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John knows he has nothing to complain about when it comes to his job. He has it better than most, definitely better than anyone he grew up with. Secure and respectable position in a prominent household, fair wages and clean and warm place to sleep at night. Not many people in household service can say the same.
He's not complaining, truly. It's just… as good as the job of a footman is, it really isn't all that challenging for a man of his talents and intelligence. Had John the good fortune to be born under more affluent roof, he would be attending university, well on his way to become the next big thing in British politics, causing trouble and progress at the same time. However, he came to this world as a fifth child of a poor stonemason, forced to earn his own living since the age of twelve. To his parents' credit, they made sure he ended up in as good place as they could find. And to his employers' credit, he was always treated kindly and with as much respect people of their calibre were able to extend to a servant.
But standing in the corner of the room with tea tray in his hands and listening to the mindless chatter around can get rather… tedious.
And John gets bored very easily.
Sometimes it's so boring he could cry – if not for the one person that gets as annoyed with, well, everyone, as him and unlike him can afford to let her feelings be known. It's the moments when Eloise Bridgerton looses her cool and causes her family gasp in shock over her sharp tongue that give him life. The Miss keeps him entertained and in return, he helps her with her misbehaving. Beside making his days less dull it also gives him an opportunity to earn an extra coin and well, who is he to say no to that? (And he genuinely likes her. They are of same age, know each other since childhood, basically. John only has brothers and eventually, he starts to think of Miss Eloise as of a sister of sorts. Or at least a cousin. Twice removed.)
So naturally, when this source of entertainment dries up, covert expeditions to Bloomsbury stop and Eloise no longer teases, mocks and stuns her family during teas but either sits on the sofa with murderous expression on her face, completely silent or makes someone cry outright with her words, John notices and eventually grows concerned (and bored).
“I swear the lord, I'm not going to that room!” Betty, the maid tasked by looking after Eloise's needs since yet another lady's maid have quit on her, declares uncompromisingly as she meets him in the hall under the stairs. She has been send by Lady Bridgerton to fetch her wayward daughter and drag her down for a dress fitting (again). Since the Viscount is about to tie the knot (again), the house is in uproar over the nuptials (again), the opportunity apparently requiring wardrobe update for all the ladies of the house (AGAIN). To bring the charade to the happy end, Lord Bridgerton's second attempt at wedding needs to be just as splendid as the first one, to quell any remaining whispers from the ton. The Queen herself gave her blessing to the union and even though she is no longer hosting the affair, she is definitely attending. The happy couple would probably rather get married as quietly as possible, but they both understand the importance of appearances and play the part.
The same cannot be said about Miss Eloise, however, who made it abundantly clear that, while she adores her future sister-in-law already, yet another wedding circus is very low on her list of activities she would like to partake in. Combined with her own personal turmoil, she has become a nightmare to just about every maid in the house. Thankfully, John's colleagues have not too many reasons to be around her, the young lady managing to dress herself just fine most of the time. Exception of course being an evening wears, but as the season comes to the close, the opportunities for that dwindle, much to the delight of both Eloise and the servants.
Nevertheless, even the little time in her presence has scarred Betty enough to contemplate ignoring the order she got. Last time Eloise was interrupted from her afternoon studying, there might have been expletives and books flying through the air involved, John is not sure on the details. Betty didn't cry, she is way too tough for that, but the air of anger clung to her for another two days. John dunked tea all over Eloise in retaliation. (He might like her, but that doesn't mean he will tolerate her being mean. The solidarity between servants goes further than any affection he has for his Miss.)
(Also, it was kind of funny.)
So John doesn't hesitate much and offers Betty his assistance now – something she has probably hoped for since telling him in the first place:
“I'll go up and get her.” As expected, his words are met with an enthusiastic consent, Betty giving him wide, grateful smile as she raises on her tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to John's cheek.
“You are the best, Johnny.” She says and John preens under the praise. (He likes Betty. He likes her a lot, actually. He's not very subtle about it and Betty teases him for it and that makes him like her even more.) He doesn't waste an opportunity to play up his charms and with a cocky smirk, he replies with self-assured:
“I know.” Betty laughs, her giggles echoing through the hall as she scurries away, least he changes his mind or – worse – Lady Violet pokes her head in, asking what's the hold up. John watches until the door to the servant's corridor close behind his friend and then he straightens his livery, mentally preparing himself for battle and runs up the stairs. He stops before the door hiding Miss Eloise, chuckling at the paper stuck on them with honest to god nail (where did she got that and how did she managed to hammer it into the door without an actual hammer, he doesn't know) that holds a simple directive written on it in large, bold letters: KEEP OUT! He gives the wood an insistent knock. At first, it goes unanswered, so he repeats the motion, tapping the door even stronger. Finally, irritated voice from the inside barks:
“I'm busy!” Taking it as an acknowledgement of Eloise's presence, he purposely ignores the implications of her words and enters. Miss Eloise is sitting by her writing desk, papers and books strewn everywhere – though it doesn't look like she is actually doing anything of import.
“You are about to get busier.” He announces himself, easily slipping into a casual tone. One thing to get Eloise even more irritated is to go all high and proper on her. However, if the way she looks at him now is any indication, no amount of casual friendliness is going to make much of a difference.
John holds the withering glare Eloise gives him without wavering, not even blinking, staring her down until she capitulates and averts her eyes momentarily. When she looks back at him, it is tiniest bit impressed, but that doesn't soothe the bite in her voice when she growls out:
“What?!” Still unconcerned, John grins.
“Your mother is looking for you.” Eloise rolls her eyes.
“I know. That's why I'm busy.” She turns her back at him again and goes to whatever it is she was doing before being so rudely interrupted, all but verbally dismissing him from her presence. John sticks his hands into his pockets and rocks on his heels, patiently waiting for her to notice he didn't leave. It takes barely half a minute before she is turning again, feeling his eyes on her back.
“Why are you still here?” She grumbles, her forehead furrowing. John gives her another blinding smile.
“Waiting for you not be busy.” He is a man on a mission. And honestly, she is better off with him dragging her out of her refuge. There is a faint smell of cigarette smoke in the air despite the window being wide open. Anyone else would already be tattling on her to Lady Violet about that. John keeps grinning and Eloise keeps frowning, battle of attitudes in full swing.
“You are awfully impertinent today.” She points out, not accusing, just sort of appreciative observation. John shrugs his shoulders.
“I had a good night sleep.” Another minute of staring contest. Then a sudden noise from downstairs reaches their ears, disrupting their bubble. Neither can safely identify its origins, but the possibility that it is Eloise's mother already taking the matters into her own hands and looking for her recluse daughter, is all too real. Not keen on having her bedroom invaded by her mama, Eloise finally relents and gives in.
“For heaven's sake… fine. I'm coming.” She huffs, annoyance now radiating from her in waves. She stands up and marches across the room with a purpose in her step – purpose to get this over with as quickly as possible. When she walks to him, John gives her a humorously exaggerated bow and obediently steps out of her way.
“Very well, Miss.” She kicks him in the shin in return, leaving a smudge on his white stockings. The curse John lets slip out of his mouth is what finally makes her crack a smile.
Eloise runs down the stairs and John can hear the roused voices greeting her, reprimanding her and telling her off for her tardiness. John doesn't pay it any more attention, bending at the waist, first trying to get the dirt from his garment, but after being unsuccessful, he resigns himself to being chastised by the butler for having his uniform out of order. He doesn't have clean spare pair of stockings on him right now, the last one send to the laundry yesterday.
He briefly contemplates borrowing one of Eloise's – after all, she has enough white stockings to hardly miss a pair. He is fairly sure she wouldn't mind, but as he takes few more steps into the room, he reconsiders. Going through her drawers is just a bit too big breach of trust. Their quasi friendship aside, there are boundaries that are not to be crossed even among friends and going through one's undergarments without invitation is certainly one of them.
John is about to turn and leave, hoping he will manage to escape having his next half-day off revoked at least, when Eloise's desk catches his eye. There is a mess all over it, as he noticed before, but now he can actually clearly see the books that has been keeping the Miss' attention. He recognizes them well, after all, when she got those four tomes, she cradled them in her hands like the most precious of riches, for once allowing him to help her out of the carriage least she fell down and dropped them. The papers around are crumpled and, if he's not mistaken, some bear the undeniable evidence of tears spilled over them, spilled and dried again, leaving the paper wrinkled and the ink on it messy.
Admittedly, he doesn't know much of what happen between Miss Eloise and Mr. Sharpe, the night of their fallout actually being the first one she went to Bloomsbury on her own, escaping the house under the ruse of visiting Miss Featherington. So John doesn't know what happened, but he knows it hurt Eloise greatly, for he caught her sniffling couple days later in the gardens. She bravely put on a face when paying him for the cigarettes he bought for her, but a little prodding and she was spilling her heart to him, in as broad terms as possible. Between the hiccups and her aggressive burning of several smokes in a row, John got the impression that whatever has happened, she is already regretting it bitterly while at the same time not being willing to do the first step towards reconciliation. Thus the roundabouts of her bad mood and worse than usual behaviour started.
Even now, as John is exiting her room, he can hear the voices from downstairs raising more and more and before the day is through, half of the household is in tears and during the servant's dinner, Betty is swearing up and down she is going to put arsenic into Eloise's bath one of these days.
Not wanting to be an accessory to a murder, even if only by affiliation, John decides to take things into his own hands. Again, as much as he likes her, Eloise needs to stop terrorizing people around, be it her family or servants. And in order to achieve that, she needs to get her shit together. And, well, as previously mentioned, John gets bored easily and what better way to entertain himself than to meddle with the lives of his friends?
(Also, while he wouldn't bet his life on it, he is almost perfectly sure that a familiarly looking printer's apprentice is occasionally lurking around the park at the Grosvenor Square, apparently too much of a chicken to come anywhere close to be actually seen, but obviously hoping to catch a sight of certain someone. It would be all very funny, if it didn't make John's life more complicated.)
Not one to wait around unnecessarily, John takes the first opportunity that strikes and sets his plan in motion. It's not really even a plan, more like “spur of a moment” idea he has when he turns the carriage that is hiding Miss Eloise into the familiar streets of Bloomsbury one day. He was taking her to visit the Duchess, so for once, she is alone in the carriage. The insistent rain of the last few days made the gutters in some places to overflow and fill the streets with dirty water, often too deep to safely wade the carriage through. John has decided to take a detour to avoid these spots and by a happy coincidence, he finds them not but two streets from Chancery Lane.
Jerking on the reins, he makes the horses stop suddenly, then move again, then stop for good. The rain is pouring down heavily, camouflaging any noises, so he manages to kick one of the wheels until it hangs all askew before opening the carriage door and informing Miss Eloise of their “accident”. In a way that is frankly adorable (and that makes John so fond of her even when she is being absolutely insufferable), Eloise's first concern is whether he is alright, fearing he hurt himself up on the carriage when the jostling happened.
“I'm perfectly fine, but I don't have the tools on me to fix the issue.” He lies easily, since the box with the tools is safely hidden under the very seat Eloise is resting upon, but there is no way she could know that.
“Oh. Can it be fixed?” She asks, still giving him a searching look. John nods.
“Yes, that is not a problem. I just have to run back to the house for few things.” As he predicted, Eloise doesn't dispute this, not aware in the slightest that she is quite literally sitting on their help. Instead she just nods decisively and starts to move to get out of the carriage.
“I'll go with you.” Setting his half-cooked plan in motion, John protests. He helps her out, watching as her cloak turns darker immediately with the water being soaked into it, but makes no move to allow her to leave.
“No, no, it's too far.” Eloise scrunches her nose.
“No it's not.” Her dispute is expected and John doesn't hesitate to pile on his arguments.
“You will only slow me down.” He watches as Miss Eloise puffs her cheeks at first in offence at being called slow in any way and then secretly cheers at her resigning, heavily helped by the rain hitting her face, letting him win the first round.
“Fine. I'll wait in the carriage.” She rolls her eyes and moves to hop back into the dry carriage. John quickly grasps her arm and stops her, starting a phase two of his master-plan.
“You cannot do that.” He says and now Eloise is looking at him with clear irritation, fairly growling when she asks:
“Why ever not?”
“It's dangerous.” That elicits exactly the reaction he hoped for. Eloise's annoyance now fully on display, she huffs as if personally insulted by his insinuations.
“Oh, please, like anything ever happened when we were here before.” Internally, John cheers, Miss Eloise playing into his hand perfectly. (He really should try and get to politics. Those old stuffy boars sitting in the parliament wouldn't know what hit them.) He allows himself a brief moment of celebration, but on the outside doesn't let anything to show, except for an exaggerated fake surprise:
“That's right – we are in the familiar parts, are we not?”
“Uh…” It's rather comical to watch Miss Eloise's brain sort of short-cut, the poor girl still not knowing what is going on, but sensing correctly it is way out of her control by now.
“You can wait in the print shop! Marvellous, let's go!” John exclaims victoriously, like if he just had that idea and before Eloise can mobilize properly, he's slamming the door of the carriage closed and taking her hand and dragging her through the streets.
“What? No! John, no!” Eloise starts protesting eventually, but John mostly ignores her, tugging on her hand to follow.
“I will wait in the carriage, I don't mind, really!”
“Nonsense. What if the horses get spooked and there is another accident? I will get fired.” They turn the corner and the print shop appears in their sight.
“Then I'll go home with you.” Eloise tries again, only to be rebuked by another argument.
“And leave the carriage here unattended and getting you home completely soaked? I will get fired.” John is aware he is laying it on thick and that his own reasoning has some serious holes in it. So it's not a surprise that Miss Eloise catches up on that, huffing out:
“I think you are being overly dramatic, nobody is firing you.”
“I would rather not tempt the fate.” To be fair, he is much more likely to get fired for leaving her unchaperoned with a boy and he's pretty sure that is going to be Eloise's next argument to make him stop. Thankfully, they just cross the remaining distance to the front door to the print shop, hiding under the small over-roof. Not allowing any more protests, John turns to face Eloise, victorious smile on his lips.
“Anyway, we are here, so any further discussion is fruitless.” He raises his hand to knock and Eloise jumps at him, stopping his fist touching the wood at the last second.
“John, please, I can't go there.” She is hanging off his arm, panicked and for a second, John puts off his uncompromising attitude and asks, completely serious:
“Would you be in danger?” Look, he has no more patience for her moping and the lovesick drama she and Mr. Sharpe are so keen to keep up, but he is not about to push her in if she really has a sustainable reason not to. But given her confused expression at his question, it is clear that this is truly all about her being just kind of dumb.
“Of course not!” She actually sounds little insulted at the implication, ready to defend Mr. Sharpe's honour from any harm and that is all John needs to slip back to his no-nonsense stance and continue with his tough-love display.
“Well then.” In a quick move, he twists his hand from Eloise's hold and knocks on the door, strongly enough to be heard over the still pouring rain. Nobody opens and Eloise uses this as the last attempt at escaping.
“See, nobody is home, lets go.” Automatically, John's arm shoots out, preventing her from turning and walking away. He thumps on the door again. Eloise tries to kick him, but gets tangled in her skirts and almost falls on her face, only John's hold on her preventing that from happening. However, instead of gratitude, John gets a threat hissed into his ear:
“I will get you fired!”
“No you won't.” He flashes Eloise a knowing smile and can see her already opening her mouth and start an argument. He is saved from it by the door finally swinging in and in them standing the very reason of their presence.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sharpe!” John exclaims jovially, feeling Eloise next to him freeze in mid move and suddenly not so inclined to talk at all. Mr. Sharpe is staring at them with mouth hanging a bit open, shock (but also a certain amount of genuine excitement, if John isn't mistaken) written all over his face. Admittedly, they must present pretty strange picture, a footman basically holding his high-born lady a hostage, apparently at the start of the vicious fight. Nevertheless, John can see the moment Miss Eloise's and Mr. Sharpe's eyes finally meet and there is no denying the softening in their gazes and the blush spreading on their cheeks. If he weren't so done with this ridiculousness, he would find them adorable. However, this way he only puts on his biggest and most convincing smile and then rattles out, addressing Mr. Sharpe, but not allowing neither of his companions to get a word in before he is done:
“Big favour to ask – can Miss Eloise wait here until I fix our carriage? Yes? Splendid! See you soon!” Before anyone can protest, he is pushing Eloise forward, into the shop until she stumbles over the threshold and ends up in Mr. Sharpe's arms. That is an entirely happy accident, but John feels proud anyway, especially since either Eloise or Theo have to yet let go of the other.
He is striding away in the next second, something like “You are so dead” might be sounding behind his back, but when he turns, already at the safe distance at the other side of the street, he can see the two reunited sweethearts (intellectual sparing partners, whatever they want to call it) still holding onto each other, eyes only for themselves.
He hurries back to the carriage, sets to fix the wheel he deliberately broke. It takes him about twenty minutes and when he's done, he's just about ready to head home and get dry and warm. His heavy driver's overcoat is providing with with much more protection than Eloise's flimsy one did, but he can too already feel the freezing water slipping behind his collar and making him cold. He wonders if the time allotted has been enough to sort anything or if the two dummies are still standing in the open door, staring at each other like two moonstruck calves.
Only one way to find out.
John runs back to Chancery Lane, coming to the print shop. The door are closed, so he finds a window and steals a peek inside through there.
Eloise and Theo are standing by the lit fireplace now, arms around each other. Kissing.
Well. Definitely sorted things out then. Or at least well on the way to do so.
John smirks, giving himself a mental pat on the shoulder. From now on, work in the Bridgerton house should be a breeze once again.
He contemplates knocking and interrupting the newly minded couple, though, since the goal of this mission has been achieved and he really, really wants to get home and warm up. But then he sees Miss Eloise breaking the kiss and saying something, Mr. Sharpe answering her and then they are laughing and Mr. Sharpe is twirling Miss Eloise around and they look so bloody happy… and well, despite everything, John is a romantic at heart.
So he turns, runs back to the carriage and climbs in, dumps his cloak on the floor, uses the curtains to pat himself dry as best as he can and then puts out a blanket stashed under on of the seats for the moments the travellers inside would get chilly on their way from a ball or something like that. He sits down on the bench, bundles himself up to the chin and with a smile, decides to take a nap.
He can give them some more time.