Chapter Text
And the years passed like scenes of a show
The professor said to write what you know
Looking backwards might be the only way
To move forward.
“One minute to go.”
Eloise sat by her window, cigarette dangling from her lips and a glass of red wine in hand. In truth, she had lost count of how many glasses of wine she had consumed, choosing to indulge herself rather than socialize with any of her mother’s guests.
Violet Bridgerton’s annual New Year’s Eve soirée was in full swing, and Eloise could hear voices wafting its way up the stairs and into her room. Eloise had snuck out of the party at the earliest opportunity, choosing to spend the last few minutes of the year in the quiet of her room.
It seemed Theo had a similar idea.
“I thought you were on éclairs duty?” Eloise asked, as Theo settled beside her. Eloise passed him her cigarette.
“Éclairs can wait.” Theo grinned, taking a drag.
Theo’s mother had worked as a maid for the Bridgerton family for ten years now, so Theo had, in a sense, grown up alongside them. Occasionally, he would even offer to help out during Violet’s parties. “The pay is good,” Theo would claim, but Eloise liked to think it was also because he enjoyed her company.
“Any resolutions?” Eloise asked, downing the rest of her wine.
“Only to keep you out of trouble. Your mother wants you back at the party, by the way.”
“Ha! Good luck with that.”
Theo shook his head in mock-dismay, looking at his watch. “Ten seconds to go!”
Eloise turned to look at the alarm clock beside her bed, counting down from ten. “Five…four…three…two…”
“Happy New Year!” they both cried in unison as cheers erupted from downstairs. Then Eloise, drunk out of her mind, kissed Theo right on the mouth.
It was awkward and clumsy, and Theo pulled away, looking incredulously at Eloise. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you,” Eloise said, like it was obvious. Like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Theo looked like he wanted to respond, eyebrows knitting together the way they did when he was angry. He didn’t get the chance, however, because Eloise had just turned a peculiar shade of green.
“I’m going to be sick,” was all the warning she gave, before racing to the bathroom. Moments later, she was hunched over the toilet, retching violently. Through her drunken haze, she felt Theo behind her, gently pulling her hair back to keep it away from her face.
The next morning, Eloise woke up with a hangover and no recollection of the previous night.
Their friendship began in a library.
While the Bridgertons spent their summer at Aubrey Hall, their country home, Theo found himself drawn to the shelves of Bridgerton Library. Though he questioned why people like the Bridgertons needed multiple homes while others had none, he couldn’t deny his appreciation for the chance to peruse their collection.
The Bridgertons had returned today with a new addition to their family, but minus an old one. The typically loud, boisterous family was in a visibly somber mood, and Theo couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. While he hadn’t known Edmund Bridgerton personally, his mother had always spoken highly of him.
A bee sting, she said, had killed the great Edmund Bridgerton.
Theo, in the hopes of distracting himself from the memories of his own father’s death, had promised himself one last visit to Bridgerton Library. As he tried to commit their collection of Lemony Snicket novels to memory, he heard sniffling from the corner of the room, causing him to drop the copy of Who Could That Be at This Hour? he was holding.
“Who’s there?” came the (surprisingly steady) voice of seven-year-old Eloise Bridgerton.
Theo eyed the doorway, realizing there was no way for him to leave without getting caught. So, with no small amount of shame, Theo picked up his book and moved into her line of vision. Eloise sat curled up in a blue armchair, trying in vain to wipe the tears from her face.
“I’m sorry,” Theo said, guilt lacing his voice. “I’ll leave. Just, please don’t get my mom in trouble. She doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Don’t be silly,” Eloise sniffed, having given up on wiping her tears. “You can come here anytime. I’m the only one who reads in this family, anyway.”
It seemed he wouldn’t have to give up his library visits, after all.
Theo was about to make good on his promise and leave her alone, when something about her expression stopped him.
“Are you alright?” he asked, regretting the words the instant they left his mouth. Of course she wasn’t alright, her father had just died.
Eloise shook her head, eyes tearing up again. “I miss him.”
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, Theo thought, sitting down in a twin armchair next to Eloise.
“I miss my dad, too,” he told her. “He died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied, sounding sincere.
They sat in silence for a moment, Theo fiddling with a button on his shirt, Eloise staring pensively out the window.
“I find reading helps,” he finally said, breaking the silence.
Eloise looked at him curiously. “Really?”
Theo shrugged, feeling a little shy. “Books help me escape...” he trailed off, searching for the right word, “everything.”
Eloise had a considering look on her face. “Is that Lemony Snicket?” she finally asked, gesturing towards the book in his hands.
“Who Could That Be at This Hour?” he answered, handing her the book. “It’s one of his best. Outside of A Series of Unfortunate Events, of course.”
Eloise ran her fingers over the cover. “Thanks,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Theo replied, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I should go before anyone notices I’m here. But, er, if you ever need to talk...”
Eloise gave him a small, but genuine smile. “I’d like that.”
Theo found Eloise perched on the dining table, swinging her legs and appearing younger than her seventeen years. Meanwhile, Lorraine—Theo’s mother—was folding linens, her laughter echoing in response to something Eloise had said.
“What are you two laughing about?” Theo questioned, dumping his backpack on the floor.
Eloise grinned at Theo. “Your mother was just telling me what an adorable child you were.”
Theo groaned, sending his mom a betrayed look. “What did you tell her?”
“Ignorance is bliss, sweetheart,” was all Lorraine said, sending Eloise a conspiratorial grin, prompting her to burst into a fit of laughter.
Theo decided not to push the matter. “When do you want to leave, mom?”
“Oh, in half an hour or so? You two go and do whatever it is you do.”
So, they made their way up to Eloise’s bedroom, and Eloise flopped onto her bed while Theo sat down at her desk.
After Anthony, Benedict, Colin, and Daphne moved out, Eloise moved into the largest room in the house (excluding the master bedroom, which belonged to Violet). Her signature blue walls were lined with bookshelves in some places, and framed posters of Fiona Apple and Patti Smith in others. Her desk was a mess of papers and paperbacks—John Locke and Joan Didion, to name a few.
“Did you get around to reading that book I loaned you? Normal People?” Eloise asked, her gaze fixed on the ceiling fan.
“Yeah, I finished it,” Theo replied, pulling the aforementioned book out of his backpack. “I read your annotations, too.”
“Really?” Eloise said, sounding pleased as she sat up to look at Theo. “Did you read the part where I wrote that the book kind of reminds me of us?”
“Minus the secret relationship, their personalities, the miscommunication—”
“Because we’re so great at communicating.”
“Yeah, I read that part, too.” Theo grinned, gently tossing the book back to Eloise, who fumbled with it momentarily before gaining a proper hold of it. “I liked Normal People a lot, but I liked your annotations even more.”
Theo’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Eloise blush at that, looking down at her book instead of meeting his eyes. She started fiddling with the cover before asking Theo a question he’d been dreading.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Eloise started, sounding hesitant, “what are your plans for university? You always change the subject whenever I ask you, and with applications coming up—”
“I don’t know,” Theo bit out, feeling the inadequacy of that statement. “I’ll go wherever is the cheapest.”
Eloise nodded, unsurprised by his response. “But what do you want to study?”
“I should study law.”
“That’s not what I asked and you know it.” Eloise raised an eyebrow at him.
“It’s not a matter of what I want. It’s a matter of what makes more money.”
“Oh, come off it,” she scoffed. “You’re smart, Theo. You have real talent that will make you money no matter what you pursue.”
And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Eloise lived in dreams because dreams were her reality. Her big house, her fancy private school, her large, loving family.
Theo didn’t have that luxury.
“It’s not that simple,” he retorted, feeling irritation creeping in.
Eloise paused, taking in Theo’s expression. “You’re right, I know it’s not that simple, and I’m sorry for implying otherwise.” Eloise took a deep breath. “But I really think you would be a lot happier and a lot more successful pursuing what you enjoy.”
Theo sighed, feeling his irritation start to fade. “I want to study English.”
“That’s more like it,” Eloise grinned, sounding satisfied. “And you sound like Connell Waldron.”
Theo gave her an exasperated look before making his way over to her bed. Eloise shifted over so he could sit next to her. “That’s what you got out of this conversation?”
Eloise lightly shoved him. “Just tell me you’ll think about it.”
Theo looked at Eloise, taking in her earnest expression, the big dreams she had not just for herself, but for Theo as well. Theo had shared similar conversations with his mother, who told him to stop worrying because all she wanted was for him to be happy. “Money won’t buy you happiness,” Lorraine would say, to which Theo would respond, “No, but it sure helps.”
But Eloise always had a way of getting through to him when no one else would.
“I’ll think about it,” Theo said, and this time he meant it.
Later, when they were both eighteen and Eloise, unsurprisingly, had already been accepted to Oxford for political science, Theo found a letter in his mailbox.
A letter from Oxford.
Theo wasted no time tearing open the envelope, picking up the letter that fell to his feet. He scanned through the contents a few times before the words finally registered.
It was an acceptance letter.
Theo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He had kept his dreams under lock for so, so long. But now, standing on his front porch with an acceptance letter from goddamn Oxford in hand, he could finally picture it: studying English at one of the top universities in the world, being taught by the best in the field, attending lectures with Eloise…
It was also just that: a dream.
Theo had already done the math: no matter how much scholarship money he got, no matter how many minimum-wage jobs he worked, he wouldn’t be able to afford Oxford’s steep tuition.
So, Theo didn’t think twice before tearing the letter to shreds, tossing the scraps in the trash with a promise to never mention it to anyone.
Wanting something, anything, to distract himself, he called Eloise. She picked up on the second ring.
“Hey,” Eloise said, her voice a lifeline amidst Theo’s warring emotions. “You okay?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
“Yeah,” Theo responded, feeling very much not okay. “Do you want to catch a movie with me? There’s probably a shitty Marvel movie or something we can—”
“I’m down,” was all she said—was all she had to say, and Theo spent the rest of the day with her, trying in vain to distract himself from the dreams he had thrown in the trash.
You see, Theo always had this fear that Eloise would move on and leave him behind. Eloise, with her big dreams and her money and her influence. Theo would only be a distant memory for her. For him, on the other hand, Eloise would always be—
Everything.
Eloise sipped her champagne, resisting the urge to fidget in the dress Daphne had insisted she wear. “It brings out your eyes,” Daphne had said, to which Eloise had replied, “It brings out my desire to hurl something at you, that’s what it does.”
A little harsh, in hindsight.
Violet Bridgerton had decided to host one final party before they retreated to Aubrey Hall for the summer. Eloise’s mother had forbidden her from skipping the event, but with Theo (who had a calculus final the next day), Penelope (who was sick), and Benedict (who made his excuses) all absent, she slipped away to the library anyway.
The library was mostly empty except for a few guests mingling about. Eloise tried to discreetly walk to her favourite armchair by the fireplace, using the bookshelves as a cover when—
“Did you hear about the stunt that Bridgerton girl pulled?”
“Which Bridgerton girl? There’s four of them.”
“The second-eldest, Eloise.”
“Is she the one who threw that keg party? I forbade my daughter from going.”
“That was for the best, honestly. Apparently, she got drunk and drove her mother’s car through the gazebo.”
None of this was strictly true. Eloise had made the mistake of inviting Michaela Stirling, who then invited a few of her friends, one of whom decided to bring a keg. Next thing she knew, word got out that Eloise Bridgerton was throwing a rager and half of Mayfair Academy’s population showed up.
And it wasn’t Eloise who drove her mother’s car into the gazebo—that was Morrison. Eloise was busy making out with Cressida Cowper in her bedroom.
“She’s turned out to be such a disappointment, especially compared to Daphne.”
Disappointment.
She hated that word. Hated everything to do with that word. It was inevitable when Daphne Bridgerton, the epitome of grace and charm, was your sister. Eloise, on the other hand, had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. This was hardly the first time she had heard that word associated with her, and she doubted it would be the last.
“And she’s always seen hanging around that Sharpe boy. Their maid’s son, supposedly. You know, I’m willing to bet he’s the one planting these ideas in her mind—”
Eloise had heard enough.
“Say what you will about me,” she interrupted, taking minor satisfaction in their startled looks, “but you have no right to say anything bad about my friend, let alone in my own house.”
“Miss Bridgerton,” one of them started, “this is a private conv—”
“This is hardly the place for a private conversation,” Eloise scoffed. “You don’t know a thing about me and you certainly don’t know a thing about Theo. He has a brilliant mind and he’s got a bright future ahead of him. And he’s a better person than either of you could ever dream of being.”
They stared at her, and Eloise wondered if she had gone too far in defending him, but quickly diminished the thought.
“Now,” she continued, straightening, “I suggest you leave before I tell my mother you’ve been badmouthing her daughter and you’re banned from Bridgerton House forever.”
Several months later, Eloise visited Theo at King’s College for the fifth time.
They were huddled together on his bed, watching Back to the Future on his laptop with a bowl of popcorn between them. Eloise laughed at something he said (some shitty joke about Marty McFly and his mom) and leaned her head on his shoulder.
It was in that moment that Theo realized how ridiculous he had been to ever think he could lose her.