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In the years since her forced debut, Eloise Bridgerton has come to realize a great many things about society. Men and women, of course, lead completely different lives. She wishes to have the privileges of a gentleman, not particularly because she wants to be one, but because they are treated far closer to people. Benedict is eight years her senior and only recently has their mama started to pressure him on the topic of marriage.
Before this season, their mama had allowed whatever rakish behaviors Benedict wished to engage in. Eloise, however, would have gotten the talking to of the century if mama learned even a smidgen of what happened between Eloise and Theo Sharpe. That’s not even considering the way that society would have treated the dalliance, one that she knows with certainty was not even in the same league as Benedict’s affairs with both women and men. Not secret courtships. Not scandalous unaccompanied walks through the garden. The amorous congress kind of affairs.
But Eloise? She cannot cavort in such a manner. She cannot read what she wishes, spend her days in art clubs with stunning intellectuals, travel the world like Colin- her only true chance for travel was to John’s beautiful but lonely estate in Scotland, where her only society came in the form of her sister and brother, both of whom tire of company quicker than most, and John’s charming but elusive cousin.
Eloise is supposed to find a man with a title and charm him and pop out his babies at home while she debates which set of silverware and table cloths to use for a dinner party. Quite technically, he could drag her far away from her family and never bring her back. John allowed Eloise to accompany him and Francesca to Kilmartin Hall in Scotland, but no one in the Bridgerton family has ever stepped foot in Hastings Hall. Even Anthony, the Duke's old school friend and the Viscount Bridgerton, has not been afforded the privilege.
It’s not as though the couple is maintaining their acquaintance by visiting Bridgerton House or their country home either.
Simon Basset hasn’t stepped foot in either Bridgerton abode since shortly after Augie’s birth, and Daphne hasn’t returned since Eloise’s first season out, back when Anthony and Kate were the year’s romance. The Duke and Duchess of Hastings didn’t even show up to Colin and Penelope’s wedding, claiming difficulties acclimating after the birth of their daughter, Beatrice. Oh Augie, he must be three now. She hasn’t seen him since he was an infant… and dear Bea is entirely a stranger to her.
Daphne claims that she is happy, healthy, and busy in her letters, but Eloise hasn’t seen her in two years. How’s she supposed to believe that the absence is entirely of her sister’s own volition?
The Duke of Hastings is a mercurial man; Anthony used those exact words to describe him, once. Despite her sister’s position as Duchess, how much say does Daphne truly have over her own travel? Movements? Life?
These are the worries that keep Eloise up at night. Her entire purpose in life is said to be marrying well and keeping a family- and her mama and her sisters all think that she should be content with that. Benedict and Colin humor her more, but the other women demand that she accept her lot in life. Even Penelope has resigned herself to life as Mrs. Colin Bridgerton.
Every moment of every day seems dedicated to marriage and babies and homemaking, and she is sick and tired of it. Maybe she shouldn’t have brushed Hyacinth off yet again, but she’s simply exhausted. Why can’t they discuss something aside from the presentation of Francesca’s dinner or her baby sister’s excitement to leap into her own married life. Eloise just wants a moment to breathe, but Hyacinth called her selfish. Implied that Eloise can’t see past her own wants. Is that what this is? Is it truly so selfish to wish to be her own person with some degree of choice over her own fortune? Whether or not it is, her mama has sentenced her to retaking these entry level finishing lessons with Hyacinth to punish her.
It’s only natural for her to lash out, isn’t it? It’s an injustice to her, having to sit through these courses that she never wanted in the first place yet again with her youngest sister.
Oh, Hyacinth….
Yes, Eloise loves her, but her baby sister grinds on her nerves in a way that not even Daphne could. When Daphne scolded Eloise on her behavior, at least it came with the experience and age of an older sister. One who has taken more of these lessons, been out for a season, went through the entire song and dance of the marriage mart and come out the other end as a Duchess.
Hyacinth- she’s never even been to a ball. She’s so desperate to fling herself into society, serve herself up on a silver platter for every passing man in the ton, and ready to remind Eloise that even though she is older, it will not matter by the end of the next season when her dearest baby sister debuts on the marriage mart. By then little Hyacinth will be married, happily or unhappily, and will have become a proper adult in the eyes of society. Eloise, meanwhile, will be left behind here in Bridgerton House- the sole focus of her mother’s scrutiny and starved of any true society.
Eloise remains on the floor, eating crackers and trying not to let the anger build any further than it already has. She retreats into herself for the rest of the night, and the others either don’t notice or don’t care. Gregory and Hyacinth are too busy with their playful bickering, John is too busy catching up with his cousin, and Francesca is too busy awkwardly staring at the woman to even notice.
When the night ends, Eloise accompanies her two younger siblings back to Bridgerton House in silence, and tries not to let the frustration show on her face.
The next morning, Eloise awakens for her shared lessons. She dresses slowly while senses of both righteous anger and dread beat down on her shoulders. Then she emerges after she has prepared herself for the day, and Mrs. Elliot and Hyacinth have already begun their lessons. Hyacinth does not even turn her head from her stupid place setting, rambling off the components proudly.
“Very good, Miss Hyacinth!” their tutor praises. Then she turns her eyes onto Eloise.
“Ah, Miss Bridgerton,” she says coldly, “it seems you have finally decided to show up.”
“Yes,” Eloise says, “I have.” She doesn’t want to call additional attention to her tardiness. She clasps the first volume of Frances Burney’s Evelina tightly in her hands. Once she’s seated on the sofa she can try her best to ignore her sister and the widowed tutor.
“We set a time for our lessons,” Mrs. Elliot says, “tell me why, exactly, you decided to show up so late?”
“I apologize” Eloise tells her, “I was feeling rather ill this morning. It took me longer to prepare for the day.”
“Illness? Really?” Mrs. Elliot challenges.
“Yes,” Eloise tells her, “really.” Perhaps it was illness of the spirit, but Eloise does not feel this is a lie. “I do not feel I am improving. Perhaps I should return to bed?”
The old tutor shakes her head, grinning sardonically. “Lady Bridgerton has strictly instructed me not to fall for your tricks, Miss Bridgerton. You will remain here, and you will learn.”
“Fine,” Eloise says, plopping herself down on the couch, “then I shall remain here. If I cast up my account all over the sofa, I suppose we will all have to live with it.”
Mrs. Elliot glares at her. “Miss Bridgerton, there is no need for such vulgarity-”
“My account,” Eloise continues, “all of the smelly chunks of it. Here! All over the sofa!”
“FINE!” the tutor says, “off with you. Today, I will only teach the Bridgerton sister with promise!” Hyacinth preens at the praise. Eloise tries not to stagger back as she stands from the sofa. She does not give the property courtesies as she exits the shared space and makes her way to her room. She knows that if she opened her mouth, something far fouler than anything she’s said today would come spilling out of her like water through a broken dam.
When she returns to her room Eloise tries to read, but finds her anger renders the task impossible. She tries to write, but again, her anger renders the task impossible. The only thing that she can do is remove her dress, change into her nightgown, and bury her face into the pillow. Eloise finds that she can cry, too, but she wasn’t trying to do that, so she decides that doesn’t really count.
After what feels like an eternity of tears, she finally hears a knock at the door. Blazes, she doesn’t know who that could be. All of the options seem hideous.
“Miss Bridgerton?” a kind voice calls out, “are you awake?”
“Sophie?” Eloise asks.
“Yes, Miss,” the other girl says, “it’s me.” Eloise throws herself to her feet and rushes to the door.
“Please,” she says, throwing the door open, “come in.”
Sophie stands with her perfect posture. “Would you like me to bring your breakfast?”
“No, thank you,” Eloise says, and she does mean it, “I don’t have much appetite this morning.” Perhaps a brief fast will purge the selfishness from her system.
Sophie answers this with a polite bow. “I wish you a restful morning, Miss Bridgerton.”
“WAIT!” Eloise calls out, trying to stop the woman before she disappears down the hallway.
Sophie sends her a concerned look. “Do you feel as though you’re getting worse? I can have Mrs. Wilson send for the physician-”
Eloise shakes her head. “No, please. I just- I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Sophie nods politely. “I should go get your sister for you.”
“Dear heavens, no,” Eloise says, shaking her head.
“Should I fetch Lady Bridgerton, then?” she suggests.
“No,” Eloise says, “please just… stay. Sit with me awhile.”
Sophie looks hesitant. “Miss Bridgerton… I appreciate the invitation, but I am merely a maid. Surely you would prefer the company of your family in a moment like this?”
“No,” Eloise tells her, “I assure you, I would not.” She knows that her eyes must be red. She wipes at them, feeling the remnants of tears drip down her knuckles.
Sophie nods uncomfortably. “And you are sure I am the one you wish to speak to?”
“Positive,” Eloise assures her. She gestures desperately with her head inside her room.
Sophie watches her anxiously, but follows her into the room. She glances toward the door questioningly.
“Don’t worry,” Eloise tells her, “I’ll close it.” Eloise does so, then gestures towards the twin arm chairs near her reading desk. She and Penelope used to spend long hours here, chatting the day away. Now, Penelope hasn’t been in Eloise’s room for months.
Sophie sits uncomfortably straight on Penelope’s chair. “Are you sure you don’t want the physician?”
“No. I am not sick,” Eloise tells her, “or I don’t know, maybe I am. Everything about me feels… wrong.” Sophie looks at her with deep concern.
Eloise shakes her head, trying to shake some of the thoughts away. “Perhaps I’m just sick in the mind,” she laughs bitterly, “Or the soul, more like.”
“Miss Bridgerton-”
Eloise, desperately, does not want to hear such a formal address right now. “Please, call me Eloise.”
Sophie looks hesitant. “You very much do not seem alright. I… think you need someone to talk to.”
“I do,” Eloise tells her, “please. Allow it to be you.”
Sophie looks nervous as she says, “I am not sure-”
“Please,” Eloise says, “I know that you have extraordinary taste in literature, but I barely know a thing about you. I would like to know more.” Maybe if she can learn more about Sophie, the only subject that has held any interest to her lately, then she can ease her nerves.
“I am your Lady’s Maid,” Sophie tells her, “there’s not much to tell.”
“Do not humble yourself so,” Eloise tells her, “you are truly well-read. That in itself is a feat.”
“I simply like to read.”
“Are most maids so well-accomplished?” Eloise asks her, “I admit I have not properly spoken to many.”
“No, they are not,” Sophie says. She does not seem eager to elaborate.
“Then how did you become so?” Eloise asks.
Sophie smiles tightly. “The first family that I worked for allowed me to study with their children.”
“Perhaps I should suggest that to Anthony,” Eloise says. If there’s any good that this social position of hers can do, Eloise would like to do it. Perhaps the world will be better off if every maid has the education that Sophie has been afforded. Clearly, a lack of breeding is not a death sentence for one’s intellect.
“Yes,” Sophie says, “I think that would be a wonderful idea, Miss Bridgerton.”
Eloise stiffens once again. “Please, Sophie, call me Eloise.” She cannot stand hearing that address at the moment.
“Eloise,” Sophie concedes. She says the words slowly, as though testing the feeling of it in her mouth, “are you alright? Truly?”
Eloise feels her face flush with embarrassment. “Am I truly so selfish that my asking questions of others is cause for alarm?”
“I cannot speak to that,” Sophie tells her gently, “I only know… nobility do not tend to ask questions of servants.”
“We should, though,” Eloise tells her, “you do everything for us. We should know about your lives. We should care.” The Church preaches charity towards all, especially those who are less fortunate. Servants, while not the highest on the list of unfortunates, are included in it.
Sophie bites her lip.
Eloise feels embarrassment settle over her. “We don’t, do we?” Sophie sends her the slightest smile. She doesn’t nod, but that’s answer enough.
“Then I am selfish,” Eloise says, “just like Hyacinth said.”
Sophie chuckles, then looks mortified at her own breach of etiquette. “I did not mean to laugh. I apologize-”
“No,” Eloise says, “do not apologize. If anyone should apologize, it is myself. I am imposing on your good nature to assuage my guilt.” It’s pathetic, really, her pressuring her poor servant to pretend to care about her petty, noble problems. How could her issues compare to Sophie’s?
“No,” Sophie assures her, “I do not think you are imposing.”
“I just-” Eloise shakes her head, “I am so tired of being told that marriage is all I can strive for. Mama has stuck me back in these lessons with Hyacinth, as though I will find the idea of signing my life away to a man less intolerable the second time around.” Sophie nods.
“I understand that my father loved my mother, that my brothers and sisters have found these charming love stories- but I want to be more than a wife.” She is truly stuck in the suds; an awful situation dragging her deeper and deeper down until she drowns in her bathwater.
Sophie nods at her, urging her to continue.
“Place settings, parties, courting the man with the highest title and deepest pockets,” Eloise lets out a frustrated groan, “there is more to life than this!”
“I agree,” Sophie says, “the life you lead can feel… small. Grand, of course, but… small.” Her look turns more melancholy then. “And dangerous. If you don’t marry well, any one of you can fall into social ruin. It is… a stressful ordeal, I am sure, to sort through suitors who could well destroy your life.”
Eloise feels a bit of the world slide off her shoulders. “Thank you. I have never had anyone be kind to me about this. My mama calls me selfish. Sometimes my married siblings do, or Penelope… but Hyacinth? She doesn’t have a happy marriage to taunt me with, and she’s not my friend who came from a place of financial insecurity. I don’t understand why she thinks she can shame me for not wanting to wed.”
“Are you sure that’s what she’s doing?” Sophie asks gently.
Eloise frowns. “What do you mean?”
“It seems to me,” Sophie says, “that Hyacinth is not referring to your desire to remain unwed.”
Eloise feels her frown deepen. “Then to what is she referring?”
“Perhaps it is more about the way you treat her than your thoughts on marriage.”
“The way that I treat her?” Eloise asks, “what do you mean?”
Sophie bites her lip for a moment, carefully considering her words. “It seems that in spurning your lessons, you may have given your sister the impression, no matter how mistaken, that you are spurning her.”
“That’s absurd!” Eloise declares. Just because Hyacinth tires her on occasion does not mean that Eloise disdains her. “I have never spurned her.” Sophie shows disbelief on her face for a moment which she schools back into neutrality.
“You think that I’ve spurned her?” Eloise asks.
“Not on purpose,” Sophie assures her, “but you were not gentle with her when she tried to read to you from her book.”
“About ballerinas!” Eloise scoffs.
“A book that you have not read,” Sophie reminds her.
Eloise rolls her eyes. “The book is about ballerinas. How constructive can it be?”
“The woman whose life it chronicles was a pioneer in her field,” Sophie tells her, actual anger passing over her face, “if you had allowed your sister to read it, instead of making her feel small, you would have learned something about a woman pioneer.”
Eloise feels shock cross her face. Sophie is an intellectual. She did not expect this reaction from her in this instance.
Sophie turns pale and a look of terror crosses her face. “I apologize, I-” Just because Eloise did not expect this reaction does not make it unwarranted. Eloise will not scare Sophie back into her servant’s shell, not the very moment she’s gotten her to properly poke her head out.
Eloise reaches out to put a hand on the arm of Sophie’s chair. “Please. I asked for your counsel. I need no apology from you for giving it.” She shakes her head.
“You are not wrong to be frustrated,” Sophie tells her, “the things they expect of young ladies… They are unfair. There are many things that are not in your control.”
“Far too many,” Eloise says.
“But your sister… she has many things that are not in her control either. She told me how much she missed your brother.”
“Anthony?” she asks, “he has been in India a long while.”
Sophie shakes her head. “Not the Viscount- your youngest brother. He was her playmate, I think. He’s barely paid her any mind since returning.”
“Oh,” Eloise says, “Gregory.” Eloise returned from Scotland and barely noticed his absence. She’s barely noticed his presence since he has returned. She's only seen him and Hyacinth interact once outside of the dinner at Francesca's.
“She misses him dearly,” Sophie tells her, “and now, she is starting these lessons. They are stale for you, but to your sister… I am sure they are a distraction- and something to excel at.”
Eloise does not understand why Hyacinth wants to excel at these lessons, wants to leap into marriage to the first man who turns his eye her way and pretends to care, but she does understand loneliness. After her separation from Pen, her time in Scotland, even coming back to a nearly empty house-
“You are right,” Eloise tells her, “I… could be kinder. I will be.” She nods to herself, resolving herself to such things. “I apologize for burdening you with this. I am sure it seems… trivial.”
Sophie smiles at her. "You are having a difficult time with your sister, Eloise. There is nothing trivial about that.” Sophie, it seems, understands the situation implicitly, and unless she is an actor of the highest quality, she cares.
“Do you have sisters?” Eloise asks. It feels like a bonding opportunity. Sophie, as always, seems reluctant to answer the question.
Eloise grins ever so slightly. “If you do not tell me, I will have to invent your family members in my mind.”
Sophie, luckily, grins at her antics. “Eloise-”
“You are the eldest child, like my brother Anthony,” Eloise declares.
Sophie smiles. “Why do you think that?”
“You have the countenance of an eldest,” Eloise says. Sophie does not start to congratulate her on a guess well made. Instead, she just grins. “Am I wrong?”
The grin turns smug.
“I AM!?!?!?” Eloise gasps, “a middle?” Sophie’s face doesn’t change. “Youngest?!?!?!” She cannot believe that sensible Sophie is the youngest child. Hyacinth, certainly, could never display such a countenance of grace and restraint.
“I am an only child,” Sophie tells her.
“No!” Eloise says, “I refuse to believe it!” She shakes her head. “You are much too good with others to have been the only.” Except… Perhaps things are different with servants. Do they raise the servants’ children all together, like at an orphanage? Eloise does not like realizing how little she knows about the people who make her life possible.
“You are correct,” Sophie tells her, “I didn’t grow up… entirely alone.” Eloise watches her, waiting for Sophie to finish her sentence. “I have step sisters.”
“Are you close?”
“With one of them,” Sophie tells her.
“What about the other?”
Intense pain flashes across Sophie’s face. “No, we are not.”
“I am sorry,” Eloise tells her. Even with her strained relationship with Hyacinth, Eloise knows that mention of her youngest sister would never prompt such a reaction. There is not a single member of her family that would. Even when things were the worst during her fight with Pen... she does not think that the mere thought of her would have dragged so much pain out of her.
Sophie shakes her head. “There is no need for that, Eloise. You do not control the actions of others.”
“Still,” Eloise says, “whatever pain she brought you…” She wishes that she had the words to soothe this hurt, but she does not. She doesn’t know enough of the situation, and despite her own social struggles, she knows that now is not the time to press.
“Is in the past,” Sophie assures her, “I work here now, where I am treated better than I deserve.”
Eloise shakes her head. “Not better than you deserve. As far as I am concerned, you deserve all of this and more.” If Eloise had any say in the matter, Sophie would be given her own land title. Perhaps she could spend parts of her own spinsterdom in the Baek Keep then, to break up the monotony of drifting from sibling to sibling like some kind of vagabond.
Sophie looks uncomfortable with her words. “People are born into different stations. In our world, that means that some people deserve more.” She smiles tightly, “I have had to make my peace with that.”
“You shouldn’t have to!” Eloise cries out, “Sophie- you are exceptional. You could study whatever you might wish. You speak more languages than most noblemen- you could travel the world and regale every soul with your tales.”
Sophie’s smile turns sad. “Eloise. If you are not allowed those things as the sister of a Viscount… do you truly think I would be?” Eloise feels her heart constrict in her chest.
“You should be,” Eloise tells her. Then she shakes her head. “We both should be.” Colin got to travel the world, why shouldn’t Eloise? Why shouldn't Sophie?
“Perhaps,” Sophie concedes, “but… I don’t know, Eloise. I believe that in this room, you think of us as equals, but the moment that I leave… you will be Miss Bridgerton.”
“I am not right now,” Eloise tells her. It's an arbitrary distinction; if they ignore it, then it does not matter here. She wants nothing more than for it to go away.
“You will always be a noblewoman,” Sophie tells her, “it gives you power. People care what you think.”
Eloise tightly laughs. “Not even my family cares what I think. I’m just the future spinster.” Eloise looks at the ground in frustration. “No one cares what I think.” Sophie puts a hand on her shoulder- the first time either of them has touched the other. When Eloise looks up, Sophie sends her a knowing, older sisterly smile. The sort that Daphne would when she was explaining how much more she knew because she was a year older.
“I think that you’ll find that they do.”
“Oh,” Eloise challenges, “and how is that, exactly?”
“Your sister, certainly, cares what you think,” Sophie says, “she allows you a great deal of influence over her moods."
“Alright,” Eloise admits, “my baby sister cares. What is your other evidence?”
“You care what I think,” Sophie says, “and I’m just a maid.” Eloise feels righteous indignation build up inside her. How dare Sophie say such a thing about herself!
“You’re not just a maid!” Sophie Baek is one of the most accomplished and impressive people that Eloise has ever met. She’s not just anything, certainly not a maid. Sophie wasn’t born to wash dishes any more than Eloise was born to bear sons.
Sophie shakes her head. “I am. I just think that a maid isn’t a terrible thing to be.”
“But this job… it is hard,” Eloise tells her, “I know it is hard.” She knows that if she really compared her own lot to Sophie's, Sophie would have it harder. A maid is a difficult thing to be.
“Yes, it is hard,” Sophie tells her, “but I am in good company. My class is full of kindness and intelligence. Full of virtue.”
“But you have the education,” Eloise tells her. Surely that means that she should move from this type of work, into a sphere where the world sees her as an equal to Eloise. If Eloise cannot elevate herself to the level of her brothers, she should at least be able to bring this remarkable woman to the same level as herself.
“And for that I am grateful,” Sophie tells her, “if I have children, I will see to it that I pass it down to them. They may not be able to use it in their employment, but it will enrich them in other ways.”
“I don’t understand,” Eloise says, "don't you want to be more?"
"Servants do not have to be educated to be worthwhile," Sophie assures her, "if you can use your power, do not leave the others out. We are all worthy." Eloise still doesn’t understand, not really, but she nods her head. Sophie is wise, and Eloise trusts her judgement. The clock chimes a new hour, and Sophie’s eyes widen with the sound.
“I have been gone too long,” Sophie tells her, “I am sorry, but I must go.” Eloise reaches out and squeezes her hand.
“Thank you,” Eloise tells her. The woman nods, and she scurries out the door. Sophie is still her Lady's Maid, which means she has a mountain of work while Eloise can lay in bed and feign illness.
Man and woman, noble and servant- their society shoves people into such stupid boxes to decide who matters and who does not. Out of all the people she's met... Sophie Baek and Theo Sharp are among the most worthy, but society has treated them as worthless. Eloise does not have the powers that her brothers do, but she has more standing than her dearest friends of lower class. Perhaps she can learn how to use that power. Then she can make things better.
At the very least, she can reach an understanding with her sister. She does not want the poor girl to be any more scared than she needs to. It might be easier to go through the indignities of womanhood if she can have the true society of her sister.