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“Mamma!” Amanda exclaimed, aghast when she saw her mother sliding down the banister in the hallway. Since her mother had arrived on their doorstep a couple months ago, there had not been another dull day. She and her brother had quickly learned that their mother, as a fifth child in a family of eight, was not only practical and very loving, but also marvellously devious and underhanded. However, sliding down the banister was new. What was her mother up to now, Amanda wondered silently, while in awe of her mother’s skill to slide down the banister without support. Although her mother did have a very funny look on her face while sliding down the banister, she had blushed when she heard Amanda calling out to her.
“MAMMA!” Amanda only now realised her mother was wearing breeches. She had heard the stories of her mother’s aunt Billie Bridgerton, now Rokesby, wearing breeches, but she had never envisaged her own mother doing the same. She was quite shocked to say the least. 'Wasn’t her mother supposed to teach her how to become a lady', she thought. Wearing breeches surely did not become a lady. As her nurse always said, “Clothes did not make the man, and certainly not the lady.” She had better find out what her mother was up to. Before she could ask anything, her mother distracted her with a question of her own.
When Eloise landed safely down the stairs, she found Amanda staring at her aghast. She tried to hide her blush, courtesy of the frisson she felt while sliding down the banister when the rough fabric of the breeches touched her delicate parts.
“Ah, there you are. Where is your brother? We are going out today, for some shooting practice!”
Amanda was fairly certain her mother intended to derail her questioning with this statement, because she could not be more surprised by her declaration. Amanda muttered “I am to be a lady. I should not be learning how to shoot.”
“You’re a Bridg—,“ Eloise halted mid-sentence and took a deep breath before she continued, “You are a Crane! There is nothing you cannot do! Don’t you ever let people tell you what you should or should not do. You can make up your own mind and make your own choice.”
“But—," and of course, it was difficult to get a word in edgeways. When her mother was on a mission, you had better get in line. Amanda had learned quite quickly, it was impossible to best her mother in conversation and believe her, she had tried.
“Amanda, we are living in the country, not in London. The rules are different here. There is much more freedom living in the country. I will teach you how to conform to the London rules when it is time, but here we have fun and we can do what we like.” She walked over to Amanda and hugged her close.
“Mamma!” Amanda was wondering why she was protesting so much, she very much enjoyed her freedom in the country. Well, since her mother had arrived, she had more freedom than she had before, and she loved her mother dearly for it.
Looking at Amanda with all the love in the world, Eloise continued, “Taking your place in society should be an exciting time in a young woman’s life, but it will be another decade before that happens. We need not hasten your deportment just yet, I will certainly not rush you.”
Holding onto her daughter, Eloise thought about the love of her mother, how Violet had prepared her for the social season, guiding her, but not pushing her out. Her mother had even postponed her first season, until she was 'sort of' ready. She had really never been ready for the social season, to be courted and have men call on her.
She shuddered at the memory of her life in London. She was a country girl at heart, and she wanted Amanda to have the same freedom she had felt while living in the country. “Did you know, I grew up in the country until I was eight years old? I had the best time, I climbed trees, slid down banisters and rode horses with my older brothers and I want you to experience that too. All of it. Agreed?” and she shook Amanda’s shoulder lovingly to concur.
“Yes, mamma,” came forth with a big smile and a hug.
It was only after her marriage to Phillip that Eloise realised she aspired to be like her mother, she had found a new purpose in her children. And she would teach both of them that women were to be treated with respect, not merely as chattels and breeding stock. She would teach Amanda everything she knew and encourage her to find her own way in the world.
Universities might still forbid women to attend, but one day they must acknowledge women were smarter than men, and she wanted Amanda to be ready for when that day occurred. 'Nothing wrong with raising a free spirit to liven up the awfully dull social season in London,' Eloise thought with a devilish smile, 'but not just yet. First, there was the matter of having fun, enjoying freedom and learning how to shoot a gun, obviously.
“Now run along and find your brother, wait for me in the drawing room. I still have to convince your father that going on an outing is a good idea.” and with that, Eloise dismissed Amanda and went in search of her husband.
Phillip was off in his greenhouse, as he tended to do most days. Eloise could see it from the house and could even see him moving from time to time. But Eloise had made up her mind, it was time for him to get out of the greenhouse and spend some time with her and the children. She had just the right idea to get him out of it.
So, she left the children in the drawing room with the promise of a day out with their father and went over to the greenhouse. She opened the door to the greenhouse and poked her head in, she heard him humming happily while he had his hands covered in mud.
Phillip looked around and wondered why he’d built the structure entirely of glass. He might need to install some sort of privacy screen if she was going to come visiting on a regular basis.
“Am I intruding?”
He thought about that. She was, actually; he was quite in the middle of something, but he realised he did not mind. Which was odd and rather pleasing at the same time. Before she had walked into his life interruptions would always irritate him, but she had calmed him down.
“Not at all,” he said, “if you are not offended by my appearance.” That’s when he noticed her appearance. She was wearing his breeches, to be precise his rough woollen breeches. He liked to feel the rough texture on his legs, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the texture did to her delicate skin.
“You’re wearing breeches,” he stated with a heavy sigh and shook his head with a smile. “Are they mine? Of course, they are mine! Where else would you have found some breeches that would fit,” he smiled warmly at her.
It had taken Eloise some time to mend his breeches to fit her, he was a bear of a man, after all. She had managed brilliantly and she was quite proud of her newfound freedom. Wearing breeches was more practical in playing with the children and riding a horse astride.
“The breeches help with running the estate smoothly. That was one of your many requirements for a wife, yes?” she teased him with a grin.
He closed the distance to wrap her in his arms, dirt and smut on his shirt and a smudge on his left cheek no problem for her, as they had discovered on previous trysts in the garden. His hands grabbed her ass and he pressed her towards him.
“The first time I saw you, standing in my entry hall in your pretty dress, you looked like a goddess,” he rasped, and then he stilled, just a little and pulled back a bit to look at her fully. “But do you know,” he continued, his eyes burning with wicked desire, “I think I like you better in breeches.”
“Hmmm, do you now?”
“I sure do,” his lips close to her ear, while leaning into her, for a kiss on her cheek, while fondling her bottom.
“I bet you do, but it will have to wait till later,” she replied, while running her hands over his chest. She loved that he wore a shirt with the top buttons open and no cravat, so she could run her fingers through the soft springy hair on his chest, “I would like to spend some time with you and our children, it is fine weather, excellent for outside activities, I gather.”
“Hmm, I would not mind a little roll in the hay, that would be a bit more titillating,” he made a grab for another kiss, but she ducked away.
“I do not doubt it, but there must be more than this kind of attraction,” she sighed and repeated her want, “I want to spend time with you and our children. You can have your wicked way with me later!”
When Phillip realized a roll in the hay was out of the question, for now at least, he muttered, sounding, at least in Eloise’s opinion, rather like a sullen child, "I am in the middle of something."
“I will leave you to your work, then”, she said, motioning to the greenhouse with a gesture that was meant to seem as if she were waving him away. She never let him get off that easily.
He eyed her suspiciously “And what do you plan to do?”
“I suppose I shall have to teach the children how to shoot a pistol on my own,” she replied with a big grin.
“You will not! Shooting is fun. I want to join,” he growled. It had been one of those manly pursuits his father had been so insistent he learn. It had taken him years to realise he actually liked shooting.
And now, his wife was going to teach his children. Not without him, she wouldn't. Compared to the Bridgerton Brothers, he was a good shot, but not as good as Eloise. She was a natural, or as Benedict and Colin had called her “a freak of nature”, because his, at that time, fiancée appeared not to be aiming at all, looking actually kind of bored and she still hit the bullseye.
He was already smitten with her, but after that shooting match at Benedict’s cottage, which she won obviously, he was madly in love with her. Anthony had even offered him a double dowry, if he would allow her to go shoot with him, so she did no longer pester the Bridgerton brothers anymore. He had gladly accepted, but would have married her on the spot without a penny to her name. That’s how much in love he was.
Thinking back to that marvellous afternoon at My Cottage, Benedict’s house, not far from Romney Hall, made him chuckle, because it was also the afternoon he proved to her they would suit. And oh boy, did they suit. It was marvelous.
And the stupid grin on his face told Eloise she had him agreeing to join them. Men were really easy to play, if you knew how to. She leaned in to kiss him, “So, we’ll see you in— say, 5 minutes?”
Eloise had a recently hired footman prepare a table with the pistols and the bullseye. She had arranged for a picnic with some chairs and blankets with Mrs. Smith for their first family shooting practice. She hoped more would follow.
She had gathered the children around for their first lesson in theory. Oliver groaned, “This sounds like school. I thought we were going to have fun.”
“Listen to your mother, safety is very important with these weapons. If used incorrectly, you can get seriously hurt.” Phillip admonished his son, who looked at his father in awe, for letting his mother do all the important stuff. And when Oliver saw his mother pick up a pistol, aim and hit the bullseye, he was even more in awe of her than his father. She made it look so easy. It was splendid, she was the best mother he could wish for.
Eloise taught them how to hold the pistol, to balance the body, stretching the arm and taking aim. And then she went on and told them to take a deep breath, look at the target, finger at the trigger, exhale slowly and to pull the trigger, like it was nothing of note. The moment of truth came sooner than expected, time to actually pull the trigger.
Eloise handed Oliver a gun, and gave an encouraging nod to take his first shot. Olivier looked at the gun in his hand, was surprised by its weight and the way it felt in his hand. He took his place behind the line, took aim and fired the shot with a slow and loud exhale. He was shocked at the noise and equally elated he had not wavered. But afterwards, he showed the biggest grin. He had hit the target, but was inches from the bullseye, still not bad for a first time.
Then, it was Amanda’s turn to shoot the pistol. Eloise handed the weapon over and looked into her eyes, “You can do this! Just do as I showed you and you’ll be fine!”
Amanda trusted her mother explicitly, but in this case she had her doubts, she was to become a lady and did ladies really know how to shoot a pistol.
Eloise stood closer to Phillip and looked up at him. “Yes?” he asked, wondering what she wanted to tell him, because it was obvious that she wanted to tell him something. The last couple of months he had learned of her ways and this was one of them.
“Amanda,” she whispered, nodding at their daughter holding a pistol for the first time, “she believes a lady should not know how to fire a pistol. I have, of course, told her how wrong she is. When she fires the pistol, encourage her, make a fuss.”
He looked at his wife, his very managing, sometimes even bossy wife, telling him what to do, helping him raising his children with all the love he had for them. She had shown him how to love and how to accept love in return. He smiled at her, stole a quick kiss and watched as Amanda took a stand, took aim and fired.
Phillip was taken aback when the target was brought to his attention and it appeared Amanda had shot very close to the bullseye. He walked over to his daughter and took a bow, “Miss Amanda Crane, you seem to be a natural with a pistol. I hold you in the highest esteem.”
Amanda grinned with sheer delight, her eyes wide, looking from her father to her mother and back to her father “Am I as good as mother?” she whispered conspiratorially. Phillip looked over at his wife, who was smiling fondly at them both, and then turned back to Amanda, leaning over to whisper in her ear, “This was your first ever shot, if you keep practicing you might one day be as good as your mother and I won’t hold you back.”
“Pinky swear?” Amanda offered her pinky to her father, to hold him to his word.
“Pinky swear!”
Eloise chuckled, cause it appeared Amanda had picked up a few of her tricks already, winding the men in her life around her little finger. Her eyes grew misty and she wiped the tear away with her hand.
“Are you alright?” Phillip came over, always concerned for her welfare.
“It’s nothing,” she cleared her throat, “just a bit of dust.” He held her in his arms, resting his chin on her head and hugged her close to his heart.
And later that night, after he had tucked the children into bed, kissed each on the forehead and headed for the door, he heard Amanda whisper, “Papa?”
He turned around and looked at her angelic face, wondering how many hearts she might break when it was her time to shine, “Yes, Amanda?”
“This was the best day ever, Papa,” she whispered.
“Ever,” Oliver agreed.
“Hmmm,” he looked at them both, scratching his chin, making it look like he was in deep thought, “I rather think, since the day your mother arrived, every day has been the best day ever.” And the children wholeheartedly agreed with him.
When he left their room, he went in search of his wife for some long overdue unfinished business, but that is a story for a different chapter.