiss until her legs trembled.  

Memories floated back to her as his hands slid over her body. Hadn’t he touched her breast a few days ago? Her legs clenched together at the memory. Perhaps, if he had known how to do that, her fears of him being rusty had been unfounded. He’d appeared to be knowing what he was doing.

His hands slid up further, and she instinctively pressed her chest towards his. They burned through her dress.

‘You like knowing, and you’d like for me not to be rusty. Let’s remedy both of those things. Turn around.’

She looked up at him.

‘Do you trust me?’

Were they going to ?

Oh God.

That was rather risqué.

Screw that, all the others had been risky aside from Francesca, and that was only as far as they knew. Francesca was incredibly secretive. She could have this. Who would find out? She’d be married in no time at all. There was no danger to it.

As she turned around, she allowed herself to smile. She almost wished she’d be able to tell it to Anthony without risking him getting a heart attack. Nobody told her what to do. Why should she have to be a saint when the others had been able to mess around?

‘It’s been eight and a half years, actually. Since before my father died’, Phillip muttered as he unbuttoned the back of her dress. He was actually undressing her. By all accounts she should feel nervous, but instead she felt entirely calm.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Because I came here and was very busy, it wasn’t a priority anymore.’

‘No, I mean… Why do men do that? We’re all taught about the sanctity of marriage in church’, Eloise said. ‘It’s quietly accepted you all sow your wild oats but I’ve never heard anyone promote it.’

‘It is promoted though, from man to man. Older brother to younger brother.’

‘So you’ll have experience by the time of your marriage?’ Eloise guessed.

‘The most important reasons are needs. And to prevent relatively wealthy men from marrying the first woman they feel attracted to. It’s like… You ever heard people advising against going to the market when hungry?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, it’s like that, but with the marriage market. A man already satiated won’t make an impulsive choice. Or should be less prone to make one.’

‘But if that’s what’s said… why isn’t the same encouraged to women?’

Phillip’s hands came to rest on her hips, his fingers scrunching up the fabric of her skirt.

‘Because women can get pregnant. And it’s believed they’re not as… needing’, he said quietly.

Eloise’s heart paused at the word.

‘Needing?’

‘Allow me?’ he asked.

She nodded, and his hands slipped under the skirt of her dress, sliding over her ribs.

‘Not needing touch in the same way.’

Eloise swallowed.

‘Not feeling their heart pulse in the same way when they look upon someone beautiful.’

Her heart beat so violently she could hear it bouncing in her ears.

‘Lift’, he commanded.

She raised her arms. Her thighs burned when his hands slid over her breasts. She pressed them together to calm the fire, but it didn’t work at all. It made the fire worse.

Now that her first dress was peeled off, she felt rather naked in only her underdress, stays, stockings and shift.

His hands went to her waist again.

‘That they don’t feel a need pressing. Here.’

He pressed his fingertips into the flesh of her lower belly. She could feel the heat intensifying. Eloise wasn’t able to hold in her gasp. To make matters worse, he stroked his fingers up and down. Her thighs clenched shut.

‘Yes, I think men jump to poor conclusions’, Phillip said. ‘I mainly think it’s pregnancy danger. What do you think?’

‘I ah – ‘

Her eyes fluttered shut when his hands rubbed circles over her hips.

‘Yes?’ he asked, stopping his motions.

‘Definitely false’, she said, letting out a sigh of relief. He was going to murder her. The pleasure his touch brought made her impatient, it was like her body was waiting for something more. It was so frustrating it was almost painful.

‘Allow me?’ he asked.

‘Mhm.’

He lifted her underdress, revealing her stays.

He paused.

‘Is this where the rust comes in?’ Eloise teased.

‘It’s not called rust when you’ve never had to do it before. That’s inexperience.’

She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

‘It’s not that hard. Look.’

She moved her hands to her back, pulling on the laces.

‘There, now you only have to slightly tug at it until it is loose enough to pull over my head. Don’t pull it open fully, the laces need to stay in.’

She could feel his breath against the back of her neck, and it made the hairs on her arms rise. Tug by tug, it loosened.  

‘Up.’

His commands did something strange to her, although she couldn’t find the word to explain just what it was she felt. Actually, she lacked a great many words at this moment. There were no words for the fire she felt between her thighs, no words for the tension in her stomach or the relentless beating of her heart. She’d never felt as exposed. But exposed and scared weren’t the words for what she was feeling. She didn’t want to draw back when he lifted the stays. His hands on her body just felt so… right.

His chin came to rest upon her shoulder, his arms coming around her from the back. She was sandwiched between the books and him, trapped in his embrace.

Tantalizingly slow, he slid his hands from her hips to her breast and then –

‘Oh.’

He flicked her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers.

‘The basics are actually, to me, quite simple. It’s about touching what you want to touch, and touching what makes the other feel good.’

Eloise swallowed. Well damn it, good was an understatement.

‘Mhm.’

‘For example, I really wanted to touch you’, he whispered before pressing an open mouthed kiss to her shoulder.

Phillip was only just in time to hook his hands around her arms when her knees buckled, preventing a fall.

‘Perhaps we should go to the couch.’

‘We should’, Eloise hastily agreed, marching over before her legs abandoned her a third time. Christ, her body had never felt this weak before.

Phillip sat down on the couch in front of her.

‘So then what makes you feel good?’ she asked back.

Eloise was satisfied to see him fumble now, opening and closing his mouth whilst he avoided eye contact.

She scooted closer.

‘You don’t need to feel forced to – ‘ he started saying.

Eloise put her arms around him. She’d always liked hugs a lot. And it seemed like a very efficient way to touch as much of a person as possible.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d held someone without wearing her stays. Her body melted against him in a way that made her very aware some things about her had changed since she’d last pressed herself against someone. Heat radiated through his shirt where they were pressed together and where her hands pressed against his back.

She rested her chin upon his shoulder. This was… quite nice. Not in the same way as when he’d touched her, but at the same time she couldn’t say she minded the little respite. Phillip came alive again, his hands moving to her back and gently pulling her towards him until she sat on his lap, legs spread.

Alright, scratch that. Hugs can be like touching breasts too, she thought to herself.

So, she could touch what she liked now? Well, she’d always longed to touch his hair that always seemed to be falling into his face. Was there an art to it, or could she do that?

She brought her hands up to his hair while they kissed. It felt nice. Definitely. She slid her fingers in deeper, allowing her fingertips to gently massage his scalp. A hum trembled against her lips in reply. Her chest swelled with pride. So it was a good idea.

‘This?’ she asked as she pressed her nails against his scalp to test just how far she could go.

‘Eloise.’

He was straight up moaning.

A spark of electricity shot through her. She liked that sound.

Hell yes, it’s working!

She attacked his lips with renewed enthusiasm, pressing herself closer against him.

His hands were rubbing and kneading new life into her, stoking her heartbeat and the fire within her belly to unprecedented heights.

The annoying feeling was bubbling up in her again. That impatience.

She pressed herself against him with a whine, the pressure affording her temporary relief.

‘What is it?’ he asked, his voice coming from far away.

‘I don’t know’, she growled, letting her head fall against his neck. ‘I don’t know the word for it.’

‘Nothing bad?’

‘No… At least I think I’m just… annoyed.’

‘Annoyed?’ Phillip asked in shock, his body growing rigid beneath hers.

Oh no, now she’d worried him. She cursed herself. She should’ve been more careful with her language.

‘Not exactly just…’ she looked at him, but found it hard to hold his gaze. Eloise Bridgerton, murderer of a hundred sacred cows, yet still a blushing virgin.

‘Urgh. Darn it, I’m supposed to have an excellent vocabulary!’

‘You have an excellent vocabulary’, he said in surprise.

She deflated, her head falling against his shoulder. Now she was getting frustrated. She was feeling annoyed, somehow, and couldn’t even communicate it. Right as her head hit his shoulder, her hips spasmed.

Phillip’s hands came to rest on her hips, his thumbs slowly rubbing circles. Her hips spasmed again. She shot him an apologetic look.

His mouth opened, before he nodded in understanding, a smile appearing on his lips.

‘Exactly what feels annoying?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know… it’s like my whole body feels impatient.’

‘I see.’

What exactly did he see?

‘Lay down.’

‘Why?’

‘Lay down, I’ll show you why.’

She reluctantly crawled off his lap. Torn between curiosity and embarrassment. Phillip sat down on the edge left over beside her hips, leaning over her by holding onto the armrest with one hand.

‘Could the term you’re looking for be… Excitement?’ he asked as he slid his free hand across her leg, hiking up her skirt.

Eloise remained silent, gooseflesh rising.

‘Does it burn?’ he asked then, his eyes shining with curiosity.

‘Y-yes’, Eloise stammered in surprise.

How did he know about the fire?

His hand snuck underneath her skirt, fingers climbing up her thigh.

Eloise’s cheeks burned. She had been fine with all the touching, but there so close to the fire…

‘The word you’re looking for is… desire. I think. I hope’, he added with a smile.

Desire.

The word fit in perfectly. Yes, desire. That felt right.

 And then he obliterated every thought by touching her there.

‘Oh!’

He bent down to capture her sighs with his mouth.

She pulled on his hair.

She needed him closer, more of him. She’d die if she didn’t.

‘Please’, she begged.

Tomorrow, she’d frown at herself. She never begged. But now the words tumbled from her lips while she didn’t even know what she was begging for.

It was just too much and too little at once, and it was driving her crazy.

‘Phillip, please.’

‘Oh Eloise’, he sighed, trailing a path of kisses down her neck, down and down, until he reached her breast.

She dug her nails in his scalp, but he ignored her demands. Instead wrapping his lips around her nipple.

‘Fuck!’

Her knees and hips spasmed. Whatever he was doing, her body was certainly responding to it.

‘Such obscenities’, he said before flicking his tongue over her nipple.

‘And you’ll have a lot more coming your way if you keep… you keep…’

‘I keep?’ he asked, looking up at her with smiling eyes.

He was enjoying this too much.

‘I don’t know’, she whined.

‘Teasing?’

‘You’re teasing me?’

She’d been teased a lot before. But never like this. Never in a physical manner. A good thing, really, she didn’t think she could bear it if anyone touched her like he did.

‘I admit I’ve been taking my time. I thought going slow was the best course. Should have known you weren’t patient.’

‘Yes indeed. So what is it like if you don’t hold back?’

‘Well, the next step would be uhm… taking off our clothes.’

‘Oh, no hessians involved?’ she asked with a smile.

‘They can be left on, I think, never tried it’, he admitted before pulling off his hessian boots.

‘Won’t need this either, I take?’ she asked, reaching out to take his shirt.

‘No, indeed’, he admitted.

Eloise nodded, hooking her fingers underneath his shirt. It had been a year since she’d last seen him without shirt. Het let go of her and the couch so she could take it off.

He loomed up before her now, all straight shoulders and lean muscle.

And all hers to touch. She didn’t know George Crane, never seen him, but she would doubt anyone who saw Phillip like this and didn’t believe him to be attractive. Perhaps God had blessed them, that he had been allowed a second chance at a marriage and she a chance at being his wife.

She reached out, feeling all of his muscles.

‘Eloise?’

‘Mhm, you said it was about touching what you want to touch’, she reminded him.

He looked down, shaking his head.

‘Why not get equal?’ he asked, hand going to her chest.

‘Absolutely. I only have one garment left, and you four’, Eloise smiled.

 She put his hand on his pants.

‘Waiting.’

Luckily, he obliged, removing his stockings and pantaloons until he was only in his smallclothes.

‘Wait!’ she said as he reached out to get rid of her final garment.

‘Are we sure everyone is off to bed?’ she asked. ‘I mean, I’ve walked in here at night. What if anyone else gets that idea?’

‘I’ll lock the door’, Phillip said, walking over and locking the door before returning.

Eloise nodded in agreement.

‘May I?’

‘I think’, she admitted, significantly less confident than she’d been the past few minutes. It was a good thing it was night, and very dark indeed. She’d never had issues with her body, but to bare it to another person was quite something else.

His hands moved underneath her skirt, and slid further, up to her hips, taking away the fabric inch by inch. She lifted herself, allowing him to continue.

‘You’re perfect’, he muttered when he pulled off the chemise. Eloise’s cheeks burned. Was she? She wouldn’t know. She’d never seen anything but a sculpture nude before.

‘Your turn’, she pushed. He should share in her embarrassment in equal measure, it was only fair.

And when he did… she suddenly understood why everyone had told her it would “quickly become clear” how man and woman fit together.

‘Oh.’

He pushed her back down on the couch, hovering over her. She shot him an encouraging smile, but was pretty sure her nerves shone through. Phillip bent over her again, pressing his lips against her as he laid down beside her.

It felt strange, to have their bare skin touching. Arms, knees, breast to chest. A shiver raced across her skin. It was a whole other kind of intimacy. But by every press of his lips against hers, and every soft touch of his hands on her waist and back, her muscles relaxed again.

His hand slid down her leg, hooking around her knee and pulling it over his thigh.

Eloise gasped, their entire bodies were touching now, and something was pressing right against her.

Her hips buckled, and finally it made sense why they had done so before.

We fit together.

His hand didn’t travel up again, instead sliding closer to the source of the heat until he reached the epicentre. With a shock she realized something felt… damp down there. But she couldn’t dwell on it, his fingers rubbed across the wetness, touching her where she had never even touched herself.

The annoying feeling grew and grew in intensity until finally, one of his fingers slipped right between her lips.

She let out a sigh of release.

Phillip picked up on it, and increased the pressure before the finger slipped out again.

‘No no, please’, she begged, her hips bucking violently against his.

It all made sense now. The reason why her hips had moved on their own accord, her begging, the annoying feeling. It had all come down to this. Her body had known what was about to happen, and had known exactly what she needed.

‘Don’t worry’, he muttered, pushing back a strand of hair before he moved his hand down again.

The next second, she saw stars. Her eyes fell closed when he slid inside her, her hips enthusiastically moving to welcome him.

Finally, the annoying feeling stopped.

‘Alright?’ he asked.

She nodded, unable to open her eyes. The pressure finally fell from her chest. This felt right. She pressed herself against him to cuddle, wrapping her leg around him a bit more. But he chose that moment to start moving. Shaking Eloise to her core.

‘Oh I-‘

‘I-‘

All words died on her tongue, until nothing but moans remained.

Chapter Text

What could be said about the next morning? Eloise definitely blushed at the remembrance of the previous night, and despite her determined outset she did feel some shame at her behaviour and the way she had encouraged Phillip. She also noticed she felt strangely… normal. Nothing felt sore or different. The only moment of weirdness setting in at the breakfast table when she feared others might see the difference, the way people always claimed they could see a newlywed glow. However, when no one said a thing, and the children started crying and bemoaning her and Penelope’s departure, Eloise didn’t even think about the others looking at her face and noticing something off about it.

Her and Penelope hugged the children, played a final boardgame with them, and promised a speedy return. She actually got more time with the children for goodbyes than with her future husband. Sir Phillip played along with the game, but little of significance could be said in such a public setting.

In fact, perhaps Anthony feared Eloise would use every moment alone with him to throw herself into ruin, even though she hadn’t done so in the three weeks before his arrival either. Anthony read a book on the couch when she, Penelope and Phillip played with the children, sat opposite her at breakfast, and only left her alone when he went to his own room to collect his belongings. It felt wrong, having parted on such an incredibly intimate note with Phillip the previous day, and now not get any time with him. She didn’t even have time to let him sneak into her room as she packed her belongings, because her brother was knocking on her door asking if she was ready the second he was done.

Only at the very end, when everything was loaded and everyone stood in the hallway, her and Penelope having just hugged the children before they were dragged upstairs by a nanny, Anthony turned towards them and said: ‘Well, we’ll be waiting for you outside.’

Him and Penelope walked out with a nod, leaving the lovers alone.

‘God, it’s all so rushed’, Eloise complained as she turned towards him. ‘Just yesterday… it feels weird.’

‘Weird?’

‘You know… We just… Spent weeks together. Seeing each other for hours every day. And now we haven’t even been able to say twenty words to each other and after this… it’ll be days or weeks of nothing. It’s weird. It’s so drastic. There’s no gentle easing towards a departure or anything. No hours of saying goodbye and spending some last quality time.’

‘I believe those were more than twenty words.’

She looked up sharply and poked his chest.

‘Don’t try me. I’m trying to have an honest conversation here.’

‘We ever had a dishonest one?’

Eloise pulled her lips up into a very fake smile.

‘Look, I’m usually the pedantic one in the Bridgerton household. I will be the annoying stupid-quip-one here too, but there’s a time and a place and now is not the place. I hate this.’

‘I don’t like it much either’, he admitted. ‘But we’ve done this a million times before. Saying goodbye without the two of us having private time on the final day. We’ve never really had time to say goodbye to each other, actually. And our meetings were almost always just a few weeks, followed by a drastic cut-off and months of no communication at all, except for letters. We can manage the… was it one or two weeks?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, but that is different. Back then we didn’t have this kind of closeness.’ She sighed and looked up. ‘I’d rather have two weeks, much as I don’t particularly enjoy leaving or having the children so sad. It’ll be for all intents and purposes my last time home as a Bridgerton. And the only time I’ll get to sort out my affairs before I’ll have to move. I don’t want to rush it. There’s all the practical things like packing my stuff, deciding what remains and what comes with me, what can be tossed in the trash, my stupid wedding dress, and so on. But also: Hyacinth, Frannie, Gregory. Mom. I’ve spent twenty-four years being her daughter. And so many years living there as a child and a sister. It’ll never be the same again and I… I need that. Preferably a final normal week, to fully appreciate the way things are. And then a week of tragic last times. Last time dinner with everyone on Friday, last time sleeping in my own room, last time helping Hyacinth with French. Last time cuddling with mom.’

‘You really are a writer’, Phillip said.

‘Why?’ Eloise asked, not understanding where that comment came from.

‘I doubt most people make plans with the specific intent to remember all the activities and routines and the way they feel during them. For posteriority. But I understand. Not that I’ve been through it. But if there was ever a thing that I knew I was going to miss, I’d want to treasure it as well, while I still could.’

‘Isn’t there anything you ever miss?’

‘Little’, he admitted. ‘But I think… If I had known what was going to happen… I would have talked more to George. Appreciated our time more. Gotten everything out of every day I had in Cambridge as a normal student. But I didn’t know. So I couldn’t treasure those things as I ought on the final days I could enjoy them.’

Eloise nodded.

‘Well, will you treasure your final days as a man unwed to me?’ she teased.

‘I’ll try laying as a starfish in bed to appreciate the space I have. And perhaps the time in my greenhouse, before I have someone making demands on my time. And I’ll appreciate knowing that for at least two weeks, I will not need to live in fear that random people will come into my house at any hour of the day because they think they’re entitled to talk to anyone in the house’, he smiled.

‘Ah, good one. Appreciate the big bed’, Eloise put that on her list. ‘But you already have two little people making demands on your time.’

‘Yes, but those are already calculated in the plans’, Phillip pointed out.

‘Also right’, she admitted.

‘But I’d value your alone time, Sir Crane. Your days of never getting visitors are over. My brothers and sisters have a habit of travelling between houses, staying over for weeks, sometimes bringing their entire brood, and they only announce it if you’re lucky. Get used to talking.’

‘Well…’ Phillip said, eyes moving over her shoulder towards the door.

Eloise rolled her eyes. He stood there so awkwardly, with stiff shoulders, not knowing what to do to say goodbye. Had this man never said goodbye properly to someone close to him? Probably not. But she was going to teach him.

She threw her arms around him, pressing herself against his chest. Phillip quickly put his arms around her.

‘Ugh, next time I do this I’ll be a bloody wife’, she moaned against his cravat.

‘By all means, don’t be too excited’, he said.

‘Wife sounds so old.’

‘You’re quite old to become a wife’, Phillip pointed out.

‘You’re mean. It’s impolite to make a comment about a lady’s age.’

She poked his side.

‘Oof! What…’

‘Get used to it. In the Bridgerton family we treat non-members with respect, but it’s a hard “give shit, get hit” world for the family members.’

‘Weren’t you protective of each other?’

‘Oh yes. I’d kill anyone who touched you. As Benedict and Colin would kill anyone who touched me. But they also tied me to a tree just because they found me annoying.’

‘Lord, help me.’

‘If we get too much, write to Kate, Simon and Sophie. I have no doubt they’re dying to make a “Bridgerton Spouse Support Club”.’

‘I haven’t met them yet.’

Eloise chewed on her cheek as she looked at him, trying to guess which spouse he would fit with the most. Simon, probably. Kate loved the chaos of the Bridgerton household. Every torture technique and teasing method the Bridgertons used, Kate delighted in using against them. Particularly against Anthony. She couldn’t picture Phillip doing Pall Mall like Kate, he’d just stand at the side, mouth gaping open before muttering a “right” and walking off.

Perhaps he’d be most like Simon. Yes. Simon always just rolled with the punches that came with the Bridgerton family. Phillip could do that. Just frown and say “alright, that’s just another Bridgerton thing I guess” and move along.

‘In two weeks you will.’

She sighed again. What was it with her? She didn’t want to leave him? But she wasn’t jumping to get married tomorrow either.

‘I will miss you though, even though I’ll enjoy being home too. Wish I could just put you in my trunk and have you in my room. That would be the best of both worlds.’

‘And the children?’

‘We have spare rooms. Mother would love some young children around, I’m sure’, Eloise grinned.

She lifted her head up at him. Phillip seemed to understand. He bent forward, pressing his lips against her.

‘Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye’, she murmered against his lips.

But every time she pulled back, she leant forward again for a final kiss, a final embrace. Until finally, Phillip lifted her up while kissing her, and dropped her off on the threshold.

‘See you soon, wife’, he said as he tucked her arm underneath his to guide her down the flight of stairs towards the carriage.

‘Fiancée’, she corrected. ‘We won’t use that word much, so let’s make good use out of it.’

‘Next time, it’ll be wife’, he said as he put her in the carriage. ‘So soon, I’ll see my wife. Not my fiancée.’

Eloise rolled her eyes. For one who hadn’t delighted in being married the previous time around, he sure seemed attached to the word wife. Perhaps he had more bad things attached to the word wife than to the word fiancée, as him and Marina had married the day they met so they could immediately get her out of London. Perhaps he couldn’t wait to have someone as a wife who would actually be a wife to him.

Or, perhaps, he was just looking forward to repeating what they’d done the previous day. And that would only happen once they were husband and wife.

As the carriage rolled away she wondered what was most likely. And decided, with a grim smile, it could be both.

As she rolled underneath the gatehouse, she watched the clock above it. Twelve hours, first of April. The new season would be upon them when they arrived in town. The first season without Lady Whistledown. And the first season during which she wouldn’t be present as a potential bride.

April first, and she would arrive in London as a no-longer-potentially-ruined woman. She looked at Anthony and smiled. No one even had a clue. In everyone’s eyes she’d now be saved. Safely engaged, virtue intact. What a joke, she was more ruined now than she’d ever been before. Was this what Penelope felt every time someone complained or complimented Lady Whistledown? Quietly chuckling to herself because they didn’t know the truth?

‘I’ve sent mother, she’ll have our rooms prepared’, Anthony shared.

‘Final two weeks’, Eloise corrected.

‘Week’, Anthony said.

‘Now you listen to me’, Eloise said. ‘Have you any idea what all needs to be arranged. You’re thinking about this wedding as a man who didn’t even have to move his stuff out of his room to get married’, Eloise pointed out. ‘Any idea how much I’ll have to pack?’

‘Kate could d–‘

‘Would you wish your sister the same rush and constricted timeframe you and her had to suffer through?’ Penelope asked.

Anthony gaped for air like a fish.

By the time they arrived in London. The wedding was in a little over two weeks.

When they walked in, it became clear the entire family had come over for dinner, aside from Benedict’s little nuclear family given the baby. Hyacinth wanted desperately to know every detail of her stay, about Sir Phillip, and his children.

‘But how is he different? Why didn’t you refuse him when he offered?’ Hyacinth asked, who had unfortunately been an almost direct witness to multiple proposals.

‘Well, all the others started with offers. With him I was… well.’

‘Well what?’ her mother asked.

‘I’d known him for years, so it’s not like it was a wild gamble whether I’d be able to live with him. Like it was with the other men, whom I didn’t know’, Eloise started before she munched a carrot during dinner. ‘Secondly, he didn’t exactly ask.’

‘What?’

‘Well, I might have said I had a scandal on my hands, entirely outside my control and not of my doing, and that only a few things would stop me from being ruined. Marriage was the obvious salvation, and I’d figured out he loved me a few days before so…’

‘You asked him to propose to you?’ Daphne asked in shock. She then looked at Simon, and blushed.

‘Yes. So you see, couldn’t exactly refuse if I asked for it’, Eloise said while looking at Hyacinth.

‘I thought a man had to ask.’

‘Well, he did’, Eloise pointed out.

‘Somehow it’s always a Bridgerton demanding the non-Bridgerton must marry them to avoid a scandal’, Simon chuckled, throwing Anthony a look.

‘And preferably sooner rather than later’, Kate added, throwing a look of condolence at Simon and a stern look at Anthony.

‘Oh? He did dad with your weddings too? My, you really can’t wait to be rid of your sisters, can you?’ Eloise asked Anthony.

‘And he couldn’t wait to have me. “We must marry as soon as possible, before word gets out in the ton” and whatnot’, Kate said, mimicking Anthony’s voice while frowning.

The table erupted in laughter.

‘I do not do it when it’s not required’, he said. ‘If you had all been a bit more like Francesca and behaved yourselves, you could have had a few months to prepare’, he said.

Francesca delicately continued eating with an unperturbed smile, but Eloise noticed the red at the top of her ears. Perhaps Francesca had just been careful enough to not let word get out.

‘If we? Excuse me, mister Viscount, but who was the one who just had to panic at a bee sting? I can assure you it wasn’t my behaviour that had us flying to the altar’, Kate laughed.

‘Indeed dear, but it could have been’, he said, raising his eyebrows at her. ‘You were just lucky with picking your moments when there was no one around.’

Now all eyes went to Kate. She turned red and then started talking about the food.

‘What moments?’ Hyacinth asked, ignoring the very clear hint.

‘We must get her married off soon,’ Penelope joked to Eloise. Since the Featherington and Bridgerton house were now a bit apart, Penelope would first eat with them before being delivered home. They had arrived right at dinnertime after all.

‘You first,’ Hyacinth shot back, who sat right beside Eloise, who sat right beside Penelope. Of course her sister had to overhear the whispered joke.

‘I'm working on it,’ Penelope said cryptically.

‘What?’ asked Hyacinth and Eloise. The word's volume was rather amplified by the fact that it exploded from two mouths at once.

 ‘That's all I'm going to say,’ Penelope said, and in such a tone of voice that they all knew they shouldn’t prod.

 ‘I will get to the bottom of this’ Hyacinth assured Eloise.

Penelope, realizing she did very much not want Hyacinth to become investigative, put down her fork and leaned forward towards her. With a very soft and partially sad smile, which Eloise knew was wonderfully acted and looked convincingly innocent, Penelope looked at Hyacinth.

‘I always try getting married. Ever since my first season I tried finding a husband. So of course, now that the new season is here, I’m working on it.’

‘Oh’, Hyacinth said, grimacing and looking irritated she’d been so dumb to not think of that.

‘That makes sense.’

‘Get to the bottom of why men are such fools that they don’t want my clever, beautiful and witty friend’, Eloise told Hyacinth.

‘Men are fools because… aren’t they all?’

‘A true wise one, that’, Penelope laughed.

‘She is’, Eloise said, rubbing her sister’s head.

But quietly, Eloise determined she would indeed get to the bottom of what Penelope had truly meant. She was pretty sure her intents weren’t just getting a husband. She looked across the table, where Colin was shovelling in his food by the boatloads. Truly, Penelope could have him.

‘Eloise, I was hoping we could have a talk, make some plans?’ her mother asked while knocking on her bedroom door that night.

‘Come in.’

Her mother opened the door and found her on the floor, surrounded by old threadbare teddy bears and silly stories from when she was eight.

‘Don’t tell anyone else I’m turning sentimental at my old age.’

‘Oh dear’, her mother smiled, sitting down on her bed. ‘It’s fine.’

Eloise sighed.

‘Did the others…’ Eloise asked without finishing her sentence. But her mother knew all the same what she meant.

‘Francesca did. Daphne… I think she was more worried about other things at the time. After all, she couldn’t wait to jump ship. She’d always had dreams of her own house, that one. She always romanticized the future more than the past.’

‘I never had an issue being here. I liked being around everyone.’

‘Daphne didn’t have an issue with being here either. While Francesca couldn’t wait to have some more privacy. Yet she was the one who took her time to go through all her stuff and say goodbye to her childhood. Everyone’s different.’

‘Hmph.’

‘Could you tell me about him, Eloise? Aside from tonight I haven’t heard a thing about him from your mouth yet. It kind of came tumbling out of the air from nowhere.’

Eloise looked down at her toy. It was a rabbit, albeit a very clunky one. His one leg was heavier than the other, and all the wool had sank down into his foot in one big clump. In one arm sat a bell that made noise when she shook it. She rolled it between her thumb and index finger. She’d always done that. The fabric there had become thin. God, she’d carried that thing everywhere on her adventures.

‘He’s…. uhm… Christ, I don’t know where to start. What is the most important thing about a husband?’ she asked, throwing her mother a brief look.

Violet Bridgerton smiled. She had started folding the clean clothes that Eloise had haphazardly thrown on her bed after her arrival.

‘What is important is how he treats you. And whether you love him.’

‘Oh well, that’s easy. He’s always been good to me. I’ve known him for some seven years. Eight almost. He didn’t laugh at my ambitions. Actually, it’s him who sent me all the books his friend had used for university courses. He himself had to pause his studies to marry Marina, you know, because well, George died and she was pregnant and so he stepped in to save his brother’s fiancée from ruin but he’d been just twenty-one, and still studying. Botany. Not awfully interesting if you ask me. I don’t understand how he spends entire hours each day in that greenhouse. But then I guess he’s not very interested in literature, but I understand he wants to know about that and he understands I care a lot about my books and so… I’m jabbering, aren’t I?’

‘I’ll never complain when my children are talking a lot about something close to their hearts. A mother can never know enough’, Violet smiled. ‘So… Marina? Where have I heard that name before?’

Eloise let out an awkward chuckle.

‘Yeah, uhm. She might be the girl Colin once planned to elope with.’

Her mother’s eyebrows rose up so high that Eloise quickly continued. ‘Colin knows. It’s a bit awkward, but he knows. I’m telling myself that it’s fine.’

‘So anyways. He listens to me. Thinks I’m funny. He actually thinks I’m capable, which was quite astonishing because I’ve been deemed nothing but a useless menace who couldn’t even manage her own life in this house, let alone be trusted to manage a pair of children.’

‘That’s not true. Daphne loves it when you look out for her children’, Violet disagreed.

‘Colin and Benedict laughed at Phillip. In his face. When he said I had a calming effect on his children.’

Violet Bridgerton, to her credit, did not laugh, and managed to doubt that statement in a way that Eloise wasn’t affronted.

‘I think you’re marvellous with children. But I must admit I haven’t had the privilege to see your calming effect on them yet.’

‘Well, they’re little Bridgertons, behaviour-wise. They freaked Marina out with their wildness, and Phillip was at wit’s end as well. They’d never been energetic little demons as children, they just couldn’t communicate on their level, challenge them, sweeten them up or threaten them in ways that worked.’

‘That does require a specific set of parenting skills’, her mother smiled.

‘He was also always so afraid of hurting his children. That he was too big, too brutish, too, whatever weak excuse he had to stay away from them. I managed to convince him to actually interact with his children.’

‘I suspect there’s a story there.’

‘There is, maybe another time. Trust me when I say that we just very much enjoy each other’s conversation, that I enjoy his children, that he loves that I work so well with his children, and that we just… well… I suppose… we just work.’ She let out a laugh. ‘I don’t know how to describe it really. We just never run out of things to say. I know we haven’t met much, but there hasn’t been a week in the past seven years, aside from one pause for a couple of months, that we haven’t written to each other. And when we’re together I just can’t help but… feel right. Understood. Appreciated. Home really. I always felt odd with outsiders, except for Penelope. I’d almost given up on men, if it weren’t for him.’

‘My dear’, Violet laughed. ‘I wouldn’t accuse you of not knowing him well enough. You have the longest acquaintance of any of my married children. Seven years of solid friendship? I wouldn’t dare doubt the strength of such a match.’

Eloise smiled, and looked down again. She couldn’t take the rabbit with her, could she?

‘If you feel like home with someone, that’s a definite way to tell.’

‘I hoped so.’

‘And it’s mutual? Because you said you proposed the match?’ she asked. ‘He’s been married until so recently…’

Eloise sighed, picked up her teddy bear, rabbit and ugly elephant and sat down beside her mother.

‘He’s never been in love either. Married for duty. I – I’m afraid a little, of what people will think. But to us it’s just so natural… he… his relationship with Marina… it was… barely even a partnership. Marina wasn’t well those last few years. They didn’t talk about anything, didn’t do things together the way you and papa did. Didn’t even … Well, there weren’t even good years during which they had a nice understanding so by the end… he didn’t feel like he lost someone he loved. Instead, we both… God, we’ll burn in hell for this. We were both relieved because we could stop feeling guilty for wanting someone.’

‘I’m sad to hear the girl had such an end. I was shocked and worried for Colin. That he’d been deceived and misled, that his heart had been broken. But she had always seemed kind. I didn’t wish her harm.’

‘Neither did he’, Eloise said. ‘They really tried. It just… didn’t work.’

‘They made the best of a bad situation.’

Eloise nodded.

‘So the children… they’re…’

‘Marina’s and his brother’s.’

‘You can always tell a lot about a man’s sense of family and character by the way he treats children that aren’t his’, Violet Bridgerton smiled. ‘I’m glad you have such a good caring man.’

‘I’m going to become a mother the same time I’m going to become a wife’, Eloise muttered. ‘You think I can do that?’

‘You’ve been caring for these children for years. Whatever could could go wrong?’

‘Well, caring for them and being responsible are two different things.’

‘I’ve seen the way you were with Hyacinth and Gregory. You’re a natural. You care so much about everything. Just look at these’, she said, taking the rabbit from her.

‘You’ll be alright, Eloise.’

Eloise leant against her mother, and Violet Bridgerton put an arm around her.

‘I have all the faith in you. You’ve made a good choice. You’ve taken years to look around and get to know him. And you’re a good, caring, capable person. No matter any doubts you have now, your marriage will be fine and you’ll make a good wife.’

‘I’m no Daphne.’

‘Dear, he’s known you for seven years. He knows.’

Eloise chuckled. ‘Yeah, he does.’

‘So, I booked a trip to the modiste for tomorrow.’

‘Oh no.’

‘It’s in the afternoon. No worries. I know you’ve had a long day.’

‘You have no idea, I’ve been stuck in a carriage with Anthony for over six hours and he definitely was an arse about the whole engagement.’

‘He wasn’t in the best mood when he was here before he left, yes. But what has he done over there?’

Eloise gave an animated description of every interaction, every jab, every patronizing decision and every mood swing. Although she also gave credit where it was due by telling her how he’d shown concern.

‘Oh, that boy. He’s become better with the years but he’s still got a whole road ahead.’

‘I don’t know whether I’ll pity him or pity his children when the time comes. He’s way too invested in everything, can’t be good for his heart’, Eloise said.

Her mother smiled.

‘I’m not ready to think about my grandchildren marrying yet, thank you’, Violet Bridgerton said.

‘Well, there’s eleven years between Hyacinth and your first grandchild. Hyacinth just got out. If she waits as long as I did, your first grandchild will be ten by the time she gets married. So then it’s perhaps only eight more years until the next Bridgerton wedding.’

‘Yes, you can stop there, Eloise. You make me feel like a great fossil lizard.’

When Eloise and her mother went to the modiste, it was only natural that everyone wished her well luck and expressed regret at not being able to either know or see her future husband. ‘You hid him very well, Miss Bridgerton. You’re hiding him so we all buy your next book to find out all about him, aren’t you?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Well, you said you always used real life as an inspiration for your books. Certainly someone as special as your husband will become a hero in a book?’

‘Who says he isn’t already?’ Eloise smirked. To which their mouths fell open. Eloise didn’t doubt they’d be going through every book that night to write down the descriptions of all men mentioned. Technically, it wasn’t a smart move, since her husband had only become available a month ago. Her book was older, so that meant she admitted to pining after a married man. She quickly adjusted course. ‘I’m already writing it’, she added then.

‘Oh, of course, naturally. Got to reap the feelings when they’re still fresh. Young love feels so special, doesn’t it?’ one lady asked.

‘It sure does’, Eloise admitted. ‘I adore him. It’s nicer to use love for my art than sadness.’

‘Many poets will no doubt be jealous of you. They only have their disappointments to use in their works.’

‘Eh, life’s already full enough of disappointments. I don’t read nor write books for disappointment, I write them to find things I don’t find as much in real life. Sense, humour and genuine romance.’

‘Right you are, I also hate dreary books.’

And that’s how Eloise got out of that difficult situation.

When she was fitting different models, and choosing fabrics, she heard other women gossip in the shop.

‘Lady Whistledown hasn’t published yet.’

‘It’s very late indeed. Usually she already started writing.’

‘I wonder if she’s ill.’

‘She hasn’t been ill in seven years. Or not enough to not write.’

Eloise shivered.

‘Would something have happened to her?’

‘Perhaps she died?’

‘She didn’t sound that old.’

‘Many people thought she was a spinster or a widow, with all the time it must’ve taken to write that column.’

‘Old widows wouldn’t go to that many evening activities. She must be a spinster. Or a bored married woman.’

‘So then what changed?’

‘Perhaps she got children.’

‘Perhaps her husband found her out.’

‘Perhaps she got engaged or married, which means she’ll have to stop. No husband will like his wife wasting hours on columns.’

‘Hasn’t Miss Bridgerton been out of town for weeks? And returned engaged? Whistledown always wrote good things about the Bridgertons. How peculiar that just when she is away, the column doesn’t come.’

‘Shh, she’s over there at the purple ribbons.’

Eloise ignored it at that moment, but asked her mother to drop her off at Penelope’s afterwards.

‘Pen! This is a disaster.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Lady Whistledown. She hasn’t started publishing yet so London’s wondering what happened to her.’

‘And?’

‘And because we were gone, and many already believed Whistledown was a spinster or a widow, they believed it was no coincidence Whistledown stopped the second I went out of town and got engaged.’

‘Oh no.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘I was also away’, Penelope muttered. ‘They can find me out.’

‘Yes. But she didn’t write nicely about your family. She wrote ravingly about mine. You can see which one out of us two looks suspicious then.’

‘Only an idiot would think that’, Penelope said. ‘Why would Whistledown give herself away by praising her own family and herself? That’s a dead giveaway.’

‘Well’, Eloise said. ‘Most people are stupid.’

Penelope winced. ‘They are, aren’t they? I should just present one final column. Saying it’s not me.’

‘Then they’ll definitely think it’s me since it’ll come out right before I marry. And don’t even the women with employment usually stop when they marry?’

‘Not writers’, Penelope said. ‘But indeed, it may be suspicious.’

They sat down together, and when they didn’t find out and the moment came for dinner, Penelope went home with Eloise so they could continue thinking about it after dinner.

Eloise hadn’t fully well stepped a foot in the family drawing room when Colin jumped up.

‘We need to talk.’

‘We have a guest, I can’t leave her behind.’

‘Penelope, do you mind?’ Colin asked.

‘Oh no I supp-‘

‘She does’, Eloise said.

‘She knows Hyacinth and Francesca, she won’t be alone.’

‘What do you need me for?’

‘It’s about… a problem’, he said, raising his eyebrows in a pleading manner.

‘What problem is there that Penelope can’t hear of it? Or Francesca for that matter?’

‘Eloise, please.’

‘But –‘

‘I think you may be in trouble.’

‘Oh well, if you think so’, Eloise grumbled. She thought so too.

‘What got you thinking that?’ Penelope asked.

‘Just, a thing. I thought about it whilst walking along the high street today’, Colin said cryptically. But given that’s exactly how Eloise got to believe she was in trouble.

‘It’s about Whistledown’, Penelope guessed.

‘Hush’, Colin said. ‘Don’t let Hyacinth hear you.’

Penelope nodded and they all looked into the room to see if Hyacinth had heard.

‘Please come.’

‘Sure, but Penelope is coming. I have no secrets from her?’

‘You do for us?’ Colin asked as they walked deeper into the hallway and then into the office her mother sometimes used.

‘Few. But not being Lady Whistledown.’

‘Eloise, please be serious. Don’t lie. I want to help you.’

‘Just why do you think I’m Whistledown?’

‘You’re the most nosy person I know.’

‘No that’s Hyacinth.’

‘But Hyacinth was way too young! She’s not a candidate.’

‘Alright.’

‘You were at almost everything she reported that I know of. I know my account is blurry because I was in and out of the country so much but… I’m sure you were at most things. And you’re a big gossip. And you’re clever. You write well. You love laughing at people.’

Eloise sighed. Penelope remained quiet, looking both disappointed and terribly afraid.

‘I’m not Whistledown. Not that I’m not flattered by you calling me clever and a good writer. I’ll let the gossip comment slide.’

Colin looked doubtful.

‘Colin, you were here when Whistledown started’, Eloise said. ‘Remember?’

‘With Marina? How could I not remember’, he said.

Then he frowned. ‘You weren’t out yet.’

Eloise nodded, he was starting to see it.

 ‘You could have gotten it second hand. It was Daphne’s season. She went to everything. Always talked about it. And Penelope, you were there too. You two talk about everything.’

Eloise and Penelope nodded.

‘You wouldn’t have written about Marina that way’, he then decided, mouth falling into an ‘o’.

‘That would be screwed up. Beg my pardon, Miss Featherington.’ Oh, classic, cursing in front of your sister and only being ashamed because Penelope heard it. ‘To tell me nothing about Marina’s engagement and only write about it in public the day of my elopement. To then write such things about her. And then once she married become friends with her and become attached to her husband and – ‘

Shit, he was getting too close to guessing it was Penelope. Penelope was out. Penelope lived together with Marina and thus was able to know. Penelope had reason to write such things. She had to cut him off. And damn it, with what he just said, she wanted to cut him off too.

‘Hey there!’ Eloise cut him off. ‘I did not steal a husband! I made no plans on him. I was just friends with him. I would indeed not hide such a thing from you and then reveal it but neither would I do such a thing to her. Or to myself. As to seduce someone else’s husbands. I refuse to have you insinuating I tried to become a mistress!’

‘Okay, poor choice of words but –‘

‘Horrible!’ Eloise shouted. ‘I refuse to hear anything more.

‘But Eloise, that’s something I now know, that we know. But others won’t think of that. For them Marina was eight years ago. They won’t remember her. Won’t remember that Whistledown revealed my fiancée to be pregnant to my surprise. Everyone in the street is already thinking of you. You’re known as a writer who loves chronicling romances and embarrassing famous people. You’re known for your scathing humour. And Whistledown always writes kindly about the Bridgertons, even though she portrays us as lust objects. So the writer is clearly already partial to Bridgertons. Eloise, if they think you’re Whistledown, you’re ruined.’

‘Ruined?’

‘They’ll hate you. They think you embarrassed them. All those influential people.’

‘I don’t care. I’ll be gone in two weeks. It’s fine Colin.’

‘It’s not. Then they’ll hate our family, for having let you continue the column. So then they’ll start snubbing us perhaps, and Hyacinth only just comes out this year and…’

‘Oh no’, Eloise moaned. That she could not abide. Whistledown accusations were one thing, but they couldn’t ruin Hyacinth’s chances.

‘It’s not me. But I don’t know what to do to stop the rumours. I hope she’ll start writing again. Because I’ll be gone, and I won’t start writing her columns from the other side of the country just so people won’t think it was me. I couldn’t even do it. Since I won’t know a thing about what happens in London.’

Colin cursed, as did Penelope.

‘I’m sorry, you probably want a more cheerful topic’, he told Penelope.

‘Are you kidding? This is a super important topic. I don’t want any of you ruined’, Penelope said. ‘Why would I want to talk about silly things when your family might be in trouble?’

Colin looked oddly moved.

‘We’ll find something’, Penelope said. ‘Even if it’s just a candle to light in church to pray Lady Whistledown is indeed just ill and will pick up her pen again soon.’

‘She must. For all our sakes, I hope she will. I’ll burn a hundred candles in every church in London if it helps’, Colin said.

‘Careful now, arson also won’t do our family name any good’, Eloise quipped.

Chapter Text

“Twenty-seven days. That is how long London managed to survive without my guidance? Have you been counting? This Author knows you have. They heard it on the streets, in the shops and even at horribly dull dinner parties. Yes, I am still here. This Author heard and saw all your talks about why I would be gone, ranging from illness, old age and work to marriage or children. I had a good chuckle, leave the passing of reliable gossip and news to me. You have proven yourselves quite incapable of it.

This Author has also heard with feelings ranging between curiosity and insult the list of names people believed to be me for the past eight years. Reader, I haven’t heard a single correct guess. And I heard it all.

London’s favourite guess at the moment is no one less than Miss Eloise Bridgerton, the soon to be Lady Crane. While This Author is certainly not insulted to be believed a sensational famous author, This Author cannot help but point out that Miss Bridgerton would never be so modest as to write a column anonymously. Because of my absence I had not been able to pass the word sooner, but have no worries reader, This Author knew all! Did I not in my last papers of the sixth of March say that Miss Bridgerton had to find a scholar in a university town? Well, Miss Bridgerton found herself a baronet (she couldn’t underperform given her sisters’ amazing track record) who studied Botany at Cambridge. Every spinster can breathe a sigh of relief: a true love match with a worthy man is still possible, even after seven years on the marriage mart.

But because the gossip won’t stop until I address the elephant in the literary shop: This Author did indeed consider quitting. Uneasy is the hand that carries the pen. With age I’ve come to realize that in my early years I used my pen too freely, wounding those who did not have the social power to survive jest and ridicule. To all those injured, I apologize for past harms. The coming season, as those of the recent past I have determined to only mock those who deserve to be mocked, the others I will merely tease. I planned on leaving without formal announcement. But it has turned the game of guessing my identity into a witch hunt. Therefore This Author hereby declares they will officially retire their pen after this season so you can all enjoy these papers a final season. There’s lots to look forward to in terms of engagements, scandals and debutantes, let’s enjoy it together for a final time.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 3 APRIL 1820”

When Eloise woke up, she could just feel it in the air. Something was buzzing in London. And no, it wasn’t just the better wind circulation now that her room was more empty, all her winter, spring and autumn clothes already packed as she wouldn’t need them anymore. Her precious books were also in boxes. She hoped the library could fit them all.

Eloise poked her head outside and saw people walking down Bruton Street, eyes glued to sheets of paper. She didn’t even need to be told anything, her mind instantly connected the dots.

‘Oh Pen’, Eloise sighed.

She’d done it for her. Despite that she didn’t want to do it anymore. Despite of the heavy guilt that ate at her heart each day because she couldn’t fix her past mistakes.

Eloise walked away from her window again. In the morning the aches of her tumble down the stairs were at its nastiest, although the pain had faded so much it didn’t restrain her movements anymore. She sat down on her bed again. Seven lives had been forever altered due to one Whistledown paper.

Penelope had written it to save Colin, dooming Marina. Colin had been saved, but his heart had been broken so much he hadn’t been able to trust a woman since, leading him to avoiding London as much as he could whenever it was matchmaking season. Then, because Marina was doomed, Daphne had contacted the admiralty who had in turn found Phillip, who had then been destined to marry a woman he didn’t love out of loyalty to his brother.

Eloise’s happy ending was only possible because Colin, Penelope, Marina and Phillip had all been afflicted by that one column in the most drastic way possible. They were all connected. All united and divided by one desperate moment of penmanship of a seventeen-year-old. And now, Penelope was forced to live in fear for another three months, afraid that someone else would be just as affected by her writing as their circle had been. Perhaps “had been” was the wrong tense to use. They were still affected by it. Penelope still suffered from her guilt, Colin was still struggling with trust and hatred for Whistledown. And oh yes, Penelope was the Whistledown Colin so strongly disliked. They were still stuck in this mess.

When Eloise arrived downstairs, the entire household was animatedly chatting over the breakfast table. Not that the household was so large anymore. Just mother, Hyacinth and herself.

‘Whistledown’s written again I heard’, Eloise said, plopping down beside Hyacinth. the column was held up in one hand, a piece of jam toast in the other.

‘Yes, isn’t it intriguing?’ Hyacinth asked before taking a bite. ‘I wonder why she quit. She can’t just be tired of it. Why now, after all these years? And why come back, after quitting? She vaguely alludes to being tired of the authority people give to her column and to it being a conscious decision to stop. But there’s nothing concrete.’

‘Chew before you speak’, Violet Bridgerton told her youngest.

‘Chew chew’, Hyacinth said out loud before actually biting and swallowing.

‘People grow tired of things. Sometimes there’s not much more behind it’, Eloise shrugged.

‘But most times there is. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.’

‘You’re going to get to so many bottoms some fisherman will scoop you up from the bottom of the sea one day.’

‘Very funny, Eloise. Whatever happened to you? You used to be curious too. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you were obsessed with finding out Lady Whistledown way back’, her sister told her.

Eloise bit her lip.

‘Well, I did my best. I made lists of attendance, ran over everyone I thought it could be in London. In the end I decided to focus on more productive things, like writing.’

‘Well, who says solving mysteries can’t be productive? There’s things like detectives and spies’, Hyacinth smiled.

‘Bless me’, Violet Bridgerton prayed to some god who had no mercy on her. Each of her children was a menace and a worry in their own right.

‘She must be back with a reason.’

‘Well, at least she’s back for my last season here. I think that’s rather nice of her. I won’t have to spend a year in London without her. And if she keeps writing until after I’m gone, people won’t be able to accuse me anymore.’

‘Yes, she’d heard of that. She must be jealous’, Hyacinth said.

‘Jealous?’ Eloise asked in amazement.

‘Yes, she’s said things about it through the years, of no one guessing her identity. But she’s never actually named suspects and debunked the idea. With you she did.’

‘Perhaps London has never been so united in their belief of who Whistledown was. Before this year over a dozen names were thrown up into the air each season. Now everyone suspects me. Perhaps it’s because of that.’

‘Perhaps, even though she loves her anonymous status, she can’t bear the thought of someone else being believed to be her. I would be too, after spending so many years of effort in something. Wouldn’t want another to get the credit.’

‘Or the condemnation. Whistledown is part celebrated, part infamous’, Eloise said.

Penelope, jealous and protective. It sounded quite odd at first. And indeed, Eloise didn’t believe her friend to be truly upset.

‘What did she write?’ Eloise asked.

Hyacinth read the papers out loud.

‘She complimented my work before, and she compliments me now by saying it’s a compliment to be compared to me. Doesn’t sound like she’s insulted.’

‘Not insulted, no. But she is protective.’

That could be a reading, if one didn’t know that Penelope did it to protect her.

But Eloise had to admit this was the most self-centred announcement of Whistledown yet, and more transparent than she’d ever been before. But that was because Eloise knew what Penelope was referring to. For someone who didn’t, like Hyacinth, even though she was clever, it would still be very confusing.

Could Hyacinth have a point though? Eloise supposed she could. Penelope had always been protective of the Bridgertons. That was what had led her into making the announcement about Marina in the first place. But perhaps she was also protective of her column. She’d always complained when people she disliked were believed to be Whistledown. And she had been jealous too, when Marina and Colin first got together. She did sound a bit haughty when she described laughing at everyone’s theories.

Her stomach turned with worry. She had to talk to her.

‘Eloise, you haven’t eaten yet’, her mother said.

‘Oh? Hm. Not really much of an appetite.’

‘Wedding nerves? It’s understandable if you do’, Violet Bridgerton said with an empathic look.

‘Yes, wedding nerves. It’s all coming at me so soon.’

‘We have another dress fitting tomorrow, for the trousseau.’

‘Oh, joy’, Eloise groaned.

‘A letter’, the butler said, coming into the room. ‘For Miss Bridgerton.’

Eloise perked up at that. The letter was from Phillip.

‘Ah, there is my smiley child’, her mother exclaimed with contentment.

‘Your fiancé?’

‘Mhm.’

Eloise tore open the letter.

“To my fiancée,

I am glad to hear you arrived safely. I am fine with waiting until next Saturday. It does not make a lot of difference. The children have been racing around the house, positively hyper-energized with wedding excitement. Their nurses are good, but say that their focus is close to that of a goldfish. I’ve been informed goldfish have a three second memory. I’m inclined to agree.

Today I’ve taken them to Larkin’s. Seeing them in those new clothes made me realize just how much they needed them. It’s a bit sad, of course, that most of them are in blacks, greys and lavenders. I suppose Amanda’s light lavender dress and Oliver’s grey costume will suit for the wedding. They look quite tidy and good in them, and those colours aren’t too dark. I’ll have to hide them though. Amanda came home and was immediately racing around in that dress, calling herself a princess. As their tutor teaches them French I’ll take it out of their rooms so they have no opportunity to get them filthy.

I was you good luck with packing everything.

Enclosed with this letter is a sprig of myrtle from my greenhouse. It symbolizes romance, devotion, and love.

With Love,

Sir Phillip Crane”

Eloise bit her lip. With love. Her heart jumped with joy.

‘What’s that?’ her mother asked as Eloise put her hand in the envelop to fish out the promised sprig.

‘He put in a flower for me.’

‘Ohh, can I see? What does it mean?’ Hyacinth asked.

‘Myrtle’, her mother smiled when she saw it. The trip in a big of the post hadn’t done it much good, some leaves had fallen off.

‘I’ve had such flowers in my wedding bouquet.’

‘Oh, he’s very romantic’, Hyacinth grinned.

Eloise let out a laugh. She was sure no one had ever called him romantic. He was just blundering through life, hoping to do the best without any clue as to how to actually succeed. Much like her. He was caring, but so many things flew under his radar he could hardly be called attentive most days. But this, this indeed was a sweet thing to do.    

‘He’s a botanist, of course he knows what it means’, Eloise said.

‘A man should give a woman he pursues flowers, Anthony always says’, Hyacinth said.

‘Who knows, you may get your very own this year’, Eloise told Hyacinth.

‘I hope so. I loved how the house smelled back when Daphne was still here. There were fresh flowers every day, enough to fill up all communal spaces, her room and even mine’, Hyacinth sighed, eyes turning dreamy. ‘That was lovely. No one of you ever managed to get flowers much.’

‘Well thanks’, Eloise said. ‘Francesca and I just happened to be an acquired taste. It’s not like we could ask men to send us flowers. It’s just luck. Besides, we found our love matches in the end, that matters more than having the house smell nice.’

‘I’m not saying it matters. I said it was nice and that we haven’t had that since. Well, we had the occasional bouquet but we never turned the house in a perfumery anymore.’

‘Hmm. Mama, I’ll be going over to Penelope after breakfast if that’s alright?’

‘Oh yes, of course’, her mother said. Eloise averted her eyes. Her mother always looked at her with pity, like she knew how much Eloise was going to miss her best friend. She probably did know. It was only normal. Losing Penelope was like losing one of her sisters. She’d spent every day with her for over a decade.

‘Pen, are you sure?’

‘What choice did I have? I already felt compelled with your engagement. I hated that I couldn’t set the rumour straight. And after yesterday… it was like a sign that I couldn’t quit.’

‘But what about you? Do you truly want to continue?’

Penelope bit her bottom lip.

‘No. But perhaps, continuing has its uses. I can say goodbye to Whistledown gradually. I can use these final months to do good. Correct malicious gossip, help ahead some wallflowers and bullied debutantes, set records straight on people like Colin. Truth is I do feel guilty, but I also feel restless. I don’t know what to do with my free time. And I felt so powerless watching all these rumours harm your reputation. Right now, I can use my time to make things right. I can’t fix the past but I can try make things better, a little, and undo some of the harm I’ve done.’

‘People like Colin?’ Eloise asked, sitting down beside Penelope.

‘He thinks Whistledown makes him appear as just a charming good-for-nothing. I want to rectify that. He much suffers under it, believing he has no use, no identity, no purpose, and that everyone thinks he’s lazy.’

‘You didn’t portray him as lazy.’

‘I didn’t, but it’s true I’ve done little but say your brothers were handsome, virtually interchangeable in the looks department, and charming, like there was no substance or individuality to them.’

‘Mhm. Well, you couldn’t focus on much more. You gave no one else the courtesy of in-depth characterisation. You were already partial in describing all Bridgertons in a positive light. It’s what made people think of me in the first place. Being even more appreciative of our deeper characters would have definitely put a looking glass on us.’

‘I know. But I can go for a tonal shift with everyone now’, Penelope said.

‘Also true.’

‘And if I keep writing, people will have to realize it’s not you, since you will be gone.’

‘I know. Really, I can’t describe how thankful I am. But you needn’t have done it. Pen, I’ve seen you cry so many times since… Have you forgotten all conversations we had? All the times you were unhappy and wanted to quit? Because I haven’t’, Eloise said.

‘I know’, Penelope admitted. She bit her lip, hesitating before jumping up.

A caged tiger had taken her place, and indeed the citrus coloured dress she wore didn’t help dispel the idea.

‘But don’t you see? Whistledown is the monster of my own creation. My own hatred for society’s superficiality, for bad people getting away with what they do, my jealousy at others who get attention while they’re morally inferior, my way to take it up for wallflowers and put people back in their spot, my outlet for my bad jokes! It’s me, Whistledown is the worst and the best of me’, Penelope cried out, resting one hand on the wall and covering her eyes with another.

‘Perhaps I can’t rest until I’ve killed the monster.’

Eloise swallowed. She didn’t believe Whistledown was a monster. Whistledown was just… human. She’d put people in their spot who deserved it, shown the truth, complimented wallflowers, cheered people on who were downtrodden like Posy and Sophie. She’d just made a few errors of judgement along the way.

‘And then?’ Eloise asked. ‘What once the season ends? Won’t you find a reason to write then? A person to save?’

‘You were the most important El, surely you see that?’ Penelope asked. ‘And hopefully, by the end of the season, I’ve sent everyone I wrote about these past years off with a kind message. Fixed every wrong.’

‘What if someone else tries and accuse someone of being Whistledown? What if someone claims to be Whistledown? What if someone started writing Whistledown columns pretending they were you?’

 Penelope ran her hand over her face, before pushing some escaped red curls back behind her ears.

‘I’ll have to live with it.’

Eloise decided to push Hyacinth’s theory.

‘You’d allow someone to steal seven years of your work?’

‘They can’t steal the money I’ve made’, Penelope said with a nervous laugh, although she still looked unhappy.

‘Neither can you right now’, Eloise said, knowing Penelope’s bank accounts.

‘I’ll figure that out in time’, Penelope said.

Eloise remained silent, but apparently Penelope wasn’t done with the topic. Hyacinth had been right.

‘I’d hate it. Beware I might just barge into Romney Hall every time it happens. But I can’t exactly claim her name, can I? Colin was right about that, they’d kill me.’

‘So?’

‘So’, Penelope sighed, walking over to the window.

‘So’, she repeated, her voice growing softer.

‘I don’t know. I’ll guess I’ll have to find something else to keep busy with… something to invest my time in.’

‘A new project?’ Eloise teased.

Penelope looked entirely unhappy.

‘You’ve got seven years of writing experience. I’m willing to bet my kidney and left lung that you’d make an awesome writer. Join me. We might not become old crones together as we set out to be, but we can be the annoying old women of the literary market, fear of all established men who still believe their profession is put away for men only.’

The sad planes of Penelope’s face cracked a little, into the shape of a small smile.

‘Why your left lung?’

‘Oh, you may have my right, if that’s more to your fancy. But back on topic: why not? You filled your time with writing. I see no reason why you should stop.’

‘I wouldn’t know what story to tell. I can write about things, but it’s always things I see, rarely things I invented.’

‘Most of my books are chiefly inspired by things I see. Come, humour me, write a book with Cressida as a villain and have Anthony or you put her in her place, have hubris take her. Just switch the names’, Eloise grinned.

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. ‘That would be funny.’

‘Make it a gothic. Lock her up in a castle with a creepy husband who eats a toe or a finger of hers every time she says something mean.’

‘That would be a short story. She wouldn’t make it past the first day’, Penelope joked.

Eloise started cackling, and Penelope soon joined in.

‘So, what’s this business with Colin, Pen?’ she asked once they’d come back down from their giggling bout.

‘I mean, I know you like him. But you’re really concerned with him lately.’

‘Well, for starters, we started talking, actually talking the day after Anthony arrived. I always… I suppose I always thought he was fine. I mean, I thought he was avoiding things a bit by always leaving England around the season, we all did. But I didn’t know how hurt he was by Whistledown. That he isn’t avoiding marriage but avoiding women because of Marina… I know I can’t fix all of that. But I caused it a bit. I care for him. I want to fix my mistakes as far as I can.’

‘That’s… very reasonable’, Eloise admitted.

‘He’s so nice to me. He always was. But I thought it was just politeness. No, I’m sure it was just politeness. But he’s angry when I say that.’

‘You told him you thought he was just doing it out of politeness?’

‘Actually, I even told him I knew he only danced with me because your mother wanted it.’

‘Ooff.’

‘Don’t deny it.’

‘Oh, I don’t. Mother would kick his ass if he was rude to you. She did, actually. When neither Ben or Colin danced with you on the masquerade Sophie appeared at years ago. But it’s a tough thing to hear I imagine. And to react too.’

Penelope laughed a little.

‘I guess it is. So now he claims he actually finds me nice.’

‘Nice or nice nice?’ Eloise smirked.

Penelope sighed.

‘He confuses me. I can’t believe he thinks I’m nice nice. Not ever. Why would he suddenly think that after seven years?’

‘Hey’, Eloise protested.

‘A lot can happen in seven years.’

‘But it’s different with you and Phillip.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, you spoke a lot in those seven years. We only shared a dance every now and then. Nothing really deep.’

‘Kate and Anthony were at each other’s throat for two weeks before getting engaged. And they’re completely smitten with each other. Why would it not be possible for Colin to go from friendship to love?’

‘Perhaps, but not with me.’

‘Oh Pen.’

‘What? It’s true.’

‘I also thought there was no way a man would ever love me. I’m the opposite of Daphne. I refuse to listen. Refuse to smile, dress well and embroider, instead I publish books and walk around insulting men. I tell men they’re wrong. I lash out. I curse. I literally told Phillip how to manage his affairs, the ultimate no-no unless you’re someone’s mother. If I can get a husband. You can get a husband.’

‘But you’re a Bridgerton.’

‘You think Phillip cared about my surname?’

‘He wouldn’t have asked a nanny to marry him.’

‘I don’t know. With his stress on his children needing a mother, who knows? But Pen, you aren’t a nanny either. You’re also of good stock. What, you don’t think there’s anything to like about yourself?’

‘I do like myself’, Penelope admitted. ‘I might not always have, or do. Not fully. But I don’t mind myself. However, that doesn’t mean I’m blind. I know I’m not an ideal wife to everyone.’

‘No such thing as a woman who suits everyone.’

‘I suppose that’s true.’

‘I don’t know how to get Colin to trust people, but I do think it might help his faith in himself a bit if Whistledown would recognize his personality’, Eloise mused after a while.

‘I think so too.’

‘And I do think you’ll be an epic writer in your own right, with recognition, once you’re through with Whistledown. Would be nice to see you get some recognition.’

‘Don’t you see me as competition?’

‘Phah, nah. I’ll recommend you, you’ll recommend me. Has there ever been a reader who said: “Oh no, I can’t read that book, I already read another book this year from a different author. Can’t read books from different authors” Have you?’

‘No,’ Penelope laughed, ‘I haven’t.’

‘Then it’s decided, welcome, partner’, Eloise smiled,  holding out her hand. Penelope took it with a smile.

‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘Doesn’t make the most important people in my life like me anything less.’

‘No’, Penelope admitted. ‘Rather the opposite.’

‘Nawhh’, Eloise laughed. ‘We’re all growing soft in our old age.’

Chapter Text

It was the first ball of the season, hosted by Sir Granville and his wife. Eloise and Penelope had decided to outdo themselves for the occasion, their final ball together as friends, their last first day of a season together.

They’d been drinking punch, pitying uncomfortable looking debutantes and laughing at ridiculously pompous men, when Eloise saw Colin passing together with Anthony, both of them taking in the room. Eloise lifted her glass at them, leading to Colin muttering something to Anthony before coming their way.

‘Eloise, Miss Featherington.’

‘Seizing up the prey, brother?’ Eloise teased.

Colin rolled his eyes.

‘Taking in the room.’

‘Those are synonymous, often’, Penelope smiled.

‘If so, then why am I here with the two ladies I already know best?’

‘That would be for the obligatory dance with me’, Penelope pointed out.

‘For the final time,’ Colin growled while rolling his eyes, ‘I am not just asking you because I have to!’

Eloise bit her lip. Oh, this was good.

‘It’s alright. I’ll say yes all the same’, she said, bringing her hand up to his.

‘Ah, Mr. Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton and Featherington!’

Eloise and Penelope froze at the same time. Everyone in London recognized that voice, always accompanied by the tapping of a cane. Lady Danburry. Colin dropped Penelope’s hand.

‘Oh no’, Colin muttered. ‘Stay with me please.’

Neither girl particularly minded her, actually, they quite admired her as one of London’s finest who was unabashedly herself and unapologetically opinionated. But hearing her voice had the same effect on them as if they were called by their parents after they’d done something wrong. However, if Colin was so afraid of her, they weren’t too kind to not make use of the situation.

‘Or else?’ Eloise asked.

‘I’ll die.’

‘How valuable is your life to you?’ Eloise egged on.

‘Twenty.’

‘Split in two?’ Eloise asked.

‘You’re my sister, you have a duty to protect your own. Twenty for Penelope.’

‘Deal!’ Penelope said, just in time.

The girls turned around, slipping into a modest curtesy. They should have expected her at the first ball of the season, and Eloise’s last. For once Eloise didn’t mind the ball. She’d hated them, knowing everyone would be having stupid superficial conversations, knowing that her mother was desperately trying to match her up, aware that a single gentleman might attack her in every corner. But today there were no such fears.

Lady Danburry nodded in return.

‘Lady Danburry, how nice to see you’, Eloise smiled.

‘Nobody ever thinks it's nice to see me,’ Lady Danbury said sharply, ‘except maybe my nephew, and half the time I'm not even sure about him. But I thank you for lying all the same.’

‘Lying?’ Eloise asked. ‘I’m about this far from naming a character after you.’

‘Miss Bridgerton, we both know that can be both a compliment and an insult in your books.’

‘When I mean it as an insult, I don’t tell people beforehand. Obviously.’

That got a smile out of her.

Colin said nothing, but she still turned in his direction and swatted his leg with her cane. ‘Good choice dancing with this one,’ she said, showing she had seen what was about to happen. ‘I've always liked her. More brains than the rest of her family put together.’

 Eloise snorted, and Penelope opened her mouth to defend at least her younger sister, when Lady Danbury barked out, ‘Ha!’ after barely a second's pause, adding, ‘I noticed neither of you contradicted me.’

‘It is always a delight to see you, Lady Danbury,’ Colin said, giving her just the sort of smile he might have directed at an opera singer.

 ‘Glib, this one is,’ Lady Danbury said to Penelope. ‘You'll have to watch out for him.’

 ‘It is rarely necessary that I do so, as he is most often out of the country.’

Eloise could’ve watched this with a box of bonbons. All day.

‘See! I told you she was bright.’

 ‘You'll notice,’ Colin said smoothly, ‘that I did not contradict you.’

The old lady smiled approvingly. ‘So you didn't. You're getting smart in your old age, Mr. Bridgerton.’

‘It has occasionally been remarked that I possessed a small modicum of intelligence in my youth, as well.’

 ‘Hmmph. The important word in that sentence being small, of course.’

 Colin looked at his sister and her best friend, clearly annoyed at the lack of support.

‘We women must look out for one another,’ Lady Danbury said to no one in particular, ‘since it is clear that no one else will do so.’

Colin decided it was definitely time to go. ‘Miss Featherington, we were about to have a dance?’

‘Alright’, Penelope said, taking his hand. Lady Danburry rolled her eyes.

‘How much did he pay you not to leave him alone with me?"

Penelope quite simply exploded. ‘I beg your pardon,’ she gasped, clasping a hand over her horrified mouth.

‘Oh, no, go right ahead. You've been such a help already.’

‘You don't have to give me the twenty pounds.’

‘I wasn't planning to.’

‘Only twenty pounds?’ Lady Danbury asked. ‘Hmmph. I would have thought I'd be worth at least twenty-five. And you, Miss Bridgerton?’

‘None.’

‘Mr. Bridgerton’, Lady Danburry sait, tutting.

Colin shrugged. ‘I'm a third son. Perpetually short of funds, I'm afraid.’

‘Ha! You're as plump in the pocket as at least three earls," Lady Danbury said. "Well, maybe not earls,’ she added, after a bit of thought. ‘But a few viscounts, and most barons, to be sure.’

‘Speaking of barons and baronets, Miss Bridgerton…’ Lady Danburry said, eyes gleaming.

‘Go Colin, before you shoot root here.’ With a gentle push, Eloise got her brother and friend to leave.

‘He’d do well, with her.’

‘So thinks everyone, now it’s just him who needs to see that’, Eloise shrugged.

‘Is that so? Ha! More braincells in London than I thought, then’, she decided.

The ladies turned towards the room.

‘It’s an interesting party, I wonder what Lady Whistledown has to remark on it.’

‘Who knows? Their dance will definitely get in her books. Miss Featherington wearing pink instead of citrus colours, Colin being in London during the season, dancing with her. All quite remarkable. But I’ll be leaving in three days, so evidently, I cannot know Whistledown’s exact thoughts. As she isn’t me. I’ll be gone, they will be here, reporting on everything.’

‘Yes, I do believe it is a “she” too’, Lady Danburry smirked.

Eloise blinked. She’d said she in regards to Whistledown? Oh damn her.

‘Well her name is Lady Whistledown, not Lord.’

‘Mhm. Right. So, you can’t know her exact thoughts, really?’

‘A clever woman such as yourself must have ruled me out by now. I’ll be all the way down in Gloucestershire the remainder of the season.’

‘Yes, you are very lucky Lady Whistledown came back just to save your reputation as gossip grew thick.’

‘I am. Not that I mind, everyone knows I admire Whistledown.’

‘As she admires your family, mhm’, Lady Danburry said, watching the dancing Colin and Penelope.

A feeling of dread sank down to her stomach.

‘Peculiar, isn’t it, that just as London’s two cleverest ladies disappear, Whistledown stops. And as they return, she begins again.’

‘Lady Danburry.’

‘I never took hunting down Whistledown seriously, but like all people, I kept lists of suspects. Ruling out those I knew to be absent from London or not present at events she reported upon. There aren’t many people left, after so many years. So when one of the prime suspects leaves, and Whistledown starts reporting again just to beat down the rumour, protecting your family and complimenting them, as she always has.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Me? Nothing. I love a good secret. Makes one feel smart, knowing it when others don’t. But it does annoy me she is so clever to manage, yet is totally disregarded by all of society.’

‘Rather makes you think of someone?’ Eloise teased.

‘I’m not disregarded, I’m just not valued properly. Although I do sometimes find the fear people have amusing’, Lady Danburry said.

‘Would anyone else find out?’

‘No. She just needs to be careful of biased reporting this last season, and never come back even when another person claims to be her. Or people will start picking up patterns.’

‘That’s what I told her.’

‘She does have a brain, it would be a shame if she let it go to waste.’

‘I’m telling her she should consider writing.’

‘It does give me pleasure, seeing two girls building each other up and supporting each other, instead of putting knives in each other’s backs, as so many girls around here do in their scramble for husbands.’

‘We would be perfectly happy old crones together had I not, by some miraculous twist of faith, gotten a marriage proposal.’

‘You can still be old crones together’, Lady Danburry said. ‘I was married. And had a married best friend.’

‘I know. I want her married too. Just so we can be married arbiters of cronish taste together.’

Lady Danburry let out a laugh at that.

‘I always liked you two, Miss Bridgerton. Don’t become stupid or tame with marriage or old age.’

‘I’ll try my hardest to remain an eccentric’, Eloise smiled.

‘Good.’

Penelope and Colin returned, one blushing and the other looking amazingly confused.

‘You got her to leave?’

‘Oh yeah, we just had a pleasant little chat about things.’

‘Things?’ Penelope asked at the same time Colin said: ‘Pleasant?’.

‘Yeah, Whistledown and stuff, my marriage, normal topics.’

Colin’s eyes grew big.

‘You don’t think… she doesn’t think it’s you, does she?’

‘No. Everyone believes Whistledown. If she doesn’t say it’s me, it’s not me.’

‘That’s exactly what everyone would say, if they were Whistledown.’

‘But Colin. It. Is. Not. Me.’

‘I know that, but I’m just saying. If we broke something in the house, all of us said we didn’t do it’, Colin said.

‘He’s got a point’, Penelope said. ‘But currently, everyone seems to be buying it.’

Once Colin had departed for a snack, Penelope immediately turned to Eloise.

‘Did she guess?’

‘Correctly’, Eloise admitted. ‘But she won’t tell.’

‘This is going to be a hell of a few months’, Penelope sighed.

‘For sure.’

‘So, how was the dance?’

Penelope blushed. Eloise then looked in the direction Colin left, and saw him looking back at them from the refreshment table.

‘Oh. My. Word. My brother really taking to you.’

Penelope's blush turned a furious red.

‘He is,’ Eloise exclaimed. ‘He must be. Oh, you must tell me. What are you always talking about? Is it heading in a certain direction?’

‘Of course not. You’re being ridiculous. We just danced and joked a bit.’

By twelve the next midday, Penelope stormed into Bruton street, demanding a private conversation with Eloise.

‘What is it?’ Eloise asked. ‘I must go to the florist in two hours so we don’t have the entire afternoon if you want to go to a park or anything but – ‘

‘Colin came by this morning.’

‘Oh.’

‘We were talking and he went on about Whistledown and then.’

‘And then?’

‘And then we kissed.’

‘Oh my god! Penelope!’

‘But you don’t understand, it went horribly wrong afterwards. He didn’t drop the Whistledown topic.’

‘Oh no.’

‘And then he started reasoning why so many people thought it was you. And why it was so odd it wasn’t you. And then he thought it was odd you didn’t show an interest in discovering anymore after you spent a year obsessing over her.’

‘And then he reasoned: Eloise never stops being curious. She’s like a Pitbull. She doesn’t let go. So she must already know who it is.’

Eloise remained silent as tears started running down Penelope’s face.

‘He knows. Or he’s dangerously close to it.’

She put her arms around her best friend. Well, this was horrible.

‘I have many friends in high places. He won’t necessarily jump to you. He’s sweet and all. But Bridgerton men just don’t get the same amount of deductive skills as the women.’

‘I’m not sure, Eloise.’

‘Just keep laughing at him, calling his beliefs ridiculous, and change topics. It’ll wear down.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I hope so.’ Eloise tapped her fingers against the side of the couch. ‘But then we are all bad at letting things go.’

‘I’m doomed. How can this be. Seven years I was completely fine. And now one stupid column will be my undoing? No way. I won’t let this thing ruin either of us. It’s done enough damage.’

Eloise knew that today, a new Whistledown column would be printed. It would be distributed late in the evening at the Whitechapel’s home, who were hosting a party. The rest of the volume would be sold on the street the morning after.

She prayed that the continuation of Whistledown would just make people hungry for the follow-up of gossip, instead of the identity of the author. She’d hated that she had to send off Penelope because of the florist, the previous day. She hoped to make up for it today. But she knew Penelope would spend her morning going to town to pass the Whistledown papers, and Eloise herself had a dress-fitting early in the afternoon. It ran out a bit, but luckily her dress was fast on its way to being ready. Her trousseau was rather limited, time constraints and all that. But both the trousseau and her dress were supposed to be ready two days before the wedding.

By the time she came back at six, she found her best friend at the dining room table beside Colin. Engaged. And looking very confused. Eloise would’ve tried calming her as Penelope had tried to calm her when she had her many breakdowns about her engagement. But Eloise was too horribly confused herself, and too focussed on trying to catch up to be of any comfort.

‘He found out, in the most horrible way possible. He was coming over to apologize for all his talking about Whistledown, and to ask whether it could be my mother  –‘

‘Does he know those two point are kind of contradictory?’

‘I tried pointing it out’, Penelope smiled with a smile caught between nervousness, humour and sadness. ‘He saw me getting into a carriage. Decided to follow me because he thought I was going to Bruton Street. Then got curious when I passed that. He hoped I would get out in the shopping streets. But when I didn’t he worried and continued following me all the way to –‘

‘Ah no’, Eloise moaned.

‘Oh yes. He followed me inside and even took the papers out of their hiding place. Caught red-handed. He’s going to help me keep it quiet, he says. But he also thinks I should stop this minute. But I can’t. Because of you. Because I have to fix things. Eloise, he got so angry.’

‘Angry? Colin?’ Eloise whispered, looking up at Colin across the room, amiable chatting with Anthony and Simon. But there was a certain tense curl around his mouth.

‘Angry and worried. He got all controlling and upset at how I could be ruined and how dumb I was to continue writing and…’

‘Let him cool down. Whistledown’s kind of a big deal for him. He doesn’t see that most people don’t have such intense emotions about her. To them she’s just a gossip column, for him it threw his whole life upside down.’

‘I know. But still. To have him look at me like that…’

‘Like what?’

‘Like he wanted to lock me in a room and take my pens away from me.’

‘If he would do that, I’d rip out that door myself, and slam him on the head with it. Oh Pen…’

‘He doesn’t hate me a lot though, not as much as I thought.’

‘We’ll get through it.’

‘I don’t get it. He asked me if I put Marina in Whistledown because he wouldn’t listen to me when I told him privately that there were reasons why he shouldn’t marry Marina. Then commended me on being there for her after the scandal and being a more understanding person than he could ever be. Then he kissed me. Said we were going to marry. And then said he was still angry that I was Whistledown because I’d been stupid to put myself in such danger.’

So Eloise did what anyone who couldn’t handle highly emotional situations would do, she cracked a joke.

‘Think we might still be able to fetch a special license to marry together in the same church?’

Penelope slapped her leg, and Eloise thought that was fair.

She understood Penelope’s confusion. Marina’s fate had been weighing on her for almost a decade. As she had been on Colin. It had ruined his trust in women. But apparently, for some odd reason, finding out Penelope was Whistledown, and seeing she had put so much work in looking out for him, had given him new faith in women. Or at least in Penelope. He didn’t seem able to reconcile Penelope with the Whistledown personality, as he still got quite upset whenever the topic was mentioned. But things were, for some miraculous reason, starting to heal.

Three days before the wedding, all of Eloise’s sisters in-law had finally made it to the city, and demanded Eloise join their “grown-up” conversations. Those were Daphne’s words. Eloise, understandably, balked at them, and hissed and roared at the insinuation that unmarried women weren’t fully grown. An insult to herself she could have let slide with less furore. However, it was a direct insult to the life and legacy of Jane Austen, who had died a maid but was very much a mature brilliant woman. That, Eloise could not abide. But go she did, she was curious, after all, to hear what her sisters had deemed “unsuitable” for her ears these past years.

Eloise arrived at Grosvenor Square at Hastings House and was immediately shown in. No children were present, a rarity these days. But perhaps Kate and Daphne had done it to spare Francesca. They plopped down on the couches, waiting for tea and food to be served.

‘Is it normal that I’m this exhausted? I’m usually so full of energy’, Eloise complained. ‘I always found dress shopping a drag but never like this.’

Daphne laughed heartily. ‘Well. Women have far more to do than men. Especially with weddings. With all the fittings and all I’m sure you’re feeling like a pincushion and you never had patience for such things. I’m not surprised it would drain your patience.’

Eloise sagged into the couch, looking at her three married sisters. She could still count Francesca in that number, she had all the married experience. Well, she was here for a reason, she’d get right to it then.

‘Daff, Frannie, Kate,’ Eloise started with a sigh, ‘how did you know you were ready to be a wife and a mother? I’m already half mad and I haven’t even started.’

‘Ready?’ all three asked in unison.

They looked amongst themselves, and Daphne started talking first. ‘I’d been looking for a husband. I never questioned it would happen. I don’t think I overthought it much. It felt like a normal thing to do, getting wed that is. At the time there was a lot of… confusion and drama and quite a few trials but that had nothing to do with the idea of marriage itself. I suppose I didn’t get off on the best foot with the housekeeper, always be kind to the housekeeper Eloise, but the institution itself didn’t daunt me.’

Kate came next, and shrugged. ‘I wasn’t ready at all. I’d reconciled with being a boring old maid and suddenly found my entire prospects changed because of a bloody bee one afternoon. I was still in shock in church. I neither felt ready to be a wife, nor sure of whether marriage would work between us. But after three months, everything smoothed out rather nicely, and children well, they came in time and I had nine months to prepare for each.’ Kate gave her a supportive smile. ‘I don’t know what it’s like to enter a marriage and already having to be a mother. But you know the children, right? How do you get along?’

‘Very smoothly, I admit. But it was never with the knowledge that I would be… you know… responsible for everything in their life. That everything goes well. Feed them, ensure they survive childhood, survive playfights, and come out on the other end as decent relatively functional people. And if they don’t it’ll be my fault. As a friend of a married couple I didn’t have to deal with such an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Not that I dealt with them in an irresponsible manner, I think.’

The two present mothers shared an amused look with each other. ‘Yes, well. That fear will never change. It remains overwhelming.’

‘How comforting’, Eloise grumped. ‘Fran, any words of comfort?’

‘I felt ready because there was no other way I could be with him, and I very much wanted to be with him’, she merely replied.

Eloise crawled a bit more upright. ‘That’s true, I suppose. That I know. But I’m going to make an awful wife.’

‘You will not,’ Daphne said, batting her arm. ‘Why on earth would you say that? You’ve known him for years. You know how to interact with him and the children. You know how a household is run. You already helped mother around the house. You’ve gotten the same lessons as Francesca and I had and you have a solid basis of affection for each other. That’s a very good starting point for any husband and wife.’

‘But I’m so… restless. I’ve always been. I like traveling the country. Writing my books. Being in London. He would never come to town. I’d have to leave him and the babies if I wanted to come by. So I could never stay for long. I’d be miserable there missing all of you, and I’d be miserable here because I’d feel like I was neglecting all of them.’

Suddenly there were tears in her eyes. She rubbed at them in frustration. She’d never been much of a crier. Why was she emotional as of late?

‘Eloise, look at me’, Daphne ordered. ‘I can’t bear it either. You can be just like me. I’m here plenty of times. Take your time the first few months, test it out and find out what works best for both of you. You’ll find a way to make it work. But not everything has an answer beforehand.’

‘You think so?’

‘I wouldn’t say it otherwise. Stop thinking so hard, Eloise. You'll find marriage a lot easier if you simply allow it to be.’

Eloise blinked, but before she could answer a servant came in with trays of sandwiches and scones and bacon and.

‘Oh crap, that smells awful’, she cursed, jumping up.

‘What in God’s name is society obsessed with eating now?’ she asked, throwing open a window and slinking down in the window sill.

She could hear the clinking of plates and cutlery being laid out on the table, but no one spoke a word.

‘Thank you’, Daphne said to her servant.

‘What? Have I insulted your cook?’ Eloise asked with a laugh.

She turned around and found everyone in the room looking at her with dead serious eyes. It made her hesitate a second. Had she really been too rude by saying that? Perhaps a bit, she admitted. But she barely had a filter on her best days, when she was exhausted and cranky as she had been the past few days, there was just no filter at all.

‘Now what?’ she asked.

‘Eloise, I don’t mean to be indelicate or – ‘ Daphne started, but Kate cut her off.

‘How long have you been tired?’

Eloise huffed, rolling her eyes.

‘This entire engagement has been making me feel like I could use a yearlong nap. All that drama and travelling and stupid fitting would wear any sane person down.’

‘But it wouldn’t make every sane person sick.’ Francesca said.

Eloise frowned. ‘Who was saying my exhaustion had anything to do with me hating the smell of whatever is on that table?’

‘Eloise, I’m not that into fancy fads. There’s nothing here that isn’t served on the regular in our households’, Daphne pushed.

‘Then the eggs have gone off’, Eloise concluded, hopping off the window. ‘Really, I’m surprised none of you are annoyed by it. Especially you, you’re the delicate one’, Eloise grinned, pointing at Daphne as she walked over to the table.

‘Now what is it? This? Hmm no’, she said as she sniffed a cucumber sandwich. ‘This?’ she joked, making quite the show of it.

‘This?’ she teased. But it hadn’t even been near her face yet when she felt sick to the gut. ‘Ew god, definitely that’, she cursed.

‘Of course it had to be the fish’, Kate sighed.

‘What? Why of course?’ Eloise asked, dropping the sandwich and taking big steps away from it.

‘Dear, I don’t mean to intrude but – ‘ Daphne asked, her cheeks becoming ever more pink.

‘Did you sleep with your fiancée?’ Kate asked. Eloise’s eyebrows shot into her hairline.

‘What! How! What on! Who…. For God’s sake why would you ask?!’ She cried out, her cheeks instantly burning.

All eyes were on her, looking at her with expressions bordering between empathy and pity.

They remained silent.

The silence stretched and then –

‘Why do you need to know?’ Eloise then asked, panic crawling up into her chest.

‘We don’t. But do you want to know why we asked?’ Francesca asked.

‘I have a feeling I don’t when you all look at me like that’, Eloise muttered.

‘When are your courses? I hope you won’t have them at your wedding’, Kate asked, shifting the topic.

Eloise frowned.

‘What day are we?’ Eloise asked

Kate blinked.

‘Wednesday?’ Daphne said.

‘The twelfth of April’, Francesca sighed.

Eloise frowned.

‘I’m bad with dates’, she muttered.

‘Do you remember something happening during your courses? An event or anything?’ Kate pushed.

‘Geez, uhm…’ Eloise shrugged, when it suddenly came back to her. She paled.

‘Sometime after Marina died’, Eloise said, frowning. ‘I remember having them when it was all the madness of new nurses and governesses coming in.’

Eloise didn’t even question why they were discussing the topic in detail. In fact, she had a hunch. And that hunch was causing her heartbeat to pick up at a rate that grew more alarming each minute.

‘So that’s… when?’ Daphne asked, rubbing her temples as if she had difficulty keeping track.

‘Hmm. Usually around the eleventh they start. Oh crap, that means I’ll still have them at the wedding. Does it still work then, if I bleed?’ she asked without thinking.

Her sisters burned scarlet.

‘Uhm’, Kate stammered. ‘Depends’, she spluttered. ‘It works I think but I never tried – Eloise, you should’ve started them by now.’

‘It’s fine, Eloise’, Francesca said with a sigh, allowing a rare look into her private life she usually stayed tight-lipped about. ‘I don’t think you’ll need to worry about it working then.’

‘Wha-‘

‘What the others are trying to gauge, is whether you’re pregnant’, Francesca pointed out.

‘I’m what!’

‘Fatigue and nausea are early pregnancy symptoms’, Francesca explained, a sad smile ghosting her lips.

‘So if you’re uncharacteristically tired, nauseous, need to relieve yourself a lot, find yourself strangely emotional…’

Eloise paled. Sounds became muted.

Bugger. Fuck. Damn. Bugger. Fuck. Damn.

‘We’ll find out tomorrow, I suppose’, Francesca said.

‘No’, Eloise moaned, sinking down on the floor.

‘I can’t be pregnant. I can’t. Please. I can’t be put through that. I- I… Isn’t it enough! I have to switch houses. Switch names. I’m already getting two children I don’t need a third already!’

‘You still have nine months, if you’re pregnant. If nothing goes wrong.’

‘This is wrong. I’m not ready yet. I- It was one time!’

‘ Damn, he’s a good shot’, Kate muttered.

‘Better than Anthony, Benedict and Colin’, Eloise muttered, trying to lighten the mood.

‘Excuse me?’ Kate spluttered.

‘We did some shooting, that day’, Eloise explained with a watery grin.

‘Ah fuck. I need to stop crying! This doesn’t help it at all!’ she cried in anger.

‘Oh dear’, Daphne muttered.

‘If I keep in my tears does it count as a symptom less?’ Eloise asked.

‘I’d start praying’, Kate replied.

Eloise let out a sound that was not entirely unlike both a sob and a groan.

Much happy advice wasn’t given afterwards, given that no one saw the need for an initiation into the secrets between husband and wife anymore. Instead, they tried soothing her, telling her stories about their own experiences being late with their monthly flow and tried to get her to eat something.

She was safely deposited into the care of Violet Bridgerton some hours later, who took one look at her fifth child to know something was wrong. They retreated into Eloise’s room, where she admitted with no small amount of shame what had happened. Violet Bridgerton, bless her, knew exactly the right words to say.

She talked about courses being late. About stress and nerves being bad for their usual routine. She pointed out that all of Eloise’s symptoms could indeed be explained by plain wedding exhaustion, and that she herself had also slept little, which had made her more sensitive to light and smell. She talked until Eloise calmed down. And with some teasing about her sisters having poor taste and smell, and them being so occupied with being pregnant and having babies, a missed flow to them automatically meant children, while in reality many women missed courses without pregnancy having anything to do with it.

The next day, Eloise got the news that Kate had gotten something late last night, and had been ill and near a lavatory all day today.

‘See, perhaps there was indeed a foul smell, and you just had the most sensitive nose in the room.’

‘Or she’s pregnant too.’

‘Hm. Maybe. But although the wording is somewhat dubious, I do think Kate has a less pleasant condition than pregnancy.’

‘I’ll breathe easily once I bleed’, Eloise decided.

‘Start eating more and stressing less, then. Come, we’ll pick up your dress and trousseau. Once that’s done you can rest easily knowing everything’s taken care of.’

Chapter Text

“It is almost as if London has decided to make my last season memorable. Every man and lady on the marriage mart, from the youngest to the oldest, is doing their best to tie the knot before I retire. Everyone wants to make a last memorable appearance in my papers. This was to be expected, yet This Author would have never believed it had you told her seven years ago that Miss Penelope Featherington would bag a Bridgerton husband! Number Three, Mr. Colin Bridgerton, has successfully been brought to heel by the third Featherington girl no three weeks after he arrived back in the country. One can only wonder what made him change his mind so soon upon returning if he could never see something alluring the past few years. But do men not say the winds and tides can change a man? This Author thinks it’s more likely he was hit with a wooden beam when his ship changed the positions of the sails. Just like her best friend Miss Eloise Bridgerton she apparently only became attractive to men in her spinster years.

The Featheringtons and Bridgertons have an exciting few months up ahead. Today, Miss Bridgerton will marry her mysterious baronet ( This Author will, of course, tell you all you need to know ) followed by Mrs. Sophie Bridgerton giving birth to family artist Benedict Bridgerton’s second child, which will then be followed by the marriage of the last Bridgerton man on the market, as brother four is still completing his studies. Most can only hope to snatch an invite to the exclusive weddings. But knowing the Bridgertons, these are always hasty small affairs. Where the love runs deep, patience runs short.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 11 APRIL 1820”

‘You’re really dramatic’, Eloise said to Penelope.

‘But it’s true, isn’t it?’ her friend grinned as their carriage bumped along the rough English roads towards her afternoon wedding.

Technically, Eloise should have been sitting in a family-exclusive carriage. But given the limited time Penelope could spend with her before she had to go back to London, and the wonders Penelope worked on Eloise’s nerves, her sisters had accepted that Eloise would share a carriage with Penelope, Violet Bridgerton and Francesca while the others would travel with their own families or with the remaining family members.

Given Eloise’s propensity for exaggeration, the carriage had to be filled with the most soothing people in the world.

‘Only if the family members can’t behave themselves’, Francesca smiled.

Eloise stuck out her tongue.

Francesca let out a heavy sigh. ‘What a burden to be the only child to practice patience.’

‘As far as we know’, Eloise shot back.

‘It was not meant as an insult to you’, Francesca said.

Eloise quieted and frowned at her flat belly. She really better started bleeding today or tomorrow. Preferably tomorrow, but she wouldn’t mind today.

‘Any advice left, or have I sucked it all out of you already?’ Eloise asked her mother and Francesca.

Francesca and her mother shared a look.

‘Patience’, her mother said. ‘Practice patience. Patience with yourself, and patience with him. Allow yourself to make mistakes, to be nervous, to not know what to do. And give him time to talk, to come to you, and get used to you as a wife. It won’t be like his previous marriage as far as I’ve gathered. So it’ll be a large adjustment for the both of you. Give yourselves time. It won’t be perfect immediately.’

Easier said than done. Eloise shifted in her seat. She’d asked confirmation on the florist over ten times before they arrived with the bouquets that morning. She’d written five notes she’d wanted to send up ahead to confirm that everything was ready before her mother told her to trust her fiancé to have taken care of it, and even right now she was impatiently tapping her fingers on the bench thinking about what could go wrong.

‘That’s clear, it’s raining’, Eloise complained. ‘No perfection allowed for me.’

Her mother fondly looked up at the heaven, shaking her head.

‘Along that line, well, kind of, in regards to giving someone time to settle into a new role…Back when I married, mother said something useful to me’, Francesca smiled, looking back at Violet Bridgerton who returned her smile. ‘Some gentleness when it comes to judging yourself and him is useful’, Francesca advised.

Eloise frowned, gentle not being a word that was oftentimes ascribed to her, and no one had ever suggested she needed gentleness before. As Anthony put it, she was a force of nature, like an earthquake or a tidal wave, nothing about that was gentle.

‘After you marry, judge yourself and him by your merits, not by arbitrary standards of how you believe wife and a husband should be. Every couple is different. You’ve panicked about marrying before, and I believe it is because you hold yourself up to standards you’ve set up since you were a young girl. You believe all wives should be docile, obsessed with children, not working, soft and feminine. Wives don’t have to be that. You and your husband can decide for yourselves how your relationship would work best, and what jobs and roles you need to fill in. Back in the day… John didn’t like certain tasks about being the earl, so I did those. Not traditional, but it suited us. Just an innocent small example’, Francesca explained.

Eloise took some time to process that.

‘But people will ask questions.’

‘They always did, when did that ever bother you? You’ll be much more bothered when you’re playing someone you’re not just to please strangers instead of yourself and your husband.’

Eloise thought about that.

In fact it was very true. The whole reason she’d feared marriage before was because she was unlike her sisters and feared she couldn’t be the type of wife society expected of her. After many years she’d come to realize she wanted love and marriage, and that her issue had been with the roles she was forced to play. Had Phillip not had the exact same issue?

He had hated himself for the ways he had been a son, a husband, a father and a widower, always judging himself by what society thought was ideal, instead of looking soberly at his own merits and the reasons why he couldn’t take up those traditional roles. Perhaps they fit so well because neither of them could perform what was expected of them, which made them understand the other’s struggles so well.

‘I’ll try’, Eloise said.

‘You’ll find that, once you let go of those expectations, you’ll find marriage very freeing. I did. I didn’t have to be dragged through the whole debutante thing anymore. I could decide my daily planning for myself. I didn’t have anyone pitching into my decisions or prying into my business unless I wanted them to. I was technically governed by my husband, but we always discussed everything, and I could much easier persuade him than Anthony’, Francesca grinned, making Eloise smile. ‘I had a lot more control over my life.’

‘You’ve always been very independent. I never really minded being part of the home. Although the freedom of Anthony does sound alluring’, Eloise grinned.

‘Girls’, Violet Bridgerton chastised.

‘He’s really done his utmost best for all of you. Even though it was a steep learning curves with quite a few tumbles along the way, on all sides. Don’t pretend he was only ever difficult, and you only ever suffering angels who never did anything to deserve his frustration.’

Eloise and Francesca smiled and did shut up.

Not much later, the carriage arrived.

‘Fuck.’

‘Eloise!’

‘Bugger’, Eloise corrected, her heart stuck in her throat.

‘I’m going to faint.’

‘Nonsense’, Penelope said, hopping out as soon as the door opened.

‘I’m going to drag you to the altar before you have any time to turn this into anything more difficult than it has to be. Your flowers?’ she demanded. Eloise gingerly took her flowers and accepted Penelope’s hand.

‘Now make haste, dawdling will get us wet and your dress is way too expensive for that.’

Eloise blinked. Her friend had always had a bit of a temper, yet it was still impressive whenever it turned against her.

Forty seconds later Eloise stood in the antechamber of the church.

‘You’re Eloise Bridgerton. All Bridgertons get to be sickeningly happy with their spouses so there’s no reason to frown. And all Bridgertons very brave and stubborn in your decisions so I don’t see why you should start doubting anything now. Use your last minute as a Bridgerton to act like one’, Penelope said, tucking Eloise’s hair back in place and straightening her skirt.

‘So get down there with a smile on your face. All these silly un-Eloise-ish nerves have lasted long enough.’

‘Pen –‘

Penelope opened her mouth to protest whatever rebuke Eloise was going to fire at her. But instead Eloise smiled, and put her hand on her best friend’s shoulder.

‘Thank you. I hope… should you ever get jitters. I can return the favour in a few weeks.’

‘I’ve been waiting to marry for years. I can’t wait.’

‘Then I’ll fight your mother when the time comes for a dress fitting and she decides to meddle one last time to put you in a gaudy creation. I’ll find something to repay you.’

Penelope laughed, shaking her head.

‘You’ll be all the way over here’, she protested. ‘But she would try something like that’, Penelope recognized.

‘Then I’ll make a trip or two. And I’ll tell my mother to insist on accompanying you when I can’t make it. We’ll tell your mother that she needs to ensure Colin likes the dress as well.’

Penelope giggled, and just as both wiped away a tear for their lost childhood and the realization that the moment had come that they had to shed the lasts bit of their former lives, Anthony arrived.

‘Uhm – Am I interrupting?’

‘No!’

‘Yes!’

‘We were just done’, Penelope smiled. ‘I’ll see you in the front.’

‘See you on the other side’, Eloise said back.

Her brother was rubbing one of his cuffs clean until she left.

‘So’, Eloise said.

‘I have to admit, a week would have been too short’, Anthony said in a move that took Eloise by absolute surprise.

‘Awh, growing attached to me just as I’m about to leave the nest?’ Eloise teased, because heaven forbid she was serious about emotions.

‘You’d think after waving two others off I wouldn’t make the mistake of only realizing how much I valued my sisters until I had to give them up for the third time in a row.’

‘You know, we had a talk about you on our way here?’

Anthony frowned, immediately suspicious.

‘Francesca said she was all too happy to marry so she’d be independent instead of being under guardianship.’

Anthony nodded sourly.

‘I never really minded.’

He looked up at her in surprise.

‘That’s not to say I always agree with your opinions but I never minded you as a brother or head of the house. You always understood. Many a brother would have forced his sister to marry. You let me have my career, let me travel, let me antagonize every suitable husband on the marriage mart for almost a decade’, she smirked. ‘I suppose now is the very last moment I can thank you for it.’

Anthony swallowed, and she could see that for one of the very few times in his life, Anthony Bridgerton was short for words.

‘I wonder if you hit your head instead of your ankle when you fell down those stairs. You’ve been much more kinder and mature since I saw you again a few weeks ago.’

‘I was trying to have a mature conversation, but clearly only one of us has hit their head enough to have it’, Eloise shot back.

Her brother took hold of her shoulder.

‘Thank you.’

Eloise blinked in déjà-vu. Everyone had always teased the Bridgertons for being alike, but damn it, it really was true, down to the exact mannerisms, coping methods and ways of delivering words. How was she so much like him? Stubborn, sarcastic, masking emotions with humour, avoiding marriage for almost a decade… she could only hope that just like him, she’d be disgustingly in love a decade later. And beyond.

‘Come, it’s time to join the adult table.’

For once, Eloise did not protest that she’d been an adult for long enough. Now that she knew how much change and new responsibilities went along with marrying, she knew she hadn’t been burdened in the same way as the other adults.

She took a deep breath as she hooked her arm through her brother’s. She was one walk removed from finding out what it was like. Perhaps the fear of the unknown would ebb away as she got to know.

‘Let’s get on with it then.’

She walked past the empty benches where Phillip’s family could have sat but were unfortunately empty. Glided past Penelope, pretty in pale pink, and past her poor sister Francesca in mourning lavender, past Sophie, ready to explode in her blue dress but looking so glad to have made it there, past her mother, past two nannies shushing Amanda and Oliver as they wiggled on the benches with their little feet floating in the air between the bench and the ground. She paused for a second, leading to a gasp on her side on the church, and winked at the twins. They smiled in return and somehow, in their small faces, something strengthened her heart and determination.

It would be fine.

She turned towards the front of the church.

Sir Phillip Crane cut a very tall and impressive figure, on the steps in front of the altar. She hadn’t known he possessed such a fine suit. The dark blue made his shoulders stand out even more, the golden buttons on his coat drew attention to just how wide his chest was, the high waist – perfectly according to current fashion – sinched him in where he was slimmest, and his pale trousers made his legs go on for miles.

Usually, when he was formally dressed, he looked uncomfortable. He had when she’d shared that German Waltz with him in 1816, he did when he had still bothered dressing up in front of Eloise and Penelope and he had when he’d buried his wife. While she didn’t doubt he found his cravat any more comfortable now than he’d done before, his shoulders weren’t hunched anymore, and his eyes connected with hers instead of looking at the ground. He wasn’t making himself smaller than he was. He wasn’t uncomfortable with the attention on him today. He wasn’t uncomfortable with himself, she realized. He didn’t hate marrying her, and he didn’t mind his position as a groom while he’d understandably disliked performing in front of strangers at a ball or burying his wife.

She met his gaze with a smile as she removed the final bit of distance. Eloise hadn’t minded getting dolled up this morning and neither had he. They weren’t dragged along to perform something they didn’t want to do for others. They were doing this because they wanted it themselves. Well, want was a weak word, Eloise found. Want seemed to imply a certain willingness. Something you could choose. She had wanted a certain dish in the past, but she wouldn’t have died if she hadn’t gotten it that evening. This felt like a need, as if there was nothing else she could have done but end up marrying him.

It tickled her mind. That sounded like a great thing to put in a book.

‘Miss Bridgerton?’ the reverend coughed.

Eloise blinked.

‘Yes?’ she asked him in surprise.

Damn, she’d zoned out and now she had missed a part of her own wedding.

‘Perfect, the reverend decided. ‘I declare you man and wife.’

Eloise just about managed to keep herself from demanding: ‘What?’.

She’d missed her wedding. They always joked about how fast these things went but –

‘If you follow me so we can sign your names in the book.’

Names.

She wasn’t Eloise Bridgerton anymore, was she?

 No, no. She was. She was the same annoying, meddlesome, teasing plague to humankind she’d been this morning. She was still just as much like herself, and just as much like her family. It was just a title, just a formality. It was on paper, it said nothing about who she was as a person, only where she belonged. And right now, she belonged here.

If she’d remained Bridgerton by name, she would have had to give Phillip up, and that would’ve just torn her heart into pieces. And as everyone knew, a heart only worked as long as it was whole, and encased within someone’s chest.

Amelia and Belinda had gotten along very well with Amanda, both less than a full two years younger than her, and Oliver had been out and about dangling from trees together with Anthony’s son Edmund and Edwina’s little boy. And just like that, easier than imagined, both families clicked into one another, finding an easy family dynamic. Mr. Bagwell and Phillip reminisced their college days, Colin and Bagwell laughed about their trips abroad, Anthony and Phillip complained about similar issues with their tenants, Posy and Francesca obsessed over keeping the children from killing themselves, and Kate, Penelope and Eloise drank and laughed and before she knew it…

Eloise blinked and it was bedtime. It had meant to be a wedding breakfast, but it had resulted in a luncheon followed by biscuits and tea and finally supper as well. She’d worried about Phillip getting things right, but even though he had no experience hosting things, he’d managed to stock his kitchens well enough to survive a group of thirty eating their way through his hospitality. It was too late for most to return home, aside from Benedict, Sophie, Posy and Mr. Woodson and all their children. The others had to take rooms in Romney Hall for the evening.

‘I must say, I pity your staff. Today can’t have been easy for them.’

‘Our staff’, Phillip pointed out as he put down the last letter of felicitations accompanying the gift table.

‘How did you know they’d stay all the way until evening? It must have required a lot of ingredients to be ordered beforehand.’

‘I didn’t know’, he confessed as they left the room and made their way up the stairs.

‘Then how did your staff manage to – ‘

‘I had the pleasure hosting your brothers once before, remember? I’ve seen them eat their way through my pantry in thirty minutes, and that was with only three of them. I was prepared.’

‘A wise man.’

‘One’d hope.’

‘Hm. Picks a good wife. Uses his brain to think of everything needed for the wedding and makes sure to stock everything just in case he needs it, showing good foresight. I’d say you were wise.’

‘That’s being practical and clever.’

‘Ah, am I a practical choice?’ Eloise teased.

Sir Phillip paused in front of the doors to his – well, she supposed now theirs – bedchamber.

‘No. I’d say you were a romantic one. Alright, a bit practical, but mostly romantic’, he recognized.

‘That sounds awfully romantic.’

‘I rather think so too.’

‘I have something romantic to say in turn’, Eloise smiled.

‘Hm, let’s head in then, before I’m tempted to do something romantic where anyone may happen upon us.’

Eloise followed him inside of the bedroom, allowing the monumentality of finally sharing a bedroom to pass her by as she focussed on finishing their conversation.

‘I’d say marrying you wasn’t a choice at all.’

Unlike what she’d expected, Phillip froze.

‘What?’

‘I felt like there was no other thing I could have done.’

‘No no no. You must know there was a choice. I don’t… Don’t want you to feel forced to marry me.’

Oh, there was his past coming back to ruin a thought Eloise had found awfully romantic in church. Of course, he’d take it the wrong way.

She breathed in, putting her hand on his chest. It would not immediately be perfect, the past erased, from the get-go.

‘I just meant that once I realized I was in love with you, I realized I could neither marry anyone else, or stay home if I could be with you instead. They didn’t even feel like options. So, if I wanted to be happy I knew I had to be with you.’

Phillip let out a strangled noise, his hands coming up to wrap around hers.

‘Good. Because you have to be happy. I can’t… I couldn’t… I don’t want… I don’t want to make you ever feel anything but that.’

Well, technically the both of them together had caused a lot of unhappy panic the past two weeks. Eloise laughed, resting her head against his chest.

‘I doubt you’ll manage to keep me from frowning forever, but I doubt I’d ever feel happier in someone else’s arms.’

And that was true. There was no other man she’d ever felt good around. She could be herself around him in a way she only could with her family before, made her feel understood and admired and safe in a way no one had managed before.

He remained silent, his head coming to rest atop hers for a few seconds.

‘Eloise – ‘ he said.

He lifted his head, and so did she, her eyes meeting his in the dark. His eyes glimmered with intensity and desire.

‘Come to think of it,’ she said, because of course she couldn’t be silent even, especially, when she was nervous, ‘you haven’t had a wedding night before either. Have you?’

Phillip groaned and slammed his lips against hers. He made it very clear that he didn’t need prior wedding night experience to see to it that her needs were tended.

‘If I would have,’ he breathed against her lips after a kiss that made her dizzy, ‘you would have just had another opportunity to accuse those particular skills of being rusty.’

‘And what are those wedding night skills now?’ she breathed, her knees wobbling so much that Phillip easily picked her up and deposited her onto the bed.

In the moonlight she saw his face twist into a wolfish grin, revealing his teeth.

‘New, fresh, and ready for use. And today, I will take my time to put them to good use.’

Eloise’s mouth became dry.

He hooked both his hands underneath her knees, dragging her to him with one strong tug.

She gasped as she slid right underneath him, his hands coming up beside her shoulders as he moved to hover over her.

‘Your family is in another wing.’

‘O-kay, and I need to know because?’

Phillip unbuttoned her chemisette and threw it away, revealing the skin of her neck and chest.

‘Just so you know: they won’t hear you.’

If she didn’t understand why that was useful information at first, she certainly felt grateful for it by the end of the night. They collapsed together, sweaty and naked, their legs tangled and her head on his chest as they stared at the ceiling.

‘I’m not ever going to write about this.’

‘Why would you even consider that?’

‘I’ve always considered using everything I did in a book before. But this, I think, I’d like to keep private.’

‘Mhm’, he only hummed. She could have said she’d killed someone and he would have responded with the same hum, she believed.

‘Because actually, I think I would like to keep this all for myself.’

He turned his head towards her, an amused frown on his face.

‘Oh yes, get used to being very much desired’, she smirked, wiping her fingers across the creases in his forehead.

‘You’re a strange woman, Miss Br- Lady, Eloise’, he said.

She smiled. Neither her maiden name nor her married name felt right yet. Perhaps in time, when her married name hadn’t been so recently used by one so desperately unhappy, it would feel better to use it. But it could just as well be that moment would never come, and Lady Crane would forever be someone else to them, someone who had never been addressed as Lady Crane out of fondness and affection, and had never had the luxury of being happily married to the Crane she wanted.

‘I’ve been told that a lot in my years. I wear it as a badge of honour’, Eloise said.

The next morning, Eloise slipped out of bed to relieve herself and came back into the room grinning from ear to ear and hopping with joy as a goblin. Phillip could have hardly woken up to a scene more deserving– and more proving the point – of her strangeness.

‘I’m not pregnant!’ she cried, dropping herself on the bed and laughing with relief.

‘I’m not pregnant!’

The strange cries eventually got an explanation once she’d come down from the high of relief, and after a brief serious conversation, Eloise was soothed by Phillip agreeing that he very much wanted to get used to being married to her first, before throwing another child in the mix. Such was the very unromantic first conversation of the married couple on their first full day as husband and wife. But they were so entirely themselves, and they both felt so listened to and understood, it perfectly highlighted their suitability to one another. It made Eloise and Phillip, in the end, feel so much more justified in their choice of spouse, that Eloise quickly discovered what Francesca had meant when she said things were still possible when a woman bled.

Chapter Text

‘Eloise, what are you doing?’

Eloise put down her pen. Stretching her fingers for a few seconds. She’d been hunched over her desk for hours. It had been one of the few pieces of furniture she’d taken to Romney Hall. It was upon what she’d written her masterpieces, so obviously she couldn’t get rid of it. But it wasn’t the only new piece in the drawing room. The old threadbare pink couches had finally been replaced for nice green ones to bring the outside in.

‘I’m writing. And what are you doing? No classes anymore?’ Eloise asked, turning around to see Amanda hugging the doorframe of the drawing room. A quick look at the clock told her it was almost dinnertime.

Amanda shook her head.

‘What did you do today?’ Eloise asked to test her.

‘Writing’, Amanda replied.

‘So if I ask you to write all our names tonight, you’ll be able to do that?’ 

Amanda gave such a strong nod Eloise feared her head would fall off. But Eloise had a creeping suspicion. Amanda came closer to her.

‘And if I asked you to write the last sentence I wrote?’ Eloise asked. Amanda blanched.

‘You’re only fine with writing our names because you’ve been practising on those the longest, right?’

Amanda admitted to it, and came close to look at the pages in front of Eloise.

‘No matter, how about we practise a little tonight after dinner?’

‘Okay. What are you writing?’

Eloise smiled, scooting backwards. Amanda took the hint and crawled on Eloise’s lap.

‘I’m writing a story about a king, and his two children. You see, the poor king’s wife died, and now he wants to find a new mother for his two children. But the children keep chasing all female visitors away, they’re afraid their father will forget about them if he remarries.’

‘Breaker and Demolisha!’ Amanda cried, a smile appearing on her face.

Eloise hummed.

‘So what happens?’

‘Well, the king asks all kings and nobles to send his daughters to them. From all over the world. Hoping there is one between them who will not be intimidated by the pesky seven year olds. Of course, not all ladies want to marry him. He could not be their type, or they could be in love with someone else. But some fathers send their daughters all the same. Among them is one duke’s daughter. She doesn’t feel like marrying the prince at all. She much rather explores the exiting new kingdom. Or spend her time horse-riding. She doesn’t like the stuffy ballrooms that much. So during a ball when all ladies are gathered around the prince, she heads down to the kitchen to steal some cake, and finds two other small cake thieves. And becomes fast friends with them.’

‘Is it them? Is it the children?’

Eloise nodded.

‘What happens? What happens? Will he find her in the kitchen? Will he marry her?’

‘Well, it depends. I haven’t written that far.’

‘But you’ll know what happens before you write it’, Amanda protested.

‘Sometimes I do. But sometimes stories take different turns than expected.’

‘Eloise’, Amanda complained, pulling on her dress.

‘What do you think?’ Eloise asked, her smile growing.

‘I think… they’ll marry. Because she likes his children and a mother should like her children’, Amanda argued. Eloise was really blessed with them. Because George, their “dada” had died before they were born, they had grown up with the concept that a parent who wasn’t theirs by blood could be just as much a mother or a father to them as a parent by blood. ‘Will you read it to us once it’s finished?’

The story would probably not turn out the way Amanda expected. It had Eloise’s habitual strong independent women, her men who were always struggling with the pressures society placed on them, and perhaps the occasional jab at the concept of a monarchy. She had just met too many men who got their positions through birth but did not inherit the skillset required for those positions. Perhaps she could sanitize and streamline it so it worked out as a bedtime story.

‘Of course. Where is your brother?’

‘He’s gone to fetch daddy.’

‘They’re taking a while, shall we search for them?’

‘Maybe, or we can already go to the dining room.’

‘Hmm, but I haven’t been outside yet’, Eloise said, throwing a glance out of the window. ‘I think I’ll go search them.’

‘They’ll come’, Amanda said. Odd, normally she didn’t mind chasing them.

‘They’ll come sooner when I drag them’, Eloise said, giving Amanda a little push so she slithered off her lap. ‘Come on.’

It was the last in a long row of sunny days during which not a single bad thing had happened to the Crane family. And with every new day, the shadow that had been cast over sunny days wore off. She couldn’t even remember seeing Phillip frown at the sun even once this week. Their home had its ghosts, but they didn’t haunt them as much anymore.

‘They’re probably in the greenhouse’, Eloise reasoned when she didn’t see them in the flower garden.

‘Probably’, Amanda said.

‘What is the name of the king?’

‘Oh, I haven’t thought about it yet. Do you have a suggestion?’

‘Francis. It’s a pretty name, the same one as my horse.‘

They reached the greenhouse. She didn’t even have to turn onto a path to find them. Phillip and Oliver were sitting in front of a plant, Phillip guiding Oliver as he handled a pair of gardening scissors. Upon hearing them, Oliver turned around.

‘No! You can’t be here!’

As he cried, his garden snipped the plant in half. Phillip closed his eyes in resignation. Eloise bit her lip to keep from laughing.

‘Why not?’

‘Just go back, we’ll be out shortly’, Phillip smiled.

‘Dinner is in five minutes.’

‘We can do that’, Phillip said.

Fine, she’d find out. One way or another. Eloise turned around and took Amanda inside.

Phillip and Oliver arrived the minute the servants decked the table, stacked upon one another like blocks.  Eloise had to smile when Phillip ducked to enter the room without Oliver bumping his head against the doorframe. Once upon a time, he’d been terrified of even touching his children. Although he was still afraid of doing something wrong, there was now an easiness to him that came from years of practice in parenting and an astonishing lack of accidents. In his hands, Oliver held a bouquet of flowers that was almost too large to fit into his hands.

Judging by Amanda’s grin, she’d known exactly what was going on.

‘Happy birthday Eloise!’ Oliver and Amanda cried together. Phillip bent forward while Oliver extended his hands to give Eloise the flowers.

‘You people’, Eloise said as Phillip put his son down on a chair. It was lovely. All the flowers she’d stared at and admired whenever she and Phillip had walked through nature. There was even a sprig of apple blossom from the yard they’d played hide-and-seek in with the children.

‘Are you crying?’ Oliver asked. The children were immediately alarmed. Alright, maybe the ghosts weren’t all gone.

‘Happy tears’, she quickly explained as she wiped them away.

‘I made a card! See!’ Amanda said, taking a card a maid had just given her and pushing it across the table.

On the front was a drawing of four people holding hands, two big ones, two little ones. They were little more than stick figures, with the women having a skirt drawn between their stick-legs. She recognized Phillip with his blue dots for eyes and short brown hair, followed by Eloise herself with grey dots and a brown bun on top of her head, and beside them the two children with their dark hair and eyes. In the corner a sun was drawn with a big smile, and beside the sun were two very flat looking clouds with on top of them two faces. One with brown dots for eyes and black curly hair, and one with blond hair and blue eyes. Eloise’s heart contracted. Marina and George. Smiling. A family picture. Eloise turned the card around. The writing was uneven, some letters big, some small, some words were crossed out, but it was evident Amanda had done her best.

“Happy Birthday (Eloise/Mama/Mom)! We did not know what to call you. Mother is very weird. So daddy suggested we pick another name for you. And since it’s your birthday, you can choose! Love, Amanda, daddy, Oliver”

So that was why she could write their names so well. She’d been practising.

Eloise swallowed, but there was still something wedged in her throat. She could choose. They considered calling her their mother. New tears welled up in their eyes.

‘You don’t look happy’, Amanda said.

‘Au contraire. I’m very, very happy’, Eloise muttered.

‘I think we’ve simply overwhelmed her.’

‘You- you want to call me … ?’ Eloise asked unable to finish the sentence.

‘It is what you are, isn’t it? The wife of our father is our mother.’

The only other mama on the world was her own. The person she looked at for all the advice she needed, for all the hugs and support. The person who had been there every time she fell down a tree or fought with her siblings. The person who had kept the household running no matter what. Eloise did not feel worthy of that role. It felt so… it was a badge of honour and she wasn’t sure she’d proven herself capable of it.

‘You don’t have to call me anything if you don’t want.’

Phillip knelt down beside her, putting an arm around her. When she looked at him he brought up his hand to wipe her tears away, there was an understanding yet amused smile on his face.

‘You’ll never feel ready for it, believe me. But you can get used to it. Everything takes some getting used to’, he whispered quietly enough so that they couldn’t hear him. Was that how it had felt for him? It was, she realized, he’d told her so many times. The first time had been that first year when she had visited his greenhouse. She’d asked him whether he’d gotten used to being a baronet, hoping he would comfort her as she feared not being able to be a good debutante. He hadn’t given her comfort, but he had given her the truth. He’d grown used to being a baronet and a parent, and she had grown used to being a debutante and a functioning part of her family.

‘Does it take long to get used to it?’

‘See and find out.’

He gently bumped his head against hers, and took the card from her hands.

‘You’ve done your best, Amanda’, he said. His daughter practically glowed when he complimented her.

‘So, mom or mama, what’s it going to be?’

Well, if there was one person she’d always admired most of all…

‘Mama’, Eloise decided. ‘I’d like to be mama.’

She could feel that in her heart, felt how it contracted and expanded. She’d taken care of the children for almost three weeks now. She had for many times during many years actually. But this felt different. She wasn’t just their guest, she wasn’t even just his wife who just happened care for and love his children. Perhaps it was a good thing they’d given her some weeks to just get used to being their mother without labelling her. It would have felt too daunting otherwise.

From somewhere in her dress, Amanda retrieved a pencil, and rolled it across the table to her father. Eloise could only watch as Phillip put down the card, picked up the pen, and with one final look and smile at her, encircled “Mama”.

As dinner progressed, Eloise recovered from the violent emotions, and eventually managed to contribute to the conversation again. Afterwards she, Phillip and the children played some parlour games before the nurses made them ready for bed.

‘You’ve got it tonight?’ Phillip asked her once the children had gone upstairs.

‘Uhm, yeah, I’ve just written some stories in advance. Today it’ll be a lesson in empathy, and tomorrow it’ll be a lesson in being helpful’, Eloise grinned.

‘However will you encourage them to develop empathy with a story?’ Phillip asked, coming out of his seat and moving to one right beside her.

‘I’ll tell them a story about how Breaker and Demolisha get a new governess. She’s a very sweet governess. She taught at a school with many children she lost a lot, but because many people moved, the school did not have enough pupils left so she had to search for work elsewhere. She couldn’t wait to work with children again. She created all kinds of fun games for them to learn languages and spell. Putting a lot of time in them. But Breaker and Demolisha will break and demolish them. And she will cry. It will all be very emotional. And they’ll feel like it is very unfair to the poor governess. And then, one day, they hurt her. Just as she was about to show them one of her fun games she’d put so much work in. They’ll feel like proper monsters I believe’, Eloise grinned, her hand crawling across the table towards her husband.

‘Aha, does this governess have a name?’ he asked, putting his hand over hers.

‘No. But I think they’ll get it.’

‘I hope so, it’s glaringly obvious’, Phillip said.

‘It always is. I believe that’s part of the fun for them. They wonder what sort of fictional mayhem they are up to today’, Eloise grinned, lacing her fingers through Phillip’s.

‘You always had a gift. I knew the day I saw you spooking Amanda half to death when you played hide-and-seek and then managed to get them to agree to go to the house in under a minute.’

‘Ah, the day of the children’s first piggyback ride’, Eloise grinned. ‘I remember.’

‘So do I. Marina always told me to be so careful. It never even crossed my mind to do such a thing’, Phillip replied.

‘And now look how well everything went when you carried Oliver in for dinner. You manage just fine.’

Eloise lifted Phillip’s hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to it. Phillip’s eyes grew tender.

‘They will be ready’, he warned.

‘I know’, Eloise groaned. ‘See you soon.’

She threw him a pleading look, but he didn’t get it and she had to drag him to her for a kiss before she went upstairs.

The children devoured the story, crying for an encore, but Eloise wouldn’t give them. She was a Bridgerton, she did not fall for pleading eyes and cute pouts. She did give them an extra kiss. An curiosity overtook her when she left their bedroom. With the children officially off to bed, she wondered what would become of the rest of her birthday. Phillip had taken to married life with a wife who was actually interested in him like a fish to water. He had a passionate interest in marital relations for one who’d never hoped to have them, and each day the past few weeks he’d set out to put his studies into practice. Her core throbbed briefly at the memory.

The door to their bedroom was ajar, so she quietly pushed it open, expecting anything but what she saw. Her husband was standing in front of their full-sized mirror in a full suit, holding different cravats in front of himself with a hesitant expression.

‘Phillip?’

‘I don’t know’, he said without turning to her.

‘I don’t even know what you’re doing.’

‘We leave for London the day after tomorrow', he explained.

Penelope’s and Colin’s wedding was in three days. It would be their first trip since their marriage. It had been a very short honeymoon. Only a little over two weeks. She would literally have two days of being “mama” before she had to leave them. Already the mom guilt ate at her conscience because of it. Perhaps they should just take them along. Violet Bridgerton’s household was pretty empty. The house had held seven bedrooms, of which only three were now occupied. Eloise would reoccupy her own room with Phillip, but perhaps she could put Oliver and Amanda in Francesca’s, Colin’s or Benedict’s old rooms. They had behaved at Eloise and Phillip’s wedding, there was no reason why they couldn’t show the same respect to Penelope. She decided to ask Phillip tomorrow. Right now, there was another thing to focus on.

Phillip’s outfit for Penelope’s wedding. He was wearing his own new suit. It was nothing over the top, but the cut was sharp and the dark colour fresh. Due to an unfortunate accident called Amanda Crawling On Phillip’s Lap and Toppling The Red Wine, his good new waistcoat and shirt had been ruined so now he wore another. It was a dark purple that complimented the blue of his double-breasted tailcoat.

‘It looks fine to me’, she smiled as she came up to him. It took her standing on her tippy-toes to rest her chin upon his shoulder.

He looked at her in the mirror.

‘London is… fashionable.’

‘How many people do you think will attend this wedding? It’s not Westminster.’

‘I know all of them except for the other in-laws are raised Londoners.’

Phillip had always disliked London’s sense of pomp, pretence and show. He disliked it, he was a much simpler man, but he also feared it since he knew he couldn’t function in such an environment.

Eloise took a long white cotton cravat and put it against his neck, crossing it on the backside of his neck. She took her time wiping away his hair, her fingers lingering against his neck. She then straightened the fabric in the front, her eyes connecting with his as she tightened it. She noticed his brow was creased, as always when he was curious but keeping in his comments.

She did a simple underhand knot next, tightening it again, she stroked across the fabric, until Phillip’s eyebrow creased with suspicion. He was beginning to get her play. She puffed the fabric before pulling the top part of the fabric in a loop and putting the underpart over and under. She had her arms fully wrapped around him to fix it. She put the remaining part through the loop as well, and then with gentle pulls, slow corrections, and gradual adjustment, she made his bowtie look nice. She could feel the rise and fall of Phillip’s chest quiet down.

Once finished, she tucked the remainder of his cravat underneath his waistcoat, making sure it bloused a bit.

‘There, all dressed up. I think you look very dapper, don’t you?’ Eloise questioned while keeping her arms wrapped around him.

She received his habitual shrug.

‘Fit to walk next to you?’ he asked. She was struck with another wave of nostalgia as she remembered how she’d once seen him covered in dirt coming back from his greenhouse. He’d apologized for not looking the part of a baronet. But he wasn't the undesired husband anymore, to Eloise there was no superior dead brother. He was her favourite person.

‘Of course you do!’ Eloise cried. ‘Phillip!’

‘I don’t want you to feel like…’ he mumbled. Then he shrugged again, unable to finish.

‘Hey. Hey! Look at you’, she ordered, one hand coming up to tug his face towards the mirror again.

‘One: I never managed to fit in with London. They don’t expect top level fashion from me. Secondly, your outfit follows all trends, from the slight puff here at your shoulders’, she explained as she traced her hand across his broad shoulders. ‘To the colour and cut of your white trousers. You’re enough. Hear me, you’re enough. More than enough.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘You look perfectly proper and gentlemanly. In fact –‘

She just got an idea.

‘In fact, you’re always a gentleman. No matter whether your clothes are fashionable. You’ll always be it, it’s your title, it’s your birth. You’re landed gentry.’

‘See, if I took this away, you’d still look like a gentleman’, Eloise said, her hands slipping to the gold buttons and undoing them. One. By. One. She watched what she did in the mirror, admiring his figure when it hung loose.