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Chaos. Pure chaos. And insanity.
That was the only way Eloise could describe the current scene at the Bridgerton residence. It seemed that not a moment of peace was to be had since the announcement of Colin and Penelope’s engagement.
The Bridergton household had been thrown into disarray. Eloise’s mother, Violet and her brother, Anthony had begun preparations for the wedding almost immediately and since then, the house had been a constant revolving door. Half the Ton had stopped by to offer congratulations (more likely hunting for a hint of scandal given the suddenness of it all).
Tailors were around all hours of the day for fittings of the groom and his groomsmen. Chefs from all around England brought food - vying for the prestigious honor of catering yet another Bridgerton wedding.
And if all that weren’t exhausting enough - it seemed that in some weird twist of fate the engagement of Penelope had somehow signaled that Eloise Bridgerton surely must now be finally ready to make her match. In her 3 seasons, Eloise had never been visited by this many men on the hunt for a wife.
Of course her mother was thrilled. Eloise knew her mother only wanted the very best for her children - but Eloise had declined 6 … 6! offers in as many days and was currently making a mad dash out of their sitting room before anyone else could corner her.
In her haste she bolted towards the front door, never seeing the large flower arrangement quickly approaching. A moment later, Eloise was on the ground, several petals of deep, red stuck in her chestnut hair and on her pale, blue dress.
"Oh hell!" Eloise exclaimed. "Do watch out".
A hand reached out towards her in aid, but she brushed it aside.
"I am quite capable of getting up myself, thank you. I'm not helpless or in need of rescue. And before you even start, the answer is NO. I am not interested in any offers of marriage. I'm afraid you and your flowers are here in vain".
Eloise heard the man clear his throat and that's when she finally looked at the man behind the flowers.
"Excuse me Miss , I promise you will not hear any proposals from me. I'm here to see … "
He was going on about something but Eloise did not hear a word. She could only stare at the man before her. He couldn't be a man of the Ton - not with his simple dress, a plain white shirt with brown pants and a dark blue jacket. He was tall, with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. There was dirt (Dirt!) under his fingernails and he had a slight hint of facial hair as if he had traveled far in haste. A gardener, surely.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
Eloise shook her head to clear her inexplicable daze.
"Yes, yes. I'm quite well."
"Right, well, I was asking, if Mr. Colin Bridgerton is in residence?"
"Oh. OH! You are here to see Colin. Of course. I … my outburst earlier was, well, please pay me no mind."
Eloise felt strangely flustered in the presence of this man who she knew nothing about.
"Ah, yes, well, um it seems perhaps today has been quite chaotic for you" he murmured, clearly uncomfortable.
“These are a lovely deep shade of red” Eloise remarked quietly as she pulled some remaining petals from her hair.
The man was silent for a moment and Eloise felt more heat creep up her face underneath his gaze.
“Roses? Yes?” she asked, looking for a distraction.
“I beg your pardon?” he stammered as if she had interrupted him, deep in thought. “Yes. Roses. They are a hybrid tea rose… “
He stopped suddenly and looked up at her expectantly. As if he was unsure he should continue.
“My father loved roses. He kept many different kinds, but not many have survived since … I tried to grow some roses one year, “ she told him. “They all died.”
He looked at Eloise with an unexpected softness. “Roses are more difficult than most people think,” he said.
Suddenly, Colin came through the front door and Eloise jumped, “Sir Phillip! You made it! Wonderful.”
Sir Phillip, Eloise thought to herself, closing her eyes tight in embarrassment. Not a gardener.
“Good God, Eloise. What happened to your hair?” Colin exclaimed.
“Um … “ Eloise stammered.
“It was my fault Mr. Bridgerton. In my rush to get this arrangement to you I was not watching where I was going” Phillip said.
“Oh, yes - the roses!” Colin finally noticed the large ornament of roses - from deep red to white now sitting on a table in the entry. He smiled and exhaled a deep breath. “My father would love these.”
“Yes - um, Miss ?” Phillip started, then stopped. Colin looked up questionably at Phillip and then Eloise who still stood next to him. She was being unusually quiet, he thought. Then he realized.
“Ah, you two have not been introduced. Sir Phillip, this is my sister - Eloise Bridgerton. Eloise - this is Sir Phillip. Marina’s husband”.
Phillip made a nervous bow. “Miss Bridgerton”.
“Sir Phillip. It’s nice to meet you” Eloise replied, praying that the heat she felt on her face was not apparent to the two men in the room.
“Sir Phillip and I met a few months ago when I visited Marina at Romney Hall,” Colin explained. “He studied botany at Cambridge and has a stunning rose garden. I asked if he could bring some to me, as a gift to Penelope”.
“Miss Bridgerton mentioned your father was a plantsman … “
The sounds of their conversation faded away as Eloise took the opportunity to leave (run!) from the room as neither one was looking at her, but examining the beautiful roses.
And run, Eloise did, down the street until she was far from her childhood home and all of society’s expectations.
~~~ 2 weeks later ~~~
Eloise was alone (blissfully, alone) in the sitting room with a book in her lap when a letter arrived.
Dear Miss Bridgerton,
I hope I am not too forward in writing to you and that this letter finds you well.
When we met, you mentioned that your father at one time had a number of roses in his garden - but it seems - and please, don’t think me presumptuous - that despite your family’s love for them, the roses have not thrived.
I thought to offer my expertise in the subject. If you agree to describe them to me, perhaps I could help them flourish, once again.
Please take this pressed rose (rosa) as proof of the variety in my own gardens.
Sincerely,
Sir Phillip Crane
Eloise gently touched the yellow rose petals that Sir Phillip had enclosed. They were softer than the most expensive silk she had ever felt.
Yellow. The symbol for friendship if she wasn't mistaken.
She sighed and squeezed her eyes tight to keep from becoming damp as they often did these days.
A friend. She needed one more than ever now.
She folded the letter, keeping the rose tightly pressed within its pages and went to her room to get her pen.