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1811 – Margaret Clive
A funeral is not what people usually think of as a joyful social affair, but despite her better judgement, Eloise is having a blast at this one. Everyone with some sense of humour is, truly. Even the daughter of the dear deceased cracks a smile every now and then when her formidable aunt takes a word. Baroness Clive is a sight to be behold, decked head to toe in the richest black silk and gold jewellery, tearing to shreds anyone who dares to slip any derogatory comment towards her, all the while holding a protective arm over her niece's shoulder.
“Nothing better than a good verbal slap.” Says Lady Danbury, sipping her champagne and watching the Baroness verbally decimate some snide little man who thought it a good idea to remind her that she's a “new money” and thus has no place among aristocracy despite her title. Eloise thinks her mama is secretly enjoying the show as well, but her strict manners prohibit her from expressing said joy. With eyes nervously flickering around, Violet offers:
“Should someone intervene?” No one seems inclined to do so and Eloise laughs.
“The Baroness does not look in need of saving, mama.”
“Stop smiling, Eloise. We are at the funeral!”
“I cannot help it.” She does, unsuccessfully, try to smother her giggles in a cup of lemonade, only to snort it through her nose when the Baroness delivers one especially stingy remark and makes the man trying to insult her cry. Violet rolls her eyes while hurriedly dabbing Eloise with a handkerchief and then pushes her daughter towards a young woman now left standing alone nearby.
“God above. Go talk to miss Maskelyne.” Last thing Eloise sees of her mother before stumbling away, are the corners of her mouth turning upwards in a fleeing smile. She makes her way towards Margaret Maskelyne dressed in black and, despite her aunt's antics, with a sorrowful look in her eyes. Eloise remembers well the pain of loosing a father, the emptiness it brings in one's heart. On top of everything, the young lady in front of her has no mother or siblings either to help fill the void left behind. Eloise decides to offer herself. With a new determination, she reaches the young woman.
“I'm sorry for your loss.” Her greeting is patently unimaginative, but still met with a kind smile and a nod of a head.
“Thank you, miss Bridgerton.”
“Please, just Eloise.” She offers her hand. It is an untoward gesture, not practised among the young ladies of the ton, who greet themselves with a curtsey or a kiss on a cheek. Handshakes are reserved for men. Well, Eloise has no problem to plough through that tradition without a second thought. And she's delighted to see it reciprocated.
“Very well, Eloise. I'm Margaret. But, friends call me Maggie.” They stroke an easy conversation afterwards, covering myriad of topics until ultimately ending again at Baroness Clive, who is now gleefully detailing a story about her time abroad, including all the unnecessarily gory details of her maid's sea sickness while getting there. People around are turning green and slowly distancing themselves from the woman, none of them daring to mock her now. (Eloise realises that may have been a goal in the first place and her admiration towards the Baroness grows to another level.)
“Your aunt is…” She pauses, trying to find the right words. Maggie chuckles.
“A character.”
“Absolutely.” Eloise thought that Lady Danbury possessed the sharpest tongue in London, but it seems she's being dethroned at this very moment. One quick look in her direction however reveals that the Lady in question is in no way perturbed by the fact, indeed, she looks like she's enjoying the display immensely.
“Papa used to say she is a force of nature. Do you know how she met her husband?” It is not only her own curiosity but also the softness in Maggie's voice while mentioning her dear father, that makes Eloise prompt her new friend to continue.
“How?”
“Her and papa's eldest brother, my uncle Edmund, told her that his colleague Robert Clive saw her portrait and fell in love with her. He jokingly urged her to go to India and marry him. He probably have not expected her to do exactly that. Aunt Margaret packed her things, went to India and tracked Robert down. Originally, she wanted to only find out “what idiot falls for a woman he never spoke to” but when she finally met him, he was a war hero and they actually did fell in love.” It is like a story from a trashy romance novel, so outrageous and improper and Eloise loves it.
“She went to India, alone?” Maggie nods, her features now shrouded in pride at her aunt's gumption. They both turn to the woman, standing in the midst of people who watch her both with admiration and fear.
“Force of nature. She cannot be stopped.”
1815 – Margaret Bryan
It is Benedict's obsession with having his every piece skyed properly that leads Eloise back to Bloomsbury. In her quest to obtain some star maps for her brother to consult when painting the night scenes, Eloise finds her way into the familiar streets. Despite the address she got from Maggie being far enough from Chancery Lane, she subconsciously expects to bump into Theo anyway. And she does.
It's an automatic motion, to turn toward the noise. Eloise is guided by this instinct when in bookshop, waiting for her maps to be brought. She turns, not expecting to engage with the newly arriving person beyond a greeting. But the words get stuck in her throat when she recognizes the man watching her with significant portion of surprise and… something else that Eloise doesn't know how to name just yet. Neither says anything, they just keep looking at each other like two starstruck idiots. Only the shopkeeper coming back with Eloise's order breaks their staring contest.
Shaken out of her stupor, Eloise quickly pays and flees the shop. She should continue her escape, she knows, but her feet have other idea, stubbornly refusing to move further than the corner of the street. She stands there, debating her options, when the bell above the bookshop's door rings and out comes Theo, stack of books under his arm and looking around wildly. When his eyes fall on her, he immediately heads her way.
“Miss Bridgerton.”
“Theo.”
“Are you well?”
“Some hay fever, but overall fine.” The awkward silence fills the air between them. There is plenty of what should be said, apologies and explanations over the way their last meeting ended. Eloise opens her mouth several times, only to shut it again, at loss how to start the conversation. Theo doesn't seem to fare much better, the hand not holding the books finding its way into his hair and scratching at them nervously. Finally, he manages to blurt out:
“Would you like to meet the woman who makes these?” It takes Eloise a second to realise he's talking about the maps she holds rolled under her arm. Another second to fully comprehend what he said.
“Meet the… woman?” Seeing he has her undivided attention now, Theo nods vigorously and explains, his voice full of pride.
“Mrs. Bryan is a teacher and scientist. She prints her work with us.”
“You've been keeping a published woman scientist from me?” Her voice is borderline betrayed and Theo is back at nervously mussing his hair.
“I didn't know you have an interest in astronomy.” He offers hesitantly and Eloise looks at him like he lost his bloody mind.
“That is so not the point.”
After everything, Theo knows when to count his losses, so he just meekly hangs his head down and repeats his offer. By now, Eloise should know better than to go anywhere unchaperoned with a man, especially with the scandal of the last year still trailing behind her. She should know better, but, since she came to Bloomsbury alone anyway, she apparently doesn't.
Without a word, she extends her hand towards him. Theo's eyes confusedly flicker between it and Eloise's face, before realising what the gesture means. Wide smile breaks on his lips and he takes her hand and without further hesitation steps closer to Eloise. Side by side, they turn to leave.
Mrs. Bryan school is at Cadogan Place. By all accounts, Theo should be out of place in this part of the city, but he navigates the streets of West End with ease and is welcomed in the walls of the school as an old friend by pupils and the teacher alike. Eloise is welcomed too, invited to sit at the lecture that is just about to commence. She and Theo both slip into the back row and Eloise listens on, mesmerised by the woman before her.
She sadly can't fully appreciate Mrs. Bryan's knowledge of the lecture's subject itself. Natural philosophy was never her main interest. But despite not understanding a half of what she's saying, Eloise finds herself captured by Mrs. Bryan. She speaks not only of science, but about the importance of bettering oneself. She engages with her students, pushing them to discussion, to exploration. Encouraging them to apply their lessons and not let themselves be limited by the expectations of woman's lot. Inspiring them to pursue their dreams and interests, be it in science or anything else.
When the lecture ends, Eloise has tears in her eyes and a happy smile on her face. Not capable of conveying her feelings in words, she presses a kiss to Theo's cheek in gratefulness for bringing her here. She makes her way to the front of the class, and gets suck into the conversation going on there between Mrs. Bryan and some of her students. Eloise never was among people who cherish the education as much as she does. She never wants to leave. (It takes almost an hour before Mrs. Bryan dismisses the class, claiming the late time, and Eloise and Theo are forced to say their goodbyes. Before they leave, Theo is given a manuscript for Mrs. Bryan's newest educational pamphlet to be published. They read it on their way back, neither truly understanding much, but finding it fascinating all the same.)
They keep coming back, her and Theo. The location of the school and the constant presence of other girls and Mrs. Bryan makes their meetings there as far from scandalous and improper as they could hope. Eloise brings Maggie along too and she and Mrs. Bryan find a common speech almost immediately. Maggie after all grew up at the Royal Observatory, helping her father with his research and Mrs. Bryan's interest in astronomy is unparalleled. Eloise rarely has much to add to the scientific discussions, but holds her own when it comes to debating merits of women's education and access to knowledge in general.
(If she and Theo keep stopping at Hyde Park Corner to listen to radical speakers there on their way to and from the school, if they use the long walks from West End to clear the air between them and restore their friendship, well, that is just an added bonus. And if they find themselves witnessing their relationship shift to something deeper in following months, the feelings toward each other grow and strengthen until it is the most natural thing in the world for them to exchange kisses and words of devotion – well, that is nobody's business but their own.)
1819 – Margaret Maskelyne
Maggie's life is a thing of dreams, at least in Eloise's eyes. Educated, independent and free to do whatever she wants, including…
“Marriage? You are getting married?!” Every soul sitting in the tea room turns their head towards them upon hearing Eloise's shriek. Maggie rolls her eyes and forks another piece of her cake.
“There is no need to make it sound so scandalous, Eloise. It is perfectly proper.” Eloise is in no way disputing that. Nor her friend's choice of companion. She likes Anthony Story. He's as amicable as a man can get. And he fairly worships the very ground Maggie walks on, which is definitely a plus in Eloise's book. It's just the institution of marriage itself that makes her nose scrunch in distaste and put on faces like she's forced to swallow a spoonful of fish oil.
“But you can do anything.” With Baroness Clive leaving a third of the estate to her favourite niece in the will, Maggie is an heiress in her own right. She already pumped a good portion of her inheritance into Mrs. Bryan's school and she's planning to take a trip to India and Bengal to visit her aunt's old stomping grounds. All worthy endeavours for which she definitely doesn't need a husband. Eloise's thoughts are probably easily readable to Maggie, for she laughs and happily says:
“Exactly. And what I want to do is marry Anthony.” Eloise doesn't react. Maggie gives her few moments, until she takes a word again, this time sounding much more grounded and serious.
“I have the privilege to marry for love. There is plenty of those who cannot say the same.” She reaches over the table and takes Eloise's hand, forcing her to look up. To acknowledge her words.
“Being married to someone does not have to akin to death sentence, Eloise. And even if it did, I do not deserve to be belittled for such decision simply because in does not align with your views on matrimony.” From anyone else, words like these would sting and leave Eloise fuming. From Maggie – well, it still stings, since her friend did also inherited her aunt's proclivity for being uncommonly direct – but they also leave Eloise genuinely chastised. And what's more, after a while, Eloise feels herself nod. As usual, Maggie is delivering simple facts and forcing Eloise to examine her life through a new lenses.
Because the truth is – she would not be opposed to marriage so much if she could wed the man she loves. Her distaste for the practise started as a general unwillingness to be bound to or by anyone. But in the last few years it shifted to bitter resentment for it simply not being eligible to her. Not in a way she would wish. Eloise long ago resigned herself to thinking that what she and Theo have now – politics and education, secret meetings in parks and stolen moments in back of the assembly halls – is all they can ever have. But now she watches her friend boldly go and follow her heart's desire and she feels… inspired.
Maggie's words weight on her mind for the rest of the afternoon, long after they finish their teas and cakes and say their goodbyes. She ponders over them on her way home and by the time she reaches the Grosvenor Square, Eloise is determined. She musts at least try. Maybe, just maybe, she and Theo could have more. Maybe, they could even have it all.
They could make it happen, if they wanted to. Eloise only needs to be a little bit braver. Class differences and general scandalousness of such union aside, she is certain in her family's affection and support. It wouldn't be easy at first, to get them used to the idea, but over the years, Bridgertons have proved they are nothing but adaptable to the changes the life presents them. And if appealing to their better nature should fail, Eloise is not beneath to turn to blackmail. After all, none of her siblings have yet managed to go through courtship without a scandal.
So, the next time she and Theo find themselves in Hyde park, hidden on the ground behind some rose bushes, doing things definitely not proper for such a public setting, she asks:
“Would you like to meet my family?” Theo stills, his mouth freezing where it is attached to her neck for a moment, before leaning back and taking a careful look at the woman in his arms. When he sees she's absolutely serious, devilish smile spreads on his lips.
“Right now?” He asks. Eloise feels her own mouth stretch upwards. She locks her arms behind his neck and tugs him back towards her.
“You can finish what you were doing first.” She allows magnanimously before kissing him thoroughly. She can feel Theo's smile against her own. Last coherent thought in her mind before they both tumble down on the grass, is that they better should get the unpleasant things sorted as soon as possible, so they can continue with this in some more comfortable setting.
(It is not without its problems, presenting this future to her family. Rows are had, tears are shed. Through it all, Theo stands firmly by her side, until they emerge victorious. Weeks later, they stand beside each other once more, watching their friends exchange vows of love and protection. When Margaret and Anthony kiss, Theo's fingers interlace with Eloise's and she knows. The next wedding they are attending will be theirs.)
1829 – Margaret Anne Bulkley (James Barry)
After nearly ten years of marriage and countless “we don't have time for children”, “why would I ever get voluntarily pregnant?” and “don't let me hold your baby, I will drop them!” all it takes for Eloise and Theo to find themselves with a sprog of their own, is a night of copious drinking and forgotten carefulness.
It's all Benedict's fault, really. Eloise is more than happy to put the blame on her brother. It was his art exhibition that she and Theo attended. His wine that was being served. His carriage that took them home afterwards instead of walking, so they had no chance to sober up.
Of course, Eloise doesn't present any of the usual symptoms of early pregnancy, so by the time she realises what is making her tie her stays looser every week, it is too late to do anything safely about it and she and Theo find themselves facing a new reality that will now apparently include a child. After some initial shock and obligatory lamenting of their stupidity, they are left with no other option than accept the facts. They decide to face this new challenge head on, like they always do. And when the fear and irritation dissipate, shy feelings of excitement and joy start to creep up into their hearts, much to the surprise of them both.
(When they tell the rest of the Bridgertons, their reactions leave something to be desired. Violet gets way too excited about it. Benedict bursts into fit of laughter. Colin asks how is it even possible when Eloise is so old already, prompting Penelope to smack him and every woman in the family pierce him with a murderous glare. He doesn't squeak a pip after that.)
Eloise decides to deal with the upcoming events the way she always tackles the unknown – by vigorous study of the subject. Which, in the hindsight, may have not been such a good idea, because now she's aware of all the ways things can go wrong and she's absolutely not. Giving. Birth. At. Home!
“But Eloise, where else would you give birth? A barn?” Violet tries to be supportive and understanding to her daughter, first time mothers do tend to be quite nervous after all, but she's slowly reaching end of the rope with Eloise. Her son in law is no help either, completely and unconditionally backing his wife. (He too, have immersed himself into studying and came out of it just as spooked as Eloise.) Now, Violet is happy that even after nearly fifteen years of knowing each other their devotion haven't wavered, but honestly…
However, Eloise is unyielding and in the end, she manages to push through her way. Being a sister to a Viscount pays even if one is living above a print shop in Bloomsbury, after all. So, when her pains hit, she and Theo board the carriage provided to them kindly by Anthony and standing ready to go at the moment notice in front of their home. They make it to the hospital and Eloise is taken care of by medical professionals. (She loves her mother, truly, but she will rather crush Theo's hand than hers and hurl insults on stoic hospital staff than some poor midwives, no matter how experienced they may be.)
In the end, it's nowhere as dramatic as Eloise feared. She's fairly sure she is not going to do it again, ever, but all's well that ends well and after some six hours of agony, she is left exhausted but happy and watching Theo hold their daughter while the doctor finishes checking her.
The doctor in question is delicately looking fellow. One would expect soft manners to go with that angelic face and one would be sorely mistaken. However, Eloise thinks nothing of the presented sharpness, bordering on rudeness. In the end, after the names she called everyone in the room, it is not completely unwarranted.
Doctor Barry is young, maybe their age, but already decorated military hero with an impeccable medical reputation. True pioneer in the healing craft, promoting sanitation and constantly improving conditions not only for his patients but for everyone around wherever stationed. Eloise is confident that her decision was the right one.
The doctor finishes, declares her in as good shape as can be expected given the circumstances, extends few more advices and warnings and then quickly leaves the room. Eloise immediately sits up and motions Theo to surrender the baby back to her arms. He does so, dropping down on the bed beside her. They keep staring at their daughter, still in quiet awe of her. Objectively, she does look like a wrinkly potato, but Eloise will personally fight anyone saying she's not the cutest wrinkly potato to ever grace this planet.
Her musings are interrupted by her husband, who, while never stopping to look at the baby in her arms, quietly whispers:
“Is it just me or does Dr. Barry seem to be little bit…” He hesitates, but Eloise knows exactly what is poking on his mind and finishes the thought.
“Female?”
“Yes, that.” Eloise nods and they exchange a knowing smile.
“Should we say something?”
“Rather not. Wouldn't want the good doctor to be arrested for cross-dressing.”
“Right.”
They slip back into a comfortable silence. Theo asked a nurse to send note to the Bridgerton house, informing the family of the happy news. Tomorrow, all of them will descend upon them, demanding to see the newest little Bridgerton in person. (It matters not that their daughter's surname is Sharpe, Bridgertons are very possessive of all of their extended family, readily claiming them as their own.) Undoubtedly, Maggie will come too, her own flock in tow. But, that will be tomorrow. Today, it is only the three of them. Theo, Eloise and…
“She needs a name.” Theo says, shifting his gaze momentarily to his wife. He just catches a small smirk forming on her lips.
“I may have an idea.”