Chapter Text
1821 - Spring
Allegro
Spring has come with joy
Welcomed by birds with joyous songs,
And the streams, amid gentle breezes,
Whisper softly as they sink.
The sky is covered in black and
Thunder and lightning announce the storm
When they are silent, the birds
Resume their delicious songs.
The bright sunlight of an early March morning streams in through the open windows of Kilmartin House, casting a golden glow over the white ivory of the pianoforte keys.
In the time since John’s passing and Michaela’s abrupt departure, the music room had sat silently, undisturbed. But as the seasons slowly passed, and as two years went by, music filled the house once more.
Francesca had not meant to play anything, but one Spring morning she found that she could not ignore the pull towards her instrument anymore, and finally let her fingertips guide her gently through waltzes and airs. The sleeves of Francesca’s dress swayed with every flourish of her hand, the blue fabric softly sparkling in the sunlight.
It had taken some convincing from her Mama, and time to think, but Francesca had very recently begun embracing coloured attire once more, the darkness of her mourning clothes swapped instead for light pastels.
Perhaps this change in her wardrobe had inspired her sudden return to the pianoforte. Perhaps it was the winter chill melting into Spring. But whatever it was, Francesca felt lighter than she had in years, a weight she did not know she was bearing lifted slightly off of her shoulders.
Francesca let this sudden wave of content lead her playing, for once letting her emotion lead the music, instead of the sheet music. And she was not the only one feeling a sense of enjoyment, as the sweet singing of birds outside drifted in from the windows.
That was, until they abruptly stopped, as if they too felt the new presence in the room. Francesca did not need to turn around, she knew instantly from the soft footsteps who had arrived, and yet she turned anyway.
Michaela looked the same. A little older, perhaps, and slightly weary, but still exactly how Francesca had remembered and pictured her.
Francesca slowly rose from the piano bench, but did not speak, curious as to how Michaela might choose to start this conversation after their time apart.
For a second Michaela looked slightly nervous under Francesca’s gaze, but she quickly snapped back into her typical calm demeanour and broke the growing silence.
“Are you going to greet your visitor? She has travelled a long way to be here.”
Michaela finished her remark with a smile, but Francesca only returned it with a stony glare.
“You have been gone for two years. Unannounced, mind you, and you decide to reintroduce yourself with a witty remark?”
“You are upset over that, even now?”
Francesca scoffed, and opened her mouth to tell her exactly how upset she had been, but noticed the sincere look take over Michaela’s face. Perhaps the other woman had not realised the extent of the damage she caused. Perhaps Francesca should explain how she had not left her room for days. And how she had left the playing cards that Michaela had shuffled that night untouched on the drawing room table, hoping that the game could be played soon - only for them to gather dust.
But Francesca was, along with upset, angry. And so she decided to leave Michaela in the dark. At least, for the time being.
“Yes. Now, please excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”
Francesca brushed past Michaela into the open doorway, but paused before crossing the threshold.
“I heard you travelled a long way. Perhaps you should rest.”
With Michaela temporarily stunned into silence, Francesca walked down the hallway, trying to suppress her sadness at the day’s earlier feeling of lightness leaving her body.
Francesca could not find it in herself to sit at the pianoforte, not when there was a new pair of eyes on her, ready to pounce at any chance to converse. Mealtimes were quite unbearable, but Francesca had soon built up a resistance to Michaela’s incessant attempts at talking. The music room would leave her too vulnerable to conversation; a place like that could encourage her to release her feelings. And that would not be a good thing. Francesca had seen the members of the Bridgerton family burst with emotion, and let themselves explode with passion, and fury, and sadness. But she was not like her family in that way. And as long as Francesca could help it, she would never be like them.
The house fell silent once more, but it was different. It was unlike the soft quiet she experienced while John was alive, nor was it like the hopeless, agonising quiet of her loneliness. No, it was heavy and strong, and really quite unbearable.
Francesca had now taken to sitting in the parlour, although the crackling fireplace was proving to be an unworthy companion. She was lost in thought, something that was happening more and more, when the sound of music broke her from her introspection. The music was quite clunky, and not at all practised. It was so odd and peculiar, and utterly wrong, that it sprung Francesca from her chair towards the source of the “music” - Francesca did not think one could consider that sound musical.
As she passed the entrance to the music room, Francesca was left half-stunned. Michaela was perched on the piano stool, haphazardly pressing down the keys of the instrument, and wincing quietly at the unpleasant results. Francesca sighed, walked over to the pianoforte and cleared her throat loudly.
Michaela looked up, a look of surprise crossing her face. There was also a small glint of triumph in her eyes that Francesca did not have the head space to think about.
“Francesca, what brings you here?”
Francesca gestured for Michaela to shuffle over, and she perched on the edge of the piano stool. “Well, I heard someone defiling my poor pianoforte and had to come identify the culprit."
Michaela smirked. “Defiling?”
It was clearly a tease, but something in Michaela’s voice, and in that damned smirk, ignited something low in Francesca’s abdomen. But Francesca was supposed to be angry right now, not whatever that was. So she pointedly avoided any more eye contact, and instead focused on her instrument.
“This is how it should be played.”
She let her hands lead her in a light tune, her fingers gliding across the keys without much thought. She could hear Michaela humming along quietly.
“Vivaldi?”
Francesca paused in her performance to look at Michaela.
“You are familiar?”
“I heard this play while I was off… travelling. Honestly, it made me think of you.”
Francesca felt her cheeks heat up, and she pointedly stared down at her lap.
“Oh.”
“Francesca,” Michaela began, in a soft tone that Francesca had not heard before. “I truly am sorry for any distress my leaving may have caused. I just had to- well, go.”
Francesca looked up and blinked at her. “Why?”
Michaela looked a little uncomfortable. “I am, well, unable to tell you.”
Of course, Francesca thought. And although Franesca had never been gifted at reading people, she could easily detect the clear discomfort radiating from Michaela, and let her gaze soften.
“Will you tell me later?”
Michael smiled, a little more settled. “Of course.”
Francesca was quite satisfied with that, but could feel her desire to leave the conversation increase tenfold. Not that Michaela had done anything wrong. On the contrary, her answer had been quite satisfactory. But even Francesca’s favourite closest people could wear her out a little.
“I don’t mean to kick you out, but these are usually my hours of pianoforte practise? But if you wish to remain here, I do not-”
“Francesca.”
Michaela gently rested her hand on Francesca’s shoulder, and the look in her eyes shone so deeply of understanding. It made Francesca’s heart beat a little faster.
“Thank you.”
Michaela stood up and walked towards the door, but stopped just short of the hallway.
“Francesca?”
She turned to look at Michaela.
“Yes?”
“I have been meaning to say, it is lovely to see you in colour once more. Blue truly suits you.”
Heat rushed to Francesca’s cheeks once more, and she found herself struggling to get any words out.
“Oh, well, I- thank you. You too! I mean, well, you also look, um.”
Francesca looked at Michaela for help, but the other woman only laughed lightly.
“Thank you Francesca, I understand. Somehow.”
Michaela threw a wink her way, and Francesca quickly busied herself with her instrument once more. She could hear Michaela’s laughter echoing down the corridor, and if anything it made Francesca’s heart beat faster. Not that she knew why.
Largo e pianissimo sempre
And in the pleasant flowery meadow,
To the soft murmur of leaves and plants,
The goatherd sleeps, his faithful dog by his side.
“What are your plans for today?”
Francesca looked up from her breakfast to see Michaela looking at her curiously. The question was quite funny, considering how Francesca’s daily routine is eternally consistent. In fact, over the past couple of weeks when their quiet truce had begun blooming once more into a comfortable friendship, Michaela had questioned Francesca’s steady routine. Not that she ridiculed her, or found it worrisome, just that it was so different to her own schedule.
And so Francesca let a small laugh slip from her lips before she responded.
“Why ever do you ask? Surely I have explained my days enough now for you to know them inside out?”
Michaela smiled softly. “I was curious if you would be interested in a potential change in scenery? An acquaintance of mine who owns a farm just outside of London wrote to me just yesterday gushing over his newly born baby lambs. He invited me to see them, and I was wondering if you might wish to accompany me to see them this afternoon?”
Francesca paused to think. She truly did hate to deviate from her routine, but Michaela clearly was attempting to patch up their rocky friendship. And an opportunity to see baby animal was not a common occurrence in her life, so who was she to refuse?
“Your acquaintance, will he be in attendance?”
Michaela seemed caught off guard at the question, but her face did not dim in its brightness. If anything, her smile grew.
“He will not. It will simply be myself and the sheep, and hopefully, yourself as well?”
For some odd reason, that answer settled something inside Francesca, and she let her face bloom into a grin.
“That sounds wonderful.”
That afternoon, when Francesca alighted from her carriage and took in her unfamiliar surroundings, she was surprised to find Michaela confidently leading the way towards the small barn a few yards away. It was as if she knew the place intimately, which for a woman of high standing was extremely unbecoming (although this thought thrilled Francesca, who was most content to ignore the feeling).
Francesca hesitantly followed Michaela’s path towards the barn, almost bumping into Michaela when the woman suddenly stopped dead.
“Why did you stop-”
“Shh.” Michaela gently placed a hand over Francesca's mouth, which immediately set Francesca’s cheeks aflame.
“Listen,” Michaela urged. And although she was utterly confused, Francesca obeyed, allowing herself to take in the sounds of this new environment. When she noticed the reason Michaela had urged her to be silent, she gently pushed Michaela’s hand from her face, and let out a gasp.
“Are those-”
Michaela smiled, and leaned closer to Francesca to whisper.
“Yes, those are the lambs.”
The two women stood in a gentle silence, listening to the soft bleating of the lambs from inside the barn. After letting the moment linger, Michaela began walking again, turning her head to address Francesca.
“Shall we go see them, instead of listening?”
Francesca followed Michaela into the barn, and was almost overwhelmed by the volume of bleating. She had never seen so many sheep in one place - at least, outside of a field, that is. There were lambs everywhere, some bouncing through the hay and others getting onto their feet for the first time. But Francesca’s eyes were drawn to a ewe towards the back of the barn, who was surrounded by a large flock of newborn lambs. Francesca giggled.
Michaela glanced over to her curiously. “What is so funny?”
Francesca gestured to the ewe. “Those sheep over there. They remind me of my family. The ewe looks quite harassed. Oh dear, I wonder if that is how my Mama feels.”
Michaela laughed, open and light. The sound was addictive, and Francesca quickly found herself joining in.
“It has taken you this long to realise a mother to eight children, all of whom are rather chaotic, might feel minutely harassed?”
Francesca rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush. Besides, I am not chaotic, Miss Stirling.”
“Well, Lady Stirling, perhaps you are not chaotic at the moment, but I can see the Bridgerton spirit inside you waiting to break free. It is only a matter of time.”
She smirked at her playfully, and Francesca, once again, found herself lost for words in Michaela Stirling’s presence.
“Oh, well, I-”
Michaela mercifully rescued Francesca from her brain fog, turning around to walk out of the barn.
“I had thought we could rest for a moment in the grass. I had the staff prepare us a picnic, if you would care to indulge?”
Francesca let her legs lead her out of the barn and into the field, while her brain still attempted to return to normalcy. When she eventually came to, Michaela was unpacking a small wicker basket onto a tartan blanket. The other woman had picked an excellent spot under the gentle shade of a tree. The foods Michaela placed onto the blanket - cheeses, fruits, biscuits and other light foods - were all quickly eaten and appreciated. Michaela had apparently over-indulged, collapsing backwards onto the blanket, and gently closing her eyes.
“Wake me up in a half an hour?”
“Wake you up? It is only mid-afternoon, not night-time.”
Michaela smirked although her eyes remained shut. “Well, then I shall declare this a mid-afternoon nap.”
Francesca opened her mouth to argue further, but as Michaela’s breathing evened out, and her body relaxed, she couldn’t help but take in Michaela’s beauty. Of course Francesca knew that Michaela was beautiful, she had thought that the first time they were introduced, but it was different entirely seeing it up close. There was something so intimate about seeing Michaela like this, so relaxed and vulnerable. In her sleep, Michaela turned slightly, her arm grazing Francesca’s thigh lightly. Her face burned, and the point of contact between their bodies hummed with energy unlike Francesca had ever felt. It was so jarring that Francesca snapped out of her daze and busied herself with tidying their picnic.
After several agonising minutes of smoothing out non-existing wrinkles in their blanket, Michaela finally roused from her sleep, sitting up once more. Francesca found the sleepy look on her face extremely charming.
“Did you enjoy your - what did you call it - ‘mid-afternoon nap’?”
Michaela smiled, blinking away the last remnants of her sleep. “In fact I did, Francesca. Although not as much as I have enjoyed this outing with you.”
Francesca hesitated before speaking. “Well, um, I want to thank you for convincing me to come with you. This day has been thoroughly peaceful and fun. I truly dislike deviating from my routine as you know,” Michaela nodded in agreeance, but let Francesca continue.
“But you were correct, a change of scenery is what I needed. So, thank you.”
Michaela blinked a few times, then turned to Francesca, face suddenly serious.
“Francesca, there is something I should tell you.”
“That was a sudden shift in tone.”
Michaela hesitated, seemingly thinking over her words carefully. Michaela did not often speak carefully, like Francesca might, so Francesca gulped, nervous.
“This outing was not my idea. Actually, it was your mother’s.”
Francesca gaped. “My mother’s? I did not know you were in correspondence with my mother?”
“She wrote to me last week, overjoyed with the rekindling of our friendship. But she told me about the past few months. About how you did not leave the house often, and barely took in fresh air. She wanted me to encourage you to go outside. In truth, I am not entirely sure why she chose me for the job. But I am sorry I did not tell you Francesca.”
“Oh.”
Francesca didn’t really know how to feel. On one hand, it was nice that her family was looking out for her, but going behind her back to talk to Michaela and orchestrate an intervention was crossing a line.
“So you didn’t want to come here with me?”
Michaela sat up straighter, fully facing Francesca.
“I absolutely wanted to come here with you. I just wanted to help you, and your mother.”
“I thought we were becoming friends once again. I had missed you when you left.”
Michaela sighed softly, and placed her hand lightly on Francesca’s shoulder.
“Francesca, look at me. I care about you. That is why I left, and why I came back. And it is also why I took you here today. Yes, to get you out of your house, but also to spend time with you. And you are my friend, Francesca, my closest. I swear.”
Francesca smiled. “Really?”
“Of course, Lady Stirling. Now, shall we return home?”
Francesca let out a breath she did not realise she was holding, and let herself relax. She looked out over the green rolling hills and smiled.
“I’d like to stay here a little longer, I think.”
Allegro
To the happy sound of a rustic bagpipe,
Nymphs and shepherds dance in their favorite place
When spring appears in all its glory.
Michaela had begun joining Francesca in the parlour each evening, just as they had done before, well, everything happened. More often than not Francesca would be persuaded into playing some new drinking game, the two women stumbling back to their respective quarters hours later, doubled over from giggles.
One night, dissimilar to any others previously, Francesca approached the parlour with more hesitation than she had in months, moving through the room to sit stiffly on the settee nearest the fireplace. Michaela turned from her place at the table, continuing to shuffle a deck of cards in her hands.
“Care to join me for a game of cribbage?”
“Perhaps later. I have just received a letter. One of rather right importance.”
Michaela dropped the cards from her hands, moving to join Francesca on the settee.
“You sound distressed. What has happened?”
Francesca laughed, albeit dryly.
“It is not bad news, on the contrary many members of the Ton have been eagerly awaiting this letter.”
Michaela tilted her head, beginning to catch onto Francesca’s words.
“Do go on.”
“Well, it is an announcement of the first ball of the social season at Bridgerton House, to which we are both invited.”
“Hm. Will you be in attendance?”
Francesca grimaced slightly.
“I have not attended a ball in quite a while. However, I was thinking perhaps of, well, rejoining the mart.”
Michaela gasped. “The marriage mart? Are you certain?”
Focused on her restless hands in her lap, Francesca avoided Michaela’s piercing eye contact. “It is more of Mama’s idea than mine, but it has been over two years since…”
“Since John,” Michaela finished, quietly.
There was no indication in Michaela’s expression of her feelings on this matter. As a matter of fact, Francesca did not really want to know - either Michaela was upset for her swift movement from John, or she was happy to be rid of Francesca from her home. Either way was rather upsetting.
But it does not do well to dwell on the uncertain future, and so Francesca focussed on what could be controlled.
“Might you attend too, Michaela? It would be lovely to see a familiar face.”
Finally, a clear emotion broke through Michaela’s walls. Unfortunately for Francesca it was discomfort.
“The social season is not exactly… a time I enjoy. My apologies, Francesca, but I think I would rather not attend.”
Michaela launched the end of her sentence by placing her right hand softly over Francesca’s left. It was enough to keep Francesca satisfied with her less-than-satisfactory answer.
For the time being.
After two years of politely skipping the social season, Francesca had forgotten just how overwhelming balls could be.
Every corner of Bridgerton House’s ballroom was filled with people - Mamas cooking over their daughters and vying for young men’s attention, married couples lingering in corners, and everywhere the watchful eyes of Violet Bridgerton.
But Francesca’s eyes were drawn to the dance floor. She remembered how awkward and uncomfortable dancing was, even with someone as wonderful as John. A quick glance across the room made it clear she was not the only debutant that way inclined.
However, dotted across the dance floor were her shaking and their respective partners - Anthony and Kate, Colin and Penelope, Benedict and Sophie - who all looked to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Francesca had heard enough over the years from her Mama about ‘perfect harmony’ and finding the person who simply clicks with you. But even watching it with her own eyes, it still seemed too good to be true.
Francesca eventually let her eyes drift away from the floor across the room, and noticed her mother sending several interested gentlemen her way. Before she could rethink her decision, Francesca swiftly turned and left the room, finding solace in the gardens outside as she was wont to do.
“Good evening.”
The sudden voice made Francesca jump slightly, and she was overcome with a light sense of déjà vu. Only this time when she turned to see who had joined her moment of peace it was not John, or another gentleman. It was simply-
“Michaela. I did not expect you to be here.”
Michaela walked closer to her, but did not make eye contact, and remained facing the same direction as Francesca.
“You wanted me to be here. And the last time you asked something similar of me, I did the complete opposite. Perhaps I was looking for a chance at redemption.”
Francesca turned to look at Michaela, lightly nudging her in the shoulder.
“You interrupted my silence and called it redemption?”
The two women locked eyes for a beat before doubling over in laughter. As their deep laughter turned to giggles, Francesca’s smile softened.
“It truly is lovely to have you here, Michaela.”
Michaela looked away for a beat, her cheeks reddening, before turning to face Francesca properly.
“So, whatever brings you to the garden? I had heard you were rejoining the mart, and I am not entirely sure the ball typically spills outside?”
“Very funny. I just found it all quite a lot. Especially the dancing - I always find it uncomfortable.”
Michaela tilted her head thoughtfully. “Really? Perhaps you have not found the right dance partner?”
Francesca rolled her eyes, letting her shoulder drop.
“That’s what everyone always tells me! But I have danced with several men of the Ton and it is always the same!”
Michaela’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Maybe you’ve been in the wrong role?”
Francesca looked down at Michaela in confusion.
“What?”
Wordlessly, Michaela tugged Francesca by the hand and led her to a quieter corner of the ground, the distant music from the ballroom floating around them.
“As a woman of the Ton, you have a role. One that is set in stone. But maybe you are destined to play another part.”
Francesca blinked. “I’m not following.”
Michaela laughed, and guided Francesca’s hand - still gently grasped in her own - and placed it lightly on her waist.
“Dance with me. And take the lead.”
Francesca gulped audibly, the soft fabric of Michaela’s dress warm beneath her hand, and Michaela’s face suddenly much closer than before. Hesitantly, she clasped Michaela’s left hand in her right and led them in a gentle waltz.
The level of control Francesca had was unlike any of previous dances, and Michaela followed her every movement and step she took, almost as if they were intertwined.
And perhaps they were, because Francesca had never felt this content and peaceful while dancing before. And although Michaela was correct, that Francesca had simply been in the wrong role, she was beginning to suspect her feelings had nothing to do with the dance and everything to do with her dance partner.
Soon, the music would stop, and their bubble would burst, reality encrowding them once more. Francesca’s Mama would ask of her disappearance, and Michaela would vanish into the crowd.
But for now, Francesca simply let herself dance.