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Violet
Eloise is not one to be deterred easily. What some call impudence, she sees as a steady resolve to get answers she is entitled to. This topic being no exception. So when her mother shouts at her that “that is quite enough” upon her inquiries about female biology and her brothers prove to be equally unforthcoming, Eloise may initially look like has given up on the pursuit, but the very opposite is the truth. She stalks around the house for the rest of the day, waiting to catch her mother alone to ask again. Eloise mentally scolds herself for even asking so openly in the first place, the refusal not at all surprising at the end. Their mother is notoriously averse to anything that disturbs her idea of perfect peace and happiness. Asking impolite question falls firmly into that category.
So Eloise waits, waits long after dinner, letting her mother bask in the carefully nurtured facade of harmony in their family. Doesn't protest when she is send to bed with the rest of her younger siblings, only Daphne and their eldest brothers permitted to stay for a nightcap and an adult conversation in the drawing doom. Eloise obediently kisses her mama's cheek and leaves, the maid helping her undress that night no doubt shocked beyond belief by her meek and docile behaviour.
She lays still in her bed for almost an hour, listening carefully and waiting for the familiar set of footsteps on the stairs, the hushed voices of her family as they bid themselves goodnight too. Doors click and Eloise is out of hers in a second, rushing towards her mother's bedroom. She slips inside without a knock and her mama greets her with a dazzling smile and kind, warm embrace, always happy to have any of her children seeking comfort in her arms.
That much more it hurts when that soft care slips away in a blink of an eye, Eloise firmly pushed off as Violet stands and turns her back on her daughter.
“You will stop with such improper talk this instant, Eloise! I will hear no more of it!” Her voice is just as biting and uncompromising as it has been earlier that day. Without meaning to, Eloise takes a step back like she's been slapped.
“Mama, please. I only wish to know…”
“I said enough!”
She is send to bed and goes without complains once more. But not without tears blurring her vision this time. Thankfully, only one to see those is John just crossing the hall at the same time. He gallantly pretends to be absorbed in recounting the stack of towels in his arms, allowing Eloise to run to her room and hide inside with her pride intact.
Daphne
Daphne marries and produces a child within a year of said marriage, perfect continuation to her already perfect story.
It irritates Eloise less than she thought it would. Daphne thrives in her life, genuinely happy. And unlike their mama, who starts every other sentence with comparing Eloise to her firstborn daughter, expressing her desire for Eloise to follow in her sister's footsteps, Daphne no longer pushes her towards this path. Well, not much, anyway. She seems to mean her parting words from the year past, about her certainty of Eloise finding her own way. This little token of respect is enough for them to be more than amicable to one another.
Daphne is married and has a perfectly perfect child and they are no longer at odds. Eloise is fairly confident her sister will be able to provide her with the information of procurement of the said child well enough. After all, if some clandestinely overheard conversations are to be believed, her sister has been as unimpressed by their mother's lack of guidance as Eloise is.
To be fair, Daphne doesn't outright refuse her. She listens, with practised patience of a seasoned parent already, to Eloise's reasoning, even nodding in few places, looking thoughtful and commiserate.
“I promise you, sister. The night before you are to be married, I will tell you all you need to know, in clear and simple language that leaves no room for misinterpretation. Mother's flower metaphors have dome me more hurt than good and I will not see you suffering the same.” She says this with sure, resolute smile on her lips, her hand firmly holding onto Eloise's.
“I do not wish to marry.” Eloise frowns, a bit confused. Haven't all this started because of the fact woman can find herself with a child without the binds of marriage? Eloise's need for this knowledge is pertinent so she can avoid this fate. She tells her sister so. Daphne looks at a debate with herself for a moment, before her features settle on an expression of gentle unyieldingness.
“You have nothing to worry about if you keep to the rules you are to follow.”
She means well, her sister. Eloise doesn't doubt her sincerity. But her words only add to the confusion, not easing it. John keeps giving her curious looks on the way home, clearly puzzled as what caused the sharp shift in attitude between their arrival and departure from the Hastings London residence.
Francesca
While she and Penelope patch things up, somehow, Eloise is still rather eager to leave London's company. The trip to Scotland comes at the high of time, rescuing her from another endless months of being prey to her mama's machinations and the constant scrutiny of the ton and its chief gossip monger.
Eloise happily leaves all of it behind in favour of sprawling green hills and very opinionated sheep. She is more than happy to keep to her part of the castle, as her sister requested (only partially in jest, as they both well know), spending her days reading and walking around with no care of her appearance or propriety, no constant nagging to mind her manners and manage her thoughts least she offends someone with them. There is not that many people to share her musings with here, true, but frequent letters to her friends and family take care of this need as well.
Eloise asks Francesca one eventing, about the marital act and the work that goes into making a child.
Francesca doesn't answer, rather just stammers, flushes and adopts a look of such painful unease it effectively curbs any more attempts on asking on Eloise's part.
“I'm not the right person to ask, Eloise.” Her sister whispers, sounding almost ashamed. They sit in the small library, fire flickering in the hearth casting soft shadows over them both. John is in Edinburgh tonight, staying in town on business. It is just the two of them, Michaela also somewhere, the woman coming and going with even less care than Eloise. Eloise thought the intimate setting would put Frannie at ease, well aware how uncomfortable her sister gets when put on the spot.
“But you have been married for almost six months now.” Francesca just sighs, looking even more downcast than before.
“I don't think I'm doing it right.” There is such fragility, such heartbreaking finality in her voice now that Eloise abandons any and all intentions of weaselling the information out. Quickly, she moves to sit next to her sister, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She has no words of comfort to offer, just her steady presence. Miraculously, it seems to be enough at the moment.
(If in her next letter to him Eloise bids John to accidentally spill tea on her mother next time he serves her, well, that is a small pettiness in face of yet another daughter being send into marriage bed without knowing what to expect in it.)
Penelope
Eloise approaches Penelope with the same confidence she once approached her mother. Steadfast, unshakeable certainty that her friend will not leave her floundering and blind.
After all, nobody knows better than Penelope how important this is to Eloise. How it scared her, terrified her. How the idea of being so unaware about the capabilities of her own body haunted her, awake and asleep. Their friendship may not be what it once was, but the faith in Penelope's compassion is strong. So it is not like a slap this time, but an outright gut-punch when Eloise's hopes are dashed once again.
They rarely get to be together, just the two them any more, Penelope being exceedingly busy with, well, just about everything and everyone but Eloise. The slight pinch of jealousy and bitterness cannot be denied, but Eloise pushes it down, refusing to let it take hold. But then the exclusions just keep coming, one after another. The clear unsaid message of not being part of the club, so to speak, and thus not privileged to what is being said behind the closed doors of married people society. In those moments, Eloise is reduced to a child, magnanimously allowed a seat at the grown-ups table without being actually included in the conversation there. Patronising brush-offs of “boring, married people stuff”, giggles behind gloved hands and double entendres that clearly mean something Eloise is not allowed to know just because she remains unmarried.
It stings, these public dismissals, every single one of them, from Penelope openly scoffing at Eloise's hopes of becoming a spinster to dismissing her from a talk with her own sister. Penelope has no issue calling Benedict a rake, while her current “work” as Whistledown is considerably mellowed, she had no problem insinuating all sorts of things about men and women in the past, putting her own ignorance about such matters before marriage to question. Ignorance she now insists on upholding where Eloise is concerned.
“I really should not be the one telling you any of this.” She appears contrite, but Eloise has a distant feeling she is anything but.
“Nobody else is telling me anything. Please, Penelope.”
“Your mother wouldn't like it. And I don't think that is an information you need. You have no use for it as a spinster, after all.” The placating smile on her lips, she only consolingly pats Eloise's hand when she dumbly nods her consent, too stunned to protest. Then Pen lands into another monologue about her son, cooing over his most recent achievements and Eloise is left sitting in her drawing room, feeling as excluded from the conversation as ever.
She asks John to misplace any calling cards addressed her way from Colin's wife from then on, ready to limit her time with Penelope to a bare minimum. John doesn't asks her why, just lights another cigarette and keeps standing in companionable silence with her in the garden.
Benedict
For such a libertine, her brother is remarkably repressed when it comes to actually talking about physical pleasures. Or, at least when talking to his younger sister about such. Eloise has no doubt he can be very vocal with his lovers or whores, but for some reason, face to face with his own blood asking him to educate her in the simplest of terms, he fails miserably.
To his credit, he at least tries, which is already a step up from his “do not look at me” he uttered all those years ago. He tries, but does such a botched job of it it leaves Eloise completely at loss all the same.
“I must say, I never heard you stutter before.” Eloise observes, perfectly calm and collected where her brothers is falling apart at the seams. Ben only sputters some more.
“I'm really not comfortable telling you these things.” Benedict sighs, wincing apologetically. He was capable of answering some of her more general questions. Yes, a lady can indeed come to be with child without the ring on her finger and god's blessing on her head and no, it takes more than just sitting too close to a suitor. He tells her what to look out for when interacting with men, least she finds herself in a “situation”. But for the love of her, Eloise can't make him tell her in any particular detail what this situation may obtain.
“Just don't go to dark places with men.” Benedict whines. Eloise doesn't bother hiding her exasperation.
“I know that even without your wisdom.”
He tries, few more times, to describe the process of making a child, blurts the words seed and womb and connection but never manages to tell her how that connection occurs. It is a little comfort to Eloise that by the end of her visit, her brother looks completely wrecked.
“Well… thank you for nothing, I guess.” Eloise sighs, partly annoyed, partly just disappointed. Benedict apologises for failing her, promising to read up upon how he may present this issue to her and try again, soon. It is more than anyone ever gave her before, so Eloise accepts it with gratefulness.
They never really get to it, because soon enough, her dear brother gets swept in his own kind of drama, taking half of the household with him on the journey. Before he gets buried under joys of making his own child – completely on purpose – he at least sends John along to deliver her the reading he promised to do for Eloise to look at on her own.
Theo
They spend couple of years writing letters to each other, first clumsy attempts at apologies, hopes of seeing their once budding friendship restored strong on both sides, then pages upon pages of thoughts and ideas and feelings shared freely. Without hesitation, without shame. They build something in ink and paper and when they finally meet again, older and hopefully wiser, it doesn't take much to build that something into even more.
In fact, it is the easiest, most natural thing Eloise has ever done.
She thinks that frequently, every time Theo leans close, whether to kiss her or just whisper something into her ear when they stand at the Assembly. This, being with him, in his world, speaking her mind and listening to others to speak theirs, makes absolute and complete sense. Nothing in her life ever felt more right.
Nothing ever made her lose that wonderfully loud and opinionated mind either as Theo's lips upon hers and his hands mapping the contours of her body though her clothes.
Eloise is well aware they are heading towards the elusive situation Ben mentioned. Thanks to the books he gave her, she also knows now what that situation might look like. What Theo might look like. She knows the facts. Cold, hard science of it all. She is still as lost as she ever been when it comes to the actual experience and what to expect of it.
“I've never done this either.” Theo admits with a faint blush to his cheeks when she asks him to tell her. The hour is late, the setting is nearly perfect for the situation – candles and warmth and boundless affection in the air. It would be so easy to just let it play out as it may, let the nature take its course, as some flippantly put it, and see where they end up. Eloise wonders if she should just grit her teeth and get it over with, trusting her body to know what to do. She almost convinces herself about it too, but when she leans back into Theo, determination set firmly in her bones, he stops her, in that achingly kind and understanding way of his.
“This is not something we have to conquer, Eloise.” His palm warm against her cheek, she knows he means every word. It calms her wildly beating heart almost instantly. Eloise nods, presses a quick kiss against the calloused skin and then shuffles closer, finding calm assurance in Theo's arms that her unwillingness to go into this without being fully informed is nothing to be ashamed of.
They don't go beyond the heady kisses.
Instead, they lay on the bed together and talk long into the night, comparing notes and knowledge they both obtained from various literature. They giggle and frown and kiss and make plans to do some additional research and then revisit in the near future.
It's just as lovely as the other thing would be, Eloise thinks, small smile still clinging to her lips as John lets her into the house through the back door as per their earlier agreement. If he snickers and waggles his brows suggestively upon seeing her mussed hair and rumpled clothes, Eloise doesn't bother to correct him.
John
In the end, asking John is easier than she expects.
She pays him and Hazel visit in their modest apartment, a token of gratitude for years of diligent service from the Bridgertons. The newly-weds still work in the main house, but with Hazel's hours reduced significantly since she announced her impending motherhood and John being slowly trained to replace the current butler in few years. They are a picture of perfect happiness when Eloise sees them, welcoming her into their home without pomp and circumstance, putting her at ease without even trying. When Eloise voices her request, John merely raises one of his terribly expressive eyebrows and waits for her to elaborate.
“I know the biology. I know the mechanics. I do lack the actual human experience. That something the books don't tell you, no matter how instructive.” John nods, then asks, quite unnecessarily, if he understood correctly:
“And you want me to tell you?” Hazel is in the kitchen next door, giving them at least an illusion of privacy at such small space. Eloise finds herself curiously unbothered by her overhearing this conversation. It feels safe here. It feels right. She responds to John's query by a nod of her own.
“Theo is talking with his best friend tonight as well. We are to… reconvene tomorrow and share what we learned.” John chuckles, but there is no malice in it, just a deep understanding of Eloise's need for being sufficiently informed before doing anything and immense fondness. Hazel makes her way to them, tray with a kettle and three cup carefully balanced against her hip. Eloise is momentarily forgotten as John jumps up and helps his wife to settle the teas down, serving them with practised ease. They both ask without speaking if Hazel's continuous presence is alright with her and gleaning her approval, they sit down, like two parents with their precocious child, ready to usher her into the world.
“Well then. As your best friend, I'm glad I can be of assistance.” John starts, teasing and simultaneously pleased like a punch by the title bestowed upon him. He proceeds to talk for next hour and a half, with Hazel seamlessly falling into the conversation as well, eventually nearly taking over, giving Eloise all she needs. From the preparations to the act itself to aftercare and possible ways to reduce the risk of a child being made while still enjoying the process. From feelings and sensations to practical advices and physical bounds. They tell her everything.
And Eloise listens.