Chapter Text
Feet restlessly tapping against the floor. Harsh whispers and soft judgments muttered under someone’s breath. The air of expectancy filling the room littered with flowers and soft hues of blue.
Eloise’s eyes fell on the woman beside her, dressed in dark indigo, a colour the shorter woman was quickly getting accustomed to.
The day of John and Francesca’s wedding had finally arrived. The ceremony was a small one. With both of the spouses being introverted and quite socially awkward, despite their politeness dripping from every fibre of their being, they had decided to keep the affair simple. Lord Kilmartin’s family was on one side and the Bridgerton on the other, one side much more thunderous than the other.
Cressida, ignoring once again each societal norm ever known to the regency man, sat beside her, close enough for their hands to brush against each other, but still not close enough for Eloise’s taste. She had welcomed Francesca’s invitation within a heartbeat, the thought of a wedding too enchanting to be refused. For a woman who believed in love even less than Eloise, the brunette caught herself thinking, she surely seemed jovial on that cloudy day.
The two of them were surrounded by most of Eloise’s siblings and relatives. They were sandwiched between the youngest of the family on one side (Gregory and Hyacinth robbing her of Cressida’s attention the very first moment they entered the room) and Benedict and Tilley on the other.
The painter had teased Eloise when the all-female couple had sat beside them, careless even when he should not be, saying something along the lines of “Taking the family introductions really seriously”.
Eloise looked for the sister she knew would appear from behind the massive mahogany doors in just a moment, meeting Kate’s gaze in the process. The woman sat alone, a content smile on her face, as she waited to be joined by her husband once he walked Francesca down the aisle.
She lightly tapped against Cressida’s shoulder, leaving the woman to duck her head to meet her eyes, an evident question in them besides all the amusement Gregory’s antics must have been causing.
“You know, Anthony is most probably holding back tears,” Eloise said, loud enough to be overheard by Benedict. She caught Benedict’s hum of agreement.
“Really?” Cressida asked, eyebrows furrowed. “He seems much too stoic for that. He did not cry during Daphne’s wedding”
“That is because he had not been softened up by Kate,” Eloise said, huffing a laugh.
“Ten pounds we will see him cry during the ceremony,” Benedict bet.
“You cannot bet on something we both agree on!” Eloise whisper-shouted. “Who will give us the money, then?”
“Well, Anthony, of course,” Cressida answered, receiving Benedict’s approval through an exaggerated nod.
Should Cressida have gone through with her train of thought so, no, Anthony would not have cried because why would he, the possibility of losing would not have grated her that much.
The sight of the man blinking back tears and not-so-silently sniffling throughout the vows was one of the most entertaining things she had ever seen.
The Duke and Lady Danbury seemed to agree with her.
Francesca was a vision, all shy smiles and happy eyes as she married an equally smitten Lord of Kilmartin.
The ceremony passed swiftly, though Eloise could not remember most of it, stuck in her own head. The feeling of Cressida’s hand pressed against hers was electrifying, a feeling that grew tenfold when the blonde interlaced their fingers together.
Eloise wondered whether the people around them would brush her soft smile off as mere happiness for her almost twin.
That did not mean Eloise was not happy for Francesca, of course. Eloise knew the only thing Francesca had wanted from this season was to get married, and her dream was finally coming true.
Still, it felt bittersweet, knowing Cressida and she would never get any sort of public ceremony. At least, the scorching envy had transformed into a barely present tingle. Eloise did not need a physical testament for the love she knew they shared.
When the groom kissed the bride, Eloise saw Francesca’s face morph into an imperceptible frown, just to get back to its normal features a moment later. When Eloise blinked, wondering if she had imagined the ordeal, Francesca’s smile was back where she had left it, reaching her eyes and everything.
Eloise briefly felt mocked by her own body. When she turned to look at Cressida, though, she saw the same confusion etched in her lover’s eyes and lips.
“You saw that, too?” Eloise asked. Cressida answered with a small nod.
The guests ignored them, clapping and cheering loudly. She noticed Francesca looking in their direction, and Eloise plastered on the content smile she was too busy overanalysing things to let out.
She gave Francesca a thumbs up and noticed her sister’s eyes shine more under the lights.
Her sister would be fine.
When the evening arrived, celebrations following in its footsteps, Eloise stood beside her sister in the ballroom, still laughing at one of John’s puns, even after the man had gone away.
Who knew such a timid man could hide a humour so clever under his sleeves?
Francesca watched her amusedly. She was happy Eloise liked her husband, of course, but John’s joke made Eloise laugh more than they did her. And Eloise was someone who preferred dying over admitting a man had made her laugh.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the amusement disappeared, seriousness taking over her features.
“Eloise,” Francesca called out, head tilted, “Is all well?”
Eloise bit her lip. “Yes, but not quite”
Well, that was certainly a satisfying answer.
“I do have a question,” Eloise then continued, looking as if she was pondering the mysteries of the universe.
“Then ask away,” Francesca smiled, just for the curve of her lips to disappear after a moment.
“When John kissed you at the altar,” Eloise started saying after a deep breath, “You looked… preoccupied. Almost unhappy”.
Francesca hoped her sister did not feel her uneasiness.
“Are you having doubts? It is not too late for us to run away if that is what you wish, Fran”.
“Us?” Francesca inquired, arching an eyebrow.
Eloise scoffed. “Well, I would not let you have all the fun”
Francesca relaxed slightly, bumping her hip against Eloise’s.
“I am not regretting anything, El,” she reassured her, “Kissing John felt… more than nice”.
Following the admission, a spray of red made itself present on the younger sister’s fair skin. Eloise smirked.
“It just…” She then said, making Eloise’s attention snap to her words again, “I felt… dread”.
“Dread?”
“As if something bad would happen to him, or us. I do not know how to explain it-”
“Francesca, breathe,” Eloise interrupted her, knowing how her sister got into this kind of situation. She would not let her nerves ruin one of the most joyous days of her life.
“I would be lying if I said nothing bad will happen, because I am no fortune teller,” Eloise reasoned with a small grin, trying to get through her sister, “But, if it does, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Together”.
Francesca took a deep breath. “You’re right”.
“You should be enjoying yourself. It’s your wedding day, after all”.
“It’s my wedding day,” Francesca said breathlessly, as if only remembering the present. A sincere smile broke out on her face.
“You’re right, sister”, she nodded to herself, “However, the same goes for you, too”.
Eloise raised an eyebrow. Francesca tilted her head in Cressida’s direction. “You should be enjoying your night”.
Squeezing the bride’s shoulder, Eloise retreated to the table where Cressida was sitting, making polite small talk with a woman whose face Eloise could not recognise. Must be one of the invitees from the Sterlings.
The click of her heels caught Cressida’s attention, and Eloise saw the woman smile, this one much more dazzling and wide than the one she was giving the guest, she could not help but notice.
Eloise saw the dark-skinned woman mouth something from the corner of her eye, her attention still focused on the radiant blonde in front of her.
“It was nice meeting you, too, Lady Bingley”
The woman- Lady Bingley gave Eloise a small smile and departed to join a wide group of women in a corner.
“I leave you for a moment and you already catch someone’s eye,” Eloise pretended to be annoyed, rolling her eyes.
Cressida released a short, melodious sound.
“You have caught us. Lady Bingley was about to profess her love for me when you interrupted us”.
Eloise wanted to kiss the cheeky expression on her face away. Lord, was it the wedding atmosphere or did Cressida just look especially magnificent that night?
Eloise felt the itch to guide her arm to reach Cressida’s hand on the table. Who was she to ignore what her body told her to do? Her body had been so clever just that morning, when it decided the events of the previous night had not been enough to quench her thirst.
“Quit eye-bedding the woman, El,” A masculine voice snapped her out of her daze, almost making her jump in surprise.
Veering her head, she noticed Benedict’s smug expression staring back at her.
“That is a married lady”
Eloise rolled her eyes, the default reaction for most things Benedict said.
“I do not see how that anyhow concerns me, brother” Eloise retorted pompously. Benedict offered a high-five, their hands clashing loudly in the crowded room.
She saw more than one person looking at them half-amusedly and half-annoyed.
The Bridgerton antics made themselves known again.
From the sidelines, Cressida was looking at them with a smitten grin, having found the interaction more endearing than a sane person would.
“Well,” the blonde said, “I do not see my husband around, do you?” She cocked an eyebrow. Benedict guffawed.
“I see my presence is not welcome tonight”.
And then there were two.
Eloise swiftly sat beside Cressida, moving a chair around to accommodate her. If one of her hands brushed against the blonde’s thigh (well, and maybe grabbed it for just a few moments) in the process, no one had to know.
“You cannot keep your hands from wandering tonight, can you?” Cressida smirked, then brought a glass of lemonade to her mouth to hide the colour on her cheeks.
“And you have seen nothing, my dear,” Eloise answered, reducing the distance between them.
Something that Cressida had noticed, and greatly appreciated, was that Eloise did not seem to quite know personal space when they were together. Even during their friendship days, Eloise would never be too far. Linking their arms together, one day, tilting her head towards Cressida during another, much like she was doing now.
Eloise was playing a dangerous game. Too dangerous, seeing how many people were there. Did the brunette have anything to drink? She briefly considered.
“Quit flirting and go greet our new guest!” Daphne, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air, snapped.
Eloise retracted as if Cressida’s presence physically burnt.
“Who? Daphne?!” Eloise whisper-shouted. But Daphne was too far away gone.
Eloise melted back in her chair.
Since the viscountess was too pregnant to move around, looking like the balloon Eloise and Cressida had seen just a few months ago, the role of organiser of the event had passed upon one of the sisters. And Daphne had taken to the role like a moth to a flame, always happy to show her skills.
This time, though, since Eloise felt guilty to sit around uselessly, she had decided, begrudgingly, to somehow help them out. Meaning she had to greet the guests. Something she thought she didn't need to do after an eternity spent pronouncing countless introductions.
When she turned her head, she noticed a woman, around the same height as her, reaching the groom in quick steps, interrupting whatever conversation him and Francesca were having. Once he noticed her presence, the man wrapped her in his arms in what was clearly a motion they had done before. Both of them were smiling.
“God, that woman is stunning ,” Eloise announced.
Cressida’s face scrunched in a frown, though Eloise did not notice, and followed her lover’s gaze. Once her eyes settled on the woman Eloise was talking about, Cressida let go of her moment of jealousy. The woman was stunning. And Eloise, even after commenting on her beauty, had soon returned to look at Cressida with that puppy look of hers.
Cressida nodded.
“That must be the cousin, right?”
Eloise hummed. “Yes, it must”.
Only one of the invitees had not yet arrived before that moment. Michaela Sterling, the woman whom they had heard much from John. She had not made it in time for the wedding, a possibility they had accounted for, seeing as the weather in their country was not to be trusted even in the last breaths of spring.
Eloise stood up from her chair, Cressida following the motion.
Silently agreeing that greeting the woman was something they had to do at that moment, even if she seemed perfectly comfortable chatting with John, the two made their way to the trio, their heels clicking against the hard surface of the floor.
From where they stood, they could see Francesca from a side view, allowing them to observe the exchange in the utmost detail.
“-Michaela Sterling. I caution you, every sordid detail John has spoken about me is a lie” She flashed Francesca her best smile. “The truth is far worse”.
Now, now. Eloise did not have the most experience, but the way John’s cousin was looking at her sister was… well, similar to the way John looked at her sister.
And Francesca- Francesca was at a loss for words.
Perhaps the woman had said something that upset her before were close enough to listen? John’s expression surely hinted Michaela’s behaviour was unsettling, somehow.
She saw Francesca open and close her mouth a few times, words struggling to come out as if she were in a daze.
No. It could not be.
“I- I’m, well I am Francesca Bridgerton- Kilmartin! Kilmartin” Except maybe it could.
And, if the way Michaela’s face fell at the words was any indication, it was.
Eloise brought a hand to her mouth. Surely, she was imagining things.
“Oh my God,” she heard Cressida whisper. Lord, she had not imagined it. And Cressida had picked up on it, too.
Her sister was like her. Or like Benedict, perhaps. She had said she enjoyed kissing John, after all. Yes, maybe she was somewhat like Benedict.
Lord, there were three of them. In a family of eight siblings, there were three of them. Three out of eight, and two of the remaining siblings were still too young to fully develop their… preferences.
Eloise laughed. She could not help herself. And thus, with a hand still covering her mouth (but not covering the bird-like sounds she was emitting) she laughed- guffawed, more likely.
Cressida sprang into action, guiding them away once she realised Eloise would not stop anytime soon, risking being noticed by the three Kilmartins.
Now, hidden by anyone who was not looking for them in a somewhat dark corner of the ballroom, Eloise’s laugh worsened.
Cressida wondered what the reason behind the laughter was, and whether it would stop anytime soon. The only words she managed to catch in the mayhem were “Three!” and “Oh Lord”.
Then, Eloise took a deep breath, restraining the mirth that was still bubbling under the surface.
“Please, tell me that I did not see what I thought I saw,” Eloise pleaded, still unbelieving of the situation.
So, Eloise had noticed.
Not even trying to reassure the woman that no, Eloise was just having some weird hallucination and her sibling had absolutely not given any indication of gay panicking on her wedding day, Cressida answered her.
“It seems that your sister has a type,” she commented sending Eloise a lopsided smirk, eyes still fixed on the Kilmartins.
The sentence made Eloise laugh again, giggles shaking her body so much that Cressida had to balance her, one hand settling on her lower back. The gesture made the red on the brunette’s cheeks deepen.
“Most of my siblings have a type,” Eloise smiled. She looked around the room, eyes falling on Simon, and Kate and again on John and Michaela. Cressida raised an eyebrow in question.
“Traumatised”
Cressida barked out a laugh. Ducking her head to look the other woman in the eye, she then asked. “Tell me, Miss Bridgerton, do you share their taste?”
“I am a Bridgerton, aren’t I?” Eloise smirked, grasping Cressida’s forearm, letting her thumb draw circles on the soft skin.
From another side of the room, Michaela Stirling stood, crestfallen, as she observed the woman she had hoped was not John’s wife introduce herself with a brand-new Kilmarting surname, stumbling on her words.
She had thought the way she had looked at her for just a moment might mean… but no, the emotion in Francesca’s eyes as she gazed at John was nothing if not loving.
For a moment, in the corner of her eye, she noticed a flash of light blue and purple disappear.
After a brief, suffered interaction, Francesca looked at her again.
“It is weird that none of my siblings have not rushed to make your acquaintance, yet”, the younger woman frowned. The expression was more endearing than it should have been.
“Especially Eloise, seeing as she is the one designated to this”.
“You know your sister, Francesca. It is a miracle she has even endured the role for that long,” John reasoned, a smile on his face.
“True, but…” Francesca turned her head, “She was just there a minute ago…” She looked at the direction she had seen her sister go, but she had disappeared. Francesca huffed.
Then, still searching the room for a trace of her sister, her eyes finally landed on a half-hidden couple laughing in one of the corners.
Looking at her husband for a moment, she saw him noticing the sight as well. The two women had been getting more and more comfortable showing affection, dangerously so. Just an inch closer, and their position would have been considered inappropriate even for a married couple.
“Really?” Michaela saw Francesca ask, both her and John’s eyes locked somewhere behind her.
Michaela turned her head, gaze falling on two women huddled together, dressed in the same shades of blue and purple she thought she had imagined.
The women were close. Incredibly so. She noticed the short brunette giggle in an unladylike manner, and the other woman’s arm settle on her lower back to steady her. Michaela had to keep her eyebrows from moving on their own accord.
Pretending not to have noticed anything, Michaela turned again in Francesca and John’s direction. The man had a calm smile on his face, unfazed by the sight. She supposed he had no reason to be, seeing as he knew about Michaela’s own sexuality.
Francesca… well, she seemed annoyed. Not disgusted by any means, or annoyed at the gesture. She was annoyed at her sister, period.
“That must be your sister, then?” Michaela broke the silence, the curve of her lips conveying a false sense of naivety.
“Yes, Eloise,” Francesca nodded.
“I believe I should introduce myself, then. If you will excuse me”.
Walking straight to the two women, Michaela observed as the shorter one leaned even more into the blonde’s body, almost melting into her touch.
Michaela was impressed, honestly. They were not even trying to be subtle.
She let her gaze stray between them. When her eyes settled on the woman whom she recognised to be Eloise, she raised her eyebrows, eyes darting again from one woman to the other.
Eloise merely looked her between Michaela and the retreating figure of Francesca once, twice, before mirroring Michaela’s expression.
Damn, game recognises game.
“Michaela Sterling, nice to meet you”, she offered her hand to shake.
“Eloise Bridgerton”.
Michaela’s gaze then fell on the blonde beside Eloise, taking in her swan-like elegance and the way she towered over both of them because of her height.
“Nice to make your acquaintance”. (The “I’m sure there is someone who liked meeting you more than I did”, which was quite obvious behind her smug tone and the way her stare kept drifting to Francesca, was left unsaid).
“Cressida Cowp- Debling” Stumbling on her words much like the younger Bridgerton had done just a few moments ago, Cressida offered her left hand to Michaela, a golden band shining on her ring finger.
Michaela raised her eyebrows once again. This stay in London was already proving to be more interesting than she thought.
✶✶✶✶✶✶✶
Eloise huffed.
She was sitting in the drawing room, patiently waiting for Cressida to join them at the estate. After Kate prematurely gave life to a healthy, beautiful (it took a few days for that adjective to become true in Eloise’s eyes) baby boy, Violet decided a family reunion was in order. Meaning Colin and Penelope had cut their honeymoon short, and Francesca and John would be back in London sometime later (Eloise could tell from Francesca’s writing that the news didn’t excite her as much as it usually would have. Understandable, seeing how she had not been away for long), and Eloise was not allowed to leave.
Therefore, since Eloise could not enjoy her moments of peace in the Debling’s residence, Cressida would have to endure the chaos at her side at Aubrey Hall.
The brunette did not want to recall the moment when she had to ask Violet to let Cressida stay with them. The matriarch had agreed in a heartbeat, as Eloise expected, but it still felt weird to ask her mother to let her secret lover (well, not so secret) stay with them because Eloise could not handle the time away after spending a few weeks cohabitating.
“What is bothering you, sister?” She heard coming from the door.
Suddenly, the fatigued figure of the viscountess materialised in front of her.
“Kate? Should you not be in bed, you know, taking it easy ?” Eloise saw her sister smile, happiness evident despite all the discomfort and pain.
“I deem I’ve been taking it easy for months. That is enough,” Eloise threw her sister a glare. Kate did not even pretend to wince.
“I do reckon a physician knows better than you, in these cases. How did you even get out of the room?”
Kate looked around the room, a bundle of covers in her arms. Only at that moment, Eloise noticed her sister was holding little Anil. She scooted towards the end of the couch, making space for Kate to sit. The older woman rolled her eyes but released a gratified sigh once her legs met the soft surface.
“The doctor was a man, I know my body better than he ever could,” Eloise could not disagree with that”.
“And I waited for Edwina to fall asleep. She always needs to rest in the afternoon”.
Edwina had not distanced herself away from Kate ever since the woman had given birth. She was always around, following her even when Kate had to relieve herself in the toilet. If the exasperation Kate felt was anything like the one Edwina was feeling during her first season when she was being urged by yours truly to find a better husband then, well, apologies were in order.
“Ah, yes, the hardness of being a princess” Kate tried to hide her grin.
“Because it is so hard to be a mistress in plain sight,” the older woman commented.
“I am not a mistress!” Eloise gasped, affronted.
“Aren’t you?”
The vibration of Kate’s laugh made the child in her arms whine, and Eloise’s attention once again went back to the bundle of innocence.
Kate noticed where Eloise’s gaze rested.
“Do you wish to hold him?”
Eloise’s lips curled up in disgust.
“Has he changed much since the last time I saw him?” She inquired, hoping it would come out as a more polite way of saying “ Absolutely not. Keep the child away from me ”.
Kate scoffed.
“I do not get your aversion towards children. Look at him, and tell me he is not adorable”.
Kate moved her arms towards Eloise in a childish gesture, all accompanied by a dramatic pout that left Eloise wondering if her sister had really lived for seven and twenty summers.
Anil was slobbering all over the place, half-asleep in her mother’s arm with what she supposed was a content look on his little, chubby face.
Oh, to be young enough not to know the hardships of the world, yet. Eloise would pay to relive all those times again, even though she did not remember a thing about how that time of her life felt.
Still, she supposed the few dark curls that sprouted from his head might be considered adorable, by everyone else but Eloise. And the giggles he seemed to be releasing every once in a while just because were not the most horrible sound in the world.
Not that she would ever admit it, in case her mother overheard and suddenly thought Eloise had been harbouring the secret desire of mothering a kid.
Thus, Eloise did not say any of that.
“Lord, the Sharma genes are strong,” she limited herself to say. “He looks nothing like Anthony, we were lucky”.
Kate did not bother hiding her laughter, this time.
“I will pretend that is a yes”.
A beat of silence passed, and then…
“You still have not told me what is bothering you,” Kate pointed out.
Eloise huffed.
“I cannot tell you,” She replied, trying to mask the pathetic reason behind a mysterious facade. It did not work.
“Oh, can’t you, now?”
“It is embarrassing,” Eloise replied, failing to hide her blush.
“Well, even more, the reason to tell me”.
Eloise bit her lip, then let her back become one with the couch. “I miss Cressida”.
Kate arched an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
Her sister turned to look at her. “You’re not going to tease me for it?”
“Oh, believe me, I am,” Kate reassured her, “Just not now” The words made Eloise relax. “It is normal to feel this way. I found myself missing your brother, too, those days we did not see each other. Could not admit it do myself then, and will not admit it to Anthony now,”
Kate threw a pointed glare at Eloise, and the younger lady understood the message. Do not inflate Anthony’s ego. Check.
“It is stupid though, isn’t it? Cressida and I have only been apart for a few days”
“Oh, it is, believe me. But, alas, it is normal to feel this way. It really makes you rethink everything about yourself, doesn’t it?” Eloise nodded in agreement.
“Now that I know the reason behind your sullen act,” Kate diverted the topic, “I am going to have a hard time not laughing at you when you behave like a sour ghoul behind a corner”.
Eloise gasped.
“I drove the carriage throughout the whole country to reach you after your concerning letter, and this is how you repay me? And to believe I wanted to ask about your and Anil’s wellbeing”. Kate rolled her eyes.
“You did not ride the carriage, the herdsman did”.
“Details, details” Eloise waved her hand around. Kate pointedly ignored her.
“And while I am moved by your concern, it is not necessary. We are fine”.
Just then, they heard a footman enter the house, announcing someone’s arrival. Cressida had arrived.
Before the man could even finish uttering those words, Eloise sprinted out of the room, Kate following her. Thank God the drawing room was downstairs, Kate briefly thought.
When the viscountess reached her sister, she found her wrapped in her lover’s embrace, foreheads pressed together. She smiled to herself, just to let the expression fall from her face when she noticed two women making their way towards them.
Kate cleared her throat, and the two women snapped out of their haze.
Cressida pretended to hide her blush behind her fan, making an unnecessary comment about the unusually exaggerated heat. That day was much colder than the previous ones had been.
“Cressida!” The blonde heard a voice exclaim. When she looked behind Eloise’s shoulder, she found an older version of the woman in front of her, with the same smile and everything. Lord, Eloise and Violet’s resemblance was too much sometimes. It felt like watching through a lens that projected the future.
“Lady Bridgerton! Thank you for welcoming me,” the blonde said cheerily, just to be scolded a moment later for not calling the older woman “Violet”. She hoped the attitude would remain the same once she found out the truth.
Eloise moved, and Violet crushed Cressida in a warm embrace. From the sidelines, Eloise smiled, smitten at seeing how her mother’s opinion regarding Cressida had changed so much in so little time. Or, well, the grin stood in place until she noticed Lady Danbury observing her from the corner of her eye. She had forgotten the woman was visiting, too.
Eloise soon composed her face back in a neutral look, but it was too late. Danbury’s raised eyebrow made sure she knew that.
Once Violet decided she had tortured the young woman long enough, Cressida went on to salute Danbury and Kate. Everything was fine for a moment.
Then, when Cressida released Kate from her embrace and went to coo at the baby (Eloise was pleased to see the same conflict she had experienced reflected in her lover’s eyes), a flash of gold caught her eye. As it did Violet’s.
Cressida had worn the bangle. Its unique shape shone in the afternoon light, and Eloise knew Violet had noticed.
“That is… a beautiful piece of jewellery,” Violet pointed out, indicating the pink gem.
Kate’s attention snapped towards her and they shared a moment of panic. Danbury watched, interested, the scene, while Cressida remained none the wiser.
“Thank you,” Cressida beamed, making Eloise’s heart skip a beat (this time not out of panic), “El- elegant, is it not?”
“Truly one of a kind,” Violet breathed out, an unreadable expression taking place on her face.
Cressida looked questioningly at Eloise, who merely shook her head.
Eloise was dying on the inside. She had ruined everything. Her obsession with showering Cressida with gifts had ruined everything. Or, maybe Violet had not noticed. Perhaps she was thinking the jeweller had lied to them. Of course, that was what her frown meant.
And the worst part of it was that Eloise’s panicking was being overruled by the smug tug in her chest that appeared every time she saw Cressida using something Eloise had given her.
It was not the moment to get lost in her queer feelings.
However, Violet did not say anything. She squeezed Cressida’s shoulder once, then called out to the other siblings to go and greet the newly arrived guest.
Maybe she really had not noticed anything. One could only hope.
✶✶✶✶✶✶✶
Violet paced across the balcony, her heels hitting the ground with a resolute click that dictated the velocity of her train of thought, hand covering her mouth.
That was the position Lady Danbury and Lady Sharma found her in. They went unnoticed until Lady Danbury knocked her cane on the floor. The loud sound made Violet’s body convulse.
Before Agatha could make some sarcastic comment that bordered on rudeness, Mary decided to approach the situation more gently.
“Is everything alright, Violet? You’ve been acting strange for the past few hours”.
Violet took a deep breath. She could not tell them, could she? Agatha kept a secret like only a few people knew how to, but she was too close to the Queen. And Mary, she had not known her long enough to burden her with such knowledge, should she not decide to tell anyone.
However, Violet needed to speak with someone, anyone, really. She could not write to Marcus, they were still taking things… incredibly slowly.
She supposed Agatha was always straightforward enough not to mince her judgement on the matter, which Violet appreciated. And Mary was kind enough, she might even make a good companion for the period of time she remained in London. And, she would balance Agatha out.
“No, not everything is alright,” she decided to admit. “There is something that is bothering me. And it is quite an important matter,” She breathed in and out, trying to calm her conscience. “And I think I need to talk about this with someone”.
“Have you decided to leave my brother? Good riddance,” Agatha tried to cheer up the atmosphere in the room, “I’ve always believed that was a lapse of judgment on your part”.
Violet scoffed. “You are one to talk. You had an affair with my father”, she answered, causing Lady Danbury to let out a laugh. From the entrance of the room, Mary looked bewildered from one woman to the other.
“Please, let us sit,” Violet pointed at some chairs in the corner.
Mary hesitated. “Do you wish for me to go?”
Violet sighed. “No, do not worry. Sit, please”.
As the women sat, silence filled the room. It was filled with suspense and curiosity, however, no one was brave enough to break it. Violet’s heels were still clicking against the floor, restless even in the comfortable position, and Mary and Agatha glanced at each other, before turning again to the quondam viscountess.
“We cannot help you unless you tell us about your worries, Violet,” Lady Danbury pointed out, her eyebrows raised.
Violet opened her mouth, searching for the right words. From downstairs, she could hear the hushed echo of thunderous laughs and expletives, signals the warm greeting that had followed Lady Debling was still proceeding.
“It seems that my daughter is in love with a woman,” She blurted out, at last.
Agatha let out an understanding hum, while Mary’s eyebrows skyrocketed to her forehead. Doing some calculations in her mind, she came to a conclusion.
“You- I suppose you are talking about Eloise?” Mary asked, a careful amount of curiosity in her words.
“Did anyone see it but me?” Violet laughed humourlessly.
“Well, unless your married daughters have decided to explore their preferences outside their committed relationships, or Hyacinth has followed in her desire to find romance, I suppose she is the only one who remains”.
Just then, the unmistakable sound of Eloise’s guffaws reached their ears.
“You think she is in love with the lady she brought along?” Mary decided to speak out again, knowing Violet would not talk otherwise.
The Bridgerton matriarch nodded.
“With Cressida, yes” Violet let out a breath, then turned her head to Agatha, “How come you have not said anything?”
Lady Danbury’s lips turned into a thin line.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Violet’s eyes filled with a mix of realisation and betrayal.
“I suspected ,” She admitted, “There were a few signs. But how did you notice?” Agatha asked, backed up by the Sharma matriarch.
Violet veered her head to look into their eyes. Mary was staring at her with a look of compassion and understanding, while the older woman was holding herself with her usual aura of composure and omniscience. There was not an ounce of judgement.
“The bracelet,” was the only thing she said, causing Agatha to tilt her head in confusion.
“Eloise bought it for herself, or at least-” She laughed to herself, “I thought she had bought it for herself”.
“It could be a similar one,” Mary reasoned.
“It was the only one of its kind,” Violet recalled, imitating the salesman’s voice. “The pink diamond at its centre is unmistakably it. Eloise spent a fortune on it”.
“I should have known it was not for herself, really. She has never been interested in jewellery, let alone in pink bangles . However, I hoped it was just her coming to terms with having to put in the effort to find a husband and not… well, that”.
“Maybe it was for her birthday?” Mary asked, though it sounded unconvinced even to her own ears.
“They are living together, Mary” Agatha rolled her eyes. Said woman opened her mouth to respond, but she did not find a retort.
“Oh, God” exhaled Violet, receiving two questioning looks in return. “They spent a month alone, together ”. Something unintelligible came out of her mouth, then, something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
“Guess she finally found a reason for you to retract her dowry, then,” Agatha could not help herself from uttering.
Violet looked at her, flabbergasted. Not everyone could appreciate her great humour.
“Cressida gave her flowers,” Violet continued putting pieces together, “Lord, Eloise even visiter her during calling hour, once”.
Mary bit the inside of her cheek. The situation was supposed to be anything but amusing, why was she finding it hard to fight the urge to laugh?
Then Violet’s mouth dropped open.
“Lord,” was the only word to come out of her mouth.
“The night in your garden,” Violet whispered. “Eloise was the one being ruined”.
Both of the women’s eyes widened.
“Your daughter got ruined by Lady Debling in my garden? ” Agatha asked. The tone was a suspicious mix of amusement and incredulity.
“Yes, yes, I… Eloise disappeared after… after Lord Debling’s proposal”.
Mary kept observing the exchange with her mouth agape. Lord, London had become even more messy than when she had left it.
Then, the dowager started maniacally laughing.
“Lord, how did I not notice? The signs were there”.
Mary tried to reassure her. “I think none of our minds would have gone there, had it happened to us,” she turned to Lady Danbury for support, but the older woman answered with a shrug.
“Take me, for example. I did not notice Kate’s feelings for your Anthony until it was too late”. The remembrance made Violet grimace.
“Yes, but it is- well, it is different”.
Agatha furrowed her eyebrows.
“Violet, are you ok with it? ‘Cause the Lord knows this is not the first time I’ve seen this in my lifetime, but you?”
Violet shook her head.
“It’s… Well, it is an adjustment” She released a breath. “Now most things make sense, but… Everything I have ever imagined for her future, for her well-being… it is gone”
“You said Eloise has never wanted to get married, though” Mart commented. “So, whether it be with a man or a woman, her future will not change that much”.
Violet shrugged, not completely convinced.
“Eloise has always been fascinated by the idea of love. Never by the idea of marriage, she has always been convinced she would not marry a man ,” she chuckled, “Now that addition makes sense”
“However, when Edmund was alive, she would make him tell her how we first met over and over again. She would scoff every time her sisters mentioned wanting to find a husband, but she always listened. She accompanied them to every visit to the modiste, did everything she could to find pieces of information about the lord Daphne was infatuated with at the time…” She started playing with her fingers, where her wedding band sat.
“I thought she would change her mind, once she found love”.
“Perhaps she has,” Agatha pointed out.
“Perhaps,” Then she breathed out again, “If so, then the universe has not been kind to her, or Cressida”.
Silence fell among them. They noticed the wind had stopped carrying the sound of young, excited voices.
“If I may say something,” Agatha started speaking, eyebrows raised, “Keeping such a relationship hidden is not as hard as one might think it is,” She shrugged.
“How would you know that?” Mary laughed.
“Think about it this way,” the Sharma matriarch captured both the ladies’ attention, “Fewer grandchildren to worry about”.
“I love children, though”, Violet soured.
“In a while you will not, I assure you” Agatha agreed with Mary, “Your children started marrying… two years ago? And you will be soon in need of a nursery as big as the entire Royal Palace”.
Violet raised her eyebrows.
“Do you think Anthony, the man who sniffed Mary’s daughter,” Agatha pointed at the woman, while Violet gasped, “Will stop at one kid? Or that Colin and Penelope will remain childless?”
Violet cringed at the thought.
“Perhaps you’re right”.
Violet stopped speaking for a moment, a thought entering her mind.
“If Eloise did want to get married,”
“Unless it is to the blonde swan, I doubt it will happen,” Agatha pointed out uselessly.
“How would that even happen?”
✶✶✶✶✶✶✶
The frizzy morning air was a welcomed change from the unbearable heat, Violet decided. Under her, the steps of her shoes were met by the crunch of few leaves scattered across the ground, pacing her thinking.
She had not done this in so long, she then realised. Walking in the morning weather, if you could even call it morning, having the sun not yen risen. Edmund and her used to do it more often than not, as the placidity of Aubrey Hall in the soft hues of dawn was a sight for sore eyes.
Edmund.
Almost twelve years had passed since his death, and she could still recall how he set her very soul aflame. It was strange, now, to come back to his grave, like she had done many a time, knowing she had started to fall for somebody else. She supposed he would be fine with that development, seeing as he endlessly repeated he only wished for her happiness, however, it still felt like she was betraying him, at times.
That morning, she had picked for him lavenders and hyacinths. Once she reached his grave, right in the middle of the Bridgerton property, a deep sense of melancholy settled in her bones.
His name was there, as was what now remained of his body. And all Violet could see of him was the headstone, that had withstood the cold as poorly as her husband usually did. Some of its bits were scarred, and a thin coat of dust and dirt had become Edmund's eternal gown.
“My love,” she greeted him, a nervous smile on her face, “I’m sorry for not visiting sooner. If you are watching us from above,” she chuckled to herself, “You may have noticed significant changes this year”.
Her eyes settled on his name, lit by the barely present light filtered by the weeping willow. When they had decided to bury him there, the irony of the statement had left her almost hysterical.
“I… Marcus will never replace you”.
She needed him to hear it. Or, maybe, she just needed to admit it, to remind herself. She, sometimes, wondered how would it feel with a different ring on her finger, if it would make her feel light or burden her with an uncomfortable weight, forever tied to her.
“He is a nice man. You would have tried to befriend him, had you met him. I wish I could say he reminds me of you, however… He mostly reminds me of Agatha, of her least annoying traits. Now, Agatha’s company, I do not know if you would have enjoyed”.
Clearing her throat, she then decided to change the topic. She did not need to cry on a Saturday.
“Anthony is now a father, can you believe it?” She left the flowers near the grave and dusted the top of its surface. “Benedict is engaged. Surprising, I know. And Colin has married Penelope. It had been coming for a long time but, well, as you may expect, Eloise was none the wiser and definitely against the union”.
She chuckled. “She has always been the most stubborn”.
“Eloise…” She breathed out. “I think you would have been proud of her. God knows I am, though she infuriates me. She has decided to carve her own path, as you were sure she would. Perhaps, you should have been less condescending when you agreed with her, whenever she said she did not have to marry and could just stay in the house for as long as she wanted”.
“Now,” as she said this, a bee flew in front of her, examining greedily one of the leaves. Violet froze for a moment, then smiled in recognition. “I was right, too. She did find a love match, or that is what I presume, at least. I fear it is nothing like what I expected from her, but,” She let the buzzing sound calm her, “Perhaps, I would have been disappointed if she had listened to me. Would not have been like her, would it?”
Violet clicked her tongue, imagining Eloise in the clothes she had decided would be right for her. Her daughter would not have been happy, she could recognise it now. She had to choose the hardest route, per usual. With a lady like Cressida, even.
However, she supposed their first meeting had not been unlike Violet and Edmund’s. Thinking they would be destined to hate each other, just to realise it would be the complete opposite.
“I wonder what you would think of her, now that she is in our lives. Perhaps you would have disliked her, seeing how she went against Daphne and Penelope. Most probably, though, you would have tried to get her out of her shell, as you always do,” Violet rolled her eyes, releasing a breathy laugh, “You were always seeing kindness in people, even when they did not deserve it.”.
“I do hope you are proud of her, even though she grew to be different from what we imagined for her”.
As she said those words, a soft thud, coming from her left, caught her attention. Then a whispered curse, and the unmistakable sounds of footsteps followed by a velvety, melodious laugh.
“I told you, I am no good at this,” Cressida whispered in between giggles.
“Stop brooding, you started learning ten minutes ago,” said the distinct voice of her daughter, her tone enriched with a softness she had never heard before.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed a flash of blue and pink. It appeared the new Lady Debling had returned to her light colours. In her ungloved hands rested a pink mallet. Eloise, Violet noticed amusedly, proudly donned the Mallet of Death as if it were a prize.
“I usually have a natural talent for most things,” the brooding blonde said.
“The quality extends to modesty, I notice,” Eloise received a swat on her shoulder, hissing in fake pain.
“Perhaps, then, the problem might be that I have a teacher who is not equipped enough for the job,” Eloise gasped.
“How dare you,” The brunette brought a hand to her heart, inching closer to the blonde. “I think,” she said, rubbing her chin as if she were deep in thought, “I think what you need is a more… hands-on treatment” .
Violet saw the blonde blush, hiding the colour behind a huff. “Perhaps you are right”.
Then, her daughter’s waist was circled by Cressida’s arms, while Eloise cupped her jaw, letting their lips meet in a soft, sincere kiss.
Violet thought she would feel unsettled by the sight. She even thought she might feel her stomach churn in disgust, for her mother had taught her no such things were allowed or had to be forgiven.
However, the only thing she felt was a pleasant warmth in her chest. Hope. Hope that Eloise would be alright, because everything that had happened was exactly as it was supposed to be.
A few moments later, the blonde released their lip lock, her cheeks heated, gaze softer than any of the Cowpers’. Her daughter’s eyes were gleaming, a smile so dazzling it could as well rival the light of the rising sun, and the words she was speaking were soft , despite their teasing nature.
“Why did you pull away so soon? Scared you will not be able to contain yourself?”
Cressida scoffed, though her lips were curled up. “Someone might see us”.
“Who? The nightingale in the forest up east?” Another swat on the arm.
Violet debated whether she had to make her presence known. Before she could dwell on the question for too long, she saw Cressida’s head turn, just in her direction, eyes meeting hers in a panicked look.
“Cressida?” Eloise asked as her expression shifted into a frown. Eloise, then, followed Cressida’s movement and noticed the former viscountess looking at them.
“Ma?” Eloise blabbered unintelligible noises, settling her expression in a half-scared, half-confused frown.
“I can explain…” She halted on her spot, torn between taking Cressida’s hand and running away or walking closer to Violet.
The matriarch sighed and signed to get closer.
“It is not what it looks like!” Cressida, who had only just come to her senses, hurried to explain.
Violet raised an eyebrow and repeated the gesture.
Seeing as the dowager would not change her mind, Eloise put on her bravest facade, clasped Cressida’s hand in hers, and joined her mother near her father’s tomb, muttering a greeting to both of her parents.
“Eloise,” Violet started saying, “I am not mad”.
Her daughter’s eyes snapped to her, flickering between hope and disbelief. “Nor at you, or her,” her eyes fell on Cressida, who was trying to hide her statuesque body behind Eloise’s.
“But you are disappointed?” Eloise asked.
Violet took a deep breath, waiting a moment before explaining herself, trying to find the right words.
“No, I was not. Disappointed, that is. I was merely surprised by this… turn of events”. She saw the hold between the two girls tighten, and her daughter’s gaze lost itself in her lover’s, having a silent conversation. Her lips curled up in a small smile.
“And- do you not believe my feelings for her are not real, for she is not a man? Because I am ready to defend both of our honours, if necessary, and you will not be able to change my mind-”
“Eloise!” Violet stopped her, both amused and exasperated by her daughter’s antics. As usual, her daughter had taken off at a fast speed, leaving no room for anyone to interject. Always so defensive. Some things did not change, even over time.
“I am not Anthony, I will not duel her to make her prove she is worthy of your love,” She said clearly, the words coming out more as a scorn than a reassurance.
“I believe you are old enough to realise what is best for you and choose carefully what you want your future to look like”.
“So… you are not against it?”
“I believe you two should be careful, but you are free to be yourselves here at Aubrey Hall,” Violet reassured them, careful to look both at Eloise and Cressida.
“Besides, I cannot be mad,” She started saying, trying to lift the mood.
“You cannot?” Asked Eloise, confused out of her mind.
“I did always say you would find your love match. And, look at you, here we are”.
Her daughter’s cheeks turned crimson, while she was pleased to notice Cressida’s expression morph into one of pure adoration.
Then, she decided it was time to leave the two of them alone. She had informed Edmund of everything he needed to know, no need to interrupt their session… or whatever it was.
Walking away back to the manor, she turned to them one last time.
“To be clear, Cressida, I think you are a wonderful match for my daughter,” and off she went.
Eloise and Cressida stood side by side in complete silence. Around them, the sound of Violet’s footsteps got more feeble second by second, leaving room for the melodic chant of birds and insects, accompanied by the rustling of leaves.
Eloise was in shock. Pleasantly so. Her mouth stood agape at her mother’s last words, ever-knowing even after the sudden news, while her mind struggled to catch up to reality. Cressida was smiling. She was grinning so much her cheeks hurt. She had known how much not telling Violet about their relationship weighed down on Eloise. She could see it whenever the matriarch greeted the in-laws, every time she came to the Cowper manor huffing about Violet repeating she would, one day, find a man who suited her.
And now, they did not have to hide anymore.
She started drawing circles on Eloise’s skin, their hands still pressed together, while her gaze ran from leaf to leaf, examining the mighty tree that stood in front of them. The sun had finally risen, clearly showing the stone slab in front of them.
It appeared she had stared for too long, because Eloise, too, started observing it.
“Is that your father’s tomb?” Cressida asked. She heard Eloise hum in confirmation.
“She visits him, sometimes. As do we, of course,” Eloise then answered her, eyes fixed on her father’s carved name. “She thinks we do not notice. However, she is not the only one who finds sleep troublesome this time of the year”.
“You all speak highly of him”.
“He was a good man,” Eloise did not elaborate further, and Cressida let it be. A few moments later, though, she spoke up again.
“Had a keen fashion sense, that one,” she chuckled, tilting her head in her father’s direction, “Maybe even better than yours. Whenever they attended balls, it was Father who took the longest to prepare. God only knows how”.
Cressida mirrored Eloise’s smile, losing herself in her love’s beauty. Eloise looked radiant in the morning light, even with the hunch in her posture and a far-away expression.
It was still strange, hearing how Edmund’s absence daunted their lives after so many years, when Cressida had almost forgotten her father even existed.
“I think he would have liked you,” Eloise later added. “Might have adored you, even,” the smile on her face became wider. Her head finally left the grace, and she met Cressida’s gaze.
“How could you know?”
“Because I do. I love you. And so he would have, too. And even if he did not, I would have insisted year after year to convince him you are the perfect fit for me”.
Cressida sent Eloise a dazzling smile and wrapped an arm around her in a side embrace. Eloise leaned into her, and Cressida let her lips fall on the crown of her head.
“It still feels surreal”.
“What?”
“Knowing that I have found you, having someone whom I want to be by my side forever”.
She then breathed deeply and turned to the mallets they had left on the ground, forgotten, a few feet away.
“Well, I believe we have a lesson to get back to”.
Cressida blinked once, twice, confused by Eloise’s change of discourse, but followed her anyway.
Eloise was a few steps ahead of her, whistling an improvised tune as she lifted the mallet, letting it twirl in her hands, her face completely relaxed.
Once Cressida reached her, Eloise took her hand in hers in a firm, but gentle, hold, guiding her towards the estate.
During the short trip, Eloise was still mumbling that song of hers, swinging their arms together in a gesture that was oh so endearing, blue eyes shining under the sunlight, making them look like pools of cyan gold.
She was walking as if she were waltzing, following a rhythm only she could hear, twirling Cressida without a care in the world. The revelation had gifted her a freedom Eloise did not know was missing, and for that she was glad. With Cressida by her side, in the summer breeze, in the unbearable humidity of the countryside, Eloise realised that was how she wanted to live the rest of her days.
Unbeknownst to her, Cressida had the exact same thought running through her mind.
“Eloise, I love you” Cressida revealed, words full of worship.
“I know,” Eloise giggled, “And I love you ”.
Still, Cressida tugged her arm, making her halt. Turning to Cressida with a raised eyebrow, she noticed the blonde looking at her with an unreadable look on her face.
Cressida was looking at her so intently, so reverently, that Eloise’s mouth opened in a gasp.
“Eloise, I love you,” Cressida accentuated every word.
“I love you like I have never loved anyone, and more strongly than I will ever feel for anyone in the future”.
Cressida dropped the wooden object to the ground and started searching in her dress for something. Then, all of a sudden, she fell to the ground on one knee.
Eloise stared at her, unmoving, as she finally realised what Cressida meant. Her eyes were filling with tears but, damn, she would not cry before the proposal even started.
“Get up, Cress,” Eloise whispered, struggling to get the words out.
“What?” Cressida asked, panicked.
“You will get your gown dirty”.
The blonde exhaled a breath of relief. “I do not care about my gown, Eli”.
“But it is one of your favourites,” Eloise pointed out, but it was brushed off.
From a spot Eloise could not identify for the life of her, Cressida brought out a box, with two matching rings. They did not look the same, but the resemblance was clear enough.
Eloise gasped and her eyes kept filling with tears. Cressida, too, was tearing up.
Inside her mind, Violet’s words kept repeating like a mantra. I did always say you would find a love match.
“I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my lifetime with you”. She kept talking despite the wavering in her voice, knowing that was what she was meant to do all along. She was not the best when she had to express her feelings, and she knew that, if she stopped now, she would end up regretting it ‘til the end of her days in this and every life.
“I want to be by your side, even when we cannot stand each other anymore-” She wiped one of the tears running down her cheeks, while Eloise let the mallet slip out of her hands.
“No, I will be by your side forever, I am sure of it. Will you?”
“To be clear,” Eloise asked, lost in a giddy haze, “You are asking for my hand, are you not?”
“Yes, Eloise,” Cressida chuckled.
“But I cannot put the band on my ring finger,” She kept rambling.
“Then we will put it on your right hand,” Cressida retorted.
“That is where nuns wear it. To demonstrate their love for God”. Cressida sighed. Of course, Eloise would not make it easy. “It fits, though. You do look like a goddess”.
Cressida rolled her eyes, another tear escaping from its prison. Under the faux exhaustion, however, she could not contain her smile.
“Eloise,” Cressida prayed, making her lover’s attention return to her. “Will you?”
“I-”
She let out a shaky breath, struggling to hide her tears.
“I will be whatever you want me to be. In this life, or the next one, and the next, and the”-
Cressida’s lips crashed against hers, interrupting the rest of her sentence. Their bodies melted together, rose and blue meshing together in the daylight, as they kept whispering promises to one another.
Eloise kept giggling in between clashes, making Cressida fall for her a little bit more every time.
Every word, every meeting had led them to this moment.
Eloise had always thought her role in this world was to change it. To fight for what she believed was right. And it still was, in some percentage.
It appeared, however, that her role in this world was not unlike the role of the other Bridgertons.
Eloise existed for love. For the love she had always hoped she would find, secretly, wickedly, but believed would never come.
But it had. And Eloise had never been happier.
.
.
.
.
.
fin.