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Masquerades had become quite popular since the Bridgerton ball two years ago. Popular enough that Eloise was getting quite tired of coming up with costumes for them. Worse, she had seen just about every costume available, or so she thought, before a woman a long wine-colored cloak the covered her from head to toe sidled up to Eloise in the corner where she was hiding.
"Hello," the woman in the cloak said, pushing it back just enough so that Eloise could see her face, hidden behind a intricate lace mask the same color as her cloak.
“Michaela?” Eloise asked, squinting in the dim light. “I did not recognize you at all. What are you meant to be?"
"Little Red Riding Hood, but with a rather more impressive hood."
"Ah, I see. Clever. I think you might be the only person whose costume actually hides their identity.”
“Yes, well, I saw an opportunity to spend an evening without a gaggle of gentlemen nipping at my heels,” Michaela said, her eyes sparkling behind her mask. “I quite like your costume as well. A Greek goddess, I presume?”
“No, actually, I'm Hypatia.”
“The philosopher? Very fitting.”
“I am glad you think so. I have spent half the night explaining who she is, and the other half reminding people that there is more things to know about her than how she died, that she was a clever and well respected woman who accomplished much in her life."
"No one seems to much like accomplished women, do they?"
"Not unless it is the sort of accomplishments that are likely to find you a husband," Eloise said with a sigh. "They prefer dancing, maybe a language or two, not mathematics and astronomy."
“Forgive me for asking, but you never wish to marry, is that correct?”
“It is. I believe that women give up quite a lot when they are married, and I have never met a man worth losing my freedom, scant as it is.”
“And yet you help other ladies find husbands.”
“Because our society gives us few options, and because love and partnership are still wonderful things if one can find them. I merely wish to help women make the best choice out of those available to them.”
“Admirable.”
Eloise straightened her spine and smiled down at Michaela. “Thank you. That means quite a lot coming from a fellow spinster.”
“Ah, but I do not have the lofty ideals that you do. I simply know what I want and what I do not, and I do not want a husband.”
“So it is not marriage you object to, merely a husband?”
Michaela laughed dryly. “You are splitting hairs. How can you have one without the other?”
“How indeed?” Eloise asked, studying Michaela’s face.
Even in the dark of her chosen corner, she could see Michaela’s eyes widen, and her friend's hand reached up to fiddle with the locket that sat under the fastening of her cloak.
Eloise wasn’t sure, but it certainly looked like the one Francesca had given Michaela a few weeks ago.
“If you find a way around that conundrum, please let me know,” Michaela said, her voice a slight bit higher than it had been a minute ago. “In the meantime, I sought you out to ask a question, if you are not too busy.”
“Not at all. I have no more matches to make this evening, so I am at your disposal.”
“It is about Francesca.”
Eloise’s almost choked on air, and she glanced around to make sure no one was standing too close. “Oh. Um. Yes, of course. What … what about her, exactly?”
“Her birthday is only a fortnight away, and I confess, I have been struggling to come up with a special present for her.”
She watched as Michaela fiddled with the locket again and let out a strangled little laugh. “Her birthday, of course. I think you may have come to the wrong Bridgerton. I am not known for being a particularly skilled gift giver.”
“Not even for Francesca? I know how close the two of you are.”
“I am close to all of my siblings, and it has never seemed to help much,” Eloise said mournfully. “Just because I know that Hyacinth loves romance novels or that Benedict loves paintings or Francesca loves new pieces to play on her pianoforte does mean I ever seem to pick the right ones. My taste is too practical and cynical for the rest of my family, aside from occasionally Anthony. And everything I know about Francesca’s interests I am sure you know as well. You are the closest friend she has ever had, aside from, well …”
“John.”
“Yes,” Eloise said, wincing, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. Michaela’s face had closed off, the sudden drop in her mood obvious even with the obstruction of the mask. “My point is, I am sure that you can come up with something much better than I can. My only gift for her this year is a pair of new hairpins. Hairpins shaped like music notes, but still.”
“I think she will love them,” Michaela said. “She has reconnected with her music so much this year.”
“She has. It is strange, for two years she barely touched the pianoforte, and then you returned, and suddenly we cannot keep her away from it. Unless she is spending the day with you, that is, which is most days lately.”
Michaela cleared her throat delicately. “As you said, we have become very close.”
“Then I know you can figure this gift situation out.” Eloise hesitated, then added, “If I have any advice, it is this - ask yourself what she might want, not what you think she should want. I find that my own gift giving goes awry because I cannot separate my opinion from the process, and buy the version of a thing I think my loved ones should have instead of what they would pick for themselves.”
“A wise observation indeed,” Michaela said. “That is the trouble sometimes with being a woman who knows her own mind and has to defend your position against the rest of the world. It sometimes is difficult to see from another's perspective. I shall have to do my best to think of what Francesca would like, instead of what I would like for her."
"And what would you like for her?"
Michaela didn't answer, staring at something across the ballroom. "Thank you for the advice. I will do my best to follow it."
Then she walked away, towards a woman in a blue dress and a plain white mask - Francesca, Eloise realized after a few seconds of staring. They came together like magnets, Francesca practically floating from her own corner on the other side of the ballroom to meet Michaela near the refreshments.
Benedict found her not long after. "Did you see where Francesca went? I told her I would get her dance card for her and when I returned, she was gone."
Eloise pointed, and Benedict followed her finger to see where Francesca and Michaela were talking, looking like they were wrapped up in their own little world.
"Ah," he said. "Do you think it is time we talk to them about this?"
"I do not know," Eloise said, crossing her arms and hugging herself. "I am quite out of my depth, Benedict."
"As am I." He looked her over. "Are you a Greek goddess?"
"I'm Hypatia."
"Do you mean Hestia?"
"... sure."
*
There was nothing that Hyacinth dreaded more than a garden party, so when Michaela detached herself long enough from Francesca’s side to ask her for a stroll around the grounds of the Gunn estate, she agreed immediately.
“I thought you were considering looking for a match this year,” Michaela said as they walked arm-in-arm along the garden path. “Why are you so eager to distance yourself from the eligible young men?”
“Do you know how many men have given me hyacinths at garden parties?” Hyacinth said, trying not to pout. Pouting was for children, and she was officially out in society now. It was just hard; even with her now much more measured expectations, society was not quite living up to her imagination of it, especially the eligible young men. “It is a lovely flower, of course, but could they not be a little more creative?”
“Mm, yes, I have known a few Roses and a woman named Lilian who went by Lily, all of whom have run into similar problems. Men think they are far more clever than they actually are.”
“And we cannot tell them otherwise, or we might discourage them or worse, get a reputation for being difficult, so then they do not learn and cannot improve. A vicious cycle.”
“You sounded like Eloise just then.”
“We spend a lot of time together these days, and her way of seeing things has a habit of rubbing off on people.”
Michaela smiled a wan, wry sort of smile. “Yes, so I have noticed.”
She sighed. “Perhaps I am being too hard on these men. They are trying to be sweet by doing something they think will make me happy, and sweet is better than clever.”
“And thoughtful is better than either,” Michaela countered. “Did your father give your mother violets?”
“I never knew him, but Benedict told me he gave her hyacinths because those were her favorite.”
“Then I think you should set him as an example and wait for the man who cares enough to ask questions beyond your name before making grand gestures.”
Hyacinth considered this, then nodded. “Yes, I think I will.”
“I am glad to help. I hope you might help me in return.”
That cheered Hyacinth up immensely, It was rare anyone asked her for help. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I am looking for a present for your sister’s birthday and I am at a loss for what to get her. Eloise gave me some good advice already, and yet I still cannot find something good enough and I am running out of time.”
“Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you! But I think you have already solved your own problem.”
“How so?”
“You said that a thoughtful man should ask questions before giving a gift. I know you are not a man, but surely it still applies? Francesca is not the type to need her gift to be a surprise, so ask her what she would like.”
Michaela worried her lip, and briefly lifted her hand to touch the locket sitting a few centimeters below the hollow of her neck. “I am not sure even she knows what she wants.”
Hyacinth frowned. “I don't understand.”
“Never mind. You are right, I should ask. It cannot hurt, can it?” Michaela smiled up at her. “Speaking of which, what are your favorite flowers, Hyacinth?”
“Lilies. And lilacs, which my mother says were also my father’s favorites.”
“I hope you find a man who brings you lilies and lilacs, then. And perhaps if you do, you can name your daughter Lily or Lilac and keep the tradition going.”
“At least my house would be filled with them once she got old enough to be courted,” Hyacinth said, and they laughed as they continued down the path together.
*
Her first season back in Mayfair in years had Daphne so turned around she showed up to her appointment at the modiste's almost twenty minutes early. Fortunately, she had only been waiting for maybe two minutes before the shop door opened and Francesca's friend Michaela walked in.
“I am glad to see you,” Daphne said, beaming at Michaela. After spending so little time in London since her marriage, she’d spent quite a lot of the season catching up. Getting to know Michaela had been a highlight; her sister’s friend was a quick wit who lit up a room, and every party she attended was made exponentially more enjoyable by her presence. “There is no one better to help me pick out a fabric for my new dress.”
“Oh, no, please no more decisions today,” Michaela groaned. “My apologies, but I have been in Parliament all day, and all I do there is be asked to make important choices and then told that I do not know enough to make those choices and every decision I make is wrong.”
“That sounds terrible,” Daphne said. “It reminds me of when I first became Duchess. I found my footing, though, and I am sure you will, too.”
“The difference is that no one thinks a woman should be in Parliament at all. Everyone hints that I should get married soon so that my husband might take my place, and then I should make a proper male heir.” Michaela shook her head and smiled at Daphne tiredly. “Again, I must apologize. These are my troubles, I should not bother you with them.”
“Do not be silly, of course you should. Any friend of Francesca’s is a friend of mine, and what are friends for if not to tell each other our troubles? Would you judge me if I told you how nervous I am to host a ball for Simon’s birthday next month?”
“Of course not, though I will admit to being surprised. I thought that as Duchess, you hosted balls and parties quite often.”
“I do. But for a special present, I asked Francesca to help me write a song for me to play for my husband on the pianoforte. I rarely play in public anymore and I find myself quite anxious about it.”
“Francesca told me, and she says that you are a wonderful player.”
“Yes, well, the truth is that I merely competent. Francesca is the true talent. She always had something that I lacked when it came to music - passion.”
“Oh, I know,” Michaela said with faraway smile. “She spent hours at the pianoforte in Kilmartin Castle. I did not think that old relic could make such beautiful sounds before she got her hands on it.”
“You listened to her for hours? Better you than I; as wonderful a musician as she is, my mind wanders after more than three pieces in a row. Although I was under the impression that the two of you only became friends after you returned from Scotland.”
Michaela shrugged, ducking her head to hide her face. “It is a big castle, and sound carries.”
An awareness pricked at the back of Daphne’s mind. There was something about Michaela’s behavior that was familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“May I ask, how did you decide on writing a piece for the Duke for his birthday?” Michaela asked, her head still turned away as she studied the fabrics in front of them.
“Simon enjoys music, and sometimes when he has had a long day, I play for him to help put his mind at ease. And … well, I suppose that when he was young, he was never seen as special or worth celebrating. I like to find ways to show him that I never believed that, and that I will find new ways to celebrate him as much as I can.”
“That's beautiful,” Michaela said, finally turning her face back towards Daphne. “What would you do if he did not necessarily enjoy being celebrated, or at least not in public? How would you show him how special he was to you then?”
“I suppose I would have to find ways to show him in private.” She snorted out an unladylike laugh when Michaela raised her eyebrows and swatted at Michaela's arm. “Not what I meant! I am only saying, you can make people feel special without making a spectacle of it.”
“I suppose so, but it is more difficult to find ways to do so when you must do it secretly.”
Daphne tipped her head, looking Michaela over. “Who said anything about it being a secret?”
Michaela smiled, too wide and too bright. “I think Madame Delacroix is ready for you,” she said, nodding over at the modiste, who did seem to have finished with her last client. “I suggest the periwinkle. I think it will suit your complexion very nicely.”
“I wore a similar color for the first ball that Simon and I ever threw together,” Daphne said, running her hand over the fabric Michaela had selected. “I think you are right, this is perfect.”
“If only the rest of my choices were so easy, or easily accepted. I think I will go home and rest. Good evening."
Then Michaela left before Daphne could ask what Michaela if she had gotten what she had been looking for at the modiste.
*
"Michaela!" Sophie called out when her friend entered the Bridgerton parlor. "What a lovely surprise!"
"I was supposed to be calling on Francesca," Michaela said as she walked over to where their group was sitting, "but the housekeeper says she has taken ill and could not see me, although she assured me it was a mild illness. And then she asked if I was meant to go to the club meeting, and I simply had to find out what she meant by that."
“We were inspired by Colin and my brothers-in-law’s cheese club,” said Penelope as Sophie patted the spot next to her on the settee and Michaela sat down in it. “We thought it might be nice to have a place where we are able to discuss our Bridgertons.”
“So we decided to create a reading club,” Sophie said. “Eloise joins us quite often, as does Hyacinth. Simon comes whenever we are in the same town or staying at the same estate, and when he has had time to read the book.”
“We have noticed that he always finds time when we are reading romances, and is far too busy for reading when it is a ghost story,” Kate added with a smirk.
“Can you blame me for preferring poetry and epic love to cheap thrills?” Simon drawled with a lazy grin. “What about you, Michaela? What sort of books do you enjoy?”
“Oh, I like a good ghost story. Romances are never quite what I want them to be,” said Michaela, and Sophie couldn’t help but notice a sadness in her eyes. And she noticed Michaela began to fiddle with the locket around her neck every time romance was mentioned.
“What do you wish romances were like?” Kate asked, and Sophie thought she saw her sister-in-law’s gaze drop to Michaela’s necklace as well.
“A bit more realistic, I suppose. Everything is either gothic and dramatic, damsels saved by gallant heroes from dastardly villains, or it is simple misunderstandings keeping lovers apart, some easily solved frivolity. I wish that I could read about characters that face the sort of real difficulties that real people do and overcoming them. Something to give me hope to do the same.”
Sophie and Kate exchanged glances, and Sophie could see it in Kate’s eyes, that she shared the same suspicions as Sophie and Benedict did.
“I agree,” said Penelope, “and that is something I wish to change in my own novel. I also never much like how little development most of the love matches get. Love is not found in a single look or dance, it is built through knowing one another.”
“Or sparring with one another, as the case may be,” Kate said with laugh and an amused glance at Simon, who winked at her.
“As long as they are getting to know each other, I have no objections to that” Penelope said, smiling at Kate. “But I think lasting love requires emotional intimacy, requires understanding. I do not think Colin and I would be as happy as we are now if he had not accepted my dreams and ambitions.”
“I feel the same,” said Kate. “I thought that I only needed my independence and for my sister to find a good match be happy, but what I needed was a partner who loved me in spite of some of my more … unconventional traits and interests. Because I hid them so often for the sake of our family’s reputation, I could not have known how important being truly seen by someone was until Anthony saw me. That is something I rarely see in books.”
Sophie nodded. “Yes, I quite agree. I cared deeply for Benedict after a single night, but I only loved him after getting to know him, after he knew me. When he saw me not as a lady but someone of lower birth and still wanted me - wanted me more, in fact.”
“True love requires letting someone see you truly,” Simon said, quiet and serious. “It is one of the most difficult things in the world to be that vulnerable, but also the most rewarding.”
Sophie found herself running her thumb over her wedding ring, thinking of Benedict. When she looked over at Michaela, her friend was absentmindedly tracing patterns on her locket.
And in that moment, she was sure. She knew that Michaela had feelings for Francesca.
The trouble was, she wasn’t sure what either of them could do about it.
“Sorry, I have quite disrupted your book discussion,” Michaela said, standing up from the settee. “Please let Francesca know that I came by and would like to see her when she feels better.”
“We will,” Sophie said, her heart aching for her friends. “And I will tell you the book we decide on for our next meeting, so you can read it and join us if you like.”
“That is very kind, thank you,” Michaela said. “Good afternoon to you all.”
They all watched her go, and then Simon turned to the rest of them. "I think my reading club has been holding out on me. What is the story between Francesca and Miss Stirling?"
The three women exchanged glances, then as one reached for their tea cups and took very, very long sips.
*
Anthony had a headache.
Or, to be more accurate, Anthony had a headache again.
It was a very familiar headache, a throbbing, pounding pain in his temples. It was the one he had gotten when Simon began to court Daphne. It had returned when he was deciding whether or not to propose to Edwina, then when the wedding had fallen apart. It come once again when the Queen had accused the Bridgertons of having Lady Whistledown among their ranks, and yet again when she had turned out to be right. His lastest acquaintance with this particular headache was when he had found out about his brother’s infatuation with a maid.
It had made a return last night when Kate had come up to their room after reading club and told him about her interactions with Michaela. Kate had talked around her suspicions, as had Daphne when she told Anthony of her run-in with Michaela at the modiste. As Anthony had tried to talk himself around his suspicions after his talk with Francesca in the garden earlier in the season, and after the ball where he, Benedict, and Colin had compared notes about Francesca looking for a present for someone important on the same day he had found out about how Francesca had gone above and beyond for Michaela's birthday.
Altogether, they did not feel like suspicions anymore. And Anthony didn't think he could ignore the situation any longer.
He had spent the morning thinking over what to do with this new revelation, and then he had sent a request that Michaela call on him that afternoon. He almost hoped she would refuse, just so that he might put off this conversation, but of course she had no reason to refuse.
His valet showed her to his study and Anthony put on a tight smile at the sight of her. “Miss Stirling.”
“Lord Bridgerton,” she said, her chin held high. He had never noticed how calculating her gaze was underneath her cheerful expression.
“I suppose you are wondering why I have asked you here.”
“I must admit, it did surprise me. Although I suppose with your family, I should expect surprises by now.”
“Yes, we do make a habit of shocking people, don’t we?” he asked with a sigh. “I thought I might help you with something. My siblings tell me that you have been trying to find a present for my sister’s birthday.”
“Yes, I have.”
“And have you been successful?”
Michaela frowned, clearly confused, but answered, “I suppose so. I commissioned sheet music of a new arrangement of one of her favorite minuets from violin to pianoforte, as well as a version that is more of a lively jig so we might dance to it at our next family party. And I have invited her to our Oxfordshire estate for a long visit, where I have arranged for new puzzles to be sent and her favorite foods to be made and for us to attend several nights of music in town.”
“That is quite a lot for a friend’s birthday.”
“She is my closest friend,” Michaela said, her face impassive, but her fingers briefly lifting to flutter around her throat before she clasped them again, almost like they were reaching for the locket around her neck. “Still, I do not think I was able to find anything quite as … special as what she gave me for my birthday.
“Then I am glad I asked for you to call. I have something I think you might like.”
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small jewelry box and opened it. Inside was a silver ring that alternated small pearls and sapphires along the top of the band.
“It is the ring my great-aunt Caroline wore,” Anthony said, walking around the front of his desk and leaning on the front of it. “She was quite unusual for her time. She refused every suitor who attempted to court her, resisted all her parents' pressure and desires on the subject and remained a spinster all her days. She took up permanent residence at an estate up north, took a liking to Irish Wolfhounds and raised several of them over the years. Played pianoforte and I have heard she also had a lovely singing voice. She had a friend that moved in with her later in life, a Miss Jane Worth, I believe she was called. Miss Worth gave my Great-Aunt Caroline this ring, which she wore for until the end of her days.”
Michaela crossed the room, her fingers trembled as she reached out and touched the ring. “She sounds like a fascinating woman.”
“Yes, well, Bridgertons are rarely dull and neither are our true loves - as much as I wish they could be, sometimes. I hope that Hyacinth or Gregory finds a very calm, unremarkable sort of person.” Michaela laughed and he gave her a rueful grin. “I think I could use a break from scandals.”
“I understand completely. My mother feels the same and she only has me.”
“I look forward to meeting her, then.” He cleared his throat and fixed Michaela with a serious look. “My family is the most important thing in the world to me. I would do anything to protect them, to protect our name and reputation.”
“I understand,” Michaela said, pulling her hand away from the ring.
“What I have recently learned, however,” Anthony said, taking a step forward and holding the ring box out for Michaela, “is that I underestimate them. I could not have believed how often my family would have a brush with scandal and come out of it relatively unscathed. And I underestimated how deeply all of us could love, and how that love is intrinsically tied to my siblings’ happiness. And I would also do anything to keep my family happy.”
He waited, holding the ring, until Michaela reached out and took it. “Are you sure?”
“I think I should ask you that.”
“I do not know. I am starting to understand that I might never stop being surprised by your family.”
“Perhaps if you stay long enough you will get used to us.”
Michaela closed the ring box. “I suppose there's only one way to find out.”
Anthony nodded.
His temples throbbed.
But he let Michaela leave with the ring.
*
Two days after Francesca’s birthday, the family gathered in the Bridgerton parlor to say goodbye to Francesca and Michaela before they departed to Oxfordshire for the next few weeks. The pair were glowing, and a ring Eloise hadn’t seen in many years sat on Francesca’s left ring finger.
When they left, Violet and the staff walking the out to the carriage, Kate ran a hand down Anthony’s arm. “Francesca seemed very happy with her present.”
Eloise’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, she opened them so wide. “Anthony! Did you give Michaela Great-Aunt Caroline’s ring to give to Francesca?”
Anthony made a face at her. “Yes, and I think I regret it already.”
“Michaela gave Francesca a ring?” Hyacinth asked. “As in she …”
“We are not sure,” Penelope said. “Neither of them have said anything.”
“But if that is true … oh, that is so sad,” Hyacinth said. “But also so romantic! No wonder Michaela was in knots about what to give Francesca for her birthday. And I’m sure she knows what Francesca’s favorite flowers are.”
“What does that mean?” Gregory asked, looking around at everyone. “What in the world is going on?”
“Someone else explain it to him,” Eloise said, collapsing on the settee. Her head was spinning, and she had no idea what would happen next.
Except that Michaela had possibly figured out the conundrum of how to have a marriage with no husband.
Eloise would have to keep that in mind when making matches in the future.