Chapter Text
The journey back to Scotland was filled with laughter and comedy. At least, that is how Eloise saw it. Miss Michaela Stirling was certainly a woman with plenty experience and stories, all so easily shared over the journey, and always with a twinkle in her eyes and an ample smile. Not even once did Eloise feel out of place, even though she was traveling with a recently married couple, although she couldn’t deny the strangeness of the first nights sleeping in various inns of the way to Scotland.
Any other day, Francesca and she would have shared a room. But now, the Countess of Kilmartin had to sleep with the Earl, John, as he liked to be called, who was quiet and offered only a precision here and there about his cousin’s stories. Eloise felt at ease with the man, who smiled at them softly and loved to stare at the landscape through the window and at his wife, who for her part, kept to herself.
‘Francesca being Francesca’, Eloise thought.
“You must give her this,” Michaela said, gently depositing a box on the table where they had been eating. It was a fine morning and soon they would leave for another day of journey back to Scotland. “It’s a paste of sorts. It’ll help her with the…chaffing.”
Oh. Eloise had not a clue, but she still smiled politely and took it, assuming she meant Francesca. Then, Eloise went on a diatribe about Benedict and the swings, already missing their spot and the vibrant colors of her home, but before they left, she went to her sister’s room, making sure the lord was nowhere around, and offered her the weird looking thing.
“For the chaffing,” she said, hoping that Francesca understood the implications and smiling happily when she did, taking the pot with a ‘thank you’ and leaving immediately to the bathroom. A strong smell of herbal and lemon filled the room and after a minute, Francesca opened the door and walked out towards Eloise.
“This will most certainly help. My parts…were hurting.”
“Of course, happy to help.” She kept Michaela’s name and help in the darkness, as the two women had barely exchanged words other than the common pleasantries. It was strange, but for some reason and for the first time in her life, Eloise felt a pull to silence, leaving secrets for another day, and instead asked what was on her mind. The only true question all Bridgertons asked themselves. “Are you filled with butterflies, sister?”
Francesca blushed demurely and lowered her head, grumbling as she guided a giggling Eloise to the exit. “Let’s go. We are halfway there.”
-
She understood the chafing after three days, and now Eloise was sure that the newly married couple were doing their obliged marital duties…which highlighted the strangeness of the situation. Francesca should be glowing; she had married out of love, after all. But then, Eloise remembered Daphne hadn’t sparkled initially, and neither had Penelope. Only Kate glowed after the marriage and that was because they had solved all problems prior to their marriage.
But it was still odd. John remained to be a quiet man, so he was not striking her or something of the sorts. Eloise was not sure why Francesca looked so…normal.
“Surely the intercourse must be good, no?”
Michaela, her usual companion, chortled on her water. “Miss Eloise?”
“Just Eloise, we are friends now. I mean, sex…right? Why is she not giddy?”
Michaela took a deep breath and looked at Francesca, who was just walking down the stairs with John in tow. “She…I’m sure she’s just tired. It’s a long journey, and Miss Francesca seems to have always been quiet. Besides, like you, she surely misses her family. Hopefully, once we reach Kilmartin, she settles in just fine.”
Eloise mumbled, “I guess.” But she knew her sister. Something was different.
John happily approached them and sat down on the chairs, while Francesca, always demure, nodded politely and sat in front of Eloise, barely looking at Michaela.
-
For two weeks, Francesca had been quiet, which they all agreed had to be the weight of the journey and the distance from her family. Eloise didn’t point out that Francesca, out of all her siblings, had spent almost all of her youth with their aunt Winnie, so she was probably the best accustomed to being away from the family. But thankfully, they arrived at Kilmartin Castle, and new conversations arose with the new environment.
The Scottish home of Kilmartin was vast and full, with green pastures that rivaled the Queen’s Gardens, and had a library that oh! Eloise and Penelope would have enjoyed spending weeks in it. In fact, Penelope would have never looked at Colin had she ever encountered a library like that.
Ah, but Eloise knew nothing. She fiddled with the letter in her hands, some news that she had kept to herself for over a week now. She had stayed on her own side of the castle with Michaela as company, and both of them spoke to great lengths, never running out of stories and laughter. Eloise, as the Bridgerton ambassador, made sure to tell in great detail the entire lore of their family. Scandals and all.
Francesca would never say anything, so it was Eloise’s duty.
But the week was over, and she needed to share the wonderful news.
“Frannie, you won’t believe it!” Francesca snapped out of her window reverie and smiled softly at Eloise; her skin was flawless in her Francesca way but she had certainly lost a little bit of her usual glow. “Have you stepped into the sun, sister? You are two days from turning into a vampire!”
Said vampire rolled her eyes. “This is Scotland, Eloise, and I’ve always been of a paler disposition.”
“Too quiet you are, but I bring news.” Francesca smiled brightly, sharing her emotions, and they settled on the couch as Eloise passed Pen’s letter onto her sister’s expectant hands.
“We are going to be aunts!” Francesca giggled and they both embraced. Another tiny Bridgerton. Then she sobered up, “You’ll miss Pen’s pregnancy.”
“Don’t you worry about it. I’m sure there’ll be others. The timeframe doesn’t fit, though.”
“Eloise!”
“I’m not going to say it.”
“You’ve just said it!”
Eloise giggled and stood up, too pent up with the emotions inside of her to stay still. She had never been too fond of children, as she was never too fond of marriage, but Pen was a distinct aspect of her life.
“I’ll have to get used to having children around me,” she confessed, looking out of the window where Francesca had been, and saw John and Michaela setting up a small set of swinging chairs. Even if the children were not her own, she would be surrounded by kids, Daphne’s, Kate’s, now Pen’s and more likely sooner than later, Francesca’s. Even if motherhood did not do it for her, she had to try to like the little rascals.
“John’s setting up some swings,” Francesca said in a dreamlike manner. “He is so attentive; I didn’t even tell him to do it! They match the ones at Mayfair, see?”
Eloise smiled softly and nodded. The tip of her tongue itched to speak, but once again she felt compelled to silence and to keep Michaela’s participation a secret.
What a strange situation.
-
She was not dumb, though. She paid attention. That was how she had discovered Whistledown, after all. So, after one situation, and then a second, Eloise had enough information to propose a hypothesis.
It was quite strange how every time Michaela entered a room, Francesca lowered her head, and every time Francesca entered a room, Michaela changed her charm depending on whether or not John was around. If John was there, Michaela Stirling would be the most charming person ever, but if he was gone, and Francesca was there, Michaela simply rested. Almost in stupor.
Apparently, the newly appointed cousins had issues with each other.
“Michaela, Francesca is different,” Eloise began, “and never says what she is thinking. So, if she has said something, or done something, please don’t hold it against her. Even my mama has no clue of what is going through her head.”
They had taken to walk through the gardens every morning, guarding themselves from the sharp bite of the Scottish air with three large coats that heavily weighed them down.
Michaela shook her head and they both huddled closer as they walked arm in arm.
“I assure you, Miss Francesca has been the spitting image of decorum.”
“Then why do the two of you act so odd around each other? John will surely notice that you completely shut down when he is not around, and it’s all because of Francesca.”
Michaela tensed. “It’s not because of Francesca.”
“Then what is it?” Michaela took a deep breath, and Eloise replayed every moment in her mind. “Is it because she is the lady of the house? Are you concerned of your place here? I assure you, Francesca would never ask you to leave.”
Michaela shook her head, clearing her mind of something she dared not tell Eloise. “I know that. And it’s not that, I think…we both must adapt to each other. I’ve always been quite independent, managing my own money and my own ways. I guess it’s strange for me to report to someone else that is not John. And I suppose, it takes a while for Miss Francesca to get used to it as well.”
Eloise grumbled completely nonplussed. Michaela’s argument made sense, but it was not the truth. Still, she moved on, and that same night she questioned her sister.
“Of course I do like Miss Michaela!” Francesca defended herself almost stuttering. “It’s just…she is quite bold and I am simply quieter. That’s all, a clash of…energies.”
“A clash of energies?” Michaela fitted right in with the Bridgerton energy.
“I guess we just need time.”
Eloise grumbled and gave them time to deal with each other or whatever. John seemed to not be aware of the problems brewing under his family and Eloise hoped they fix whatever it was sooner rather than later.
But all she could say was…what a strange situation.
-
The chance to understand more came just two weeks after receiving Pen’s news. She hugged Francesca tightly and kissed her cheek, as her sister happily confessed she was pregnant.
“How far along?”
Francesca giggled. “Well, I assure you it was not prior to the wedding.”
“Of course not!” Eloise cackled. “Look at you! You are glowing, Francesca!” She kissed her sister again. “God! You are going to be the most beautiful mother in all of Scotland. Have you told John, yet?”
Francesca nodded. “He is preparing a meal tonight to tell everyone.” Michaela, Janet and his aunt Helen, Eloise gathered. “But I was dying to tell you. However, we cannot tell mama yet.”
“Why? She’d be dying to come here!”
“I know but…Pen is pregnant. And I don’t want mama to feel like she must choose. I already feel like I made you choose.”
“But you didn’t! I’m here because I want to be! Look at me, Francesca. I’m so glad to be here.” And she was. She was so happy and happy she remained throughout the entire day.
John told the news to his family, and Eloise, happily listened to her guts and snuck a look to Michaela Stirling and saw the moment her friend froze, the moment she took a deep breath and forced a smile than soon, a testament to her character, turned real and lovingly towards her cousin. But finally, Eloise had an inkling, and oh boy, what an inkling it was!
Eloise was truly happy to be here.
-
Pen tried to no end to produce an actual argument that explained the oddity of going to Scotland to better understand the world, and for all of Eloise’s brilliant argumentative mind, she could not conjure up a strong enough reason.
Back then.
But now…Eloise had found the Holy Grail. When everybody chatted happily waiting for the nursery to be refurbished and the happy couple to pose for a painting or two, Eloise watched, observed and evaluated one Michaela Stirling, and concluded she was the key to understand the world.
“Michaela, you have travelled around the world, no?” It was one of their common tracks around the vast gardens of the Kilmartin state. Michaela was deep in thought and her question seemed to snap out of her funk. “It’s just…perhaps I haven’t told you of the reason of my coming to Scotland.”
“Support your sister?”
“Of course, yes. But I have other married sisters, and I never wanted to join them. Hyacinth still has 3 or 4 years until she is ready to debut, but other than that I wanted to enjoy and see the world.”
“In Scotland?” Michaela laughed. “I’m sure you could have gone to India with the Viscount and the Viscountess. That’s a world.”
“Well, yes. But India was too far for my mama to agree, even if I were to go with Kate. I guess, in a way I’ve always been tired of Mayfair. Haven’t you?”
Michaela pursed her lips. “I’ve never been in love with Mayfair, to be honest. Hardly spend any time there.”
“The Kilmartin’s reasons?” Peace and quiet. “I’m sorry, but I hardly see those reasons befitting you.”
“They do not. I have my own reasons. And John has never demanded too much of me.”
“Not even to marry? He is your only male family. Anthony went wild with trying to marry us off, I guess he wanted to get rid of us.”
They laughed softly.
“I’m sure the Viscount has honorable reasons to marry you all,” Michaela said. “In London you must marry to exist, but here it’s different.”
“Surely the expectations of a lady remain the same here and everywhere.” Michaela once again pursed her lips, and Eloise went on to say: “Not that I vouch for those expectations. All the contrary, in fact. I believe our gender is decisively meant for greater things than simply being married. We should be able to make our own decisions, exist beyond whether we are married or not.”
Michaela smiled and they stopped their walk. “I was not aware of you holding the rights of our gender in so high esteem.”
“Well, I do. Not just to our gender, but to any…difference. I don’t think this segmented society can keep performing like this without falling. The farce must stop.”
“That’s why I don’t spend too much time in London. The farce takes more prevalence there. And even though Scotland is not a lot of fun, at least it’s honest.”
Eloise smiled. “Well, what you do for fun here?”
Michaela laughed. “There are bars, but none of which I can take you.” Eloise grumbled and pleaded. “Your sister will kill me if I ever put your honor in dispute.”
“As if Francesca needs a reason to be at odds with you,” Eloise said sharply but not unkindly, and watched Michaela as she sobered up. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“I do not have anything against Miss Francesca,” Michaela said and started to walk away from Eloise, who simply followed her. She knew the woman was not angry at her, despite her annoyance.
“No, I believe you. You tried to make Francesca feel…comfortable.” In ways that Eloise hadn’t understood initially. The chaffing, the swings…
“I just want her to feel welcomed here. Scotland is cold and far away from her family; all she has is John now.”
“And as sweet as John is, sometimes he doesn’t understand things?”
Michaela nodded. “John is still a man. How could he ever understand the chafing or the sweet spots to talk in comfortable harmonies? Their connection is still so new, it’ll take a while for it to thrive.”
“But you understood.”
“I am a woman. I know things, I guess.”
Eloise pursed her lips. “You don’t talk a lot to Francesca.”
“She is quiet, and I am loud.”
“So am I.”
“You are her sister.” Michaela sighed. “I love John, I know John. And Miss Francesca is like John. I must match their energies. I am loud when I can be, and quiet when I should be.”
Eloise mulled over that reasonable answer. Yes, a truth, but it was the second time Michaela hid something in her words. “Francesca would say something about silence being good in a song.”
“And it is. It makes you appreciate the uprisings and the quietness, the tenderness of the piece. But silence cannot be a song, Eloise.”
“I didn’t peg you for being so musically inclined.”
Michaela laughed. “Even a rake such as myself must profess a talent.”
“A rake, huh?” Eloise giggled and Michaela blanched. “I’ve only heard that comment aimed at my brothers, never at a woman. And certainly not by the woman herself. What have you done to deserve that?”
Michaela sighed and looked away. “Can we forget that, Eloise?”
“No, no. I mean if you want, of course. But we are friends, and I assure you, nothing can change that. I was friends with Lady Whistledown when she was hunted down by the Crown, and friends with the fake Lady Whistledown because she wanted to be…free. What I am trying to say is that I understand that I don’t understand everything, but I can listen.”
Michaela pursed her lips and looked deep in contemplation. It didn’t seem like she was judging Eloise’s character, so she was not displeased with the silence, but she was judging her options. ‘Funny,’ Eloise thought. Francesca had a similar disposition when she wanted to parse out whether to speak or not.
“I am unlike the rest of the women. I prefer the companies of ladies.”
Oh.
“So, you don’t fancy men?”
“No, not gentlemen at all.” Michaela looked at Eloise waiting for her reaction, and Eloise couldn’t lie, it was a surprise. But finally, she got herself a truth.
She walked up to Michaela and with a smile, tied her arms with her friend. “Well, that’s just grand. I myself remained emotionally linked to men, even though I find them intellectually deficient.” Michaela laughed and breathed in relief. “I assume John knows?”
Michaela nodded.
“He protects me. Come to think of it, I might be scared of losing that protection. Now that he is married, I must find my own way.”
“And marry a man? No way! If you tell Francesca, I’m sure she’ll be accommodating.”
“Miss Francesca cannot know. I just need time to figure out my way and you being here helps immensely.”
“Well, then, we can both find our way here in Scotland. Just give me a few weeks and I’ll convince you about the bars.”
-
It wasn’t weeks, more like a week and a half, until finally Michaela gave in to a relentless Eloise and they both went into a local pub. Michaela had done this so many times and their trip was fluid and fun. Eloise didn’t understand why her brothers had never allowed her to get a drink, but after the third shot, unsweetened and bitter, boy, did she get it.
Their soirée was long in time but felt short in heart, and so they returned, giggling like schoolgirls, to a Kilmartin state that had a lone light flickering in welcome.
“Oh, Johnie is awake,” Michaela grumbled and dragged Eloise to the back entrance, through the kitchens and ordered her in. Eloise hiccupped and said goodbye, trying to not smack her hips on any lose tables and rose through the kitchens, tiptoeing in silence until a bitter voice bit into the silent night.
“You should not be out at these hours alone on your own!” Francesca said through gritted teeth and Eloise couldn’t believe such anger from such a calm woman. “Do you not know the dangers of the world?”
“I know them better than you, Frannie.”
“It’s Lady Kilmartin to you.”
Eloise gasped. And Michaela laughed and bowed.
“My apologies, Lady Kilmartin. Or should I say, Countess Kilmartin, to be more appropriate?”
“Be silent and go to your room.”
“Yes, mom.”
Francesca groaned. “Why do you have to be so…you?”
It was the longest Eloise had ever seen them speak to each other, and the most emotion she had ever heard Francesca place in her voice. She was captivated by Francesca. Her sister was like a dragon breathing fire, chest rapidly heaving as she grabbed Michaela’s arm to spun her around and force her to look at her.
Francesca…was this.
“Because I am me, or what else do you expect me to be, Lady Kilmartin? Pretend to play house so that I can convince myself that I am normal?”
Francesca huffed and let her go. “Get out of my sight.”
Michaela bowed again but her eyes never stopped looking at Francesca. “Your wishes are always my commands, Lady Kilmartin.”
And she left.
-
The next morning neither Michaela nor Francesca came down for breakfast. Michaela had a headache and Francesca was feeling indisposed. So, Eloise talked about the Scottish weather to a Scotsman and gave up on any conversation after the third day.
John was not talkative, although he smiled encouragingly every time she said something new. So, by the fourth morning she let him be, remembering Michaela’s words about matching their energies or whatever.
By the fifth morning, finally Michaela came down for breakfast, sitting next to Eloise instead of her usual seat. From it, she could be aware of the entrance. Just in case.
John’s eyebrows rose in question.
“Just need a bit of the sun on my back, that’s all.” Michaela explained and John’s smile turned mildly knowing, but as usual he said nothing.
And as usual, Francesca didn’t show up.
Usually, Eloise went up to bother her sister, but lately the ladies stopped her and sent her back to her books or Michaela. Francesca was resting, they said.
By the sixth morning, Eloise was ready to figure things out, but things became clear as a crystal piercing scream echoed through the castle.
Michaela, John and Eloise bolted out of their seats and ran towards Francesca’s room where by now the other women had arrived along with servants scurrying up and down the stairs.
“What is that?” John pointed out the pool of blood under Francesca’s feet, as she was hoisted up by the women trying to get her to the bed. Michaela shouldered her way in and helped place Francesca on the bed, as Eloise pushed John outside of the room and made way for the servants with trays and boiling water.
Francesca screamed and cried, and John was frozen solid, staring at the floor opening and closing his mouth without truly understanding what was happening.
“John, look at me,” Michaela said returning to their side, “Eloise, get inside! Go with your sister.”
Eloise nodded obediently but she felt a pull against following that order. She didn’t want to go inside. She wanted to bolt.
The door closed behind her, Michaela consoling John and bringing him back to their world, while Eloise watched as everybody moved to clean and cry. And her sister…her baby Francesca…Eloise snapped and having no clue of what else to do, or what even was happening, she dragged herself to the bed and with trembling hands, took her sister’s face and kissed her hair.
Francesca bawled and cried.
And Eloise felt it in her bones.
The grief.
-
She could not see Francesca for too long, as she remained inside her personal quarters surrounded by matrons and doctors. But even after they left, her sister refused company.
“I want to be alone, Eloise,” said Francesca after finally Eloise had managed to escape the sentinels at her door and closed the door behind her.
“I know, and I have let you have your loneliness and your silence, but Francesca, it’s been a week. I need to see how you are.” The latest letter from mama and from Penelope had arrived, and Eloise had no clue how to answer their questions. How were they? How was Francesca?
She couldn’t imagine being so far away from her sister and being kept in the dark. Her mother would travel in a second here to Scotland if Eloise told her the circumstances surrounding Francesca.
“I insist. Go away.”
Eloise sighed and walked up to her, kneeling in front of her baby sister and grabbing hold of the hands that looked so frail and pale. Francesca had lost so much of her glow coming into Scotland, and even more so now with the miscarriage.
“You are my sister. I worry for you, and I want to be here at your side.”
“You wouldn’t understand. How could you?”
“I do not understand what you are going through. But Frannie, I get pain.”
“This is an unimaginable pain.” Francesca’s eyes filled themselves with tears. “John was happy. Mom would have been happy. What kind of woman I am if I cannot even produce a child?”
“No, don’t think that. Frannie, the journey was long, and Scotland is such a different place. You’ll have a child, and you’ll love this child with all of your might and John will be so happy. And mom will be so happy. And I will be so happy. And you, Francesca, will be so happy that it will feel that happiness cannot be contained. Would you like me to play you something? Or read?”
“You should go back home.” Eloise blinked in confusion. “You’re missing Pen’s pregnancy and their happiness because of me. You shouldn’t be here.”
Eloise sighed again and stood up, dragging a chair and sitting next to Francesca. “I’m here because I want to. I’m here because I want to be close to you, and I’m staying because I want to stay. I love you, Francesca; there’s no other place I’d rather be. And besides, mama will be relieved by my presence here with you.” Eloise couldn’t imagine Violet Bridgerton’s anger when the time came to tell her.
“I don’t know how I am going to get through this.”
“Together,” Eloise whispered and hugged her sister, crying their hearts out and praying for better days.
-