Chapter Text
If anyone ever asked her about it, Eloise knew exactly what she would do and who she would blame: Benedict. It was his fault entirely that she found herself in this situation, and he deserved every glare she threw at him from across the dinner table.
To be fair, it actually was his fault for once. He’d cornered her just as she was leaving to meet Cressida for their morning walk around the property. He, Hyacinth and Gregory were playing cards once again, and from Gregory’s pouty frown Eloise deduced that her poor little brother was losing.
“Going out with Miss Cowper?” Benedict called.
For a moment, Eloise thought to just ignore him, but the odd lilt of his voice gave her pause.
“Yes, I am, as I do most mornings. Obviously.”
“You are spending quite a bit of time with her,” he continued. Eloise mistrusted the mischievous glint in his eye. “But you’ve yet to formally introduce your new friend to your family. You’re like… a terrible monster guarding a princess in a castle.”
Eloise’s eye twitched. She elected to ignore his fairytale comment. “What do you mean? You’ve met Cressida.”
“No, I’ve avoided her during the season. She never seemed like our type of people.”
A flurry of emotions puffed up in Eloise’s chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” Benedict said, carefully nonchalant. Why did he always think he knew something she didn’t? He shuffled his cards around while Hyacinth and Gregory looked between them. “Just that, after the incident with Daphne, she didn’t seem like someone you’d want to hang around.”
“That was—that was just a misunderstanding,” Eloise protested, though she wasn’t actually sure if it was. With all her own social mores, and Daphne’s happy ending, she’d forgotten all about that. “Of course she’s our type of people.” She took care to put the same emphasis on our type of people as he did.
“Really.”
“Yes, really. She’s honest, and truly does have the capacity for kindness and sympathy, thank you very much. She’s confident, and I mean, you’d have to be to pull off the ensembles that she likes to wear—”
“Well, that decides it!” Hyacinth interjected. “Invite her over for dinner this evening.”
Eloise’s mouth fell open in surprise. That little traitor. Benedict covered his gleeful grin with his fanned cards, while Gregory nodded along, as though this all made sense to him. “After I win this game, I can tell Mamma that we’ll need an extra plate setting,” he said, as if it were all settled.
“But you’re losing,” Hyacinth pointed out, and the two immediately descended into a heated argument.
Eloise glared at Benedict. “Always a pleasure speaking with you, Brother,” she ground out.
“Indeed, Sister,” Benedict replied, laughing. “Have a good walk!”
~*~
She met Cressida at their usual spot, under the contested oak tree bordering their properties. The trunk was firmly on the Bridgerton side, but the majority of branches and greenery leaned onto the Cowper side. Her father had often taken her on walks along this route, when she was younger, and they’d always pause under the shade to enjoy a few fruits in the basket he brought with him.
Sometimes, the Cowpers would come across the two of them in the shade, taking care to politely greet them and not to linger. Her father would toss the peels into the tall grass after they’d gone. “Not the amiable bunch, them,” he’d say. “But their daughter seems friendly.”
Eloise had never considered Cressida very friendly, but there was nothing like a little social exclusion after a scandal to necessitate a perspective change. Now, when she saw Cressida under the tree, a fluttery anticipation danced in her chest. Penelope had been her closest friend and confidant; she hadn’t much needed anyone else, but making a new friend was fun and exciting and they shockingly fit so well together—
That is, if dinner wasn’t going to ruin it.
“Why are you making that face?” Cressida asked, almost as soon as she’d come into talking distance.
“I’m not making a face,” Eloise answered.
“You are, you’re scowling, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. I simply didn’t get enough sleep last night. Shall we start?”
Cressida squinted at her. “…Alright,” she said, with the tone of someone who wasn’t buying it, but would allow elusiveness for now. Eloise took initiative, stepping out of the shade of the oak and onto the walking path.
Their path was a winding one that would take them to the gazebo at the edge of the lake. There they would sit, trading stories or gossip whilst munching on the snacks their maids had brought along. Eloise had been trying to impart some feminist knowledge upon Cressida these past few weeks, but she wasn’t quite sure it was taking. Still, Cressida seemed fascinated, and there was nothing quite like having an enraptured audience.
Eloise tried to focus on the positives of the day: the shining sun, the cooling breeze. Cressida was wearing a lovely but subdued dress from the previous season, so she wasn’t being smacked in the face by those puffed shoulders. Cressida was telling her all about how her riding lessons were going (terribly) and her latest attempt at baking (even worse) and the newest fashion among the French elites (could bustles be making a comeback?) but the only thing that held her attention was the image of Cressida squished at their dinner table. If she were to survive the meal, Eloise would have to talk to Mamma discretely about the place settings. Under no circumstance could Cressida be seated next to Benedict; that had only one possible course of action: disaster. Anthony was gone on his honeymoon until next season, and Daphne wasn’t due to visit until next week, so that would remove the uncomfortable conversation of attempted blackmail and duels. She could trust Francesca to keep things civil, of course, but those other two?
“Eloise!” Cressida said, and she snapped back to attention. “You haven’t been listening at all.”
“On the contrary, I have been. Bustles should not make a comeback under any circumstance.”
Cressida pursed her lips. “You can tell me if something’s the matter, you know. I’m—we’re friends, that’s what friends do.”
Eloise sighed. She was right, of course. And it couldn’t be avoided forever. “My brother has developed the absurd notion that I am keeping you to myself. In fact, as he put it, you have been locked away in a tower, and I am the fantastical dragon that frightens away any unfortunate soul who would think to engage with you.”
Cressida’s mouth fell open, a perfect little o. “Is that what he said?”
“In not so many words.”
“Why does he think that?”
“Because I’ve not invited you over for dinner for formal introductions.”
Cressida frowned and nodded, as if half of that statement had made sense and the other half not so much. “But I’ve met your family. I’ve seen them during the season.”
“Yes, but you haven’t met them as a friend of mine. That’s an entirely different matter.”
“…And you don’t want to introduce me as a friend?”
Eloise froze. “I—It’s not that.”
“Then what?” Cressida asked, and Eloise could see the uncertainty radiating from her figure. Eloise was reminded suddenly of several different things: Whistledown’s scathing publication had cut through her social life. If the last few months had been lonely for her, without any social visits, it must’ve been unbearable for Cressida, whom she knew had also gone a long time without many friends. Her own loneliness was offset in part by her many siblings, by Daphne and Simon’s visits with the baby, by the constant hustle and bustle of the estate (there always seemed to be at least one random friend hanging around. If not one of Mamma’s, then one of her siblings’). She’d never been to the Cowper estate, and indeed knew of no one else who’d crossed that threshold. During the off-season they kept to themselves, and Eloise had never thought of Lord and Lady Cowper as a particularly lively couple. Not much opportunity for Cressida to gain new friendships. And now, it seemed a lot like the one new friend she had made was telling her that she wasn’t really a friend, after all.
“Please do not misunderstand me,” Eloise said. “This new friendship between us has been a great source of comfort for me these past few weeks. I love my family, but they can be overwhelming, sometimes. And so loud. And nosy.” That last one was for Benedict. “I suppose I just wanted to keep this between the two of us for a little longer. But if you don’t mind, please, join us for dinner.” Then, because she hadn’t actually said it, “I would like you to come to dinner.”
Cressida chewed her lip, but Eloise could see the hints of a smile. She hoped it would come to fruition. Her smile was lovely. “Thank you, Eloise, for everything you said. I’d love to go.”
Eloise nodded. “Good.”
They resumed walking, but only made it a few steps away from their previous spot when Cressida stopped again. Eloise turned to her, exasperated, but Cressida was already gazing toward the Cowper Estate. “I can’t go like this,” she said, her voice borderline frantic. “I’d have to change into something more formal.”
“Don’t be silly; I’m certainly not going to change, and I look…” Eloise glanced down at the spots of dirt and grass nettles clinging to the bottom of her dress. “Like I’ve been tromping around outside. You, in all your splendor, will be fine.”
“My… my splendor?”
“You look stunning as ever,” Eloise explained, as she turned to keep walking. It was damned hot outside, and she wished to reach the shade of the gazebo. “I have nothing against your usual pinks, you must know, but this green is a fantastic departure from those colors. It brings out your eyes. The cut is also very flattering for your silhouette; I don’t understand how you haven’t managed to catch a suitor based on looks alone, since you’re quite beautiful.”
“Eloise,” Cressida said. Her voice sounded strangled. A red blush had blossomed across her cheeks.
Eloise stared at her with mounting horror, as her words replayed in her mind. “I didn’t—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up your prospects on the marriage market, I know you don’t like thinking about it—”
“It’s quite alright.”
“—And if you’d like to reject my invitation to dinner, please feel free to do so.”
“Eloise!” Cressida grabbed her fluttering hands. “It’s alright; I’ll come as I am.”
Cressida’s gloves were an intricate patterned lace. Eloise stared down at them, processing the gentle hold, then quickly withdrew. She feared that she herself was now red, too, though she was certain that the cause was the sun at work.
Cressida blinked down at her. Eloise liked her shy smile and her reddened cheeks. Neither of them moved. In spite of the heat, Eloise would’ve been content to stay standing in that very spot until sunset, but behind them, one of their maids cleared her throat and stirred them from their trance.
“Well,” Eloise said, once they resumed walking. A few comfortable feet of space separated them. “That settles it. You’ll be coming home with me.”
~*~
They spent their usual morning together under the gazebo at the lake, watching the ducks swim on the water. Eloise resumed her lessons on the rights of women, which had ventured into the role of education. Nothing wrong with being a governess, she supposed, but wouldn’t it be lovely to go university? To spend the days reading and attending lectures and learning about the betterment of society? Cressida listened earnestly, eventually putting her two cents in: although sifting through dense texts on the meaning of life was not her version of a relaxing afternoon, it certainly sounded better than awaiting an uncertain destiny on the marriage mart.
“Exactly!” Eloise exclaimed, pounding the table. The little snacks their maids had carried rattled against the stone. “There’s so much to life than being married to some Lord.”
“If only my parents saw it that way,” Cressida said. Then, as had been her habit since preparation to return to the city had begun some weeks ago, she stared forlornly into the lake until Eloise found a way to make her smile again. Through trial and error, she’d learned that jokes about Cressida’s parents were a no-go, but that humorous anecdotes from her own life could usually make her crack a smile. This time, it was a story about the memorable week in which Gregory had become enamored with portraits of sumo wrestlers and refused to wear any kind of garment that covered his upper body.
Cressida laughed as Eloise acted out Anthony and Colin each holding down one of Gregory’s legs, while Benedict forced him into at least a shirt and a vest for a dinner party.
“Even with the three of them holding him down, we were still an hour late,” Eloise chuckled. “Not to mention, they all looked awful. The buttons on Gregory’s vest were done incorrectly, and Colin appeared as though he’d gotten a good thrashing, which is true to some extent. For a child, Gregory was surprisingly strong.”
“You make it sound so lovely,” Cressida sighed, dabbing delicately at her eyes. “Having a family, I mean.”
Eloise retook her seat under the gazebo. The wind carried the sound of their maids’ quiet conversation from the bank of the lake, an indistinguishable but pleasant cacophony. “It is. They’re annoying sometimes—the fights Daphne and I used to have were legendary, any of them will tell you—but I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
She paused, wanting to say more but not sure how to phrase it without Cressida clamming up, but their maids had started walking back to the gazebo.
“It would be wise to return soon, if you wish to spend some time at the estate together before dinner,” she said.
“Alright,” Eloise replied. Together, they repacked the small dishes and snacks into the maids’ baskets and prepared to go. Eloise rose and smoothed out her dress, before offering an arm to Cressida. “Ready to meet the family, Miss Cowper?”
Cressida accepted the arm with a faux-serious expression. “Lead the way, Miss Bridgerton.”
~*~
Once they returned, Eloise set about arranging things in prompt order. She asked the footman to give Cressida’s maid a ride back to the Cowper Estate, with the message that Miss Cowper would be joining the Bridgertons for dinner and would be returned home safely and promptly that evening. She assured her own maid that they would be fine within the confines of the house and dismissed her to attend to her other duties. Guiding Cressida around the main floor, she searched for the other members of her family, gradually becoming dismayed at their absence from the first few rooms she checked.
“Excuse me,” she asked one of the servants passing by. “Do you know where my mother is?”
“Upstairs, in the drawing room, ma’am. Miss Francesca is—”
“Yes, of course, one of her concerts. That’s perfect; I’m sure she won’t mind an extra audience member. Thank you.”
As he bowed and stepped away, Eloise turned to Cressida, who was gazing about with a peculiar expression, one that seemed familiar to Eloise somehow.
“What is it?”
Cressida focused on Eloise with a smile that seemed to her just a bit forced. “It’s nothing. Your home is… so lively.”
It was the combination of her expression and her sorrowful tone that clicked it together in Eloise’s mind. She’d seen that particular combination of emotion from Penelope, right when they were beginning to be friends (and even sometimes long after their sisterhood had been established). A jealous desire of Eloise’s life, one that was filled with family whom she loved and related to, and the high status that came as a result of being liked. Penelope hadn’t had that with her sisters, who treated her as some kind of monster. Now Eloise could see something similar in Cressida. Unlike with Penelope, she wasn’t quite sure as to what, exactly, was the source of such emotion for Cressida, since she had not visited neither the Cowper Estate in London nor the one in the country, but now confronted with it, a righteous sort of anger sparked in her gut. For all the good parts of the lives of those belonging to the Ton, some truly unfortunate realities lingered behind closed doors.
“It is,” Eloise said softly. “It can also be a lot. I was going to suggest we join my family for Francesca’s concert hour, but if you’d rather, we can hide away in my room, and spend some time just with the two of us.”
“No, no,” Cressida protested. “I’ll be all right. Besides, I don’t think that would convince your brother that you’re any less of a dragon.”
That startled a laugh out of Eloise. Once again, she was right. Despite what Benedict thought, she didn’t have anything—or anyone to hide in a tower. She took Cressida’s arm and dragged her through the halls back to the entryway to get upstairs, pausing only to point out the significance of a portrait here and a landscape there. They crashed into a maid carrying an armful of linens, and Eloise quickly helped her gather them up before continuing on their trek to the drawing room. Piano music wafted into the hallway; Francesca was half-way through Für Elise, which meant, if she were going through her usual repertoire, that they still had few songs before she concluded the music.
Eloise paused in the threshold to survey the room. Francesca was radiant by the window, composed and confident at the keys. Hyacinth and Colin were seated on the settee facing the door. Facing away from her, then, was Gregory and Mamma. All except Colin were watching Francesca expertly play the music. He raised an eyebrow at Eloise, a silent question, but before she could do anything to make her presence more known, Cressida tugged at her arm. When Eloise looked back, she saw her lips pulled into a thin line, eyebrows scrunched on her forehead. She leaned in close and started whispering.
“Are you sure that I am—” she waved her hands in indecipherable motion.
“You are going to have to put into words whatever that means.”
“I do not know! Presentable.”
Eloise scoffed. “Of course you’re presentable; you’re radiant. I thought we already put this matter to rest—”
“No, not presentable, I mean…” She pushed her mouth to the side. “Likeable. Do you think they’ll like me?”
Eloise blinked. Like her? She started to answer, but in quick succession, the final notes of the song rang out, followed by a smattering of applause and the thud of footsteps. “Well, don’t just hide her out there, Sister,” Colin’s voice said. “Go ahead and bring her in."
Colin emerged from the hallway, looking eager, but the expression froze on his face when he saw Cressida.
“Miss Cowper,” he said, looking between Eloise and Cressida. He managed to pack a spectacular amount of disappointment and bewilderment into the expression. Eloise would’ve kicked him, if she thought she could get away with it. Her face must’ve been doing wonders, though, because he straightened up and said, “Apologies. I thought you were someone else.”
“Penelope,” Cressida said. If she smiled any tighter, Eloise thought she might pop. This was not how she’d imagined this introduction would be going.
“Indeed,” Colin replied. Then, with a handsome smile, “But of course, any friend of Eloise’s is welcome here. I do hope we make you feel at home.”
As if on cue, Hyacinth and Mamma appeared in the hallway, both curtsying to greet Cressida. “Miss Cowper,” Mamma said. “Gregory told me you’d be coming for dinner. We’re very pleased to have you. Lord knows Eloise has needed a friend since—”
“Yes, quite, thank you,” Eloise interrupted, eager not to hear any of the ways that sentence could end. “Why don’t we all go back in and let Francesca finish playing without an unnecessary interlude?”
“Excellent idea,” Hyacinth said, smiling at Cressida. “Would you like to sit with me?” she asked, already grabbing her hand and dragging her into the room. Cressida shot Eloise a desperate look, but Eloise smiled and waved her off. With Hyacinth, she’d be fine.
“Have you noticed how she always asks that, but it’s never a question?” Colin said, following after them. He too, gave Eloise a look that implied she would have to do some explaining, later. Great.
“Well, I am going downstairs,” Mamma said. “Francesca’s playing is lovely as always, but it can sometimes be…”
“Repetitive,” Eloise finished. “Please, tonight, can we sit Cressida as far from Benedict as possible?”
“Do I even want to know what for?”
“You really don’t,” Eloise promised, as her mother clucked disapprovingly and started down the corridor. “Thank you, I love you!”
“I know, Eloise,” her mother called back. “Now go inside. Everyone’s waiting.”
Eloise watched her disappear around the corner, before turning and joining her siblings in the drawing room. Cressida was trapped on the settee between Hyacinth and Gregory. She glanced at Eloise as she came in and smiled a little. Taking that as a good sign, Eloise seated herself next to Colin.
“Are we all here, now?” Francesca asked.
“Yes, yes, sorry for the interruption.” Eloise waved her hand. “Please go ahead.”
“Well, since we have a guest, I was thinking of moving away from the Germans and switching to the Austrians,” Francesca confessed shyly. “I’ve been working on a difficult piece by Mozart. It’s not quite so polished, but very entertaining when the notes hit.”
“I for one, find Austria much more enchanting than Germany,” Gregory said, a fact that Eloise found fascinating, since she was quite certain he couldn’t place the country on a map. “I vote for the Austrians!”
Amused, Eloise echoed his vote, as did her siblings. Then, they all turned to Cressida.
“What do you say, Miss Cowper?” Colin asked.
With all the attention, Cressida was turning red again. She caught Eloise’s eye, a silent plea for help, but Eloise simply shrugged. Your pick, she mouthed.
“I… I must confess, I am not familiar with the differences between the composers,” Cressida stammered. “But if it is more entertaining, then I suppose… it would be best to make the switch.”
Although she finished the sentence more like a question, they all cheered, and Francesca rose from the bench to change her sheet music. Cressida laughed with them all, and Eloise relaxed back into her seat. Dinner be damned; she was determined to make this a fine evening.