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Twenty-four-year-old Benedict was lazing in one of the sofas in the drawing room of Aubrey Hall, with a few of his siblings dropping in to join him as the clock neared the time for afternoon tea. When Violet entered the room, Benedict noted that she was looking around in worry, and before he had time to react, their eyes met. He immediately knew that whatever it was, he was about to be roped into it. He sighed quietly but dutifully listened as she approached him.
“Benedict, have you seen Eloise?” Violet asked in a low voice, while the other siblings looked curiously over at them. Eloise was not among them.
“No”, Benedict frowned, trying to think of the last time he had seen the fourteen-year-old sister. “Not since luncheon.”
“I cannot find her anywhere”, Violet sighed with a frown. Benedict knew that the teenage girl had been giving their mother more headaches the older and more independent she became – very unlike Daphne. Benedict rather enjoyed that independent streak in his little sister, but knew that their mother worried about her.
“I will go and look for her”, Benedict offered voluntarily, feeling he might have a better luck finding her.
“Thank you, Benedict”, Violet said with clear relief. Benedict nodded and headed out.
He checked the most obvious places first – her bedroom and the library – just in case she was hiding under the bed or tucked away in a corner with a book to avoid their mother. Ever since Violet had started speaking about preparing her three eldest daughters for their debuts into society, Eloise had been the most vocal in her protests against “the shackles of society” (her words, not Benedict’s – though he could hardly argue) and avoided their mother for similar talks.
But even Benedict began to worry when he had combed through all her usual hiding spots – even the bush in the garden where he had once found her, eight years old and crying after a scolding from a stressed Anthony.
He began asking the servants if they had seen her, and finally a maid mentioned that she thought she had seen Eloise heading up to the attic.
Of all strange places, Benedict wondered why Eloise would choose the attic. It wasn’t like any of them in the family entered that place, or … perhaps that was precisely the point.
All he could see at first was old furniture covered with sheets and the empty luggage they used when moving between Aubrey Hall and the townhouse. But as he walked farther in, he noticed a small window, and the sunbeams managing to filter through the dust fell upon a small figure sitting by it, wrapped in a blanket.
Benedict let out a sigh in relief; they had likely missed afternoon tea, but he was sure he could sneak into the kitchen to find something small to tide them over until dinner. He had to stoop under the low roof to reach her, bending his legs to sit beside her. The figure didn’t move.
“Pretty ingenious spot you found”, Benedict said, glancing around.
When she didn’t say answer, Benedict looked over at her. Usually, Eloise would be bursting to say whatever was bothering her. The blanket hid her face, but as he leaned closer, he caught a glimpse – her face was shiny with tears. Eloise was crying.
Benedict’s heart sank. He had seen her crying before but usually she raged like a storm and might drip a couple of tears in pure fury. But like this, crying of sadness? No, it was very rare.
“Eloise?” he asked softly, worried. She sniffled and turned further away, hiding her face.
“Please, sister”, Benedict started gently, tugging slowly at the blanket to reveal the wild locks he recalled she had refused to have brushed into a proper style that morning. “What has happened?”
“It’s stupid”, Eloise muttered, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face between them, her gaze fixed stubbornly out the window.
“I want to hear it anyway”, Benedict said warmly, draping an arm around her shoulders and gently pulling her closer. “Even if it’s Colin spilling something dreadful on one of your favourite books.”
“He would be dead”, Eloise snorted softly, and Benedict smiled when he felt some of the tension leave her body as she let him pull her closer.
“Well, if it’s not Colin, is it Daphne?” he asked, and when Eloise stiffened again immediately, he knew he was right. The two sisters were growing into very different young women, and it was becoming more evident that they couldn’t quite understand the other’s viewpoint, causing clashes between them. Benedict knew their mother found it easier to understand Daphne, meanwhile he understood how Eloise might sometimes feel lonely. He tried to be there for her when he could. After all, he sometimes felt different from the rest of society, too.
Eloise murmured something into her knees.
“Sorry, was that a mouse whispering?” Benedict teased gently.
“She said I would never find a husband”, Eloise lifted her face just enough to say, before quickly hiding it again.
“Oh”, Benedict said awkwardly, caught off guard. He had never imagined having a conversation like this with Eloise, of all people. “Well, El, I’m certain that one day … you will meet someone who … well, enjoys your company and-…”
He would have tried to continue, stumbling through his awkward attempts to comfort her, if Eloise hadn’t lifted her face to stare at him in horror. He immediately stopped and shook his head with a questioning face. Clearly, that wasn’t the issue – and he felt a rush of relief. He wasn’t quite ready for the day when his little sister would start entertaining gentlemen.
“That’s not it?” he asked, just to be sure.
“No!” Eloise responded emphatically, and Benedict exhaled in relief.
“I do not want to marry!” Eloise went on, and Benedict looked at her in confusion. That wasn’t exactly new – he had heard her declare as much many times before. “Not when Mother forces me into society. Not when I am left a spinster for years while all of you marry. Not ever!”
They stared at each other and somehow, for the first time, Benedict realised she meant it. Truly meant it.
Sure, he had heard her say something similar before, usually after Violet attempted another lecture about her future. But he had always thought of it as an outburst from a young teenage girl who hadn’t grown up yet. After all, it was something that people did in their society. Even he imagined he would one day marry, though he had little interest in it now. He supposed he would simply know when the right person came along.
But Eloise… she wasn’t just rebelling.
“And Daphne said …”, Eloise began, then bit her lip hard and Benedict knew something deeper was coming. “She said that I would be a burden.”
Oh. Oh. Benedict inhaled sharply as it hit him.
Eloise was fiercely independent, so determined to forge her own way. Benedict loved it, but he knew that the society didn’t work the same way. A spinster, as they were called, remained with their families at their mercy, having very few ways of making their own money, not like widows.
“El…” he started slowly.
“She said that Anthony would always have to take care of me”, Eloise burst out, as though she couldn’t stop herself anymore. “Even when he has a wife and children of his own. No matter whether he wishes it or not, and I do not want him to hate me and-!”
“El!” Benedict had to interrupt her growing ramblings. “Breathe.”
Eloise hiccupped as she followed his advice, and Benedict took her hands in his.
“El, listen to me”, he said, locking eyes with her to make sure she heard every word. “You will always have a place with me. I swear it.”
“But what about—” Eloise started.
“No, I mean it”, Benedict cut her off, tightening his grip on her hands. “No matter what happens, you shall always have a place in my home. Even when I’m old and hunched over, and you’re a nagging spinster, you can stay with me.”
Eloise let out a wet little snort of laughter, glancing down at their clasped hands before looking back up at him, her expression fragile and uncertain. Benedict’s chest ached; he hated seeing her so unlike her usual confident self.
“What about your future wife?” she asked.
“Well, if she loves me, she will love you too”, Benedict told her.
“What if she does not?” Eloise pressed stubbornly.
“Then she cannot possibly be the right woman, and she will not be my wife”, Benedict said, nudging her chin teasingly with his finger. “I could never love a woman who does not love my family – especially my favourite sister.”
Eloise sniffled and looked down, but Benedict caught the teasing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Now listen”, Benedict said, adopting a nonchalant tone. “I have missed afternoon tea and find myself feeling rather peckish. I am in need of an accomplice to distract the butler whilst I sneak some snack from the cook. What say you?”
“… Fine”, Eloise muttered reluctantly.
Benedict straightened up, as much as the low roof would allow, and offered his hand gallantly. Eloise rolled her eyes, but took it nonetheless, letting him pull her to her feet. But when Benedict turned around Eloise tugged on his hand, so he stilled and looked over to her again.
“… Thank you”, Eloise said softly, looking down on the floor.
Benedict couldn’t help but smile, squeezing Eloise’s hand in his.
“Of course, sister”, he told her. “There is nothing I would not do for you.”